chapter 2

"Don't mind him," a voice behind her said.

Anna turned to see a girl who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Or perhaps "fat air" would be more appropriate as the girl was rather plump. Her figure was so dominated by her large, round belly that her body seemed almost spherical in shape and made her limbs appear short and stumpy. Her face was a wide fleshy moon with a pronounced double chin and seemed all the rounder because she was grinning very broadly at Anna.

"Cherish Gatz," the girl said by way of introduction. She continued to grin at Anna, a strange sort of grin that had neither mirth nor meaning.

"Anna Liddel," she said. She felt a little unnerved by Cherish's constant grinning but she was the first person who had been so much as civil to her since she arrived so she was pleased to meet her. "Would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here?"

"Well," Cherish said, leaning lazily against the bannister. "That all depends on what you want to know."

"I scarcely know myself-"

"Then it really doesn't matter which way you go," Cherish chuckled. "Going right at the top of the staircase will take you to Professor Hattington who teaches Philosophy and going left will take you to Professor March who teaches Mathematics. Visit either you like; they're both mad."

"But I don't want to go amongst mad people!" Anna cried. She had had quite enough of rude people today but she doubted that mad people would be a pleasant change of pace.

"Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here."

If they were both mad then really the only decision was between Philosophy and Maths and she didn't care much for either but at least she had done some of the reading for Philosophy so she thanked Cherish and hurried up the stairs to Professor Hattington's classroom.

The highly polished mahogany displayed a brass plaque that proudly declared it the classroom of Professor Richard Maddox Hattington IV.

"Richard Maddox Hattington," Anna read aloud. "What a wretched name to have."

"Professor Richard Maddox Hattington IV," a voice corrected her. "It's a very good name to have indeed."

Anna could feel herself blushing hot with mortification. First impressions were so important, after all.

"My father was Richard Maddox Hattington and his father before him and his father before him and... I'm sure you grasp the idea."

Anna's blush intensified when she saw the speaker. He was so handsome. No, "handsome" was a word reserved for Byronic heroes like Heathcliff and Mr Rochester, dark and brooding with strong features and that certain appealing manly coarseness. Professor Hattington was beautiful. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate to describe a man as "beautiful" but she could think of no other word. He reminded her of paintings she had seen of the poets Keats and Shelley: pale and effeminate. Consumptive types much too delicate for this world.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" Anna cried with dismay. "I did not mean to offend you."

Professor Hattington smiled at her good naturedly and reached out his hand to shake her's warmly. "And you are Miss Anna Liddel, I presume?"

Anna nodded shyly.

"A very good name indeed," he said then added when Anna looked doubtful: "Within these walls, anyway. The school is very pleased to receive you, Miss Liddel."

Professor Hattington ushered her into his classroom. He threw his green top hat neatly onto a hat stand revealing his coppery hair and took off his mustard yellow tweed jacket. He gestured for her to take a seat at one of the old fashioned wooden school desks, the kind where the desk was fixed to the chair.

Professor Hattington spread out a white handkerchief and then made an elaborate little show of setting out a tea pot, cups, saucers, spoons, milk and sugar. He then perched himself on the edge of her desk.

"First thing's first, won't you have some tea and take a biscuit too?"

He had already poured her a cup of tea before she could reply and was now offering a plate of biscuits. Anna thought it would not be civil to say "No," thought it wasn't at all what she wanted. So she took a biscuit and politely nibbled the corner of it before setting it aside on her saucer.

She had a modest appetite and never had any desire to eat between meals. She could never understand the big to-do that everyone always made about food and it seemed to her that people were always inventing occasions as an excuse to eat in excess from Christmas to birthdays to dinner parties for no apparent reason.

"Time for our first lesson: why is a raven like a writing desk?" Professor Hattington said, springing up and writing the riddle on the chalkboard behind him.

"But I thought we were going to discuss Descartes," Anna protested, producing her neatly underlined and annotated copy of Meditations On First Philosophy from her satchel. "Forgive me for saying so, Professor, but your riddle sounds absurd."

"It might be absurd but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must learn not to be frightened of absurdities," he said with a rather charming smile. "In any case, wasn't it Wittgenstein who said never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness, but come down to the green valleys of silliness? So indulge me, Miss Liddel."

"Why is a raven like a writing desk? Well, let's see... I suppose a raven has feathers and one uses a quill to write at a writing desk..."

Professor Hattington pointed his index finger straight up in the air. "Wrong! Think harder, Miss Liddel."

"Oh... well... a writing desk has a hinge and it might flap open the way a bird flaps his wings."

He shook his head. "No no no, you are way off the target."

Anna looked down at the half eaten biscuit on her own desk. "Ravens eat worms and a writing desk is made of wood so it could become worm-eaten."

He folded his arms and stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Yes, I rather like that one. Life feeding on life, the devourer becomes the devoured. Eat or be eaten."

"But it's not the right answer to the riddle?"

He looked puzzled. "The right answer? There is no "right" answer."

"But if there is no definitive right answer then how can any of my other answers be wrong?"

"Hmmm? Well, no more time to explain. Class dismissed."

"You must know the right answer otherwise you wouldn't have asked?"

"No time, no time," he said distractedly, gesturing vaguely at the clock above the chalkboard. Anna noticed that it had numbers painted on it but no hands to mark the time.

She felt confounded and confused as Professor Hattington ushered her out into the hall and slammed the door of the classroom behind her. Perhaps Cherish was right and he really was mad. Stark raven mad.

Anna wandered through the empty school until she reached a room with two neat rows of beds that she supposed must be the dormitory where she must sleep. The solitariness of the school did not really bother her. Anna was used to being alone. She was a daydreamer by nature, an introvert who spent most of her time lost in her own thoughts. She was naturally intelligent but lacking in discipline and rarely excelled in anything that didn't immediately interest her or that she didn't have a natural flair for.

"Just like her mother," Aunt Ina had often thought with a touch of regret but she never said it aloud. She never said much of anything about Alice.

She sat on the end of one of the beds and decided to write her aunt a letter to let her know that she had arrived safely.

"Dear Aunt Ina," she began to write. "I am well-"

But she tore up the paper and began to write again.

"Dear Aunt Ina, everyone is so strange here -"

But that was no good either so she tore up that letter too. She sighed. She had read Jane Eyre enough times to know that she was lucky. Aunt Ina had never been cruel to her and had raised her in comfort, providing her with a good education and everything else a child could want. Everything, that is, except affection. Her aunt had always been chilly and distant towards her and now that she was of age and no longer under her guardianship, she realised just how heavily Aunt Ina's resentment had weighed upon her.