Page 2 of Want It All
‘Two hundred acres in total. The manor block is only a couple of acres, though, and that’s where most of the work is.’
Two hundred acres with sea views in the heart of the New South Wales south coast. I didn’t want to think about how much the land would be worth.
‘Are you from Melbourne, Rosemary?’
‘Just Rose is fine,’ I said. ‘My family lives just outside Melbourne, but I was actually born not too far from here, in Wollongong.’
We chatted about Melbourne for a few minutes – Harry had a sister who lived there – but as the car crested a rise, I fell silent.
There were pictures of the Banksia House manor on its website, of course, but they were oddly elusive – a corner here, the front doors there, a snap of one side of the gardens. Thepictures gestured at what the manor was, but never captured it in its entirety, leaving it a mystery – even for those applying to call it home for years to come.
The rideshare driver had been right. Itwassome gothic novel bullshit, and it took my breath away.
Four storeys of stained sandstone rose before us, with hundreds of high windows glittering like eyes, and a motherfuckingturretnestling to one side. The manor’s wide entrance doors were accessed by a stone staircase that spilled before them like a ridged tongue, and I was fairly sure I could see aclock towerrising from the back of the building.
The grounds, however, were purely Australian, almost in defiance of the European style building at their centre. Grey and white-barked eucalypts swayed in the breeze, native grasses spilled silvered shades of green over the earth, and wattle flowered in yellow flames around the drive.
The contrast was enough to make my head ache.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Harry said proudly.
‘It’s … incredible,’ I managed.And my home for the next three years, at least.
Fuck, I hope there’s plumbing.
Harry pulled the car up at the foot of the staircase. ‘I’ll take you to your room.’
I forced myself to leave the car, clutching the strap of my bag. From here, I could see the cliffs a few kilometres away, and the glittering sea stretching all the way to the horizon.
If there’s no plumbing, the view will make up for it.
Harry grabbed my bags and led me up the staircase. I hesitated before the yawning double doors, but I shook myself and squared my shoulders. I’d maintained a high-distinction average across all subjectsandhad won a national award for my outreach program for high-school history students to get here. I wasn’t about to be cowed by adoorway.
I still swallowed when I stepped through it, though, and Banksia House manor closed over my head.
The inside was only slightly more modern-looking, with patterned wallpaper and a grandfather clock looming disapprovingly in the entranceway. Corridors stretched to both sides, and a staircase opened ahead of us, made of polished wood with sweeping bannisters. The wall to my right proclaimed the Banksia motto:audeamus – let us dare.
I inhaled. It was a reflex, an attempt to identify the scents around me, to categorise them so I knew who smelled safe, and who to avoid.
There was wood polish, and, somewhere, the muted smell of fresh paint. There were traces of wattle blossom and eucalypt from the trees outside, with an undertone of turned, wet soil. From further away, I caught the smell of cooking food – roasted vegetables and chicken.
But there was no human scent with its warm, musky base. Not even ahintof it wound through the air.
I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling a mix of relief and consternation.
‘Your room is on the first level, in the south wing,’ Harry said.Of coursethis place hadwings. I was going to need a map on my phone, because I had zero clue wheresouthwas. ‘They group students based on their projected study paths, so you’ll be close to people with similar interests.’
I perked up at that. I’d completed my undergraduate degree online because it had taken me a long time to adjust to my designation, and it wasn’t entirely safe for me on campus. It meant I’d graduated without any real friends, and my high school best friend, Chloe, had moved back to Singapore with her family two years ago. I missed her awfully, and I was hoping I could make some new friends a little closer to home.
I followed Harry up the staircase, trailing my fingertips over the silk-smooth wood.
‘Every room has its own bathroom and kitchenette,’ he told me over his shoulder. ‘But meals are served in the dining hall, so most students use their kitchens for cups of tea and comfort food. Breakfast is from six to nine am, lunch is from eleven to one, and dinner from six to eight pm. The kitchens are closed to students between those times, but the dining hall itself is always open, and there are always snacks. Tuesdays and Thursdays are cookie days,’ he went on, shooting me a kind smile. ‘Wednesday is slice day, and Friday, pie and crumble. Mondays are by request – you can submit suggestions through the Banksia app.’
The stairwell spilled into more corridors; Harry turned down one to the left. I followed him past a row of closed doors until he stopped outside one markedFourteen, spelled out in brass letters.
‘This is yours.’ He settled my bags down before it and unlocked it with his swipe card. He didn’t step inside, a courtesy I appreciated; my instincts would have bristled at a stranger entering my room. ‘Your swipe key should be on your table, along with your welcome package. You can download the app from the Banksia student intranet. It will tell you everything – your schedule, how to book study rooms, how to submit assessments, your mailing address, how to lodge a ticket with the housekeeping team, see the doctor … Everything. You can also book appointments with the administrative team or the campus support officer if you need to talk it through.’ He gave me another smile. ‘Good luck, Rose. I hope you have a wonderful time here.’
I thanked him, then waited until he’d disappeared back down the hallway to drag my bags inside, locking the door behind me. There was a wide window directly opposite the door, open, and the scent of lemon myrtle laced the air.
