“Yes, yes,” said Walden, “but the Church is one of the largest landowners in the country. I promise you, God has a lot more money than Chetwood.” Trying to be delicate about it, she asked, “So is that why you joined the Marshals? To learn magic?”

Laura laughed. “I joined the Marshals because I was eighteen, it pays all right, and I thought it might impress girls. Then I turned out to be good at it. I wasn’t tragically longing for boarding school the whole time, promise. Once I’m over the sting, most of me will be glad to get out of here.”

“You really won’t miss anything about it?” Walden was embarrassed as soon as she’d spoken. What was she doing? Was there anything more pathetic than fishing for compliments?

Luckily, Laura didn’t even seem to notice. “I will and I won’t,” she said. “How the other half live. Nice kids, as well. In justice you’d want them all to be absolute wankers, but they’re mostly just kids.”

“A few wankers, perhaps,” said Walden demurely, not letting herself feel disappointment. Really, what had she expected? I’ll miss you, Saffy? They didn’t have that kind of … well. They were colleagues, with an acknowledged little mutual something that wasn’t going to go anywhere. That was all.

“The future Mark Dauberys of the world. Good luck with that,” Laura said, as they turned through the postern gate below the magnificent stone edifice of the Chetwood Gate, past Todd’s neat little house that guarded the road, up along the avenue of lime trees that marked the road through the rolling expanses of sports fields towards the heart of the school. “I’ll take the demons any day.”

They parted where the path for the Marshal barracks turned off—a sad little pebbled path, with no signpost. There was a brief, terrible moment where they were looking at each other and neither of them seemed to know what to do about it. The soft wash of the moonlight scolded them both for their embarrassing inability to manage anything approximating romance. Finally Laura made an awkward little gesture and leaned in, while Walden changed her mind at the last moment about going in for another cheek kiss, so that both of them tipped forward and then pulled back, bobbing hopelessly in place. Laura snorted. “This was fun,” she said. “Thanks for the beer. I’d better finish packing.”

“Good night,” said Walden. The failed kiss lingered in the air between them: dreadful. She turned away. She did not watch Laura disappear down the pebble path. She put her hands in the pockets of her sensible coat and went home and slept in her warm, comfortable, sensible bed, and did not dwell on it.

AUTUMN II

chapter fourteen NOVEMBER