Dr Fabienne Ralphson declined a cup of tea and asked for silence. God, she loathed teachers. Look at them all assembled here this morning; she could smell their disappointment, their passivity. Why they bothered to laugh together was beyond her. And now that tiresome Historian was stapling paper. Wasn’t she a penned up creature waiting to die?
Fabienne turned over her wrist to admire her charming watch. All the wonders of the world reduced to a series of worksheets on bloody treaties.
The new headmistress surveyed the room. Things were about to change. She lifted her gaze to the wooden posterity clock above the window. Good, she had twenty minutes to begin the modifications. There would be no questions today.
Dr Ralphson stood up and waited for the staffroom to run out of chatter. “Good morning everyone. Welcome back after your Christmas break. I trust you are all restored to your selves? Imaginatively reinvigorated, Ino doubt? “She controlled her speech; clipping her consonants for effect.Let them hear her difference. She was not one of them.
“My emphasis this term will fix upon a radical new learning model developed overseas. To great success, I might add.’’Some shuffling. Some coughing. She waited for silence once more.
‘’ I can assure you of fascinating repercussions for students, and staff too. It offers us all a unique direction. For our purposes today, let’s baptise this system, let’s call it, Contagion. “
She waited for any reaction, for any paltry attempts at individuality from the room. There were a few amused glances in the science department; alarm from the History appointee; a head shake from Second in Maths, and that idiot from Music staring out of the window, bored. Hardly a revolution. Not even a tiny quake. Mice, the lot of them, weren’t they? Didn’t they know what happened to creatures in a laboratory?
Dr Ralphson adjusted her tinted glasses. “Yes. You heard correctly. Good for you. I did say Contagion. Your learning will reflect that of our students here. You will be conjoined. All I ask as your new Head is your compliance and your trust.”
Dr Ralphson reached for her handset and grey blinds began to drop down every window like silk. Gasps from the room. She stroked the set again and the quiet movement of deadlocks on the doors resounded.
“Now, let’s get down to business shall we?”
There was a hiss of escaping air, as something smelling of tar and lavender started to invade the staffroom. A low humming too from places that no one could quite distinguish.
“Listen carefully staff. What I reveal today is for your eyes only. Now inhale, please. Breathe in our special gift.’’
A voice that did not sound like Dr Ralphson began speaking from places all over the room, mentioning things that should not have been known let alone spoken about: secrets, jealousies, petty triumphs. And accompanying everything they could hear, everything they had to bear, there was this smell of tarry lavender with something else hidden beneath it, basking at the bottom, waiting for them, until they could dare to breathe it. Something swampy, lying in wait , vegetating.
Contagion. Contagion. The rhythm of their revealed pasts began swarming into their present and future. Tentacles of denied memory began grasping at their mind. Secrets, deception, elation, shame. All here to stay, suckering on.
When the staff room emptied a little later, no one spoke. Countenances were pale. A scent clung to them. They opened their classroom doors and spoke differently, moved differently. The students could hear something had changed, especially two pupils both called Jack. One would act, one would wait.
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In her new office, Dr Ralphson stretched out on the floor, thinking. The loan of the school’s boathouse for the duration of her tenure was a bonus; an extra piece of good luck; Plenty of river access and privacy. Privacy was essential. She spread out her right palm in front of her face, checking on the progress of her fate line. Didn’t all things come to all who waited?
