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mischievous smile on his face.
    “Please, don’t tell anyone about today,” I pleaded.
    “You don’t have to worry about that, Catherine. Mr Barclay was quite clear on that matter. He had a quick word to me just then about that, and I am not about to upset the principal! Your secret is safe with me,” he promised as he packed his bag and left the room.
    Finally, I was alone. I got off my bed and stood up straight. I still felt a little light-headed and it ached. I wanted to take a minute and try and make sense of the chaos that I had just caused, but thinking about it was just making me anxious about my stupidity. Talk about an entrance. Having everyone’s attention like that would be up there with what I hate most.
    I went to my window and stared out hoping it would stop me from being so angry with myself. It was now raining, and I loved the rain. Most people I knew saw rain as miserable, but I saw it as homely and comforting, especially in this beautiful setting.
    The grass in the grounds was deep green. It was lush. I’d seen nothing like it in Sydney where dry conditions and strict water restrictions had taken their toll on our flora. This was perfect.
    I made my way back to bed. I felt cold under the covers. This time, if I fall asleep, it’s OK, I thought. Everyone wants me to rest; it was doctor’s orders, so I might as well.
    I still couldn’t comprehend that within the space of a couple of hours of arriving, I had hurt myself, damaged my room door, disturbed Dr Simons’ relaxing walk, scared Jules, ruined her planned itinerary and had the principal tending to me in my room.
    Mr James Barclay…
    I didn’t know what to make of my reaction to him; I don’t ever remember feeling so awkward in a man’s company before. And I still can’t understand why he was so familiar to me.
    How will I cope with him around me? The feeling in my body when I was in his arms was unexplainable. I’m really at risk of making a total fool of myself.
    Why had this man made such an impression on me?
    I continued to think about him and how ridiculous he must think I am.
    There was one thing that was weighing heavily on my mind. Why had he called me ‘Catherine’ instead of ‘Miss White’? I had clearly heard him call Jules ‘Miss Kent’.
    I lay down for a couple of hours, with the pain still throbbing lightly in my head. After what seemed like an eternity of procrastination, I decided it was time to leave my room and try and make a better impression second time around. I got out of bed, had a quick look in the mirror and assessed the damage to my head. All in all, I looked decent enough to leave the room. I put my boots and blazer back on and left. Down the hallway and down the flight of stairs, I reached the main entrance at the middle building where I had originally entered with Jules.
    I wasn’t really sure where to go from here. That tour Jules had mentioned earlier would have come in very handy right about now. I tried to listen out for any sounds of activity, but there was nothing. Not a sound. I walked about the foyer area and was intrigued. Hundreds of trophies for polo, cricket and other sports filled shelves in the dark timber and glass cabinets. It was obvious that this school was not only academically focused. The main office was unattended; it was elegant, not like any office I had seen before. A crystal vase containing a spectacular flower arrangement sat on the desk. The furniture was antique, impressive and stylish. The walls were almost completely covered in portraits of important-looking people from different eras. I looked closely at every face, as though I was trying to recognise someone. They were all men, very serious-looking, old and dull. The last picture in the series made me smile. It was Mr Barclay, looking perfect.
    “Hmm! Can I help you?” said a voice from behind me.
    “Huh? Um… Oh, sorry I’m sort of lost,” I replied, sounding like a three-year-old lost in a supermarket.
    “I