Miss Dubbers was a fussy soul at the best of times but when confronted by a gathering of some twenty girls from different years at the school, all waiting to be inspected, she was in her element.
"Now Beverley dear, you won't need that inflatable mattress. We'll be sleeping rough upon the softest moss known in all the Winkels of the world. That hamper's a little too extravagant and the porters carrying it will not be able to come with us Eventa. Ask Miss Vorzheen to return the silverware to the cutlery store, there's a dear. Oh, Brilliance, those heels are quite unsuitable. You should know a turned ankle in the Wilds of Fregonia simply cannot be walked off." Having given all these varied instructions she embraced everyone with a final smile of expectancy. "Have you all got your rucksacks?"
"Yes miss," came a high pitched chorus of voices.
Miss Dubbers then proceeded to call out names by year, elders first, so that Danique and Bubbles were the last to board the coach that would take them on the first leg of their journey to the great open north where adventure awaited. No one waved them off for it was after dark and they had already said their goodbyes to those pupils who still remained at the school for spring break had begun.
The seating arrangements on the coach was simply whoever was first on got the window seat and as Bannatyne always beat Ferale in the alphabet Bubbles crowded into the seat directly behind the driver with a smirk of satisfaction. After placing her belongings in the rack overhead she pressed her face against the glass, taking a last look at the towering structure of Miss Plazenby's alive with lights. Danique made herself comfortable in the aisle seat right next to Miss Dubbers who had already claimed the single seat by the swing door as she would always be the first off in an emergency. The engine roared and the large ungainly vehicle began its torturous journey down to the coast road amid the cheers of the occupants.
"No one is to start singing songs," Miss Dubbers piped up warningly as the coach rumbled on in the darkness. "I can't abide all that cheery nonsense. We are to breathe in the purity and freshness of empty thoughts that the wide open spaces of the world inspire. No poetry, no lyrics, just fresh and pure and free."
"Five hundred miles without music, sounds cool," Danique nudged her first year companion. Bubbles peeled her nose off the glass and looked at her seat partner curiously.
"I don't mind. I intend to use my eyes more than my ears on this trip anyway," and she sat back to close her eyes for a nap. There was still an hour before the hotel was reached in Maripostal Haven.
"Shall we speak in sign language then?" Danique quipped back, a little irritated at her friendly comment being somewhat rebuffed. Getting no response she too lay back her head and closed her eyes. A window seat was useless at night of course, she mused complacently.
The hotel was called Fleabane, apparently, and Miss Dubbers insisted there was nothing to worry about as it was named for a local flower. One or two of the highly privileged girls who foolishly signed up for the trip began scratching themselves nervously in the foyer as beds were allocated for the stopover and Danique cackled at their apprehension.
"Plenty of time for real blood sucking insects to sink their teeth into these fresh victims," she said to no one in particular as she dragged her rucksack along a corridor in search of her assigned room.
"It will be nectar to them and they will come back for many second helpings," a tall dark girl replied thoughtfully as she too peered at the names on doors. "Ah, this is mine, with a Danique, a Bubbles, quaint name, and a Marjory from the glorious third, like me."
"What's quaint about the name Bubbles?" said the auburn-haired fury standing right behind the tall girl as she opened the door and flicked on the light to the four bedroomed space they would briefly occupy.
"Please, don't froth," the other third year intervened and brushed past to claim her bed next to the first speaker. Danique brushed past too, imitating the swagger of the two older girls as she swung her rucksack onto the bed and threw herself down to luxuriate a moment before preparing to retire for the night.
"Don't leave the door open, there's a dear," she then said in disdainful tones. "It's creating a draught."
Bubbles looked at the notice pinned on the door. Alongside her name and that of Danique's was Marjory Doomstall, and Vanira Suthiam, the girl with the firm and forthright handwriting she had admired. She closed the door, took the remaining bed and lay upon it in thought.
Every now and then she glanced across at the tall, leggy third year, who sprawled face down upon her own bed was scribbling some notes in a book. Her face was hidden by a mass of glossy black hair with here and there a glittery clip that failed to hold its luxuriance in place and Bubbles thought ruefully those precious little vanities would be well lost in the Wilds of Fregonia, their eventual destination. She prepared for bed in silence and pondered her discoveries in the darkness that followed.
Had she been wrong about the Suthiam girl? Too much stress laid on handwriting perhaps? As she lay there she could hear the soft snoring of the selfsame girl, relaxed and at ease in a strange hotel with a strange name, and reserved judgement on the matter. Plenty of time to find out her true merit later, when the real adventure started. Bubbles was beginning to drift off when she heard a whimper from the bed next to her. It was Danique. She certainly was not at her ease and seemed to be having a nightmare. Bubbles turned her back, snuggled down in the last blankets she would enjoy for a while and sought her own adventurous dreams in sleep.
