I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Three

I spent the weekend concocting different episodes of our first run-in and working them out in my journal. I revisited these fantasies several hundred times over the following days. The Tuesday after I first saw her I was wandering the stacks in the back of the library when I glanced out of the window and saw her in the building across the lane that ran between the backs of Wykeham and Eglesfield colleges, marking papers in her office. I watched her for several minutes until it dawned on me that a) someone could walk by and see me gawping and b) she could look over and see me gawping so I nonchalantly placed my bag on a table directly in the window and feigned reading.

My habit became going straightaway to what I now considered my table during free moments and waiting for her to appear. The best time of day was first thing in the morning because her curtains were drawn so when she arrived she pushed them open. Ta-da! Then she'd remove her greatcoat. Ta-da! She was always impeccably dressed in a black or grey blouse or turtleneck and dark trousers. Sometimes she wore dark green or brown, but once she revealed a bright blue silk blouse; now that was a banner day.

Mornings we had our own little routine based partially in my mind and partially in reality. First, she'd open the curtains and say in her quiet Received Pronunciation accent, 'Oh, good morning, you. How was your evening?'

From my usual seat near her desk, I'd respond, 'Oh, fine. Yours?'

As she removed her coat, 'It was all right, so sorry you were unable to join us for dinner, the guest lecturer of philosophy at Magdalen so wanted to speak with you. But I suppose if you must write, you must write.'

'Oh, you know, Lavinia, people do tire me so, sometimes I find an evening alone to work on my stories quite rejuvenating.'

She'd smile understandingly in my direction, 'Yes, I know, my pet. I'd never deign to come between you and your art.' Hanging up her coat, 'Tell me, honestly, what do you think of this blouse?'

'It's beautiful. Though you know my opinion is horribly prejudiced, I always find you the very picture of feminine pulchritude.'

She waved her hand, 'Oh, stop, you flatter me so,' and made certain her hair was not mussed by running her hand down it with the gesture I had seen her use on the quad.

'What are your plans for today?'

'Oh, only a meeting with that dreadful Professor Burrows. You?'

'Tiresome students and then a staff meeting. I'd much rather spend the day with you.'

'And I you.' We'd share a warm smile before she got on with her tea.

She poured water from a plastic bottle into the electric kettle that resided on a side table directly in the window, retrieved a napkin and a white cup and saucer from the bottom left-hand drawer of her desk and placed a tea bag in the cup. She left the drawer open while she inquired, 'Shall I set out something for you?'

'No, thank you. I only just had a cup in my rooms.'

She then laid the napkin parallel to the saucer and a spoon on it. Whilst the water was heating she set out in neat stacks and rows whatever she needed for the day, asking,

'And how are your studies going?'

'Oh, fine, plugging along. To tell you the truth, most of my hall mates seem more concerned with the state of their love lives than the state of their studies. It is most immature.'

'Yes, well, not everyone is as perceptive of what is truly important as you are, my darling.' She was constantly telling me how far advanced I was mentally and emotionally in comparison to my fellow students.