Out of the Chocolate Box (48)

The Grandfather clock bonged twelve times. I glided down to the dining hall where the attendant, Novice Scratch-It, led me to the banquet table. To my disappointment, all the women sat on one table and all the men on the other.
‘This is definitely boarding school!’ I muttered sitting down.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (47)

In the meantime, I had questions that must be answered—like why does the kitchenhand hide his face under his hoody? I had nothing better to do. Besides, Günter, distant and preoccupied, had escaped to the village. As for Commander Driver, she had morning prayers and worship, taking up the whole morning.
So, when the kitchenhand scuttled out of the dining area after washing up, I followed him…at a distance.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (46a)

I attempted to sleep, but instead tossed and turned. I was on the mystery trail and no closer to sleeping. My mind spun round and round, thoughts rotating like in a tumble dryer. Those days and weeks before she passed, she shared her story—but not this. When I asked why it all happened, she went silent.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (45)

At seven in the evening, I scampered down to the kitchen and attempted to scrounge some scraps from the kitchen hand; some weedy adolescent wearing a hooded windcheater. What was he hiding? Pimples? He kept mumbling, ‘You’re too late, Miss’.
In the end, I mumbled in reply, ‘This retreat is not a retreat, it’s more like a boarding school or even a concentration camp’.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (43)

I had an idea and slipped behind some thick curtains while Günter poured over some huge leather-bound book. I did not know if my plan would work, but it was worth a try.
Günter turned around. His eyebrows knitted together in a searching look. He glanced around the room, darting his eyes in every corner, like a cat hunting prey.
I tried not to laugh, but a snort escaped. I would have to move to keep one step ahead.

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