Page 7 of The Beast's Heart

It’s like this space was designed by someone whose sole knowledge of a school came from reading Victorian novels. Two rows of wooden desks stand before a blackboard, which isflanked by one of those big, brown, antique globes that probably still has labels like Siam and Constantinople. Dust motes dance in weak light coming in from three large windows that match the one in my room.

I adore everything about this.

Dad would too.

“Quaint, isn’t it?”

I spin to find a darkly handsome man standing behind me. He’s in tight-fitting sportswear and is conventionally attractive in the same way Zane is, but he has none of Zane’s warmth. Something about his pointy chin makes me think of a snake.

“It’s very classic,” I agree.

The man rakes his eyes over me. “You’ll fit right in.”

My stomach tightens. Maybe I should have changed. “Are you…” I try to imagine what role a man like this might play on staff. “Adam said his assistant’s name was Meredith, am I to take it you’re not…?”

His smile sharpens. “Not Meredith, no.” He offers me his hand. “Geoff. Head of public relations.”

I shake. “Oh, I see. Is this all your project then? With the children?”

“Would be if ‘Adam’ wasn’t so beastly.” He tilts his head in the direction of the control room and we start walking in that direction. “No one calls him that, you know? Adam. You have to admit, he doesn’t look like anAdam.”

“What do you call him?”

“Beast. He’s been Beast as long as I’ve known him. What’s your story, Jonathan?”

“No story,” I answer too quickly. “I—I’m a teacher, as you probably know.”

“You’re just going to go with that, then?”

My heart stutters. “Wha— what do you mean?”

“There you are!” A woman in a finely-tailored mauve suit approaches. She’s tall with dark skin and short curls. Her kitten heels clack on the hardwood. At least I’m not as overdressed as I feared. “Geoffrey, I hope you’re behaving?”

“Never.”

She holds out her hand to me. “Mister Belle, I’m Meredith.” Her voice is soft but her shake is firm. “I apologize for not being available to greet you earlier, I had some urgent paperwork to see to.”

Geoff scoffs and I know at once that whatever she was busy with, it wasn’t paperwork. She skillfully ignores him.

As we continue onwards, Geoff falls into step. “She’s been anxiously awaiting your arrival. She’s had to help Lily-Iris with the brats.”

We’re passing the grand piano and just then it twangs and plays a long, wavering note. I jump. So does Geoff and I hear him mutter, “This fucking place” under his breath.

Meredith looks a little alarmed herself, and she pulls at her blazer as if to straighten it. But sounds perfectly calm when she says, “Little wonder the strings are starting to go after all this time. Must be the weather.”

It’s a tragedy that such a fine instrument would sit unused. I feel inexplicably sad for whoever the mystery designer was, who loved this place so much and then lost it. The thought of losing my own old home makes my stomach ache, even though I know that selling it would be the answer to all our problems. Certainly a more reasonable solution than this.

Geoff casts another wary look at the piano. “This weather could make anyone snap. Hope you like rain, Teach. Because, let me tell you, this place is rain on rain on rain. And sometimes, if you’re real lucky, you get snow, sleet, hail, thunder, lighting or a blizzard.”

“Gosh, blizzards? Really? Does that happen a lot?”

Geoff rolls his eyes. “I was being sarcastic about the lucky part. No need to sound so excited.”

We continue downstairs into the foyer and Meredith leads us left into another wallpapered passage, then left again through double doors into a steamy kitchen that smells like garlic, rosemary and roasting chicken.

The room is huge, with stone floors and exposed rafters. There’s a fire roaring in a grate and the man who drove me here is sitting at a big wooden table with a mug between his hands, talking to a young woman with bright red hair pinned back in a tight bun.

“You’ve met Angus,” Meredith says, gesturing to the driver. He gives me a nod of greeting. “And?—”

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