Marion was enjoying one of her mornings teaching at the
Estate school. Her students were preparing for the vernal equinox festival
with songs and recitations that they had practiced until they knew them
by heart. It had been a happy experience so far. It was exactly the sort
of day she had hoped to enjoy when she first decided she wanted to be
a teacher and went to the training college on Earth. Of course, there
was hard work for her and for her students, but it was hard work that
they all enjoyed, and the time went by pleasantly.
They stopped mid-morning for cúl nut milk and biscuits.
Marion drank the delicious, ice cold milk with her young students and
looked forward to the second half of the morning. After lunch, she was
meeting Kristoph in Athenica. He was attending a State Ceremony at the
Hall of Justice. As Lord High President he was there to hear the Magisters
and Inquisitors of the Southern Circuit renew their oaths of allegiance
to Gallifrey and to the High Council. It was an excuse, of course, for
them all to parade in front of the public service broadcasting cameras.
Afterwards there was a banquet at which she, as First Lady, would wear
an elegant gown that wouldn’t come close to Kristoph’s regalia
for magnificence.
But for now she was a teacher and happily so. She was
looking no further than reading a book to the children. She took the book
out of her desk and read the first page to herself. It was a book she
had liked when she was a child. It was one she had come to love all over
again when she came to Mount Lœng House. The Secret Garden, a story
of rich but unhappy people brought together in hope through a rose garden
and the power of nature itself, appealed to her in a new way when she
came to own her own beautiful rose garden. She wasn’t quite sure
how it would go down with her students. Some of it might seem incomprehensible
to them. But they had grasped the complexities of the Narnia stories and
Watership Down, and even The Hobbit. Perhaps they would understand more
than she thought they would.
“Come and sit down now,” she called to them
and they came and gathered on the big rug by the wide window that looked
out over the southern plain. It was sunny and the yellow sky was clear.
She could see Melchus Bluff as a mere smudge on the horizon and a little
closer, the cluster of buildings that was the gold mine where most of
the men of the town worked. There were silver mines and diamonds on the
plain, too, all part of the Lœngbærrow demesne, source of the
family wealth. Marion had never seen the others, though. This one, a mile
distant from the town was the one she knew most about from the children
of the miners who she taught. She knew all about the miles of tunnels
below the ground, some of them actually running under the town itself,
deep, deep below, and the ore that came up every day to be smelted into
bars of pure gold.
The workers never owned any of the gold. But they had
good homes and free health care and education. They were content. And
so were their children who looked to Marion for a story to pass the hour
before lunch.
She turned from the view and sat comfortably on the padded
window seat. She opened the book and began to read.
“When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite
Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking
child ever seen.
It was true, too. She had a little thin face and
a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair
was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India
and had always been ill in one way or another. Her father had held a
position under the English Government and had always been busy and ill
himself, and her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go
to parties and amuse herself with gay people....”
Of course, she immediately had to explain to the children
about India and the difference between English people such as herself
and the Indian people under British rule. That proved simpler than she
expected. The children of Caretakers understood fully about castes and
class distinctions, about servants and masters. And because they were
Gallifreyan children with some unique abilities, Marion only had to picture
in her mind a white Memsahib in her colonial home with native servants
for them to produce holographic images in the very air that illustrated
the story fully.
“This story isn’t really about that sort of
thing, though,” she told them. “It’s about a garden
and two children who find happiness there.” Then she considered
the plot more fully and realised that, in fact, it was all about that
sort of thing. The two children who belonged to the big house with the
gardens were inextricably linked with the servants and working class people
around them.
It WAS about people like them. They were the servant class
and she was the lady of the manor.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good story to read
to you, after all,” she thought aloud. “When I was a little
girl I thought it was really nice, being all about roses and gardens and
sad, lonely people finding happiness. But maybe there’s more to
it than that.”
But the children wanted to know more and she went on reading.
“....When Mary was born she handed her over
to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished
to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much
as possible. So when she was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby she
was kept out of the way, and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling
thing she was kept out of the way also. She never remembered seeing
familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native
servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in
everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed
by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical
and selfish a little pig as ever lived.... The young English governess
who came to teach her to read and write disliked her so much that she
gave up her place in three months, and when other governesses came to
try to fill it they always went away in a shorter time than the first
one. So if Mary had not chosen to really want to know how to read books
she would never have learned her letters at all...”
Marion stopped reading, not because there were any questions
this time, but because she found it difficult to read the words. They
seemed to be blurred. She moved the book closer to her face, but that
didn’t help. She put it on her knee and her knee was shaking. She
looked around and saw the plants in the pots on the windowsill trembling
and then the books on the bookshelf shuddered and the pots of pencils
and paints below them rattled. The children clung to each other in fright
as the whole room shook.
Marion turned quickly and looked out of the window. She
saw a plume of smoke coming from the pithead a mile away. Then she turned
back quickly.
“Children, get up, quickly. Move away from here...
get away from the window.”
She ran with them to the far end of the classroom and
told them to get down on the floor. She crouched with them, covering her
face moments before the big window shattered. The window seat where she
had been sitting and the big rug in front of it were covered with dangerous
shards of glass. If they had been sitting there, still, they would all
have been cut badly.
But that wasn’t the end of it. The shaking continued.
The room, the whole school, was being shaken to pieces. There was a terrible
crashing noise as if the roof above them was collapsing. Marion told the
children to get under their work tables. They did so quickly. She crawled
under one of the tables with two of the children, trying to make herself
as small as possible and hoping that the tables were strong enough to
protect them when the ceiling gave in and the whole of the upper floor
crashed down onto them.
And perhaps they would have been if the floor hadn’t
given way as well. Marion screamed out loud and clung to the two children
closest to her as they found themselves falling through the empty space
beneath the wooden floor that had proved disturbingly insubstantial. She
tried to protect them as they landed on rubble in the crawl space beneath
the school and rubble and debris, concrete, wood, dust and plaster, fell
on top of them. Marion felt two small hands still in hers before a lump
of something hard connected with her head. There was a brief pain before
she passed out.
In his old Chief Magister’s office in the Halls of
Justice, in the city of Athenica, Kristoph was putting on his robes of
state, helped by the newly appointed Gold Usher and one of the Presidential
Guards. He stood patiently as the heavy Sash of Rassilon, made of panels
of solid gold, was placed around his shoulders. That and a high collar
were an almost intolerable weight upon him. He wondered why Lord High
Presidents didn’t suffer permanent back injuries by the end of their
terms of office. But he was proud to wear it, all the same. He stood proudly
as the final touches were made to his regalia.
His preparations were disturbed by the sudden arrival
of the Premier Cardinal with a distressed expression on his face. Kristoph
knew even before he spoke that something was very wrong.
“Excellency, there has been an accident. A terrible
accident... An explosion in the south deltic mine.”
“How many men?” Kristoph asked. “How
many got out safely?”
“We have no figures, yet,” the Premier Cardinal
answered. “But there could be many dead. The explosion ripped through
the tunnels, collapsing sections for many miles underground. We don’t
even know yet the full extent...”
Kristoph was already lifting the collar from his shoulders
and tugging at the Sash of Rassilon.
“Get me a phone. I need to call my wife. She’s
in the town. She will be concerned. Have a car ready for me. I’m
going there at once.”
“You’re going to the mine, Excellency?”
The Premier Cardinal was surprised by that.
“Of course I’m going. It’s MY mine...
the family property... on our land. I’m responsible for the lives
of those men. Sweet Mother of Chaos, I’ve been shown geological
reports every week. There was never any sign of structural weaknesses.
What could have caused such a thing? If there is any fault of mine...
if I’ve overlooked some safety measure that could have been in place...”
“Excellency...” The Premier Cardinal said
again. “It might be better if...”
“Get my car ready,” Kristoph said, ignoring
his protests. He had rid himself of enough of the heavy regalia to walk
at speed, now. He left the chambers and turned towards the turbo lift
to the rooftop car park. The Presidential Guard hurried to form a protection
detail that followed in his wake. On the roof, there was a confusion as
the President’s car took off straight away without an escort. The
entourage had to hurry to catch up.
“I can’t get through to Marion,” Kristoph
complained as he sat in the back of the Presidential limousine and tried
once more to dial his wife’s number. “There isn’t a
spot on this planet, not even in the high mountains or the deepest valleys
that there isn’t telephonic reception. But I can’t reach my
wife less than four hundred miles away on the Southern Plain.”
“It is possible the ground relay is damaged, Excellency,”
said his driver. “I understand there was a severe earth tremor after
the initial explosion.”
“How severe?” Kristoph demanded. “What
about the town itself? Is my wife safe?”
“Excellency....” The driver was listening
to an audio message. Then he directed Kristoph to the videoscreen in the
back of the limousine. It was receiving satellite images of the affected
area of the Southern Plain.
Even a close up view of the pithead showed nothing but
billowing smoke. There was no way of knowing who was alive or dead beneath
it. Infra red overlays showed sporadic fires. Another overlay indicated
where shockwaves had spread through the tunnels deep below ground.
One of those tunnels, long depleted of ore, ran under
the edge of the town. Kristoph groaned as he saw the pattern of shockwaves
running through it. And when the satellite picture showed the damage to
the town he was horrified.
“The school!” he exclaimed. “Marion....
she’s at the school.”
The satellite view of the school showed nothing but smoking
debris.
Marion could be dead or injured in those ruins.
Hundreds of men could be dead or injured in the mine.
“Take me to the school,” he said to his driver.
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