The Writer

Harry looked intently at the road in front of him.

It was raining cats and dogs and neither he nor his friend Niall really fancied a week of further education in the middle of nowhere in the British countryside.

"Welcome to a week of time wasting," Harry rolled his eyes. "Actually, I should take three months sick leave as punishment for the third unnecessary training session this year."

Niall couldn't help sniggering and turned his seat heater up further. "Now don't be mischievous again," he grinned. "This is going to be fun."

Harry clutched the steering wheel of his Mercedes a little tighter. "You know perfectly well that I was supposed to be going to Sweden for the autumn holidays."

Niall shrugged. "So what?" he retorted. "Do you think I could have thought of nothing better to do with my week off than to have some know-it-all tell me about creative writing?"

Harry couldn't help laughing. "As if any of our students would ever write a book."

Niall shrugged. "You never know," he interjected. "Maybe they'll discover their talent after the no-fucking-school phase, including truancy and binge drinking, is over."

"It's not a phase," Harry countered. "As far as I know, we didn't act like that."

Niall rolled his eyes. "May I remind you about university?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "That's really something else I suppose."

Laughing, Niall looked out the window. "No, it's not," he argued. "And you know it. Teachers aren't angels, Harry."

The young teacher snorted and brushed a brown strand of shoulder-length hair from his forehead. "At least we managed to graduate from school reasonably."

Niall patted his friend's shoulder encouragingly.

His mood really was at rock bottom, after all.

"What would you have done all by yourself in Sweden, anyway?" quipped Niall. "Why don't you just admit that you were just trying to run away from this thing with Jack in the first place?"

A snivelling sigh pushed its way out of Harry's chest. "Will you stop teasing me about it already?"

Niall, on the other hand, just grinned gleefully out the window. "You're going to get to listen to that story forever."

Exasperated, Harry slumped his shoulders. "Why do you enjoy watching me suffer?"

"I don't," Niall replied. "I just want to remind you for the rest of your life that I told you countless times before that it wasn't a good idea to sleep with a colleague. You just wouldn't listen."

Resignedly, Harry turned up the heat. "Thanks for the reminder," he hissed.

When the two men finally reached the old monastery where the advanced training was to take place, Harry heaved a deep sigh.

He had been here several times before.

The building had been set up especially for further education purposes.

The entrance hall was not heated and Harry shivered.

Annoyed, he put his suitcase down.

Niall was talking to the rest of the participants, while Harry was still thinking about his holiday in Sweden.

He was pretty sure that it wasn't really right to inform a teacher of his participation in a training course at such short notice.

Normally, Harry would never have let this happen to him - but after his last argument with the headmaster, he couldn't afford to get into any more trouble.

He wanted to keep a low profile, not get into any more trouble and simply wait until the dust had settled.

When the participants were finally complete, a young man about their age stepped in front of the group.

His medium brown hair was elegantly combed back and his cheeks were slightly reddish.

He was wearing a black shirt with black trousers.

Harry thought to himself that this made him look a little mysterious.

Even if there was absolutely nothing mysterious about telling a bunch of bored teachers about creative writing on the weekend.

"I warmly welcome you to this year's training in creative writing," he said. His voice had a pleasant tone. "My name is Louis Tomlinson and I will be your course leader for the next week."

Harry exhaled in relief.

If the course leader was at least close to the same age as the participants, it could not usually be too boring.

He had already attended training courses where the instructors were over seventy and had absolutely no connection to modern English.

"Today, however, you should first arrive properly," he finally continued, and Harry immediately noticed his cultivated expression. "You now have enough time to quietly move into your rooms and unpack your suitcases. We will see each other again at dinner at the latest."

There were about twenty people in the seminar and Harry didn't know anyone - apart from Niall.

That was unusual, because it was not uncommon for the same teachers to be at the relevant training courses.

But presumably no one had felt like sitting down in a cold monastery for a week during the autumn holidays to deal with new teaching material.

Niall and Harry finally made their way to their room.

When Niall put the key in the door and opened it, a cold draft was already coming towards him.

Harry felt goose bumps spreading all over his body.

A glance around the room made him groan in annoyance.

It was not so much the functional furnishings that bothered him.

He had been here a few times before and the ambience still strongly reminded him of a monastery.

It was fine for a few days.

What worried him more was a huge puddle of rainwater, obviously caused by a broken window.

Harry sighed. "I'll get help," he said. "I'll be right back."

He left his suitcase with Niall and walked briskly down the stairs to catch Louis in time.

Contrary to his expectations, however, he was standing in the seminar room next door going through his papers.

Cautiously, he knocked on the wooden door. "May I bother you again?"

Louis lifted his gaze and smiled. "Of course."

Harry cleared his throat, and suddenly he seemed a little nervous. "Our room is under water."

Irritated, Louis furrowed his eyebrows. "Did someone leave the water running?"

"No," Harry shook his head and ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair.

Also something he usually only did when he was nervous or upset. "I think it rained in."

Louis flipped his binder closed and nodded. "I'll look into it," he said with a smile on his lips and followed the young teacher to the door of the two men's room.

Niall had meanwhile thrown a couple of towels onto the parquet floor, which had already started to ripple.

"Goodness," he groaned out, realising that he was standing in the middle of a large puddle. "How did that happen?"

Niall pointed at the wooden window. "I think the frame is leaking."

Louis took a few large steps and finally inspected the window frame. "I have to agree with you there," he finally concluded. "I'll be right back."

As he hurried past Harry, a pleasant smell of discreet perfume rose to his nose.

For a moment he thought the scent would not fade at all.

A few minutes later Louis returned with some sealing tape and repaired the window.

Then he turned to the two men and gave them an apologetic smile.

"Of course you'll get a new room," he offered. "I'll see to it right away."

Again he flitted past Harry and again the intense scent rose to his nose.

When he finally returned to them, he had a new key in his hand. "This is the room next to mine," he explained. "You may follow me and I will show you."