a moment with aunt charmian

"Your aunt left a message. Told you to give her a call when you came back."

James looks up, then closes the door behind him. Making his way over to his side of the room, he gives his roommate a nod of acknowledgment.

"Did she say anything?" he asks.

His roommate, Quentin Jones, is currently lying in bed, the upper half of his body propped up against the pillows, with what looks like 'Rugby World' before him. He shakes his head, then resumes reading.

James isn't so much relieved, but he's glad anyway that Aunt Charmian is private about her matters as he is. There's no reason, after all, for James' roommate to be a part of his affairs, whatever those affairs may be.

He hadn't heard from his aunt since he'd returned to Kent for the summer while Fettes was closed. They didn't speak much, and it didn't seem to bother either of them. He was certain Aunt Charmian considered him something of a burden - both financially and mentally. He was just another responsibility to her, what with being the only surviving son of his now-deceased father. And he didn't want to get to know her; there simply was no productive outcome. He hardly sees her as it is, and when they lived together for those few months a year, he would spend most of his days out: hiking, swimming, walking, wandering.

James turns back to his bed, pulls off his t-shirt, and with it wipes the sweat from his brow. He'd been running, as he always did around this time of the evening - right before dinner, and right after the college's designated 'homework period', which he very rarely followed. There were only a few routines in his life that he was dedicated to and running was one of them.

He grabs a fresh shirt from the pile of clean laundry sitting by his bed. It's a little rumpled but it's clean, and that's the best anyone outside the dorms is going to get tonight.

Without a word, he leaves his room and makes his way to the phones.


It takes several rings before his aunt picks up.

"Hello? Who is this? This is Charmian speaking."

The sound of her voice is familiar but tinny. It is also taut and almost a little impatient, like whoever this is, they'd better have something valuable to say or she will be cross and isn't afraid to let that be known.

James half-wonders how Aunt Charmian and his dad got along as children. His father always spoke of his sister as someone to be respected, an 'incredibly clever and incredibly intelligent' woman with 'a good head on her shoulders'. It's likely his father left out the bit where his aunt was also 'incredibly in need of some loosening up - and maybe a boyfriend.'

"It's me."

There's the briefest moment of consideration before Charmian lets out a breath.

"James."

James doesn't respond.

"You know I don't like to bother you while you're at school," his aunt went on, "but I need to know your upcoming plans this holiday."

"Holiday?"

"Christmas, James. Christmas."

"Oh. What about it?"

"Are you coming back to Kent?"

"I didn't really consider it."

"Well," Charmian starts, "a few of my friends and I have decided it would be the opportune time to see each other. We were planning on a trip to the Alps but I need to know if you will be returning to Pett Bottom come the holidays."

For a moment, neither of them are speaking and all James can hear is the sound of her breathing.

It really wasn't like he had given Christmas any consideration. What with school, and rugby, and all the rest of it, it simply wasn't a priority for him. And did he really expect his aunt wait around for him to come back to Pett Bottom so they could not speak to each other for a couple of weeks?

Of course not.

"Do what you want," James says. "It shouldn't be a problem, finding something to do this holiday."

Whatever (and wherever) that something is.

The sound of relief is quite clear in his aunt's voice. One might dare to say that the tightness in her tone lessens. Well, fractionally anyway.

"Wonderful. I am happy to hear that. Do take care of yourself, James. And as always, if you require anything the school cannot provide for you -"

"Yes," James interrupts. "Thank you, aunt."

"Have a good holiday."

"You too."

"Bye, then."

"Bye."

The line clicks silent. James returns the phone to the receiver.

Well, that's that, then.