Alicia Vincent had no idea what to expect from St Fiacre’s College, but if the grim-faced antique Bentley driver and the twisting approach through the mountains was anything to go by, it was going to be a colossal bore. The narrow roads wound between spiky trees and sheer rock faces, occasionally skirting the side of a mountain, and gave an impression of about as remote a place as one could get. Maybe there wasn’t even a college up here, and this was just a ruse to get her to a secluded spot to dump her body.
Some people were concerned that Changer Colleges hid such dark secrets. There was no telling, as most changers never came back – but then, most people considered that a good thing. When girls started succumbing to the Xm-96 “Hiccups”, as they were commonly called, society considered them better off out of sight. Alicia’s own parents hadn’t been able to hide that look in their eye when they’d left her at the airport. Relief. Their unstable daughter was going far, far away. Even though she hadn’t actually done anything except break a few plates and give everyone a small surprise.
Or a big surprise, she supposed. Big was the word . . .
It didn’t matter. Girls who caught the Hiccups had to be taken somewhere that could properly accommodate them; that was the line they were all fed. St Fiacre’s was ideally suited for such a task, one of the only facilities of its kind in the world. Nestled deep in the Scottish Highlands, it took in the vast majority of women who succumbed to the ailment across Europe, and had an excellent program for rehabilitating them. So they said.
“In fact most of our residents,” the lady on the phone had cheerily assured Alicia’s family, “choose to stay on at the college. They’re just more comfortable here.”
Alicia could not imagine comfort lying at the end of this road.
Brenton, the driver, had been waiting at Inverness Airport in a stiff burgundy suit, gaunt and sallow-faced. He most likely belonged to a long line of humourless man-servants. Even his Bentley, an extravagant old car, looked like it had long past the need for retirement. The transport, combined with the long, wild approach to the college, warned Alicia that the college was most likely a windowless hermit’s cabin with no heating, no electricity and cobwebs in every corner.
They turned a final corner, though, and Alicia was drawn to the window with a gasp. The college was revealed in one extravagant sweep, as they drove along a ridge above it, before the road descended towards it. Three large buildings, sitting between a creek on one side and cliffs on the other, with woodland to the rear. A great stone fountain sat in the large courtyard before it, and a turning circle separated the buildings in a horseshoe. There was an old stone hall with an arched tile roof which sat between a large, complex castle structure to the right, with turrets on two corners and tall windows, and a contrastingly simple box of a building on the left, flanking the mountains. The boxy building stood out most: it dwarfed everything.
It was an unimaginative cuboid, brick with sparse, high up windows, and was possibly the largest single building Alicia had ever seen. She shifted in her seat to keep staring as the car turned down the approaching road. It was like an enormous warehouse, but it stretched further back than any building had a right to. Maybe two hundred feet tall, possibly more, and who knew how long. A mile, Alicia jokingly suggested to herself. But it might be. It continued back into the rocks, possibly into the mountain itself, and it made the rest of the college look like a dollhouse. As Brenton drove closer, the building’s scale only got more daunting, looming taller and taller, until Alicia felt toy-like herself, looking up at it. The building had one enormous metal door, big enough for a person of absolutely giant proportions.
Which was, of course, the whole point.
Brenton parked on the other side of the fountain, before the old school hall, and grunted to say they had arrived. Alicia clambered out of the car to move towards the huge building, mouth open as she gaped. She was only dimly aware of Brenton huffing about at the back of the car, carting out her bags, as footsteps approached.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” a lady’s voice said, with a slight Scottish accent.
“It’s massive,” Alicia replied, rather the least intelligent or insightful response she could muster. She shook herself out of the awe and turned to the speaker. The woman was a good six inches shorter than Alicia, who stood a healthy 5’7 herself, and she wore thin round glasses and a fine brown suit, well-fitted to her trim figure. Her sleek black shoes pointed out from flared trouser-legs, and she had long, straight brown hair that hung shiny and neat across her shoulders. She was in her 30s or possibly early 40s.
“A pleasure to meet you Alicia,” the woman said, holding out a hand. “I’m Principal Muir.” She had a friendly smile, with bright eyes and good skin, definitely young-looking for a principal. Alicia shook her hand; Muir had a strong, confident grip. “I trust the journey was smooth?”
“Very, I think so,” Alicia said. She looked past Muir, to see Brenton carrying her bags inside, and noticed they were not alone. The old hall building had a pair of glass doors that entered onto a reception area, where the shapes of other girls were gathered inside, watching. Outside the door stood a young lady with her hands in her pockets, wearing smart trousers and a white blouse with suspenders, and a top hat that barely contained her frizzy black hair. She could almost be a magician. Alicia gave her a small wave and she smirked back, amused rather than friendly.
“That,” Muir said, “is Topper. She’ll be your guide, mentor and Buddy, as it were.”
Alicia could hear the capital B and asked, “As in, Buddy System?”
“Quite so,” Muir said, maintaining her smile. It wasn’t so friendly either, Alicia realised now, and with the people watching her from the shadowy interior, she remembered she had not exactly wanted to come here, nor trusted the college. Muir started walking towards the entrance, continuing, “It’ll be Topper who gives you the full tour. She’s two years your senior, and will be able to answer all your questions. She’s also your lifeline in the case of a bout of the Hiccups.”
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Alicia heard the capital H in that word, too. She cleared her throat at the mention of the affliction, and the need for the word lifeline. “I thought Hiccups weren’t a problem here at St Fiacre’s. Like, you accept it, don’t you?”
Muir turned to face Alicia with another smile, this one definitely false and suggesting, somehow, that she was a foolish, misguided young girl. Alicia squirmed, impressed that Muir could make her feel so small when she actually stood a head above her. The principal said, “Acceptance of a problem does not stop it from being a problem. Now, you’ll have noticed the basic layout of the school – to your right is Fiacre House, a former priory and our main residence, comprising the dorms, recreation areas and classrooms. Ahead of us is Fiacre Hall, home to the college’s administration arm. And to the left, of course, is Fiacre Heights, for those who –”
Alicia covered her mouth, stifling a snort of laughter, and got an icy stare from Muir.
“Sorry,” Alicia said. “Heights, that’s good, is all. You obviously chose it to be . . .” She trailed off, seeing no humour in Muir’s gaze. But the name was amusing. The building was constructed for giants!
“Moving on,” Muir said, turning to continue. “I have only a few simple rules here, Ms Vincent. Be punctual to your classes and polite to your superiors. Follow instructions and keep your workspace and living space tidy. You can wear what you choose, enjoy your free time as you wish, and you are free to explore the surrounding area. We have playing fields out back, through the woods. You must seek permission to visit the town, however. Most importantly, in the incident that you feel an onset of the Hiccups, you are to report right here” – she pointed back towards the fountain – “where you shall remain until it has passed, or you are otherwise instructed. Every student is issued with a button which they must use to alert their Buddy of this.”
Muir stopped before the doors, as though she did not intend to enter with Alicia accompanying her. Topper pushed off from leaning against the wall and stood up straight, a tall, slender girl, possibly 6ft, with skin a beautiful light brown, Indian or Pakistani.
“Finally,” Muir said, “in the event that you encounter a fellow student who has had a bout of Hiccups and not made it to the courtyard, nor alerted a Buddy, you should take them directly to a teacher or to my office.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m afraid students do go missing here, so I hope you’ll do your best to help curb that.”
Alicia stared in alarm, the bald admission surprising her. The Hiccups, of course, could as easily make a victim small rather than big, exposing them to any number of hazards. If she’d hoped for one thing in coming here, it was that they’d have excellent safety measures for that. Apparently they weren’t flawless.
“Topper will take care of you now,” Muir concluded, with a flash of another cold smile, then she marched inside. Alicia turned an uncertain, questioning look to Topper.
“Alicia?” Topper said. She had a rough London accent, unfitting to her sharp stylish clothes or beauty. “You prefer Ali? Or what’s your surname there, Vincent? You don’t look like a Vincent.”
Alicia looked herself up and down, suddenly self-conscious before the older girl. Topper was 20, to Alicia’s 18, from what Muir said, but she looked fully confident in her body and eccentric clothes. Alicia, meanwhile, was wearing jeans that were slightly too big for her, held in place with a tatty belt, and a loose white t-shirt with a childish image of a unicorn. Her pink Converse looked especially tatty and immature. Trying to keep dignity in her name, at least, she said, “Alicia’s good, actually.”
“Full airs, respect,” Topper said, with a wink and a little finger-thumb pistol motion. “Come with me then, let’s get you settled in.” Topper marched inside with a boyish gait, hands back in her pocket. The girls inside scattered, to hide the fact they’d been watching, as Topper led Alicia down a grand hallway. The interior was expensive wood and warm lighting, with beams above, a big reception desk, and a number of oak doors.
“You won’t spend much time here,” Topper said. “Only if you lose a key or want to file a complaint or whatever. Most of the action’s through here.” They walked up some stairs, and along a walkway that took them to another big door. “Welcome to Fiacre House, used today as it traditionally was – to hide girls away. Here, we hide our size-shifting sisters, training them to better fit in society. So the brochure goes, right?” Through the door, the air got cooler and the stonework and fixings, with old paintings and lantern-style lights, looked centuries old. “Funny, innit, how you’ve got this place right outta the depths of history, in the shadow of that freshly-built monstrosity?”
“Fiacre Heights,” Alicia said.
Topper smiled. It was a silly name. “Someone had a sense of humour, I reckon. Not Muir, though. If you didn’t gather already, she’s not one you wanna muck about with.”
“No, I gathered.”
“Good girl.” Topper’s smile spread. “Now, through here you’ll see the central stairs.” The corridor led onto a gangway, which opened up to four storeys of overlapping walkways, balustrades, doors and stairs. “Confusing as an Escher painting, yeah? But you’ll get used to it. Quickly, dorms are the top two floors, with all amenities; classes on this floor, with rec rooms and facilities on the floor above. Mess, stable and cellars on the floor below.”
“There’s a stable?” Alicia asked.
“No horses, mostly packed with old machinery.”
Topper led Alicia on, past milling students who stopped conversations to stare. They were gathered in small groups, immediately apparent as the same cliques in any school – pretty girls in spotless clothing, rebellious girls with wild hair and piercings, shy girls clutching books, hard. Alicia smiled at all of them, but they didn’t smile back.
She followed Topper up more stairs and along various corridors, as Topper pointed out different features, too many and too fast for Alicia to really take any of it in. Music hall, laboratories, tennis courts, maybe a swimming pool? Then, suddenly, they were at an arched wooden door and Topper beamed to say, “This is you. 54B. You can settle in, freshen up, come down for dinner about 6. There’ll be a bell.” Topper dug into a pocket and took out a small plastic fob. “Here’s your button, in case you need me. But only if you get the Hiccups, right? Otherwise, I’ve got places to be.”
A million questions stirred in Alicia’s mind as she studied the tiny plastic device in her hand, but Topper turned on her heel and walked away. Alicia opened her mouth to stop her but didn’t know what to ask. The girl stopped and turned back herself though, finger pointing with an afterthought, and Alicia smiled hopefully.
“By the way,” Topper said. “Your roommate's a bit of a prick. Don’t take it personally.”
Alicia’s smile vanished as Topper left.
She turned to the door. That wasn’t a good start. She took a deep breath, put her hand on the handle and entered.
The promised roommate was waiting inside, sat on her bed, and she greeted Alicia without looking up: “Get this straight right away, new girl: this is my room they’ve put you in. And if you shrink in here, I’m going to eat you.”