“Aww, come on, Miss Colbert.”
“Mr Elgin, you know the rules.”
While Peter grumbled and dug inside his backpack for the bright yellow windbreaker each student had to wear on every field trip so their chaperons didn’t lose sight of them, Bryce Allen, the son of movie mogul Mike Allen, cuffed him on the head and started bouncing around like a prize fighter. Not to be outdone, Jeremy Babcock, an investment banker’s prodigy, put his fists up and, laughing, took a swat at both of them.
“Gentlemen, knock it off.”
God grant me patience.Having been an only child, she’d had little experience dealing with children prior to accepting her teaching position at the London branch of the prestigious AmericanInternational Schools, and her students, sensing it, regularly ran roughshod over her. But she took comfort where she could. Today would be a trip down memory lane, to that carefree summer when she’d been an exchange student in Edinburgh. And she’d be able to put her hard-earned degree in European history to excellent use.
Seeing Peter had his windbreaker on, she started walking. “This way, gentlemen. We’re off to tour the 140 acres known as Edinburgh’s New Town where at one time the greatest minds on earth could all be found living shoulder to shoulder. Our first stop will be Charlotte Square, named after King George III’s wife and designed by renowned architect Robert Adam.”
Three hours later, having described every nuance of Georgian architecture and the gruesome details related to Edinburgh Castle’s body-laden moat being drained and turned into the lovely garden in which they now stood, Sarah, hoarse and dead on her feet, asked, “Is anyone hungry?”
“Yes!” they all shouted.
Ty Clark III queried no one in particular, “Anyone see a McDonald’s around here?”
Behind him Bryce whispered, “You think the Spaniel will let us order some stout?”
Peter Elgin answered for her, muttering, “Hell, no.”
Sarah sighed. “Watch the profanity, gentlemen.”
A creative lot, her students had code names for all their instructors. Her boss was the Bull. Their headmaster, the Bear. They’d tagged her Spaniel the day she – running late – had shown up at school with her shoulder-length hair curling about her shoulders. She’d never made the mistake again but the moniker had stuck.
Sarah looked about. If memory served there was a nice pub that specialized in fish and chips two blocks west, near the intersection of King’s Stable Road and Lothian Road. All kids like French fries, right? “OK, boys, this way.”
The pub, awash in dark wood and stained glass, reeking of ale, fried fish and tobacco, hadn’t changed in her ten-year absence. The hostess warily eyed Sarah’s boisterous crew then led them to a private room at the back of the pub. As the boys settled around the long trestle table and tried to convince her that justoneGuinness wouldn’t kill them, Sarah opened her menu. Mmm, ArbroathSmokie and stovie tatties. She hadn’t had smoked haddock in years. Haggis? No. Forfar Bridies –
“What’s Hotch-Potch?” Ty Clark III wanted to know.
She grinned. “A thick mutton stew. It’s good.”
He made a face.
To her left, Peter asked, “What’s in ‘authentic Shepherd’s Pie’?”
Sarah looked over the top of her menu at their school’s star soccer player. “Think about it, Peter. What do shepherds tend?”
“Oh.” He went back to studying his menu.
In the end, they ordered six servings of fish and chips, five colas and one Guinness. For her. Their next stop was Edinburgh Castle. She could only pray the castle’s armour displays would still be standing when they left.
“Miss Colbert, do you have a boyfriend?”
Bryce’s question startled not only her but his classmates who, laughing, slapped his shoulders. She didn’t have a boyfriend – never had. She’d spent the last twelve years either caring for her mother who’d had Alzheimer’s or attending night school to get her degree. But that was none of their business. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “You’re always at school, never—”
Booooooommmm!
The violent explosion knocked them off their benches. The wall separating their private dining area from the main room collapsed around them. As they cried out, tried to make sense of what was happening, the customers in the front of the pub, buried beneath collapsed timbers, brick and glass, screamed.
Sarah, choking on smoke, her ears ringing, scrambled out from under their upended table. Reaching for her nearest charge, she shouted,“Bryce,are you OK?”
“Yes … I think.” He wiped ash and tears from his eyes as he struggled to his knees. “What happened?”
“I don’t know how but we’ve got to get out of here.” Flames were consuming what little remained of the front of the building. People continued to scream. As the fractured ceiling above them groaned, she grabbed the edge of the table. “Help me lift this!”
