The Ivy Lessons Read Online Free PDF

a fireplace that looks like it might be fully functioning. 
    The view from the French windows is stunning. I’m looking out over the gorgeous green grounds, and I can see the historic buildings of London in the distance.
    Wow.
    I put my rucksack in the big walk-in wardrobe, and it looks lost. There’s a small, neat kitchen area with a kettle and fridge, but no cooker. I’ll guess I’ll be eating in the dining hall from now on, and other people will cook my food for me. Which is a weird thought.
    On the dressing table is a huge bunch of red and white roses, with a card beside them. The card has a picture of the Old Vic on the front, and when I turn it over I blink in surprise.
    The card is from Marc Blackwell.
    It reads:
    ‘Dear Sophia, you’re an extremely talented actress and I’m looking forward to working with you in the coming months.’
    I put the card down. He seemed so arrogant at the audition, but this is such a thoughtful gesture. So considerate. Maybe he’s not as snooty as I thought.
    I suddenly feel a rush of excitement at the thought he’ll be teaching me. I hadn’t really given myself a chance to think it through before, but Jen is right – I’ll be sitting inches away from one of the best, most creative actors I’ve ever seen on screen.
    I see more cars pulling in to the car park below, and decide to head down and meet my fellow students.
    As I run down the stairs, I bump into Ryan again, who’s carrying yet another suitcase.
    ‘Did Marc leave a gift in your room?’ Ryan asks.
    ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Flowers. And a card. Really thoughtful. I thought he was sort of arrogant in the audition, but maybe I got it wrong.’
    ‘I got aftershave,’ says Ryan.
    ‘How’s your back after carrying all those suitcases?’ I joke. But Ryan doesn’t laugh.
    ‘What did your card say?’ Ryan’s forehead crinkles.
    ‘Um. Something nice about my acting. I think.’
    ‘You think?’ He sounds angry.
    ‘I just read the card quickly.’
    ‘Are you sure?’ He throws his suitcase with a bang onto a step. ‘Why would he say that about someone like you?’
    ‘Someone like me?’
    ‘Forget it. Never mind.’
    I look at him for a long time, daring him to expand on whatever he meant. But his face clouds over, and I can see I’m getting nowhere.
    ‘Yes, let’s forget it,’ I say, hurrying down the stairs. I hope the rest of the students aren’t as snappy and unfriendly.
    At the bottom of the steps I see a girl with glorious, long red hair, and squa re, black glasses on her white nose. She’s standing by a man in a wheelchair who is wearing a black Robin-Hood-style hat with yellow feathers in it. The man is a litt le chubby, and his bright pink shirt stretches around his middle. On the back of his wheelchair is a sticker that says: ‘At least I always get a seat’.
    They’re both talking to Wendy at the reception desk.
    ‘I’ll get your keys,’ Wendy says.
    ‘Oh. Thank you.’ The red-headed girl smiles. ‘My name is Tanya Holmes.’ Her accent is Yorkshire, and when she smiles dimples appear. ‘It’s terrific here, isn’t it? I had no idea there was anything like this in London. Actually, I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.’
    Wendy hands her a key, and turns to the man in the wheelchair. ‘And you are?’
    ‘Tom Davenport.’ Tom takes her hand and kisses it. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ His accent is clipped and perfect, and exactly what I expected an Ivy College student to sound like. In short, nothing like me.
    Tom takes the key, and turns to me. ‘Hello there. Are you a new student too?’
    ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m Sophia. Call me Soph.’
    ‘A pleasure to meet you too, Soph ,’ says Tom, clearly fighting his conscience over the abbreviation. ‘My, you’re extremely beautiful, aren’t you?’ He takes my hand and kisses it too. ‘Just so you know, if you’re after any sexua l experiences here at the college , my door is always open.’ He winks at me.