Jack The Ripper – A Love Story ( Excerpt 7 )
And so, with heavy heart, I kissed my Mother on the cheek, shook hands and hugged my brother Giles, Then climbed in to the carriage beside my Father. He had hired the carriage to transport me, my books and belongings to Medical School, where I would reside for the next five years, give or take holidays of course.
When we arrived at the School, my Father took me to meet the Dean, who was an acquaintance of his, which was more than likely one of the reasons why I was accepted. Positions at Schools, such as this are hard to obtain.
Dean Stukely was a rather large man, sporting a red moustache and mutton chop whiskers, what little hair he possessed was also red, greying slightly at the temples. Like most red haired men he had a rosy complexion and a cheery smile. But I rapidly got the impression that he was not a man to trifle with, he did in fact prove to be a strict disciplinarian with his pupils.
We chatted amicably for a while, The Dean explaining the initial years curriculum and the standard I would be expected to attain. It all seemed very reasonable and if I kept my wits about me, quite attainable, I felt quite at ease.
My father and I, were just about to take our leave, when there was a tap on the Dean’s door and a young woman entered, I would hazard a guess that she were my age, or maybe slightly younger. She was beautiful, pale skinned with lustrous auburn hair and a nice trim figure.
‘I’m terribly sorry, Father, I didn’t realise you had company!’ she stated somewhat embarrassed at intruding on what she assumed was a private meeting. ‘ Don’t worry, Isabelle, This young man is starting here next term, so you will no doubt be seeing lots more of him, said Dean Stukely, turning toward me he said, Jack, this is Isabelle, my daughter and sometime secretary, you will no doubt see her trotting around the place.’
I bowed to her and offered my hand, we shook hands and she blushed slightly, but not as much as I did. It was the first time, a woman, other than my mother had touched me, and although it wasn’t a particularly intimate touch, much to my chagrin, I was aroused.
(c) Damian Grange 2017