Date: Sat, 04 Sep 2004 03:18:45 +0100 From: Joey Tailor <joeytailor@hotmail.com> Subject: John Hamilton School 2 Characters Sean Worthington Cole Searing Mrs. Rathershaw Head Master Over the next few hours my mind was spinning. I could not stop replaying the days' events over and over in my head. What did Cole mean, why did he run out, did I upset him, how can I correct this? How did I get myself in this mess? The rest of my working day shot, no way I could concentrate on anything business related. I can safely say I am more a thinker than a doer. That in mind, I decided to stop pretending I could put this behind me and continue with an a-typical day. Perched in my luxurious desk chair, I opened Cole's file trying to find something to help me better understand. The story only got worse. I found nothing, none of the normal supporting documentation. Finding no previous school transcripts, none of the standard references or report cards to make citation with. No grade papers, none of the standard copies or drafts. There was a total of five documents in Cole's file. 1. John Hamilton School Application Approved 2. John Hamilton Boarding Application Approved 3. Private Scholarship Promissory Note Guarantee of funds 4. AHB Banking Transfer Bond International 5. Letter of Introduction for Cole Hyatt and Day Lawyers It would be more inline if I had close to 100 documents to sort and check. This just does not add up to a normal file. At first the only discrepancy I could find was Cole's birth date. I read and re-read all five documents time and time again, each time adding to the questions in my mind. Where are the school transcripts How did this get approved Who signed the approval? This is not the Headmaster's signature. It's not unusual for a company to be sponsoring a child in this school, but why is the transfer routing number on the AHB from a military allotment? Why is this 7 year old coming to us with a letter from a lawyer's office? A very prestigious office in New York if memory serves my correctly. With no answer visible or imagined, I looked to the clock on my wall. 5:15pm. Little more than 2 hours had passed yet I felt more drained than if I had just run half a marathon. Leaving the files strewn on my desk, I rose to my feet, gathered my jacket and car keys. A good walk in the cool Autumn air normally clears my mind. I like to go home after work and relax in my personal hot tub. A little luxury I purchased to aid in spoiling myself. I can tell you there is nothing better than lying outdoors in your own hot tub on a cold evening enjoying the stars, wondering if there is a heaven above. I also enjoy the soft tones of classical music playing in the background. Today however, had started out different and I knew it was likely to end similarly. As I walked down the corridor to the front doors, my mind began replaying my meeting with young Cole yet again. By the time my almost vivid recollection came to and end with Cole running out, I found myself stood beside my Jeep, key in door just stood there. Brought back to reality with the sound of our Headmasters voice, "Mr. Worthington, everything ok?" Snapping back to the reality of this world, my response was truthful. "Not really Sir, I have a feeling something isn't right." "Well that's not like you Sean. Leaving for the day without getting matters sorted." The Headmaster rebutted as he traipsed off to his own vehicle. "Quite right Sir, Thank you and good night." Stuffing my keys in my jacket pocket I turned and started a quick walk to the children's dormitories Although we still use the phrase `dormitory,' the children live in real houses. The homes are all very similar in design, with just a few variations in decoration and the like. Every home has six bedrooms accommodating 3 or 4 child size beds. With twenty children to each house you can imagine the need for each home to have a full time house mother and a part time cook. There is also a cleaning crew that moves around from home to home on different days to help the dedicated house staff. After reading Cole's file so many times, it was clear in my mind what house I was looking to find. The homes, located in a section of the grounds that mock a normal neighborhood, complete with park, play areas and a local shop. As I sauntered down Indigo Path, looking for house number 14, a smile came to my face in realization I had only once before strolled in this direction. That was the day I arrived during my initial orientation session. Rounding the first bend of the horseshoe shaped estate, number 14 came into view on the opposite side of the path. There were a dozen or so boys and girls playing within earshot. Children on bikes, running in front yards, across the pathway. Laughter and shouts that will someday be remembered as childhood memories were heard. I should explain there are no roads in this subdivision. One very wide sidewalk separates the very spacious front yards. No cars to endanger the young lives, safety is of prime importance for our children. The school permits the use of an electric golf cart to haul trash and equipment during class hours. Arriving at the front door, my finger depressed the brass doorbell and the chimes sung out a rather melodic few notes. The oversized door pulled open and a very cheerful faced house mother welcomed me. Mrs. Rathershaw is far from the typical house mother, an import from jolly England. On many occasions I had heard staff talking about how much the children love Mrs. Rathershaw. With a delightful British accent greeting me, I was ushered into the house, guided towards the living room. A few of the children came to greet me. Questions flew, what's your name, why are you here, are you a parent, who's your son... Mrs. Rathershaw, in her overly pleasing manner asked me "To what do we owe the privilege of your most welcome visit Mr. Worthington." Taking a few seconds to compose myself after the onslaught of questions and handshakes, I started to offer my most simple of explanations. "I was wondering if I may speak with Cole Searing. It seems we don't have his date of birth on file. If its no imposition, ma'am." I queried in what I hoped was not an authoritative manner. On previous occasions, acquaintances had told me I can sound very autocratic. "COLE," one of the other boys shouted out at the top of his lungs. "Without doubt, Cole is in his room," With susurration in her voice, Mrs. Rathershaw declared. "He is a very introvert lad. I am so glad you chose to pop in to see him. Our Cole will benefit from having you to talk with." "Ah, here he is now." The house mother stopped as Cole came through the very archway I passed under just moments before. "Cole, Mr. Worthington here needs to know your birth date my dear." She quoted me to the boy, lightly running her aged fingers in his dark well-groomed hair. "But sir, I told you earlier today." He voiced unsure of my presence in his home. "Yes, you did, unfortunately I just don't remember if you told me May 6th or June 5th". I was retorting Cole's questioning manner. My stomach rumbled an enormous groan of hunger, the remaining children laughed aloud. Cole looked me straight in the midsection his eyebrows rising in astonishment at the crude sounds emanating from me. "Oh my." I shuddered with embarrassment. Mrs. Rathershaw came to the rescue. "It sounds like haven't had your supper yet Mr. Worthington." "Not yet, and by the sounds of this I best be on my way." I chuckled patting my stomach noticing Cole shaking his head with a very white toothy smile appearing on an angelic face "June 6th Sir." Turning to leave, and now satisfied with at least getting Cole to re-confirm his date of birth, I heard the middle aged house mother clear her throat and put me up against a wall. Rhetorically speaking that is, "You don't need to leave so soon Mr. Worthington, do You?" Pausing only to take another breath, "Oh my, I just had one of my great ideas, our Cole hasn't had his supper either, why don't you two go in town to get something to eat. That way you can get to know each other a lot better." Mrs. Rathershaw seemed so excited about her idea, she didn't even wait for a response. She took an expensive looking suede leather jacket from the hall closet and started to dress Cole in protection against the cool evening as only an experienced and loving (house) mother can. Cole and I being manhandled out the door, Mrs. Rathershaw guiding the way one hand on each of our backs. "What about school, doesn't Cole need to be in bed soon Ma'am?" My voice seemed to protest. "No dears, tomorrow is Saturday, you two can talk for hours, I just ask you to please give me a ring at 8pm to check-in." By the time she had finished giving instructions we found ourselves already started down the path on out way to my Jeep.