While the outside and gardens of St Joseph’s are impressive, as soon as I step inside, I am literally at a loss for words. Even after having viewed countless beautiful buildings, the sight leaves me standing at the threshold with my mouth embarrassingly open. The foyer is huge, full of gaping voids, modern architecture combined with bespoke timber accents that meld graciously with gray marble, provide a warm and welcoming area. The space is amazing but what they have done with it is sublime, an impressive collection of original paintings and sculptures are hung and highlighted throughout the expanse. It is incredible, and intimidating as all hell. A soft, polite cough brings my focus back to the here and now.
I offer a quick smile to the lady who interrupts me before allowing my gaze to sweep through St Joseph’s foyer again. This time I noticed the smaller detail, finally seeing the state of the art security, the armed guards and the discreetly placed cameras along with the amazing art collection of original’s that dot the lobby.
“Sorry, I am blown away. The photos don’t do it justice,” I say, as I offer my outstretched hand to the equally impressive woman in front of me.
“You must be Verginius Bellafonte. We expected you an hour or so ago, did you have trouble?” she responds in a quiet but professional voice, taking my hand in a polite, well practiced handshake. She nods at the guards and they lock the door behind me, her arm sweeping wide to guide me away from the entrance.
“Just a terrible headache. I hope I haven’t kept you.”
“Don’t be silly. I just like to welcome all our new students home. I was worried more than anything. I am Mrs. Montgomery, Head of Student Services. Welcome, dear. Come on, let’s sign you in, so you can change properly for dinner. You still have an hour and a half, so there is plenty of time,” she turns and I follow her into her office, which looks like it is straight out of a glossy magazine.
On her desk, she has everything I need already. We sit next to each other and she efficiently explains the pertinent information about living at St Joseph’s and being a student here. After some incredibly simple instructions, a quick rundown of the mountain of forms I have to complete and return, she hands me my key and a swipe card.
“At St Joseph’s, we are of the belief that you are all young adults. We have very high standards when it comes to behaviour and study, however Miss Bellafonte, I am sure you are already very attuned to those requirements. Please don’t disappoint us,” she finishes with a condescending pat on my hand, before leading me out of her office. Her beautiful navy blue kitten heels clacking over the marble embellished floor to the wall of lift’s that are situated at the back of the lobby. “I have scheduled an early appointment for us to work through the procedures, I figured due to your late arrival we should reschedule. In the meantime, I will take you up to your room, your cases have already been taken up,” she says over her shoulder, her hands flying over her tablet. My phone pings with an alert just a second later.
“That is just a link to the St Joseph’s app that I have just sent to you. Along with a meeting request. We can meet back down here then and finish with a tour of the College,” she talks as quickly as she walks.
“You are in Suite 7A. Did you know it was your mother’s room when she attended? It is actually the Bellafonte suite. We have everything all ready for you dear. Please settle in and dinner tonight is at 7.30pm, after-five wear. Welcome to St Joseph’s,” and then she all but hustles me into the lift, before swiping her card on the control panel, a demonstration, and a dismissal all in one. I am a little surprised, I thought, ‘take me to my room’ is just that, apparently not.
The lifts match the rest of St Josephs, in terms of design and function, and within moments they open onto my floor. I see now why she didn’t bother accompanying me, it is impossible to get lost here, the small number of suites are clearly marked.
After first seeing the grounds then the lobby area, I have the expectation that my suite will be equally impressive and it is. It really is beautiful. Spacious but homely at the same time. My rooms include a large lounge room that is opposite a state of the art kitchen, a small dining area, a study, and a huge master bedroom complete with a massive ensuite bathroom and walk-in wardrobe. The suite has been done in simple grays, whites with timber oak feature, the soft carpet leads everywhere except for the kitchen which is finished is a matching tile.
I quickly move into the wardrobe and let my inner organisational demon out, and she coordinates the room in under thirty minutes. I place Aunt Addy’s unopened gift in my underwear drawer, I have a sneaking suspicion of what it is, but hide it away to discover later, with a little giggle at her inappropriateness. I lay my makeup out and put my favourite family photo on my bedside table, along with my Kindle. I finish with a walkthrough and an excited smile breaks over my face at everything that this suite represents, my freedom being the main one.
Standing in front of my wardrobe in my St Joseph’s logoed robe, after a long shower, the doorbell sounds. I approach it cautiously but am quickly relieved when I hear Hartley’s insistent, sing-song voice.
“Come on Ginny….we are late for drinks and nibbles,” she says quickly as I pull the front door open for her.
“Shut up Hartley! We are nowhere near legal!” I offer with a laugh, turning to leave her in the lobby, in search of clothes. A quick check of Hartely to make sure we won't clash, I leave her to find her way inside. I have already done my makeup. I drop the robe and walk into my wardrobe in my expensive lingerie and heels, before finally deciding on a long champagne coloured shift that hugs my body and falls to nearly the floor, its silk train just skimming the floor.
“Didn’t you get the lecture about being a responsible adult from Mrs. Montgomery, well apparently it covers, boys, sex, drinks, the whole shebang, honest Ginny. And I have to tell you the boys, are fucking smoking. Now get your gorgeous ass over here, let’s go,” she responds before walking into my bathroom to fix her lipstick.
Grabbing my small cocktail bag, I place my phone and key inside.
“Do I look okay?” I ask tentatively as she comes back out with her makeup impeccable.
“Ginny, did you hit your head on the drive here? Seriously, you never usually give two shits about what you look like, why now?” she asks genuinely interested.
“Well…...you did say the boys were smoking hot!” I offer, quickly backtracking. In the shower I made the conscious decision not to tell anyone, even Hartley, that Hunter is (a), the boy from my childhood, and (b), that he is a student here at St Joseph’s. It is pretty clear that he will be ignoring me.
Hartley’s carefree laughter is her only response. I smile in return.
