Walking across the playground, Harry wished she'd reconsidered her choice in footwear. Even the wide heel didn't seem to be working for her. Perhaps gumboots would have been more appropriate.

An older boy, standing by the drink tap with his phone out glared at her. With his perfect blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, he would have fitted in perfectly in a viking movie. His fierce scowl oozed contempt. The female version of the Norseman placed her hand on his shoulder. She wore her hair in two long braids; they formed a glistening frame around her face. She smiled sweetly. There was a softness to her features and a kindness in her eyes.

"Good morning," she called out. Tracing the direction from which Harry had been walking, the girl looked at her knowingly, "You're the new Principal, right? I'm Annelisse, and this is my brother, Troy. You're going to be taking our 10 English class, aren't you? No offence to Mrs Trabecchi, but we're really looking forward to having someone who knows what they're talking about again. We haven't learnt much since Miss Lindley... you know... left..."

Annelisse walked Harry towards the front office, chatting away happily and introducing her to the 9/10 art students as they passed them taking photos on their phones around the school. By the time they had ambled to the front office, Harry believed she had met roughly half the senior class.

Annelisse deposited her in the middle of the L shaped building.

Just as Harry had suspected, this was where the school's offices were housed. Two angular rooms were visible from the veranda. The one to her left held a long table, a couch and a kitchenette, while the one on the right had a number of desks, one occupied by a short motherly looking lady, and a door at the back sign posting the Principal's office. The space where she would live when not teaching. Her stomach did a flip.

"Morning love, can I help you with something?" the motherly woman queried.

"Um... Hi, I'm Harriet Hill." The squat little woman stared at her blankly through her Coke bottle glasses.

Surely the whole staff would have been told the name of their new Principal, and it's not like she had a difficult name to remember. She racked her brain for something to say that wouldn't make this awkward. 

"Ah... I know I'm not supposed to start until tomorrow, but I thought I'd pop in and say hello, and get a bit of a head start. You know, paperwork, keys, computer network access..."

The little lady's eyes lit up in recognition. "Of course you do, dear. Why don't you put your bag out the back, in...um... well, your office, and I'll go get Matt. He's been filling in in your wake. I don't think he's in class right now."

She got up and started shuffling towards the door at the back of the office, rifling through her keys as she went.

"I'm Erin, by the way."

"Funny, I had picked her for a Gladys for sure," Harry mumbled to herself.

Harry looked around the room, finding the best place to sit her handbag. Considering the room was locked, it didn't seem to really matter where she put it, unless she suspected that Gladys... Erin would steal it. She dumped it on the desk.

Though it was spotless, the in-tray was littered with papers suggesting that all of the previous Principal's paperwork had simply been moved to one side when she'd left.
The ladies at the courthouse had said that she'd left all of the things in her house untended also. What kind of woman skipped town with nothing but her car and her cat? Harry hoped that this job didn't make her want to do the same.

A cloud of dust made Harry sneeze as she flipped through the papers in front of her. With her bladder fit to burst, she politely declined Erin's offer to make her a coffee from the school's newly purchased coffee machine, and only half listened to her prattling about a generous donation from the town's business something-or-other. Harry paused at an invitation.

"That's for the school's 50 year memorial ceremony next month," the man she assumed was Matt said, standing in the doorway.

The only word Harry could think of to describe him was average. His height was average. His build was average. His sandy hair was average. His smile and his nose were both average. If Harry wasn't a Doctor Who fan, even the name on his badge, 'Mr Matthew Smith', would have been average. About the only thing slightly memorable about the man in front of her was his eyes. Their amber colouring was reminiscent of a Siberian husky as they stared at the invitation.

Harry slipped it out of the pile. Matthew edged towards her, pointing at the black and white photograph featured on the glossy paper. "That's the class of 1969," he said. "They were the first students to ever attend Mercy's Creek State School."

"Oh?" she said, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, and see her there. That's the Senior Mistress, Claire Mercy-Rossberg. If it wasn't for her, there never would have been a school at all. She petitioned the government to get them to open one. It was even her land they built on.
"It's tragic. This photo was taken on the day they buried the time capsule, we'll be digging that up during the ceremony, and she was murdered only a couple of days later."

Harry was horrified.

"Apparently a couple of the senior students, and a few of Mercy-Rossberg's closest friends were all murdered a few days later too."

Noting her interest, Matt Smith continued his history lesson. "It was the darkest chapter in this town's history. You see, Mercy-Rossberg was the last descendent of Robert Mercy, the Catholic missionary who established the town in 1870. (His knowledge of dates seemed better than hers, and one of her specialities was supposedly history.) Anyway, their family built their church on this very spot, and it stood here until the year before they opened the school. That year it burnt down, killing Mercy-Rossberg's dad in the process.
"When she got approval for the school, she built it here in his memory. Such a tragedy that she followed him only just over a year later."

The blonde woman in the image held Harry's gaze. What courage she must have had, and she didn't even look a great deal older than Harry was herself. She felt overcome with a need to do this dead stranger proud. This school was essentially the woman's legacy, and it had been entrusted to her. Harry fidgeted with her collarbone in the way that she did when nervous. Her stomach flips morphed into a full acrobatic routine; one that ended with her internal organs in a complete and utter jumble.

Matthew placed a consolatory hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, nothing like that has happened here since. The kids might be... tough... really tough... but the town's as safe as any. Probably much safer than what you're used to, having come from the city."

"You seem to know a good deal about the town's history?" Harry inquired.

"Well it's so interesting, isn't it? There aren't many in town that don't know the story of Claire Mercy-Rossberg, and like I said, the 50 year commemoration is coming up. When we were without a Principal, I thought I better make sure I knew it backwards. Now that'll be your job. I'm sure that'll be one of the first things you'll want to get on top of, and now you have a head start."

Harry stared at him blankly, digesting the information.

"Where are my manners? I'm Matt, by the way. In case you hadn't already figured that out. I'm the high school science, maths, and technology teacher. How about we see to helping you get to know the school..."

................................................................................................................................................................

What do you think of Claire's story? Now that you know more, is there anything you think I need to add to the prologue? Is there anything else you want to know about Claire or the history of the town?

Thank you so much for reading.