Clementine and her Stalker Chapter Two (standard:romance, 2242 words) [2/7] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 09 2020	Views/Reads: 1248/839	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young creative writing student encounters a beautiful public schoolgirl and finds far more than meets the eye.

Chapter Two 

I returned to my lodgings, head spinning. Surprise, and yes, elation
after literally bumping into Clem, her cheeky remark about me being a 
stalker, and then finding out who she really was – daughter of the Earl 
of Hamborough, but Hamborough was over a hundred miles away down south. 


So what was she doing in public school here? 

And what about all the stuff about her minders, and Mary-Anne acting
like a chaperone? Such thoughts kept my mind occupied that evening when 
it ought to have been centred on my forthcoming writing assignment. It 
made me wonder if making this phone call was a good idea, and by making 
it what would I be getting myself into? 

The daughter of an earl, no less, far from my tiny social station. Out
of curiosity I googled Hamborough Hall and back came this huge stately 
home in acres of grounds surrounded by woodland. But then amongst the 
links to Hamborough Hall and the Earl was one carrying a newspaper 
report involving Lady Clementine St Lodes. 

I clicked on the link; it was not recent, some three years back, but
what I read filled me with consternation. It focused on the New Year's 
celebrations and the fact that the only daughter of the Earl of 
Hamborough had been arrested and bound over for climbing naked onto 
Hamborough's guildhall roof, creating a scene likely to cause an 
affray. Apparently, the ensuing court case resulted in only a caution, 
but I couldn't help wondering whether the fact that Clem was an earl's 
daughter counted in the court's decision. 

But as well as that, there were one or two other incidents, mainly wild
parties where she had been a notable attendee, although no charges 
appeared to have been brought. 

What am I getting myself into? Again that warning voice in my head. But
was it enough to deter me from making that phone call at 7.30 p.m. on 
Friday? 

I guess that you've probably concluded that it wasn't. And you'd be
right. 

*** 

I called Clem on Friday evening, a few minutes later than seven-thirty.
I didn't want to appear overly keen to be honest, but guess what? Yep, 
no reply. Not that it surprised me, with the track record this girl 
seemed to have. I think I'd have been more shocked if she'd answered. I 
tried once more a few minutes later and left it at that. Some of my 
friends were holding a Friday evening get together in a pub in Stamford 
centre, so I set off to join them feeling a little dejected, it has to 
be said. 

I was passing through one of the narrow passages that typify Stamford,
though, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Fishing it out of my jeans 
and holding it to my ear, I heard, “Is that you, stalker?” 

The cultured voice was unmistakable, and although I sighed, I couldn't
prevent my lips from curling into a smile. 

“You could try calling me Tony,” I said, not half as niggled as I tried
to sound. “It's a little less ...” 

“Fun,” she jumped in. And then straight after, “So where are you?” 

“St Mary's Passage,” I said, glancing at the name plate for
confirmation, though I knew full well where I was. 

“Cool, loiter there for a few minutes. You shouldn't have much trouble
with that, and I'll join you in a jiffy. 

“Oh – kay ...” but before I could add to that, she rung off only to
appear almost immediately at the far end of the passage wearing flared 
green trousers, plain black top, and of course sporting her trademark 
long curly blonde hair. 


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