Despite his distaste for classes and studying, John did hold a certain sense of pride in his school. Though Wellington wasn’t Eton, the school his close friends attended, it was the next step to his future career.
As a military academy, the students were trained with drills and inspections just as in the real army. John found a certain satisfaction with his high scores in these tests. He’d joined the OTC and hadn’t looked back. His housemaster, ‘Pompey’ Pearson, had even written his father to tell him how well he was doing.
John liked to keep his person tidy anyway, a convenient trait for a future officer. There was no doubt he would reach his goal someday, regardless of his weak eyes. His father said so in the many letters he sent to his only son at school. Rudyard Kipling was a Noble laureate after all. If worse came to worse, he could pull some strings.
When he had left home, John’s health had recovered from the flu. His mother had worn his sister down after she’d kept him out longer than she’d promised. As Maria would have said, Carrie ripped Bird’s butt up. Though outwardly repentant, his sister had no regrets, even if he was bedridden again for another week and late getting back to school.
He wrote Bird an extensive letter detailing everything Maria told him and slipped it under her door late one evening before he’d left Bateman’s. He’d expected his playfully cynical sister to tease him about the tale, but she’d accepted it as gospel. Even after he went to school, where his mother’s letters were full of worries for his health and his father’s full of plans for his future, Bird wrote only about the year 2002.
John hoped none of his school mates would come across the correspondence. They would surely whisper about Kipling’s mad sister behind his back. Not that this would bother Bird. She would only look down her nose at such idle gossip and continue as she pleased.
“Kipling!”
One of his school mates, a younger boy who was even skinnier than John, hopped up to him after he returned from a visit to the clinic. His mother wanted the school physician to make sure her little boy was back to the peak of health even though it had been over a month since he’d returned to school.
“Post for you,” the boy clipped, holding out two thick envelopes. “It’s marked from Italy.”
John narrowed his eyes at the boy, his thick eyebrows hovering over his spectacles. “Why are you reading my letters, Lee?”
The boy’s prominent Adam’s apple jumped in his skinny throat and he looked away. “Just happened to see it. That’s all.”
John smirked and punched his shoulder. “I know. I’m just making fun. Thank you, Lee.”
The boy sniffed and smiled anxiously. “Oh yes. I knew it. I could tell.”
John had been much the same when he’d begun at Wellington, jumpy and eager to please. Sometimes he still felt like it.
John sank onto his neatly made bed and tore open the first envelope from his parents, ignoring the hum of voices in the background. His father told him they would be abroad in Florence and Venice for longer than they had expected, and they would miss him during his Easter vacation. He would instead be chauffeured by Moore, their driver, to the home of their family friend, Colonel Feilden, to spend the holiday.
John let out a huff of disappointment, even as his father encouraged him to buck up. He was nearly a man and could surely manage one holiday without them. Despite his father’s optimistic tone, John knew his daddo didn’t like missing a chance to see him. His words were as much for John’s sake as they were for his own.
His sister’s envelope was much larger. With a curious grin, he opened it to find not only a sheet of his sister’s personal stationary but a smaller envelope. It was plain except for his name on the back.
He scanned Bird’s quick note.
I received this and one for myself while here in Venice. Mary discovered them on the doorstep while bringing in the laundry and sent them directly to me as they were postmarked for us. Smart girl, that Mary. Never said a word to the other servants or the old folks so the secret is safe. I was thinking of saving this till I saw you again at Easter but since plans have changed, I thought this might cheer you up for missing home during the holidays.
Bird.
John gaped at the plain envelope in his hand. It didn’t appear out of the ordinary. After his experience with Maria’s telephone, he half expected it to make disembodied noises or open by itself like magic. Though Bird hadn’t expressly said it in her note, he knew it was from Maria. He ripped open the top and found a very common piece of white paper inside.
Dear John,
I’m sorry about my disappearing act the last time I saw you. I hope I didn’t freak you guys out too much, I didn’t mean for that to happen. It turns out I got caught. One of the TAs, teaching assistants, who works with my parents saw me go into the lab and recalled me.
To say the least, I was in big trouble. I have never seen my parents angrier in my life, while Jake smirked in the corner. I could have drop kicked the little cretin. Even though I love him. Anyway, I was pretty certain they were going to ground me for the rest of my life or at least till I was thirty years old.
But then the coolest thing happened. It turns out they have been having problems with the formula in relation to the people they can send. It has something to do with atoms. Of course, it all made perfect sense to Jake, but it took a while for them to explain it to me. The long and short of it is that the machine works best with younger subjects.
They studied the data from my trips that Jake had hidden, and they were stunned by the results. Not only is it safer but it works better. I can stay longer with no side effects from the travel. They took me to a physician to make sure and all the tests came back great. If anything, I was healthier.
I won’t be able to take anymore ‘joy rides’ as my mom called them, but they said it would be possible for me to take a few more trips for the sake of their studies. I told them that the time and place I traveled to was perfectly safe. They were worried about the effect on the future I would have, something about a grandfather paradox, but I think they believe history can split into alternative timelines or something like that. It’s all too complicated for me. All I care is that I will be able to see you again.
Also, I can send correspondence to you via the oak tree. I left these letters on the doorstep for you in one last ‘joy ride’ without my parents’ knowledge, but if you leave letters for me at the tree, we can communicate that way. I can tell you the next time I can travel back, and you’ll be ready.
I left out that your father was Rudyard Kipling when I told them. I was worried that would ruin my chances at ever returning seeing as how famous your father still is. But I told them about you and Bird, that you were the only ones who knew where I came from. And that you were both trustworthy. They are still a little worried, but Jake is on my side which helps because he’s pretty much a brain ninja.
I can’t tell you how happy I am that I’ll be able to see you again, that is if you would like to see me. Honestly, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you yet, John. You’re a good friend. I’m so thankful I met you.
From,
Maria
John didn’t mean to let out a loud whoop in the dormitory, it just exploded out of his chest. His mates all froze in their activities and laughed. John reddened and folded the letter, tucking it into his pocket.
“Good news, Kipling?” Pompey asked, coming to stand in the doorway.
“Just about the new motorcycle my father has been talking about, sir,” John lied through his teeth.
The house master took the explanation without question as he ordered the boys to be ready for inspection. John forced his expression to stoicism, standing at attention, even as their personal spaces were examined. His blood pumped hard in his ears, the letter burning a hole in his pocket.
All he wanted to do was read it over and over. Maria wasn’t gone forever. She was coming back. Not only that, she wanted to see him. He was her friend. She even said she wasn’t ready to leave him behind. That line repeated in his brain like a skipping gramophone record. John thought he’d crawl out of his skin with joy as the inspection dragged on.
He silently cursed the fact that he wouldn’t be able to go home to Bateman’s in March for the holidays. He couldn’t wait till summer to send her word. He began to devise a plan.
♦♦♦
“Moore?”
John sat forward from the back seat of their family car. He and his father had affectionately nicknamed it ‘the green goblin’. Their chauffeur had picked him up at Wellington as soon as classes were finished for the holiday. It was warm for March with the sun shining brightly on the road to the Colonel’s house.
“Yes, Master Kipling?”
“Are you good at keeping secrets?”
The dour chauffeur’s expression remained stony, his sharp eyes fixed on the road ahead. John patiently waited for an answer, not ready to retreat quite yet.
“What kind of secret, Master Kipling?”
John thought he heard a note of curiosity in the man’s voice and decided to take a chance. “Nothing dangerous or illegal. It’s a letter I want to send to a friend.”
“Would you like me to post something for you, sir?”
“No, not in the usual way.” He tapped the envelope on the leather seat and hung on as they rode over a pot hole, kicking up dust in the fresh spring air. “I was going to do it myself, but then I found out I would not be returning to Bateman’s for the holidays.”
“Does your friend live close to the house?”
“Yes. Well, in a way.”
The man’s face was strident, his eyes unblinking. John scratched his scalp. Moore and his father often talked shop about their vehicles, Daddo being something of a motor car fanatic. It was yet another thing he and his son bonded over. There was the chance Moore could let it slip to his father. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to take the risk.
“Never mind, Moore. It isn’t that important,” John said with a brief laugh, sitting back in the seat.
After another quarter of a mile, Moore stirred with a sigh. He tipped the edge of his hat up and cleared his throat. “Where do you need me to leave this note for your friend? Will they pick it up for themselves?”
“If you could leave it by that old oak tree in the forest. It’s just a friend from one of the nearby villages. It’s a kind of game we play, you see.”
“A game, sir?”
“Yes. A secret game. If you don’t want to do it, I won’t make you. But Moore,” John said, leaning forward. “If you could keep it between us? Bird knows, she’s in on the game too.”
Another beat of silence and John held his breath. Moore raised an open palm from the steering wheel over his shoulder. “Very well, sir. Our secret.”
John could barely contain his smile as he placed the letter for Maria in Moore’s gloved hand. “Thank you.”
“Sir, may I ask a question?”
“Yes?”
“Is this for a young lady friend of yours?”
John’s breath hitched. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I spied a young woman on the grounds back in late February. She was oddly dressed, in trousers it seemed. I called out, but she escaped into the woods.”
John dug through his brain for possible excuses, made up explanations. He gaped at the blooming scenery rushing past. “It’s a romance.”
Moore chuckled, a rare sound. “I thought as much. The mistress would not be too keen on a young lady in trousers, I expect.”
John let out a genuine laugh. “No, I expect she would not.”
“Very well, sir. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thank you, Moore. Thank you very much.”
♦♦♦
John had returned to school by the time his family came home from Italy. He continued to receive the usual post from his parents, but Bird had not written him since Easter. He hoped he had been specific enough to Moore about where to leave the letter. The old oak was at the center of the wood, the family was aware of it. It was one of the oldest trees in the area.
If Moore got confused, Bird would leave a note when she returned home, letting Maria know they had received her communication. But he didn’t want Maria to hear only from Bird.
John loved his sister but when it came to Maria, he felt like a child who didn’t want to share. He was turning fifteen in August and much too old for such foolishness, so he forced himself to ignore it. But he believed he had found a kindred spirit in Maria.
His friends were successful in their pursuits. Oscar was a house master at Eton and George Cecil, the son of Lord Edward Cecil and his wife who was his mother’s dear friend, was set to attend Sandhurst after graduating Winchester later that year.
In May, his father had given a lecture at school on ‘The Uses of Reading’. During the speech, he could feel his mathematics teacher’s eyes squinting over at him. John knew what a few of them were thinking. Where did it go wrong with a Noble laureate’s son? Shouldn’t he be a prodigy of some kind, like Maria’s brother Jake? Super advanced was the term she had used. Despite his love for his Daddo, the notoriety the connection brought could be trying.
John hadn’t attended Wellington for a full two years and already felt a failure, despite his father’s encouragement. His worsening eye sight didn’t help matters nor his unimpressive build, being of below average height and slender. When Maria talked about how lost in the middle she felt between her brothers, the brilliant Jake and courageous Devon, he knew exactly what she was saying. Neither of them was an excellent student. Both felt depressingly mediocre. If he thought about it too much, his chest ached from missing her company.
Finally, in June as he crammed for the final exams in the coming month, he received a letter from Bird. Smuggling it into his mathematics text, he wanted alone to read it. At one of the tables in the back of the silent library, he opened the letter.
There was no word from our friend until a week ago. Whenever I’ve had the chance, I’d visit the tree. Moore is the perfect conspirator by the way, the man wouldn’t break under the most horrific torture, of that I am certain. She left only one note this time for the both of us and it was rather short, so I will just tell you.
After learning you would be home in August, she planned a trip with her parents’ consent for the end of the month. She can stay the whole day. It will be August 10th, a little over a week before your birthday. I don’t know if she planned it as such, but I thought it was a lovely surprise. Good luck on your exams. I know you’ll do your best.
Bird
His mind was so full of this new adventure that studying seemed pointless. As John stared blankly at the books, thinking only about the approaching tenth of August, he pulled out Maria’s letter and scanned the words.
A school mate, Richard Lloyd, took a seat next to him, forcing him to conceal the paper. But Richard’s bright blue hawk-eye caught the rough swirl of Maria’s penmanship sticking out of the corner. With the end of his pen, he tugged it into view with an inquisitive smirk as John left to retrieve a book from one of the towering stacks.
“Kipling,” Lloyd whispered with a grin as John sat back down. “Are you exchanging letters with a sweetheart?”
John’s face flushed when he noted the exposed letter. “Of course not.”
As he snapped up the paper and folded it into his pocket, he tried his best to ignore Richard’s giddy smile.
“Then who is Maria?”
“A friend.”
“Related to you?”
“No.”
Richard snorted. “Let me understand you clearly now, she’s a friend who isn’t a relation but writes letters to you that you keep on your person?”
“And your point, Lloyd?” John snapped, growing weary of the other boy’s banter.
Tussling his unruly red curls from his high forehead, Richard shrugged. “Just sounds like a sweetheart to me.”
“Well, she’s not.” John honed his attention on his Latin studies and after a moment of silence, it seemed Richard had given up. A teacher, who had heard the whispering, moved past them in silent reminder of where they sat.
Richard leaned in as soon as the coast was clear. “Is she pretty?”
John clapped his books closed and strode from the library.
The boys in his level were his friends. There was some gentle teasing about his father’s fame at first, but once they saw that John only wanted to be one of the lads, they had accepted him without question. But they could be immature where the female sex was concerned. Confined to a strict institution with their primary social interaction only with family, they were always more than eager for romantic gossip.
Richard Lloyd was a good pal though and didn’t mention the subject again. With exams around the corner, they were unable to talk about much else. After the final tests were given, John received his scores only a few hours before his father was set to pick him up.
Sinking down onto his trunk, John scratched his head as he stared at the disappointing numbers. He knew he might not get full marks, but he hadn’t expected them to look this bad. Especially his mathematics. He had applied himself ruthlessly, studying at every spare minute. His father’s persistent encouragements in his brain. Though he only wanted to hearten his son, they only made him feel more pressure.
In the dust of the courtyard as the boys of other prominent families were picked up by the family chauffeur, John caught a glimpse of the ‘Green Goblin’, the Kipling family Rolls Royce, as it pulled up. Moore sat in the driver seat with his father nearly hanging from the door as it rolled to a stop. His father’s smile was genuine, if a little strained. No doubt he had already received word of his scores long before John did.
Rudyard Kipling smartly stepped onto the cobblestone and stood in front of his son. John was only a little taller than his father, just shy of 170 centimeters or 5’6 and a half inch.
“Good to see you growing like a cornstalk, son,” he said, holding out his hand.
John grasped it and gave it one good shake before his father pulled him into a brief embrace. “Good to see you too, Daddo.”
“Don’t you worry about these scores. I know you’ve got the stuff,” Rudyard said, breaking the awkward silence as he retreated. “But I’m afraid your mother was awfully excited about it. And for that beating you received not long ago.”
John winced. He’d been reprimanded for going on a lark one Sunday. “I’m sorry about that.”
Rudyard shook his head. “I was beaten more times than I can recall back in my school days. These scores are just a hiccup, I’m sure. Though, if you don’t pull yourself together, I am concerned you’ll be labeled a fool by your peers which would be a shame since that’s far from the truth. I know you’re cleverer than this and so do you.”
John shifted awkwardly on his feet and looked away. “It won’t happen again, daddo.”
“I know it won’t, son.” His father clapped his hands against John’s slim shoulders. “Now let’s get you home to your mother and sister, they are probably wild by now in anticipation.”
As Moore packed John’s things into the car, Richard Lloyd walked past with Joseph Lee. The boys paused to say their farewells and greet John’s father. The conversation was perfectly harmless, until the end.
A car pulled up for Richard. He grinned at John before sprinting towards it. “By the way, make sure to tell Maria hello for me. I’m sure you’ll enjoy her conversations much more in person.” With a wink, he darted away.
John froze, feeling his father’s eyes focus on him.
“Who is Maria, John?”
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