The Haunted Pages

Chapter 5

But Daniel didn"t get the chance. Earlier, Dad received the delivery of a hire car and, coming into Daniel"s room, shook him, telling him to get up, time was running. Then he rushed out, muttering under his breath. Still groggy, Daniel shuffled downstairs to find Dad waiting impatiently by the door, a bread roll in his hand. “I overslept,” he said. “And now we"re late. You can eat this on the way.”

Armed with the appropriate directions, they drove down the mountain pass towards the little town of Füssen. It wasn"t so far and, with summer still clinging on and the weather warm, the road was easily negotiable. Daniel had made no mention of what had happened the night before. He didn"t know how to begin. A little part of him questioned whether anything actually had happened. Might it have been a dream? It had grown distant, without meaning, in the safe glow of the day.

hadThey headed toward Daniel"s new school, the International School of Füssen. A modern building, seemingly well equipped and orderly, Daniel looked around at the almost clinical interior. A little tinge of trepidation ran through him as he compared it with his old school. An ancient, well-used building, with narrow corridors and harsh, glossy walls, St. Giles"s Grammar School belonged in the past, in complete contrast to what he experienced now. Pristine, immaculate, like something out of a glossy magazine. No shouting, no swearing, only superbly dressed pupils all wearing, as an essential accessory, a full, beaming smile. Those who passed them in the corridor greeted Daniel and his dad with a little bow of the head. It just couldn"t be real.

St. Giles"s Grammar SchoolDad seemed impressed as he trailed along beside the Headteacher, an Englishman by the name of Bell. Daniel knew straight away what they"d call him back home: Dingdong. But here, such a nickname would be anathema to the well-conditioned students. Everyone seemed proud of their Head and he equally so of them, smiling and greeting them with little pats on the head.

Dingdong“Now, Mr. Sloane, this is our school!” He gleamed, showing perfect, even teeth. Daniel grew more uneasy. He pulled a face, hating all the perfection. He stopped in front of a sports photograph, the team rigid, puppets. He thought if he became a pupil, he too would calcify. Bell"s voice was shrill when he continued, perhaps mistaking Daniel"s mood, “I hope you can see what a very well-resourced establishment this is. Daniel will be very happy here, I"m sure.”

Dad smiled, and then turned to Daniel, who also smiled. It was obvious, however, that these were smiles of total bemusement. They"d seen everything, gym, science labs, drama studio, indoor swimming pool, computer suits; it all seemed absolute perfection. And now, as they sat across from Mr. Bell, the Headteacher pushed over the latest prospectus, professionally produced, angelic students" faces peering out. With fees attached. Bell sat back, beaming expectantly. Dad gave the brochure a quick thumb-through, and then drew in a sharp breath. Bell responded instantly, “Termly fees, Mr. Sloane. They equate to two thousand euros, per month.” Daniel stretched forward and gazed at the figure in disbelief. His mouth hung open. Dad coughed, his throat sounding very tight and dry. “Of course,” continued the Headteacher, “you don"t have to worry about any of that. If you decide to take up the offer, Daniel"s fees have already been paid.”

per month.Dad frowned, “Until when?” he asked, his voice sounding very strained.

“Until Daniel is eighteen. By which time he will have acquired the necessary qualifications to attend any university he wishes. We follow the international route here, of course.”

“Of course.” Dad and Daniel both looked at the figures again. The math was simple. There were two terms of this year left, which made twelve thousand euros. Another four years after that, at eighteen thousand euros a year…Daniel glanced at his Dad. That was lot of money. Then Dad asked a question, one that Daniel would have liked to have asked, “And in the event of us not taking up the offer?”

Mr. Bell looked shocked, his face growing pale. “I have to say, Mr. Sloane, I find that question a little … surprising. I assure you, you won"t find a finer school in the whole of southern Germany.”

surprising.“I"m sure … but you never know.”

“Well, as you say, I suppose something unlooked for could occur.” Mr. Bell didn"t seem convinced, and he shifted in his chair, looking a little uneasy, “A full refund would be granted, with the usual deductions made – time school already undertaken, administration fees, registration, etc. Those things would be deducted.”

“I see. And how much would we be talking about?”

Mr. Bell looked pained, “A total of four thousand euros in admin, plus a further six thousand for registration. Of course, I can"t say how much would be deducted from the fees as I am hopeful Daniel would stay for longer than a week.”

“But if he did stay for only a week?”

did“Then he would be charged for the whole of that month, Mr. Sloane. Two thousand euros.”

Daniel whistled softly through his teeth and gave Dad a quick glance.

“But I am absolutely sure, Mr. Sloane, that once he has settled in, he will not want to leave. This is an excellent school, with excellent pupils, high teaching standards and results that speak for themselves. You only have to look in the prospectus to see the range of extra-curricula activities we offer. And the winter vacation to Oberamagau is always very well thought of, as is the summer vacation to Aspern.”

“Aspern?”

Mr. Bell nodded, “Oh yes. We have close links with many other International Schools, Mr. Sloane. The organization to which we belong is world-wide. Why, even your …” he paused and briefly opened a manila file in front of him and scanned through the first page, “Yes, even your step-father was a member of our governing body.”

step“No, he wasn"t my step-father.”

Bell blinked. “I"m sorry?”

“I assume you"re talking about Herr Fichtner?” Bell nodded. “Well, he wasn"t my step-father. He"d died before I was born.”

The Headteacher looked a little flustered and threw open the file. He examined the contents for a long time before Dad leaned closer. “What exactly have you got there?” he asked in a low voice.

Mr. Bell snapped the file shut and looked Dad straight in the eyes. “Just some records, Mr. Sloane. We need to know exactly who our prospective clients are.”

“Well, I hope you amend your records appropriately.”

“Yes, quite so.” Bell scribbled something down across the cover. Daniel craned to read it, but it made no sense. It was in a foreign language, almost certainly German. Bell caught Daniel watching and narrowed his eyes. “There, that"s done. Now, inside the prospectus you will find an admissions form. Do not worry about the details; my secretary will fill all of those in. All we need at this time is your signature.”

The Headteacher produced a fat fountain pen, which he handed over to Dad. Daniel watched his dad as the nib moved down to the space where his signature would go. Daniel closed his eyes. He didn"t want this to happen. This place was a living nightmare; it was just too ordered, too proper, and too clean – not like a real school at all. He may as well be a programmed robot rather than a human being, everything was so controlled. Daniel wanted to jump up and shout “NO!” at the top of his voice, but he knew he shouldn"t. So he silently screamed inside as Dad"s hand began to move.

orderedDad"s hand was poised over the signature space, and as Daniel"s eyes focused on the paper, he could clearly see that Dad had yet to write anything.

“I"ll have a little think,” said Dad all of a sudden and handed the pen back with a little nod of thanks.

Mr. Bell looked stunned for a moment, his mouth gaping open. “I must say, Mr. Sloane, nobody ever–”

“I"m not saying I won"t,” continued Dad, ignoring Mr. Bell"s outraged tone, “I"m just saying I"m going to think about it. I"ll get back to you.” And with that he stood up, smiling broadly, right hand extended. Mr. Bell simply gawped at him. “Nice to have met you.”

won"tMr. Bell raised a limp hand and sat back as Daniel and his dad moved towards the door. At the threshold, Dad paused, turned and looked back at the still aghast Mr. Bell. “Oh, by the way, it"s not Sloane – it"s Stone. Perhaps you should amend your records about that, too.”

Sloane

They sat in silence on the way home but as they neared the little town of Hohenschwangau, Dad pulled into the car park of a bierkeller and switched the engine off, turning almost immediately to his son. “Well?”

bierkellerDaniel groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn"t bring himself to raise his eyes to meet his Dad"s, but he"d rehearsed what he was going to say, over and over in his mind, throughout the drive. “Seems a bit much to me,” he began sheepishly, “when a school like that can"t even get our name right.”

“So …” Dad wound down the window and took in a great lungful of the pure, mountain air. A large coach pulled alongside and began to disgorge its passengers who, for the most part, were Japanese, festooned with digital cameras of every shape and size. “I take it you wouldn"t be too upset if I said that I didn"t want you to go there?”

Daniel sat up straight, eyes snapping towards his dad. He wanted to cry out with glee he was so relieved. Instead he threw himself over his Dad and hugged him with all his might. Dad was laughing as he gently pushed his son back into his seat. “Steady. What it does mean, though, is that we either have to find another school, or think of an alternative.”

“What sort of alternative?”

Dad shrugged. “I know someone. Private tutor. He"s very good.”

Daniel nodded his head slowly, not fully convinced. But anything was better than that awful school, with its dead corridors and dead students. “Okay,” he let his voice hang in the air for a moment. “What shall we do now though?”

Dad smiled, “The great German tradition – afternoon coffee and cake!”