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“I will,” Jane says. “Thank you.”
“And of course,” Headmistress Lotte says, her eyes twinkling slightly. “I hope you had a good trip here. I apologize for my brusque reception. Usually our students arrive in a slightly more refined manner, and with significantly fewer stolen pets.”
“Of course,” Jane says. “I understand.”
“Good work today, Miss Strict,” Headmistress Lotte says. “I look forward to having you on my team.”
“Thank you, headmistress,” Jane smiles, very much gratified and pleased to have made a positive impression, though Storm made it nearly impossible to do so. She thinks she will like it here.
6THE FIRST DAY
On her first full day at Birchbane, Jane joins the faculty for breakfast, which is taken with all the students together in the formal dining room. There is an air of perpetual vacation about the school. The view from the windows is absolutely spectacular, ranging across the valleys dotted with quaint little villages that have stood here for hundreds of years. Breakfast is a rich spread of croissants and brioche, cheese and breads, fruits and fried potatoes. Her colleagues are an intriguing and well-traveled cohort, and she is eager to get to know them all. This place suits Jane entirely, and she already feels very much at home.
The same cannot be said for Storm. It is not easy to spot her at first. The dining tables are set up such that the faculty is horizontally oriented and then the student table runs vertically out from the center of their table. More senior students, those in their early twenties, are seated toward the faculty. The younger, newer students are at the farthest end. Storm is at the very far end of the long table, picking at a croissant as if it has personally affronted her.
She is understandably sitting uncomfortably and does not look at Jane once. She says nothing to anybody, and is quite clearly, even at a distance, in a full sulk. But aside from an indelicate manner of avoiding eating breakfast, she is not doing anything overtly wrong. Perhaps the discipline is starting to sink in. It will take some time to adjust to it, Jane is very aware of that. For the moment, she is satisfied that her charge is beginning to behave.
* * *
Storm is in hell.
She spent the night barely able to sleep, tossing and turning uncomfortably with an aching bottom, alone in a fancy room that is not hers and she does not like. Everything here looks and feels pretentious. Even the way the other students speak to each other seems forced, like they’re running perfect little Stepford scripts. A few girls have tried to introduce themselves to her. Storm has resisted their overtures. She is not interested in making friends.
Location and aching bottom aside, what is truly bothering her is the uniform. The uniform for new students at Birchbane is not a traditional school uniform. It is a classic A-line dress in a deep green tone that the accompanying literature says flatters any complexion or skin tone. There is an optional cardigan, which is going to do two-tenths of fuck all against a winter’s breeze. It is matched with neutral hosiery, which Storm has already put a run in, and kitten heels which she hates with a passion. Even sitting at the breakfast table, the flaring hem of the skirt of the dress distracts her. There is just far too much air around, she feels practically naked, and she cannot understand why anybody would want to wear such a garment, under any circumstances, ever. She thought she was done with dresses and skirts.
Once or twice she glances up the table and sees Jane in what appears to be deep and fascinating conversation with her new colleagues. Nice for some, she muses inwardly. The girls around her are talking about an upcoming dinner party which the students will be hosting for the faculty as a sort of test. They seem to be quite excited about it, and that is because they are the most boring set of humans Storm has ever encountered.
* * *
Jane’s day is a busy one. She does not give any spankings, but she does meet several students who have been identified as slacking in one way or another and provides improving lectures. They are almost universally received with grace and even appreciation, which is a nice change of pace.
The day is so busy some of the activities the Headmistress had planned go by the wayside out of necessity, but Jane is not worried. All will be accomplished in due course.
By the time late afternoon comes, Jane is ready for a much needed break. She decides to stretch her legs and take Kravik for a walk. It is quite nice having a dog around the house, even if it is a stolen hound.
She retires to her little chateau, changes into attire more suitable for walking, and goes to gather Kravik from the backyard. But Kravik is not snoozing in the sun where she left him. He is not there at all.
Worried the dog has escaped, Jane immediately goes out to look for him, scouring the nearby countryside and calling his name. There is no response. She is imagining how she is going to tell Storm’s erstwhile host family that she lost their dog, when she hears a hail from nearby.
A hefty blond Swiss man and a tall, equally blonde Swiss woman are striding across the mountainside toward her with purposeful gaits. They are wearing black clothing and both have military bearing and the hardened expressions of people who are not to be crossed. Quite like disciplinarians in some ways. Jane finds herself warming to them for what turns out to be a very brief period.
Upon reaching Jane, the man speaks to her in a Swiss-German accent while the woman regards Jane with an unnecessarily withering glare. He looks to be in his mid-forties and carries himself with a sort of grizzled self-importance. His female companion is perhaps in her early thirties, but equally dour. Jane starts to feel guilty, though she has no idea why.
“Do you have a pass to be out of grounds?” He makes the demand in apapers pleasekind of way.
Jane has no idea what is happening for a brief second before she realizes that these must be the security people the headmistress was going to introduce to her.
“I’m the new disciplinarian,” Jane explains. “Jane Strict. Nice to meet you.”
The two guards exchange looks. “We are looking for a student from New Zealand. You have a New Zealand accent.”
“I’m Australian, actually,” Jane says cheerfully.
Unfortunately for Jane, nobody in Europe can tell the difference, and it is clear neither of these two Swiss people believe her.
“The headmistress has asked us to locate the new New Zealand student. You will come with us, please.”
Jane does not have any ID on her, on account of the fact that nobody who makes women’s clothing puts pockets in them. She has no choice but to accompany the guards back toward Birchbane. It is quite embarrassing, but she imagines it will be much more embarrassing for them in the long run.
