The Pinetum
A plantation of great pines. Walking in is like walking out of the school altogether.
The pines were planted in rows, a very long time ago, and the rows have long since stopped mattering. The ground under them is deep with needles and gives beneath your feet, and it is the quietest place on the estate, and the coldest, and the darkest, and girls drop into a whisper down there without deciding to.
It is a large wood. Larger than it looks from the lawn. There is a good deal of it that nobody has walked through in years.
The Lantern Parade ends here, at dusk, at the turn of the term, with the whole school coming down between the trees in a long ribbon of light. It is the most beautiful thing in the school year, and for one evening the Pinetum is not frightening in the least.
The school’s noise fell away behind them, as though a heavy door had swung quietly shut.