All My Secrets

by Sophie McKenzie

  ‘Bye,’ I mumble.

  Andrew turns to Miss Bunnock. ‘I know you said no communication, but . . .’

  ‘You can call the office if you wish for an update,’ Miss Bunnock says crisply. ‘And obviously we’ll contact you in case of an emergency, should there be such a thing.’ She makes it sound as if she’d be astonished if an emergency dared to happen anywhere near her or Lightsea Island.

  ‘Right.’ Andrew hesitates.

  ‘All those who’re coming, be coming,’ the fisherman calls out.

  ‘Bye then, sweetheart.’ Andrew leans forward and kisses my cheek. ‘Be good. I love you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I mumble, giving him the briefest of hugs back. But there are tears in my eyes as he turns and heads back to the boat.

  ‘Come on then.’ Miss Bunnock indicates the rucksack on the ground at my feet. ‘Pick that up, we need to get you settled before the welcome talk. Dinner has been delayed to allow time. Everyone else is up at the house.’

  I frown. It isn’t quite 4.30 pm. What time is dinner usually served? I follow Miss Bunnock through the trees and along a gloomy path strewn with twigs and leaves. It’s far colder here than it was at home. In fact, it doesn’t feel like summer at all. I tug my jacket around me. The instructions said to bring three pairs of leggings and/or tracksuit bottoms, plus three T-shirts and three sweatshirts or jumpers. There was no mention of coats and I’m beginning to wish I’d brought something warmer than my cotton zip-up.

  Miss Bunnock doesn’t speak as we walk. After a couple of minutes, the trees thin out and we emerge onto a wide patch of heath with the sea in the distance on either side. It’s completely deserted.

  ‘How far is the house?’ I ask. ‘Aren’t there any other buildings?’

  ‘No.’ Miss Bunnock clears her throat. ‘‘Apart from the boathouse, Lightsea House is the only building on the island.’

  The ground is rough and uneven; not easy to cross in my favourite sandals: silver, with a wedge heel. My boots are tucked at the bottom of my rucksack, along with my favourite bits of make-up. The instructions said no cosmetics would be allowed, but I’m hoping no one will notice the mascara and BB cream I’ve shoved in the toes of my boots.

  Miss Bunnock is striding hard across the scrubby grass. I have to walk fast to keep up. After a few minutes, the land widens out and slopes upwards. Glimpses of the sea flash into view through the gaps between the trees on either side. The sky over the water is darker than ever, but here on the island the sun is just about managing to shine through the clouds. Not that it cheers the place up. From the heath, to the trees, to the sea, to the sky, the whole scene is a series of dull greys and browns.

  And then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a dark shadow and a flash of red moving through the woods. I turn. Blink. It’s gone.

  I stop. Miss Bunnock looks round and frowns. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I just saw something . . . er, someone.’ I point. ‘Over there, by the trees.’

  Miss Bunnock shakes her head. ‘Nonsense, everyone’s up at the house. I left the other students with Mr Bradley. Mrs Moncrieff is in the kitchen and Mr Lomax is busy in his office.’

  ‘I’m sure I saw someone,’ I insist. ‘They were wearing a long dark coat and . . . and something red too . . . at least I think they were.’

  ‘Probably just a trick of the light; the island’s known for it,’ Miss Bunnock says. ‘Come on.’

  I stand for a second longer, my eyes straining into the trees, but the figure – if it was a figure – has gone. Is Miss Bunnock right that I just imagined it?

  Despite the sunshine on my face, I feel spooked to my core.

  Six

  I follow Miss Bunnock across the heath. Despite looking back several times, I don’t see the shadowy figure again. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, as Miss Bunnock said. After a few minutes, we reach another path where the trees to the right thin out and the grey sea stretches beyond.

  We hurry down a small mound, through more trees, then up another, steeper hill. Unlike Miss Bunnock, who’s as athletic as she looks, I’m panting for breath by the time we round the last bend at the tip of the island and Lightsea House comes into view.

  My heart sinks another few inches. It is, without doubt, one of the ugliest buildings I’ve ever seen: made of stone over three floors, it looks like it’s just been dumped here, a horrible granite box, dark grey against the navy sea beyond and steely sky above. Feeling miserable, I follow Miss Bunnock inside. It’s no warmer in the stone hallway than it was outside and very bleak: no ornaments, no furniture, no carpets. Even the walls are just concrete with white paint.

  A burly man with thick dark hair hurries by as we reach the stairs.

  ‘They’re in the library,’ he says, rushing past.

  Miss Bunnock turns to me. ‘You’ll meet the others at the welcome meeting,’ she says, with a smile. ‘But first we need to get you settled.’

  She leads the way up the stairs to the second floor where she shows me a white-tiled bathroom with a chipped enamel sink and, next to it, the girls’ bedroom: a large, bare room with two tiny windows set into the sloping roof. A steel-frame bed is positioned under each of the windows; a third stands against the wall by the door. All three of them are made up with a neat white cover.

  ‘Open your rucksack, please,’ Miss Bunnock orders, pointing to the bed by the door. ‘Everything out on the mattress.’

  Gulping, I do as I’m told. My heart hammers as I draw out all my clothes and toiletries. The Lightsea rules were very clear, but I don’t know how fully they’ll be enforced. Before I got here, I’d thought it would be easy to get away with some extra bits and pieces, but, now I’m face to face with Miss Bunnock, I’m not so sure. I’ve met teachers like her before; they’re usually quite fair – but total sticklers for the rules.

  I lay my belongings out on the bed. Miss Bunnock chats away as she pores over them, asking questions about my life at home. Then she takes a tightly folded black bin liner from her pocket and shakes it open. My mouth gapes as she shoves all my loose bits of make-up into it, then loads my jeans and two of my prettier shirts on top.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I squeak.

  ‘Three changes of plain clothes only, as per the regulations,’ she says apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Evie, but the rules are quite clear and Mr Lomax does have good reasons for limiting your focus on fashion and cosmetics.’

  ‘D’you have to take everything?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Miss Bunnock says again. ‘I need to ask for those sandals you’re wearing too, please. Oh, and your phone.’

  Stunned, I bend down and undo my sandals. Miss Bunnock hands me a pair of my own socks as I straighten up, then the regulation pumps I’ve brought for indoor use. She lays my boots on the bed – minus, I notice, the BB cream and mascara. Miss Bunnock’s black bin bag bulges with my belongings. Tears prick at my eyes again as I hand over my phone. I’ve been dreading this last restriction for days, but now the time has come it’s even harder than I imagined to let go of my only way of contacting the outside world. Even if there is no signal on the island.

  ‘Where are you taking my stuff?’ I ask.

  ‘It will be locked away in Mr Lomax’s office, ready for your departure,’ Miss Bunnock says with a sigh. ‘Don’t be upset. It’s only for a few weeks. I’m sure you can live without mascara until then.’

  I’m seriously not sure that I can. My eyes look like tiny pinpricks in my face without any make-up. Another thing I haven’t inherited from Irina: big, soulful eyes. Still, the loss of the phone and the lack of a signal are worse.

  ‘Cheer up.’ Miss Bunnock clears her throat. ‘Remember you’re allowed to keep one luxury so long as it’s not some sort of electronic entertainment device.’ She points to the bed where the small pile of my regulation clothes lies folded at one end. Five items are laid out across the white cover: a photo that Gavin gave me of Irina holding me when I was a baby, another of her dancing, a friendship bracelet that Mina
gave me a few years ago, a book about dancing and Irina’s old ballet shoes.

  I run my hands over the book. I’m tempted to keep it as part of my mission to find out more about my mother’s big passion, ballet, but the website said that there’s a large library at Lightsea House. The website also said that we will have very little spare time anyway, so perhaps it isn’t worth it. The friendship bracelet used to be really important to me, but I haven’t talked properly to Mina for ages. I pick up the two photos. These are my favourites from the selection that Gavin gave me. In the picture of Irina dancing, she is smiling, elegantly poised on points. She looks like an angel. In the one where she’s gazing down at me, she looks, if anything, even more beautiful, in a blue roll-neck jumper that brings out the intense colour of her eyes. But lovely though these photos are, it’s not them that I hold at night when I can’t sleep. I put down the photo and pick up the ballet shoes.

  Miss Bunnock sweeps the other items into the bin bag, then checks her watch. ‘The welcome meeting is in ten minutes. The other girls may be back beforehand to wash up, then it’s straight to dinner.’ She hesitates. ‘Do you have any questions, Evie?’

  I want to ask a million things: what we’ll be expected to do later, what the other girls are like – and definitely if it will be possible to call Uncle Gavin and tell him that I can’t stand it here and beg him to come and rescue me. But there’s such a huge lump in my throat that I don’t think I can actually speak – so instead I shake my head.

  ‘See you in a little while then.’ Miss Bunnock’s heavy tread sounds loud across the stone floor. She leaves the room without looking at me. A few seconds later, I hear the glass door at the end of the corridor shutting behind her.

  I get up and put my small pile of clothes in the empty drawers next to the bed, then cross the room to the window. I have to stand on one of the other beds to see out of it – but it only shows a patch of grey sky. I get down and go back to my bed. I sit down, Irina’s ballet shoes in my hands. The bed is hard, the mattress only about an inch thick.

  I have never felt so unhappy in my life.

  ‘Hi there.’

  I glance up. A girl stands, grinning, in the doorway. ‘I’m Pepper.’

  ‘Evie.’ I shove the ballet shoes under my pillow and stand up. The girl is mixed race, about my height, with high, sharp cheekbones and a shock of hair straining for release from its band.

  Pepper hands me a scrunchie. ‘That woman . . . Buttock or whatever her name is . . . just gave me this for you. Says she forgot to tell you to wear it or you’ll have to do Quiet Time, whatever that is.’

  ‘Quiet Time?’ I ask, feeling bewildered.

  Pepper waves her hand. ‘They’ll explain later. It sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Like this whole place. Still, I guess you get used to it.’ She sounds super confident, like she’s been living at Lightsea for months.

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Er, how long have you been here?’

  ‘Coupla hours.’ She grins again. ‘By the way, you should know that I only ever say what I really think.’

  ‘What you really think?’

  ‘As in: “Buttockbreath, you’re a black hole in the universe”, that sort of thing.’

  ‘You said that to her?’ My eyes widen.

  ‘Nah, not just now, cos that wasn’t what I was thinking. I actually said, “I don’t want to give the stupid new girl a stupid hairband”.’ She winks at me.

  My head spins.

  ‘Not that I really think you’re stupid.’ Pepper skips across the room to the bed on the right and flops down. She’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a navy sweatshirt. I study her face. She is striking-looking – pretty, but not in a conventional way. And about the same size as me, but somehow more compact than I am; definitely more graceful. ‘I’ve met the boys and they didn’t say much so chances are they are stupid.’

  ‘Boys?’ I stare at her. I’d forgotten that the six teenagers staying at the facility might be a mixed group.

  ‘Yeah, that’s probably why Buttockbreath and the rest of them keep stressing over all the stupid rules.’ Pepper snorts. ‘Like I’d want to get with the boys anyway. Still, Josh says he can pick the locks if there are any, so that’s something, I suppose.’

  ‘Josh? Pick the locks?’

  Pepper raises an eyebrow. ‘OK, now I’m wondering . . . about the stupid thing? Cos you keep repeating everything like you can’t understand what I’ve said and it’s not like I’m explaining how to split the atom over here.’

  I meet her gaze. Her eyes are full of fun. Suddenly I really want her to like me. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘So what else are you thinking?’

  ‘That you’re scared about being here. And that you’ve got, like, secrets. And that you’re scared I’ll find them out.’

  I gulp, thinking about Irina. I definitely don’t want Pepper or anyone else here to know how Andrew and Janet have lied to me about her all my life.

  Pepper tilts her head to one side. ‘Also I’m thinking that you’re pretty, but you don’t know it, and that your hair is rubbish cos you’ve let it grow too long and it bare needs a proper style.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. There’s a long pause. I feel the weight of the silence pressing down on me. If I don’t get what I say next right, Pepper will judge me for it. The rest of the month hangs in the balance.

  ‘Yeah?’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘Well, I’m thinking that you’re bare rude.’

  We stare at each other. I hold my breath. Then Pepper roars with laughter and I feel the relief coursing through me. ‘What did you—?’ she starts.

  A beeping alarm cuts through the air. With a groan, Pepper swings her legs off the bed. ‘That’s the signal for this stupid welcome meeting or whatever.’ She sighs. ‘No point being late unless there’s a party. Which sadly there isn’t.’

  She bounces up and sweeps out of the room. I sit, feeling like a hurricane’s just blown over me.

  ‘Come on, Evie!’ Pepper calls from the corridor.

  I hurry after her.

  Seven

  As we turn down the final flight of stairs, I steel myself, ready to meet the other teenagers who are staying here.

  ‘That’s Anna,’ Pepper says. ‘She’s the only other girl. There are three boys too.’

  I follow Pepper’s pointing finger to a pale-faced girl standing alone in the cold stone hall. Anna looks up and sees us straightaway. She gives me a sheepish little wave hello and I wave back, feeling relieved: Anna doesn’t look anywhere near as intimidating as Pepper. She has the kind of looks I’ve always envied, even before I found out about my real mother: petite, like Irina, and smooth-skinned, like a doll, with a soft curly bob and huge eyes. Her cornflower-blue tracksuit hangs off her. Unlike Pepper, who suits her sporty outfit, Anna looks like she’s put on someone else’s clothes. It isn’t hard to imagine why outspoken Pepper might have been sent to Lightsea, but what on earth did Anna do to end up here? She looks like half the girls at my school: a bit shy probably, but perfectly ordinary.

  ‘Hello.’ A male voice comes from out of nowhere.

  I turn, startled, as a boy walks into the hall. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a white T-shirt under which his arms bulge with muscle. He stares at me, his hazel eyes intense with curiosity. I can’t help but stare back. Apart from movie stars and celebrities in photos, I’ve never seen anyone so good-looking up close before. He’s only a little taller than me, but very muscular. His chin is square and the way he holds his head makes it jut out, giving him a slightly haughty air.

  There’s a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach, as if someone is pulling the plug on my guts and all my emotions are swirling around inside. I’ve liked boys before: I’ve had dates and kisses with more than a few. But that was mostly because it was what everyone at school expected – and because it used to wind Dad up so much when I told him I had a boyfriend.

  The truth is that I’ve never felt the sensations I’m experiencing right now. Which at this point is frankly the last thing I need.


  ‘I’m Kit,’ the boy says, raising his hand in a sort of awkward half-wave.

  ‘Hi.’ I raise my hand too, feeling self-conscious. I’m suddenly aware that Anna is standing beside me, her cheeks a deep pink. Kit glances at her, then back to me.

  ‘Hi.’ I wonder what he did that got him sent here too. He seems a bit dazed and overwhelmed, much like me and Anna and very much unlike Pepper who oozes mischief and confidence as she swans over to join us.

  ‘Good, you’re all here.’ Miss Bunnock hurries in, her trainers squeaking on the stone floor. I glance around. Two more boys have appeared while I’ve been looking at Kit. One seems younger than the rest of us. He’s skinny with short sandy hair and glasses. The other is dressed entirely in black. His shoulder-length hair is as dark as mine and he has a guitar slung over his back.

  ‘Leave that instrument in the hall, please, Josh,’ Miss Bunnock says with a smile. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘Will do, Miss,’ drawls Josh in a tone that makes clear he is only obeying the rules because he’s being forced to. He puts down his guitar, winking at Pepper as he passes. I sneak a glance at Kit. He’s gazing across the room at Josh’s guitar.

  The six of us traipse after Miss Bunnock into a big, wood-panelled room lined with bookshelves. A trio of large, squashy sofas surrounds a fireplace and there’s a snooker table by the window. It’s far cosier than anywhere else I’ve seen so far. Pepper and Josh are whispering right behind me. What are they talking about? It sounds like Pepper is proposing some sort of midnight lock-picking adventure. Can Josh really pick locks? I’m starting to feel intrigued. Maybe Lightsea is going to be more interesting than I expected. I shift slightly sideways to get a better view of Kit. He has a gorgeous profile, all his features perfectly aligned. Butterflies zoom around my stomach as I focus on Miss Bunnock.

  ‘You’ll meet the rest of the staff later,’ she says. ‘For now, I just want to run through a few basics. Lightsea House was built over one hundred years ago and used as an asylum for the mentally ill before being bought by the father of the present owner, Mr Lomax.’