All My Secrets

by Sophie McKenzie

  Sixteen

  We are in big trouble. Mr Bradley demands to know what the hell we’re doing, his eyes popping as he yells that breaking into a private office is a serious offence. Josh tries to bluff it out, saying we’d been hungry and just came down to the kitchen for a snack, but Mr Bradley sees straight through that. He marches us into the library, then goes to fetch Miss Bunnock and Mr Lomax.

  Mr Lomax interrogates us. How did we get through the locks on the doors? What were we doing in his office? It’s obvious Pepper and Josh are keeping quiet for my sake, which isn’t fair on them, so after a few minutes I summon all my courage and speak up.

  ‘This isn’t Josh or Pepper’s fault; they were just trying to help me,’ I insist. ‘I was looking for information about the woman who died here fifteen years ago.’

  ‘Oh, Evie.’ Mr Lomax shakes his head sorrowfully. ‘And did you find anything?’

  The edge of the photo I took from his office, still hidden under my sweatshirt, presses against my skin. It is proof that Irina was connected to Lightsea and that Mr Lomax is covering up the connection. But if I challenge him about it now I’ll be letting on that I know what he’s up to.

  ‘No,’ I lie. ‘I didn’t find anything.’

  Miss Bunnock tuts. ‘This is unacceptable behaviour. Personally, I feel we need a stronger punishment than an hour of Quiet Time, don’t you agree, Mr Lomax?’

  Mr Lomax nods, but he seems distracted, saying he’ll deal with us in the morning. I’m certain he is more concerned with what I was looking for than interested in how we should be punished. And so we are taken up to bed. Miss Bunnock stands guard while Pepper and I get under the covers. I slip the photo of Irina beneath my pillow, next to the ballet shoes. I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink, but I’m out straightaway, not waking until Anna shakes my arm exactly as she did the previous day.

  There’s no time to talk before meditation. Mr Lomax says nothing about our night-time escapade, though I notice his eyes rest on me more than the others as he explains that the point of the session is to learn to be less involved with our thoughts and feelings.

  ‘If you find your mind wandering, just bring it gently back to the breath,’ he instructs.

  Once again, I struggle with the whole thing. It seems pointless and stupid to be trying to focus on something as basic as breathing with so much at stake. How is it possible that Irina was once here, when everyone says she never came to the island? If she was here then it’s surely more likely than ever that she was killed here too. But why? And by whom? And what exactly does Mr Lomax know about the whole thing?

  My mind skitters about for the entire fifteen minutes or so that Mr Lomax leads us through the session. Afterwards, he asks Josh, Pepper and me to remain behind.

  ‘I’m afraid that last night’s unauthorised activities must have consequences,’ he says slowly. ‘As you know, our ethos here on Lightsea is one of rehabilitation rather than retribution.’

  ‘Say what?’ Josh wrinkles his nose.

  Pepper rolls her eyes.

  ‘I simply mean that we don’t go in for traditional punishments here, but I agree with Miss Bunnock that a single session of Quiet Time isn’t enough for such a severe transgression.’

  I glance at the others. They look as bewildered as I feel.

  ‘So what does that mean?’ I stammer.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s got to be an entire day of Quiet Time and solitary chores for each of you, to give you some private space to think about what you did, why you did it and what was wrong with the choices you made.’

  ‘A whole day without talking?’ I ask.

  Mr Lomax nods.

  ‘This is so unfair,’ Pepper mutters.

  ‘Yeah, we wouldn’t have needed to break into your office if this place wasn’t such a pigging prison,’ Josh adds.

  Mr Lomax sighs. ‘I’d particularly like you to use your Quiet Time as an opportunity to reflect on the need to take responsibility for your actions.’

  I grit my teeth. I am taking responsibility; I’m trying to find out what on earth happened to my real mother all those years ago.

  ‘Quiet Time at Guantanamo.’ Josh shakes his head. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘I hate this place,’ Pepper adds.

  ‘I will also be taking each of you in a one-to-one session to discuss why you felt the need to disobey our rules.’ Mr Lomax looks at me. ‘Evie, we’ll start with you.’

  A chill runs down my spine. Does he somehow know what I’ve found out? Has he realised the photo of Irina is gone?

  ‘Pepper and Josh can return to their chores for now,’ Mr Lomax finishes.

  ‘Oh, whatever.’ Pepper turns on her heel and flounces out of the meditation room.

  ‘Sucks, man.’ Josh shoots me a sympathetic look, then follows her.

  My hands tremble as I put on my boots and jacket and follow Mr Lomax outside. He leads me around the house, down to the shore. We walk in silence past Mrs Moncrieff’s walled vegetable garden and down to the stony beach. Waves lap at the pebbles. I stare at the dark water, my old fears of the sea mingling with my anxieties about what happened to Irina.

  ‘This is the only swimmable beach on the island,’ Mr Lomax explains. ‘All the others, like Boater’s Cove by the boathouse, for instance, have treacherous rocks you can cut your legs on just under the surface. That was why the house was built at this end of Lightsea, so that the swimming therapy which was prescribed for the original inmates could take place easily and with supervision. But unfortunately the current proved too strong and, after two inmates drowned, the entire activity was disallowed.’ He pauses. ‘So . . . swimming was forbidden for a good reason. Do you see that?’

  I stare at him. What is he saying? That not letting us get on the phone to our families is for a good reason too? I grit my teeth. The man is definitely hiding something.

  ‘I’d like to talk about your birth mother, Evie,’ he goes on.

  I tense up. The photo of Irina, tucked inside my sweatshirt, flashes in front of my mind’s eye again.

  ‘Do you have any actual memories of her?’ Mr Lomax asks.

  I don’t want to talk about Irina to him, but perhaps this is a way of getting him to admit she was here . . . maybe even to explain why.

  ‘No,’ I say slowly. ‘But I’ve seen lots of pictures and films. My Uncle Gavin showed me.’ I hesitate. Should I tell Lomax that I’ve seen the photo? I’m itching to challenge him outright, but something holds me back.

  ‘Films of her dancing?’ Mr Lomax asks. ‘I understand she was a prima ballerina.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘There’s a DVD of her dancing Giselle, but there’s lots of short clips on YouTube as well. Uncle Gavin told me what an amazing dancer she was and how hard she studied ballet as a child.’

  ‘Right.’ Mr Lomax gazes thoughtfully out to sea. ‘What do you think your mother was like?’

  I shrug. ‘Graceful, talented, passionate – about dance anyway . . .’

  ‘I see,’ Mr Lomax says. ‘And are those things you want for yourself? Traits you believe your mother hoped you would share?’

  I think of the inheritance Irina left me, how when I’m sixteen in just a few weeks I’ll get hold of the money and be able to make my own choices like she did.

  ‘I think she just wanted me to be free to follow my dreams,’ I say.

  I hadn’t meant to say quite so much – and feel suddenly self-conscious. Mr Lomax gives me a gentle smile. ‘Your birth mother must have loved you very much.’

  I nod, unsure what to say. Of course she loved me. Although Andrew refuses to talk about her, Uncle Gavin has told me so many times and, despite the sad lack of any filmed footage of us together, I at least have several photos of me as a baby where she is looking at me with adoring eyes.

  ‘I think she would have been very proud of you too, of the young woman you’re becoming: smart and thoughtful and curious about the world,’ Mr Lomax continues. ‘I wonder if you have allowed yourself to grieve for her loss
though?’

  I stare at him. What is he talking about? Irina died a long time ago. I think about her all the time. But it isn’t exactly grief I am feeling, is it? You can’t miss a person you’ve never known.

  ‘What I’m saying, Evie, is that you lost your birth mother once as a small child, but now you are losing her all over again.’

  ‘You mean because my parents lied about her all that time?’ I can hear the bitterness in my voice. ‘So I find out about her, but, as soon as I know she existed, I have to cope with the fact that she died.’

  I look across the beach, thinking about the picture of Irina on Lightsea again. It strikes me it’s possible to say that I’ve seen it, without giving away where I found it.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Mr Lomax says. ‘I really meant that now, as a young woman, you are starting to appreciate all the ways in which you and your mother could have related as adults. It’s a whole new loss for you and I’d urge you to allow yourself to feel that loss, not to resist it.’

  ‘You said before that you don’t think my real mum was ever on Lightsea,’ I say slowly. ‘But I’m certain that she was.’

  Lomax looks away. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘A photo I think I saw once,’ I say, keeping it vague. ‘Of Irina on the island. Not when you were kids, but when she was older, maybe just a bit before she died.’

  I wait for him to answer, the only sound the waves smashing onto the beach beyond us. But he doesn’t speak.

  ‘Mr Lomax, please, I need to know. Could—?’

  ‘No, Evie, you must be mistaken.’ Lomax turns to me. ‘You have to give this up. Take it from me, I’m certain your mother was never here.’

  He’s lying.

  I can see it in his eyes.

  The shock is like a slap. Before I can speak, Lomax is already talking again.

  ‘There is no connection between this island and your mother, that’s all in your imagination. It’s like before . . . you’re looking for connections where there aren’t any.’ He pauses and an expression of concern fills his face. It’s a totally fake concern, I’m certain. ‘I think perhaps the problem is that you haven’t thought about your mum in the right way.’

  ‘Oh?’ Fear and anger career around my head. ‘And what would the “right way” be?’

  ‘I suspect that since you learned of your birth mother’s existence, your parents—’

  ‘You mean Andrew and Janet,’ I snap.

  Mr Lomax nods. ‘Yes, Andrew and Janet have urged you to focus on things other than your birth mother and her life. And while their motives are well-meant I believe that it’s entirely appropriate for you to spend some time – maybe a good deal of time – allowing yourself to feel the pain of your birth mother’s loss.’ Lomax pauses. ‘How she died isn’t anywhere near as important as how her death makes you feel. Do you see?’

  What I see is that Lomax is trying to stop me investigating Irina’s presence on the island. Which means he must have something to hide. He knows Irina was here. Does he know that she died here too? What possible reason could he have for keeping that from me, other than a desire to cover up her murder?

  ‘Evie?’

  I’m suddenly aware that he’s stopped talking. I look up at him. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’d like you to spend your Quiet Time for the rest of the day in the walled garden. Please use the opportunity to reflect on your actions and particularly the need to take responsibility for them. You can do that, I think, while you’re busy weeding the lettuces and potatoes or whatever Mrs Moncrieff is growing this month. OK?’

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Sure.’

  Mr Lomax takes me back up to the garden, fetches a small trowel and a pair of gardening gloves and leaves me working in the sunshine. It’s a bit weird being on my own, but at least it gives me time to think. As I weed away – trying to remember everything Andrew and Janet taught me on the few occasions I helped them in our garden at home – a plan forms in my head.

  I’m certain now that Irina not only knew Mr Lomax better than he says, but that she was killed on Lightsea Island and Mr Lomax is covering up what happened. And I am going to prove it. My priority is to find a way to tell Uncle Gavin about the photo, which means getting access to a phone again. Once I’ve spoken to him, Gavin can call the police and then there’ll be a proper investigation.

  Checking no one else is about, I take out the photo of Irina in the red hat and gaze at it again. Though I hate to imagine her being pushed off a rock into the dark, treacherous water, it’s comforting to think that her spirit might be here now, watching over me.

  ‘Hi.’

  I spin around, my cheeks reddening as I shove the photo behind my back. Kit is standing by the garden entrance, leaning against the crumbling stone wall. The sun lights up his face, picking out the fine blond streaks in his hair. He looks like a movie star.

  ‘Er, hi,’ I say, immediately self-conscious that my hair must look a mess from working outside and that I’m probably covered in earth. ‘What are you doing here? I’m supposed to be in solitary confinement or whatever.’

  ‘I know.’ Kit grimaces. ‘They told us we couldn’t speak to you or Pepper or Josh all day. But I’m on kitchen duty and Mrs Moncrieff said you were here and . . . and I was just wondering how you’re doing.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ My fingers feel clammy on the photo. Has Kit seen it?

  ‘What’s that behind your back?’ he asks.

  Great. Still, I don’t have to explain where I got the photo any more than I did to Lomax. Reluctantly, I hold out the picture.

  ‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ I say. ‘I’m not allowed to have this. I’ve already got my luxury item.’

  Kit peers down at the photo. ‘It is a bit mean only letting us keep one thing. Is this your mother?’

  I nod. ‘My real mum,’ I explain. ‘The one who died when I was a baby.’

  ‘You look like her,’ he says.

  I frown. Surely Irina was far prettier and more delicate-looking than me? ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, really. You’ve got the same mouth and the same smile.’ Kit looks up. ‘It’s a very pretty smile.’

  I gulp, my stomach turning cartwheels. Nice hair and a pretty smile. Is he flirting with me? Or is he about to back off, like he did before?

  Kit hands me back the photo and I tuck it inside my sweatshirt.

  ‘You’re here because of her, aren’t you?’ he says.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Kit shrugs. ‘The photo, the ballet shoes . . . you talk about her a lot . . . I’m just saying, it’s not . . . not, er, how most normal people are about their mums. So you . . . you probably have some sort of, I dunno . . . extra thing about her . . .’

  My face feels like it’s on fire. ‘What about you?’ I ask, desperate to shift the conversation. ‘Pepper and Josh are obviously here cos they keep breaking rules and stuff and Samuel’s parents probably just want to help him be a bit less of a misfit. Anna hasn’t said, but I’m betting she’s here cos she’s got some problems back home – so ultimately much the same reason as everyone else: she doesn’t fit in and nobody where she comes from knows how to handle her. But you don’t seem like you need any help fitting in. And you don’t look like you get into trouble much either. So why did you get sent here?’

  Kit’s face clouds. ‘If you really want to know, I was set up,’ he says with a scowl. ‘Or rather my brother was set up and I tried to protect him and ended up getting the blame.’

  ‘For what?’ I ask.

  ‘Stealing stuff.’ Kit sighs. ‘My dad’s a lawyer, got it all hushed up. But he and Mum think I’m a delinquent now, hence me being sent here, to work on my so-called issues.’

  ‘That’s so unfair,’ I say. ‘Thinking you’re some kind of bad boy, when you’re so not.’

  Kit’s expression grows darker. ‘You mean like Josh is?’

  I nod.

  ‘He likes you, you know.’ Kit scowls.

  ‘Josh likes everyone.’r />
  ‘No, Josh seriously likes you.’

  ‘Oh.’ I’m sure he’s wrong. And totally unsure what I’m supposed to say back.

  ‘I’m sorry I acted like such an idiot yesterday, all that stuff about your hair.’ Kit rolls his eyes. ‘I just didn’t know how to tell you.’

  ‘Tell me what?’ I hold my breath as Kit moves closer.

  ‘Tell you how much I like you.’ Our faces are almost touching. ‘I thought you didn’t like me back, but then I talked to Anna and she made me realise that maybe I just hadn’t been clear.’

  ‘Oh.’ So when he was talking to Anna yesterday it was about me? My head spins. All I can see are the green flecks in Kit’s caramel eyes.

  ‘So I thought I’d ask again. Properly.’ Kit’s lips hover over mine.

  ‘Ask what?’ I breathe.

  ‘If you liked me ba—’ But before he can finish we are lost in a kiss.

  Seventeen

  Kissing Kit.

  It’s my last thought that night, before I fall asleep, and my first thought the next morning, when I wake up. For the first time since arriving at Lightsea, I’m out of bed before Anna and Pepper. I’m glad of the time to myself, drifting into the bathroom, still reliving that first kiss – and the many that followed – until Kit said he’d better get back to the kitchen before Mrs Moncrieff noticed he was gone.

  Kit likes me. A lot.

  It’s amazing, but true. He says he liked me from the first time he saw me, that he was worried I’d fall for Josh, that he didn’t know what to say to me.

  I’ve told him I like him too, that Josh is fine as a friend, but I can’t imagine going out with him. Kit says he wants to go out with me.

  Me.

  Yesterday evening, when the long day of solitary chores had at last come to an end, I told Kit how Andrew and Janet had kept the truth about Irina being my real mum from me – and how Uncle Gavin is the only person in my life I can talk to about her. Then I confessed to breaking in to Mr Lomax’s office and how I’d found the photo.