Disclaimer: I don't own Discworld, its places, or characters. They all belong to Terry Pratchett. I'm just borrowing them and make no money out of this.
Entry 3.
I'm writing this in the coach on the way to school.
Cook came up to wake me today. That was odd, because it's usually Ethel the maid that comes and wakes me up, and I hardly saw her all day – when I did see her she smiled at me but refused to look at me for long. Cook stroked my forehead fondly and then pressed a big tin into my hands. She said, "I'm sorry that it's late, petal. It's a birthday present. I wanted you to have something nice from home to take away with you and I didn't want them to go stale. This way they'll stay fresh for a while", and she opened the tin and showed me a huge assortment of my favourite biscuits and cakes, with one especially huge cookie sat in the middle of it all with "Good luck, Sybil" on it in bright pink icing. I started to cry. I tried really hard not to, I know it's not done for a young noblewoman to cry, but I didn't want to go. I mean, it's supposed to be a really good school and I'm sure it will be interesting, I'll learn loads, but I'd rather stay here where I know people. I'd rather stay here with my friends.
Anyway, I'm all packed and on my way, with Mummy and Daddy in this coach with me and all my luggage following in the coach behind. I was rather upset this morning before we left, because Havelock said that he'd come and say goodbye to me before I went, but he didn't turn up. I waited and waited and made excuses to delay the journey and still he didn't come. I even tried pretending to have a heart-attack in the end, but all that happened was that Daddy hauled me up off the floor, gave me a slap on the back of my hand and told me to stop being silly and get in the coach. I called Havelock a bastard in my head, but not out loud. Girls aren't supposed to know language like that, but hang around a thirteen year old Assassin for any length of time and you'll pick things up, even if he goes pink when he realises.
It turns out, though, that I had been completely unfair when calling Havelock the B-word. We had just gone out of the city gates and the driver had just whipped the horses up into a trot, when there was the sound of sprinting footsteps outside and a thump on the side of the carriage. Suddenly Havelock was at the window, gripping the sill and bracing his feet against the bottom of the door. He was sweating and obviously out of breath, but the speed of the coach and the swift breeze that had picked up meant he had trouble regaining it. Mummy had raised her eyebrows and was now looking out of the other window, and Daddy was scowling whilst the corners of his mouth twitched. I'm not sure if he completely approves of Havelock.
"Sybil…" Havelock panted, after a minute or so of us staring at him whilst he tried to breathe, "I'm really… sorry… that I wasn't there at your house to say goodbye… It's all Downey's fault… he… asked me where I was going and… I didn't want to tell him, because… he doesn't like me very much and… I didn't want to get you involved… but he wasn't very happy with that so he tried to… um… extract the information via – alternative methods… and I only just managed to get away. I ran up to your house but you'd already gone, and the streets were really crowded and I couldn't run… so I went up on the roofs and took a more direct route and ran all the way here… I'm just glad that you'd only just started moving quickly… or I'd never have caught up with you." He started breathing very heavily again once he'd got the words out and rested his head against the side of the window frame.
"That's ok," I said, "you're here now. You didn't break your promise."
He grinned, with his eyes shut, and ran his tongue over his dry lips. "Oh. Good," he said. Then he took one hand off the sill, and, although he couldn't lean over and reach very well, he took my hand and shook it. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss it, which would have been really embarrassing in front of my parents. Perhaps that's what he thought, too.
"Good luck at school, Sybil. I'll write," he said. And with that he dropped off the coach and out of sight. I jumped up to the window and leaned out, shouting after the slim figure standing in the middle of the road and getting increasingly smaller, "Bye, Havelock! Bye!"
And then he was gone.
And when I get to school, I'll be all on my own.