‘That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.’
Ivy shrugs. ‘Perhaps, but I love it here.’
I smile. ‘You do seem to thrive. I’m sure your mom’s really proud of you.’
Ivy clears her throat, like she’s just realized how much she’s poured out to me. ‘And what about you? Big plans for life after IH?’
Now it’s my turn to shrug. ‘I don’t exactly feel at home in the UK yet. But there’s not much for me in the States, not any more. Maybe I’ll take one of those – what do you call them … gap years?’ I glance over at Ivy, who’s staring at me. ‘Let’s make a pact, you and me. February half-term, if we’re both stuck here, we’ll go somewhere cool like … Paris! I’ll get Dad to pay,’ I add hastily.
Ivy pauses and I wonder if I’ve taken it a bit too far. ‘Venice?’ she suggests.
‘Deal!’
She laughs. ‘Let’s get down to business. Clover thought there might be something about the Magpie Society in this part of the library, only she doesn’t have access.’
I think for a second. ‘I did a bit of googling about magpies. They’re pretty freaky birds.’
‘One for sorrow, two for joy,’ sing-songs Ivy.
‘What’s that?
‘You’ve never heard the rhyme?’
I shake my head.
‘Let me see …’ Ivy closes her eyes and I swear the temperature in the room seems to drop by a couple of degrees. She lowers her voice to a whisper.
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl, four for a boy,
Five for silver, six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.’
A chill runs down my spine. ‘Wow – is that like a nursery rhyme or something? Oh!’ I smack my forehead. ‘I didn’t get it before. The Voice Unknown – sorry, Clover – mentioned that “one for sorrow” thing, didn’t she?’
‘It’s an old poem, I think. I have no idea where it came from. Maybe we can look it up?’
‘What, like on Google?’ Instinctively, I take out my phone.
‘Well … no. I mean, you might get some answers. But we’re trying to figure out about the Magpie Society here at Illumen Hall, right? And I don’t think Google will know about that.’
I type in One for sorrow + Illumen Hall just in case but, as Ivy predicted, it brings up zero results.
Why do I always feel so stupid in her presence? I casually slip my phone back in my pocket.
‘Let’s look up magpies in the Upper Wing catalogue. Even though I feel that might be too obvious as well,’ Ivy says.
We head to one of the iPads, which is embedded in a wooden cabinet. It’s just like this school to have a mix of old-world furniture and the latest technology. There are even little GPS tags embedded in most of the books, so they can be tracked and to make sure they don’t leave the school grounds.
‘Wait!’ A light flashes in Ivy’s eyes. ‘The Corvid Scholarship! Magpies are from the Corvidae family of birds. Maybe there’s something there?’
‘How the heck did you know that?’
Ivy blushes. ‘Oh, my brain is a mishmash of stuff. Mr Tavistock used to quiz me on the classification of the different birds and animals that live in the grounds.’
‘Seriously?’ I say, one eyebrow raised almost into my hairline. ‘The weird groundskeeper guy?’
‘Don’t believe everything Bonnie tells you,’ she replies. ‘Plus, I find it fascinating, OK?’ Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I immediately feel like we’re on the path to something. We type Corvid into the search, and an old non-fiction text called The Corvid Mysteries pops up. Sounds promising. We note down its location and head to the marked bookcase. When we find the book, it’s ancient-looking, thick, with dull, gold, peeling lettering. There’s the outline of a bird – presumably a crow – on the spine. Ivy and I exchange a look. We take it down from the shelf with almost gentle reverence, and gasp as we see that the pages themselves are edged in bright gold.
We flip through to the front page. My jaw drops when I see a pencil inscription.
The first step is over the edge.
And underneath is a rough sketch of a magpie.
30
Ivy
My mouth drops open and I glance at Audrey, who is staring, wide-eyed. Although the magpie sketch looks slightly different from the one that was drawn on Lola’s back, it’s definitely too similar to be a coincidence. This drawing is small and delicate, yet the pencil lines are rough and repeated, making the magpie look dishevelled – almost sinister. Its beak is wide open, wings outstretched.
But the words above it are even creepier.
‘The first step is over the edge.’ Audrey’s voice trembles. ‘Ivy. This … this is really freaky. Over what edge? Oh my God.’ She grabs my arm and her eyes search my face. ‘Do you think this has anything to do with Lola? The edge of the cliff?’
An image flashes through my brain of Lola, her hair twisting in the wind, staring out into the roiling darkness of the ocean beyond the cliff, of her moving forward to take that final step …
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. How could it be and – more importantly – why? It would be a ridiculously small secret society if they’re telling everyone who wants to join to walk off a cliff.’
Audrey chuckles at my dark joke, but I think it’s more out of nerves. I continue. ‘Maybe we’re overthinking it.’ I close the book and run my hands over it, tracing my fingers along the spine and the edges of the cover, hoping for something to make sense. Maybe part of the cover lifts off?
‘OK, what about the edge of the shelf?’ Audrey kneels down and starts to pull other books off.
I put The Corvid Mysteries down on the floor and help. Maybe there’s something carved into the underside of the shelf. I turn on my phone’s torch and crane my neck to look. I’m glad we’re pretty much alone in the school at the moment because, if anyone saw us, they’d think we’d lost our minds.
After an hour, we’re both splayed out on the library floor, surrounded by a shamble of books. We’re no closer to finding the next step – if there even is one.
‘Maybe we’re being punked,’ Audrey says. She shifts so that she’s lying down beside me, our heads propped up on an uncomfortable pillow of books. ‘There’s got to be something we’re missing. I mean, that book looks ancient! What’s to say the next step wasn’t moved years ago?’
I sigh, and pick up The Corvid Mysteries again. I open it up to the inscription and stare at it, willing it to reveal its secrets. But the book imparts nothing but a dry, dusty smell. Audrey’s probably right. Whatever sign there might have been, it’s long gone now.
I fan the pages across my face, trying to cool down. ‘Did it suddenly get really hot in here or is it just me?’
Almost instantly, Audrey sits up, grabs the book from my hand and inhales sharply. ‘What’s this?’
I sit up, a frown on my face as Audrey turns the book over in her hands. She then bends the pages over at a slight angle. ‘It looks like … what the heck? A painting?’
‘What are you talking about?’ But just then I spot exactly what she did. At a glance, the edges of the pages are just gilt, but, as Audrey pushes on the cover so that the fore-edges form a waterfall, something that looks like a painting emerges. When shut, it disappears again. She spreads the pages at just the right angle to reveal the painting in its entirety.
‘There! Hold it there!’ I say.
‘Oh my God. The first step is over the edge. Over the edge of the book?’
‘Must be. In fact, I think I’ve seen this somewhere before …’ I say. Audrey holds the pages still, and I stare at the somehow familiar scene of an old Victorian outbuilding, surrounded by billowing blossom trees. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. ‘I know exactly where I’ve seen this. It’s a miniature version of one of the paintings on the gallery wall in the corridor leading from the dining hall. The one next to the horses and hounds. They’re all pai
nted by former students!’
‘The next step?’ Audrey asks.
‘It’s got to be,’ I say, and I can’t hide my excitement.
‘What do you think this is? A trail leading to the Magpie Society?’
‘No idea. But we have to check it out, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely. I feel like Robert Langdon.’ Audrey goes to put the book in her bag, but I stop her.
‘If you take it, we’ll set off an alarm.’ I feel impressed at whoever planned this – it’s kind of genius. No one could move the book from the library without alerting someone. I know that, in the really olden days, books had actually been chained to the shelves. This first piece of the puzzle must have been here for ages.
‘OK, let’s take a photo instead,’ Audrey says, balancing the angle of the painting while trying to take a photo with her phone at the same time. Once we’ve managed it, we put the book back and hurriedly toss the others back on to the shelves too, albeit a little haphazardly. Mrs Ling will throw a fit when she sees them, but we’re pumped too full of adrenaline to care.
We rush down to the dining hall, not slowing until we reach the stone-tiled corridor with the gallery wall.
‘God, there are so many paintings … I can’t say I’m gonna be much help here. I’ve not paid much attention to the artwork these last few weeks!’ Audrey stares up at the vast gallery before us filled with maybe a hundred paintings in varying sizes, and of varying ages. I’ve spent many a moment staring up at them while queuing to enter the dining hall. Some of my favourite pieces of artwork are among these paintings.
‘There! Five down and seven in from the right – that’s the same, isn’t it?’ I point up to the painting, with the same blossom trees and outbuilding. We pull up the photo on Audrey’s phone to compare – and it’s definitely the same. It’s encased in an intricate golden carved frame that gleams without a speck of dust or spot of tarnish on its surface.
‘Yeah, I see it!’ Her eyes scan the picture. ‘Um … what now?’
Audrey’s right, of course. We’ve discovered a secret painting on the fore-edge of an old book that matches a painting on the school wall, but what does that have to do with the Magpie Society?
‘Hold on – give me a boost.’
‘What?’ Audrey stares at me.
I place both my hands on the ancient iron radiator against the wall, and lift my foot up. Then Audrey gets it. She grabs my shoe and lifts me up. Once I find my balance, I help her up too. When we’re both perched precariously on the radiator, we take another look at the painting. Instantly, I spot a tiny drawing of a magpie in the corner.
‘There!’ I cry out triumphantly.
Audrey looks at the image on her phone. ‘That magpie wasn’t on the fore-edge painting.’
We stare at each other, and then back at the painting.
‘Ivy … the bird up there … its wing is bent, like it’s pointing out in front of it. Kind of an unnatural pose for a bird, I’d say? Unless your British birds are different from the ones we have in Georgia …’
We both turn to look where the bird seems to be pointing. Opposite the gallery wall is a horizontal row of small, square windows. This corridor is in one of the oldest parts of the school so the windows have small iron bars on them. One of these windows sits directly opposite the painting.
I jump down from the radiator and walk slowly up to the window, pulling myself up on to the sill. Outside, I can see the familiar view of the grounds with its clusters of trees and Mr Tavistock’s little stone cottage in the distance.
Audrey pulls herself up beside me.
‘There! It’s the same outhouse,’ she cries out, pointing at a building half hidden by the trees. She holds up her phone to compare. ‘Holy crap. That’s weird.’ She looks at me in alarm and my skin prickles with goosebumps.
I blink, looking from the phone to the window several times. ‘I think you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t see it! I guess there must have been an orchard there before, but it’s all been ploughed up. I run round that area all the time! I suppose it’s one of those things that, unless you’re looking out of this exact window, it wouldn’t have the same aspect – so how else would you recognize it?’
Audrey slumps down on the window sill, her legs dangling. ‘Ivy, do we really think a bird in a painting is giving us directions to some rotting building on campus grounds? We’re not Sherlock and Watson. Maybe we’re just overthinking this?’ She crosses her arms over her stomach. ‘I’m kinda hungry. Shall we just grab something to eat?’
I stare at her. ‘You’re really considering giving up now? After all this?’
She bites her bottom lip.
‘Well, rotting building or not, this can’t just be a coincidence. I’m going inside.’ I pull my tote bag up over my shoulder, jump down off the sill and storm off down the hallway.
‘Fine, I’ll come! It’s starting to get dark and I don’t like to think of you out there on your own. But I want you to know: this shit creeps me right out. If there are bats in there, I’m gone!’
31
Ivy
Once we’re outside, I kind of wish we’d thought to grab our coats. There’s a real chill in the air, but I suppress my shivers for Audrey’s sake. She could turn back at any moment, and I don’t want to spook her. I appreciate her presence – and I wouldn’t have spotted that edge painting if it wasn’t for her. A second pair of eyes is so useful.
She links her arm in mine and smiles at me as we pick our way across the grounds. I can’t believe how close we’ve become, and so quickly. I’d really hated her guts to begin with. And then today, I spilled my guts all over the library floor, and she listened, really listened, in a way that even Harriet has trouble with sometimes. I can’t remember the last time Harriet asked me about my family.
I turn back to look at the school, making sure that we’re not being followed. I think then about the CCTV and the fact I hadn’t checked if there was a camera here. I look back, squinting. I don’t see one, but I can’t be certain.
We pick up our pace slightly, sticking to the long shadows of the treeline. The outbuilding is even more ruined and crumbling than it looked from the window – I’m shocked it hasn’t been pulled down for safety reasons. To reach the door we have to hack our way through thick weeds, brambles and stinging nettles, which is a lot harder than I anticipated, especially in the dusky evening light. I feel a little guilty for dragging Audrey into this as I watch her battle through the foliage with her freshly manicured nails.
‘Oh my God! WHAT IS THIS? WHY IS IT STINGING ME?’ she screeches, holding up a handful of green weed.
I cringe. ‘That’s Urtica dioica. Otherwise known as a stinging nettle. That’s going to hurt like a bitch …’
Audrey shrieks again and drops the handful of nettles. She rubs her hands together in pain. ‘Ugh, we have that at home but not on our school grounds! I hope it’s not like poison ivy.’
‘No, it’s not as bad as that! Don’t worry. Look, we’re almost at the door.’ I crouch down under the last bramble. I try and turn the old iron ring door handle, but it breaks off in my hand. ‘Crap.’ I show it to Audrey and she laughs.
‘Shall we just head back? We’ll never get in now!’ She sounds relieved.
‘No, I’ll get it open.’ I pull out a penknife from my tote bag and flick the latch. The old door creaks and opens towards us. Audrey gives me a nervous glance and I pull her through the last bit of foliage so she’s crouching next to me in front of the slightly open door.
Inside, I can see blue evening light pouring in through an old cracked window and cobwebs are layered from wall to wall like Halloween bunting. There’s nothing on the mud-covered floor, but moss is growing out of every stone where mortar once was.
‘It stinks! Is something dead in there?’ Audrey covers her nose and looks in over my shoulder.
‘It’s the smell of damp, not death.’ I step inside, feeling an overwhelming sense of disappointment. There’s no
thing but a few crumpled bags of crisps, some squashed cans of Coke and a little heap of cigarette butts. A pile of rotten, slatted wood pallets are stacked up in one corner.
‘At least we checked it out, Ivy. Just looks like a place that students used to hang out in, probably cutting class or something.’
She’s right. I let out a sigh and turn back towards her. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. I don’t know what I expected. Sorry for dragging you out here to … Hang on …’ Just as I’m about to go back out through the door, I spot something on one of the old stone slabs on the floor, near the pallets. Her torch illuminated it for just the briefest second. ‘Point your light back there.’
She frowns. ‘Is that … a feather?’ Audrey tiptoes closer, kneeling down to look more closely at the slab by the light of her phone.
‘I think so!’ I brush the stone lightly with my fingers, cleaning dirt from an etching. It’s definitely a feather, although the edges are worn and faded. I tilt my head to one side, knitting my eyebrows. Then I run my fingertips over the edge of the stone, which is slightly loose. In fact, I’m able to lift it up ever so slightly. ‘Let’s get these pallets out of the way.’
‘I’m not touching those!’ squeals Audrey. ‘Something could be living under there.’
‘Come on.’ I kick one of the pallets aside and it almost falls apart. ‘Don’t you think it’s kind of suspicious that these pallets are just randomly here?’
‘Er, no … this whole place is a dump.’
‘I think someone put them there deliberately to hide … whatever this is.’
‘Ew, I knew I shouldn’t have worn my Paige jeans.’ To her credit, Audrey gets down and helps me move the pallets away, wincing as her hands are steadily covered in mouldy slime. It’s not pleasant for me either, but I have a feeling the result will be worth it.
‘Help me lift this,’ I say. Audrey crouches down and inches her fingers round her half of the stone, and then together we heave.
The Magpie Society One for Sorrow Page 15
