Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Grantly - 8. Grant Chapter 8
“Yes boy, how can I help you today!” a loud voice boomed, and this made me jump in fright a little, and the sound of the door opening behind me, made me jump in fright again. “Steady on with the new kid sir, he has been away from the island for a few years, and has just resettled back in,” the voice behind me said, and on looking over my shoulder, I saw Brent Crebbin, Jordan’s older brother approach and he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.
“You know this boy Crebbin?” the adult in front of us asked Brent, “Yes sir, this is Sebastian Grantly from Santon, sir,” Brent answered, just as the door behind opened again, and Jordan came rushing in, stopping beside his brother, and he leaned forward and smiled to me. “Who is this then?” the adult asked, “Sir, this is my younger brother Jordan, a good friend of Sebastian’s, sir,” Brent responded.
“Understood, so I ask again err Grantly was it? What is the reason for your visit today?” the adult asked. “Sir, I have been educated in Tasmania, Australia for my lower grades, so this is my first time at the school apart from the brief tour I received last week,” I replied with a bit of a squeak, as the adult frightened the hell out of me.
“Deputy Principal Hawthorn,” Brent whispered to me, and I gave a slight nod of understanding, “I see, do you have any documentation to present to me today?” Mr Howthorn asked, and I nodded my head yes, as I tried to retrieve the information from my backpack, only to spill the contents all over the floor in front of me, I squatted down to retrieve the items on the floor, that spilled out of my backpack and Jordan started to do the same.
“Leave him, let him do it…” Mr Hawthorn bellowed, which started to annoy me, as I stood up and clearly and in perfect Manx, “I kindly ask that you not continue to try and intimidate us with that tone and loudness of your voice… sir,” I said to the Deputy Principal, who went red in the face, as I saw Brent and Jordan smiling at me.
“How… how dare you speak to me like that… I should have you punished for that behaviour,” the Deputy Principal responded in just as loud a voice. “You will do no such thing, Mr Hawthorn, I suggest you return to your office, I am sure you have plenty of work to do,” came a new voice from the direction of back offices.
“Principal Johanson,” Brent whispered to me and Jordan, “But, but…” Mr Hawthorn started to protest but on seeing the Principal’s expression, he said no more and retreated down the passageway towards his office. Once we heard a door slam shut, the principal turned to us. “Now Brent, can you introduce me to these two new students please?” he asked Jordan’s brother.
“Certainly sir, this is my rascal younger brother Jordan and his good friend Sebastian Grantly,” Brent said in reply, “Rascal eh! Do I need to keep an eye on you two?” the principal asked, as Jordan gave his brother a kick in the shin, which made Brent growl in pain. “Not at all sir, my friend and I are very well-behaved… when not being provoked,” Jordan replied smiling and I nodded my head in agreement, which had the principal laughing.
“When I came out of my office, I heard someone speaking in very fluent Manx, who was that?” the principal asked, and I began to blush as Brent gave me a light shove forward, and the Principal chuckled at this. “Where did you learn to speak Manx so well, when you have been living in Australia?” he asked me.
“Well sir, I used to speak to my father by phone once a week, and we always chatted in Manx, as I had learnt it growing up here on the Isle of Man, before moving to Australia four years ago,” I replied. “I see, well that is something that should be encouraged a lot more,” the principal responded. “The two rascals' other friend William also speaks it fluently, as do I sir but usually only at home,” Brent said in Manx.
At that point, Willliam entered the admin office, and he looked at us then at the principal, wondering what on earth was happening. “Speak of the rascal, this is William Quine sir, the last of the rascal trio,” Brent said to the principal and this time it was William who gave Brent a kick in the shin, who was now hopping around in pain, as it was the same shin, and the principal burst out laughing again.
“You better get out of here you four, before the first bell sounds… Oh and Sebastian, well done on standing up to Mr Hawthorn, that was a brave and the correct thing you did there, and boys, thank you for the morning entertainment,” the principal said before he turned to return to his office. Comparing timetables, we learned that the three of us were mostly in the same classes, as Brent headed off limping still in a different location than us, after locating our assigned lockers, we gathered the books we needed for the first few classes, before finding a place to sit and wait for the first bell to sound.
On entering our first class for the day, term and year, I was surprised to see the desk layout being totally different than expected. Instead of a line of rows of desks, there was a group of four desks together, forming a square, with two desks side by side, and another two desks facing, with each group of desks on an angle to allow easier viewing of the teacher’s desk and the whiteboard.
William, Jordan and I sat down at a vacant group near the front, with Jordan sitting next to me, and William in front of me, with the spare seat quickly taken up by another student. “Hey guys, ready for a new school year? Err, who is the new guy?” the new arrival asked. “Henry, this is our good friend Sebastian Grantly. Seb this is Henry Albertson, who happens to be our next-door neighbour,” William said making the introductions.
I leaned forward to shake his hand and said hello to him. “Sebastian went to Preschool with us, before his family moved to Australia for a few years,” Jordan explained to Henry. “That would explain the unusual accent,” Henry responded. At that moment the teacher entered the room, and we all stood up, “Good morning class, welcome to a new school, semester and year.
My name is Ms Eccleston. I will be your home-room, English and Latin teacher. Please take a seat, and let's get started,” she said to us. Once a roll call had been completed, Ms Eccleston gave us a brief outline of what to expect for the year, before asking if anyone was fluent in another language apart from English and maybe Manx. Only about half of the class of 36 students spoke fluent Manx, and only a few knew a little bit of French, which I didn’t reveal at all until Jordan gave me a sharp nudge with his elbow into my ribs.
“Do you have anything to add?” the teacher asked me. “Yes ma’am, under duress from my friend here, I do speak fluent French,” I responded and that resulted in a kick to my shin, which made me hit my knee on the bottom of my desk. “I think we do less of that thank you, gentlemen,” the teacher said to us, “Yes Ma’am,” we chorused in reply, and we received a nod and smile in response before Ms Eccleston continued.
Once the class was over, and we had exited the classroom, “Thanks a lot, you guys, I don’t need any extra attention drawn towards me, so how about knocking it off with the drama, ok?” I said to William and Jordan, before walking off. After about thirty steps, I realised I was heading in the wrong direction, so I turned around and returned the way I came, to find the lads waiting for me, “We are sorry, we will try to behave,” William said to me, and Jordan nodded his head in agreement.
“You know, your brother is right Jordan, you are a pair of rascals,” I commented, as we continued walking towards our second class. The day was long and slow, and during the lunch break, I had to return to the Admin building to hand in my admin papers, which had not been done due to all the drama that took place earlier. “Where the hell did you get to, we have been searching for you and were starting to get worried,” William said to me, as I caught up with them in the dining hall.
I explained in Manx, why I had to return to the Admin building, and after we continued to chat as we ate our lunch, in the short time that we had left, mainly talking about how we each get to and from school each day, with Jordan and older brother Brent, travelling the 3 kilometres each way on their mountain bikes home in Northern Ballasalla when the weather is good, while William and his younger brother, travel with their father to and from school each day, from their home in Colby, 6 kilometres from school, and I get transport to and from school by Aunty Sophia or Henry and Christine.
Apart from our little run-in with the Deputy Principal, the first school day ended up very interesting, and for the most part, I liked all the teachers that I had so far, which was good, and I had no problems settling into the new school, thanks to my two good friends, plus Henry who was in most of the same classes as us, and who William informed me live on a farm, located between Santon and coast, just off Old Castletown Road.
I spent the rest of the school term just working hard, to get good grades and get along with everyone as best as possible, with William and Jordan mostly beside me for most of the time, except for two classes each week as I was now doing piano lessons, three times a week, plus divinity twice a week, as I had become more interested in history and workings of Christianity.
After talking to Mum on the telephone, which I did at least once a week, I managed to convince her to let me remain on the Isle of Man and to come to Australia for three weeks during the Northern Autumn holidays over Christmas, and when I let William and Jordan of this, they were thrilled to hear that I would be staying on.
As well as Manx, Latin and Italian being taught at school, I was also learning Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Malay and Greek, when at home, as I found out that I am extremely good at languages. During the one week of Spring holidays in mid-April, Dad was not able to take time off work, so instead, Aunt Sophia and I travelled to Nice, France then onto Monaco by helicopter, where we boarded the family yacht to spend a week cruising on the Med, while the yacht is on a charter.
The paying guests have already taken up the three double guest cabins on the lower deck, plus the one double guest cabin on the main deck, as they boarded the yacht in Nice, earlier in the day, and they are currently out exploring the city when we arrived. The master cabin on the forward main deck would remain empty, while Aunt Sophia and I would occupy the two VIP guest cabins on the upper deck, and have exclusive use of the aft upper deck lounge, and the outside forward upper deck in front of the bridge.
The eight Malay and Singapore guests could access all the other lounge and deck spaces, and they had been informed that the inside of the upper deck was off-limits to them for the remainder of their four-night cruise, which was costing them 35,000 Euro a day. After getting settled into our VIP cabins, we went to the aft lounge on the same deck, where I noticed that the glass wall and doors were an opaque colour, restricting the view of the outside aft deck, which I liked.
The chief steward arrived with our fruit drinks, welcomed us back onboard, and explained what the plans were for the rest of the guest's four-night cruise in the Med, with our departure set for 1400 hours, and our destination for our overnight stop being the Alissio Marina, which is 3 ½ hours journey away.
The guests will be dining onshore, so we will have the yacht to ourselves for a few hours, and at 1100 hours tomorrow, we will set off again, this time to Savona, where the guests will have lunch, before setting off to explore the area, and once again they will be dining onshore.
We were informed that our third night would be at the marina in Genoa, which is under a two-hour cruise from Savona, and we wouldn’t be leaving until 1300 hours, giving the guests plenty of time to explore the city before sunset. The next day the final port of call would be Carrara Marina which is a 4 ½ hour cruise from Genoa, with the yacht leaving at 1100 hours, so to arrive at our destination before 1600 hours, and after an overnight rest on the yacht, we too would fly out from Carrara, to Genoa, and from there to London, and onto home.
Knowing that the guests will be spending most of their time on land while in each port, I was planning to take some of that time to soak in the jacuzzi on the fly deck. After enjoying a nice lunch in the Fly Bridge, Aunty and I retreated to our assigned lounge, with the guests due to return at any moment, and it wasn’t long before we heard chatter and laughing, as shadows passed by the back doors, as they headed up to the flybridge.
“Malay? This will be an interesting trip,” I commented as the guests settled into the jacuzzi and sunbeds, “Yes, it will be, very interesting to listen in on their conversations, with them not knowing that we understand,” Aunty Sophia commented, and I chuckled at this. “You have done so well in your additional language lessons, I am sure that you will be able to fully understand what they are saying,” Aunty said to me.
“I don’t know about that, I am still learning Malay, as well as the other three new languages at home, plus the ones I am learning at school, Latin is the tough one for me,” I replied, “Yes, very true, I struggled with that one when I began learning it,” Aunty Sophia said to me.
The cruise was very enjoyable apart from having to dodge the guests all the time, but we managed to stay out of sight for the most part, until we arrived in Genoa, on our third day. When I presumed that all of the guests had gone ashore to see the sights of Genoa, I changed into my swimming togs and headed for the flybridge, to enjoy some sunshine and soak in the jacuzzi.
“Apakah ini? Siapa Awak?” a voice said from behind me, “Err, I mean what is…” as I turned to face the unexpected guest, “It is ok, I understood every word you said. Saya minta maaf, saya fikir semua tetuma telah pergi ke darat,” I said changing to Malay, to apologise and say I thought all guests were off the yacht.
“So, who are you kid?” the guest asked me, “I am a guest of the owners of the yacht, we have been on the yacht since Monaco, while you were onshore,” I explained, “We? How many more people are there?” the guest asked, “Just me and my aunt, I am on a short school holiday break,” I replied politely. “Monaco, so you have been onboard for three days? Oh wait, that is why the indoor area of the upper deck is off-limits?” the guest said to me.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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