And with that, I turned and went after my twin.
I put my arm round Scarlet and comforted her until she’d calmed down just enough to simply be angry, and then we stayed in our room for most of the day. I didn’t particularly want Scarlet and Edith anywhere near each other again, and Scarlet wasn’t exactly keen to face up to her either.
I wasn’t quite as disappointed as Scarlet about the awfulness of our birthday. It was never a particularly joyous occasion, so why would this year be any different? I thought that, deep down, Scarlet felt that the world ought to treat her better than it did. She could never understand why it didn’t happen. I, however, had much lower expectations.
Of course it goes without saying that Father didn’t come upstairs to see if we were all right. If our stepmother had told him anything about what had just happened, it would have been that Scarlet had attacked her for no reason. She always painted herself as the victim and Father always believed her.
As we wallowed in our misery, I finished reading my book. Then I unpacked and repacked my bag about three times until it was neater than neat. As horrible as Rookwood School could be, I found myself wanting to go back, which was certainly a surprise. I missed our friends – Ariadne and Rose – and the other girls too. Rookwood had improved a lot since its former headmistress and headmaster had been taken off in a police van – even with the grey porridge, the cold and the bullies, it could still be a good place sometimes.
Around lunchtime, there was a click from the doorway. Curious, I wandered over and tried the handle, only to find I couldn’t pull it open.
Scarlet sat up straight on her bed. “Did someone just lock us in?”
I nodded. “Looks like it.” Scarlet had always had a habit of kicking doors (and walls, and furniture) that I had never understood, but at that moment I was tempted to try it. Instead, I bent down and peered through the keyhole. I could see right through it – so she’d taken the key away again. No chance of pushing it out to free ourselves.
My twin put her head in her hands. “Could it be any worse?” she asked.
I heard the sound of the door unlocking just before dinner time. It opened to reveal Edith with her familiar scowl.
“Your father’s asking where you are,” she said, in a voice that implied she couldn’t be less interested and was hoping she could forget about us forever. “I said you were messing around up here. I suppose you’d better come down.”
Scarlet went over to the door and stared up at her defiantly, though I could see her hands were shaking. “You locked us in,” she said.
Edith put her nose in the air. “And? That’s beside the point. Get down there and see your father.”
I went over to stand beside Scarlet. For a moment I thought she was just going to do as she was told, but no – she was Scarlet. That wasn’t how she worked.
“He’s going to see through you one day,” she said quietly. “He’s going to realise how you treat us and –” she took a deep breath – “and what you did.”
Edith stepped closer, looming over Scarlet. “Did? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
I knew, and I knew she knew. We were almost certain that Edith had accepted a bribe from the old headmistress, Miss Fox, to pretend that Scarlet was dead. Scarlet had found out Miss Fox’s deepest secret, and went to terrible lengths to keep it.
Scarlet just glared at our stepmother, her arms folded tightly.
Edith glared back. “Fine. Be like that. But here’s a warning for you.” She leant forward, coming face to face with us. “You’re going back to that school soon, and this time you’re staying there for good. Your father isn’t going to rescue you and neither are your crazy aunts. You’re going to get an education and learn some respect, and you’re not going to bother us again.”
I frowned. I had to speak up. “What do you mean by ‘for good’?”
“I mean,” she said, holding a calloused finger up to my face, “that I don’t want you back here. You think your life is a misery now? Just you wait.” She straightened up and stalked back to the hallway. “Just you wait,” she repeated, only now there was a flicker of glee in her mud-brown eyes. “Downstairs. NOW.”
We ate dinner in silence. I watched as Scarlet stabbed every one of her scraps of meat much harder than was necessary. I knew that she wanted to shout and scream in frustration, but it wouldn’t do any good. We just had to put up with the rest of this miserable day.
Father had looked at Edith with a sort of blank, distracted happiness when she’d handed him his dinner. I wondered if he even saw her at all. Sometimes I imagined that his mind had painted the memory of our mother over Edith, and he never quite noticed that it didn’t fit.
As soon as dinner was over, Scarlet and I headed up the stairs, brushed our teeth and went to bed early. “This birthday can’t be over soon enough,” Scarlet said.
I agreed.
Tomorrow would be the first of September. A new year at Rookwood. As I lay under the dusty sheets and stared up at the dappled ceiling, I tried to forget about everything that had just happened and imagined what it would be like being a third year. New lessons, new teachers, new students to make friends with. We’d had so many new starts, but maybe this would be the one that went right …
I smiled up into the dark, and my eyes slipped shut.
We avoided saying goodbye to Edith the next morning. (She had disappeared. I didn’t know where to, but Scarlet was sure she was up to something.) Father was going to be the one driving us back to Rookwood. The boys were playing football in the garden. I tried waving goodbye to them, only to be met with jeers.
“Boys,” Scarlet said simply, rolling her eyes.
We climbed into the back of Father’s motor car with our bags, breathing in that familiar smell of leather and petrol.
I watched sadly as the cottage faded from view. It had been our home once, after all. But Edith had made it very clear that we were no longer welcome there.
“Bye, house,” Scarlet called out of the window. “It was nice knowing you.”
“You’ll be back soon enough,” Father said, his hands loose on the wheel.
I shared a look with my twin. “I’m not so sure,” I said warily.
He tapped his fingers. “It’s only school, girls. They let you out sometimes.” He sighed as he stared out at the village. “Thirteen years old, eh? Where does the time go?”
“We’re fourteen, Father,” Scarlet said.
He just blinked. “Fourteen, really? Hmm.”
My twin rolled her eyes. I didn’t blame her. Father seemed to be paying less attention to our lives than ever. We were lucky, I supposed – lucky to have Rookwood to go to; who’d have thought I’d be saying that? It wasn’t as though we had a choice anyway – our stepmother didn’t want us there, and she didn’t want us living with our aunts either (not that they really had the room). I just had to hope that we could stay out of trouble for as long as possible. If Rookwood found any reason to expel us, well … where would we go?
The journey passed in a blur of silver skies, green leaves and grey tarmac. The route was familiar to me now, but I still remembered how strange it felt that first time, with Miss Fox and her driver. The thought made me take Scarlet’s hand and squeeze it tight.
She was writing in her diary again – a new paper journal with a green jacket that she’d found at school. Her initials, SG, were written proudly on the cover. She also seemed to have acquired a new fountain pen, which was unusual since we normally used pens you had to dip in ink. I decided it was better not to ask where she had got it from.
“Don’t jog me,” she teased, poking me in the leg. “It’s hard enough to write in this bumpy old thing as it is.”
“It’s always good to see you writing in there,” I said.
“Well,” my twin replied. “You never know when a diary might come in handy …”
Chapter Three
SCARLET
ather’s motor car
pulled up on the gravel drive of Rookwood in the shadow of the enormous building, behind a queue of others and a bus. Everywhere girls were leaping out, lugging suitcases, waving to their parents. There were first years crying, clinging to mothers. But most of the older girls seemed eager to get going.
As we climbed out with our bags, I saw a familiar car arriving behind us. It came so close to ours that it almost hit the bumper, and then a familiar man who looked like a bespectacled owl got out. “Sorry!” he said.
I dropped my bag on the floor and ran over to the car, just as the door swung open and our best friend appeared behind the man. “ARIADNE!” I yelled, and jumped on her.
“Oof!” she said. “Steady on, Scarlet.”
I stepped back and grinned. “Never!”
Ivy came up beside me and gave Ariadne a hug. “We missed you so much.”
“Good morning, Sally and Irene,” Ariadne’s father said, tipping his hat at us.
“Morning, Mr Flitworth,” I replied. There was no point in correcting him now. It was what he’d always called us. We’d have to be Sally and Irene forever.
We said goodbye to Father, while Ariadne said goodbye to hers. I could hear him giving her a long lecture about safety and the importance of staying away from windows and potentially poisoned food. I half wished our father cared so much. Instead he’d just said, “Off you go then, see you soon,” and waved us towards the front entrance.
Ivy and I picked up some of Ariadne’s suitcases (she had a little convoy of them, as usual) and together we headed inside for the first day of our new year at Rookwood.
Mrs Knight was waiting in the foyer, greeting everyone. She was the head of our house – Richmond – and as of last year had become the headmistress as well, sort of by default. She was thankfully a lot less murderous than previous occupants of the position, and had a tendency towards being annoyingly cheerful.
“Welcome, welcome!” she was saying. “Everyone head to the hall, please! Carry your bags with you!”
I looked around the foyer, taking in the faces: there were some familiar ones – Nadia and Meena standing beside their very expensive luggage, even … ugh, our worst enemy, Penny, was there, chatting to some of her gang. But there were plenty of unfamiliar ones too. New girls. Mostly they looked like first years, with pristine uniforms. But there were some older girls among them, as well. Mrs Knight’s efforts to restore the school’s reputation had clearly had an effect.
We headed for the hall where the noise was deafening. Everyone was talking at once, greeting friends who they hadn’t seen all summer. We managed to find a seat, just.
“I got you these!” Ariadne said. She pulled one of her suitcases open a crack and took out two envelopes, then handed one to each of us. I tore mine open eagerly.
It was a birthday card showing a girl striding happily along while she held hands with a cat, a dog and a bird. It said, May you have a string of smiles for your birthday. I laughed. “Thanks, Ariadne.”
Ivy grinned, and waved hers at me. It was completely identical.
I tucked mine away in my bag. At least our stepmother couldn’t take these from us.
When everyone had filtered into the hall, the sound of chatter was broken by an ear-splitting whistle from the stage. The talking died away as all of the girls stared up at the swimming instructor and games teacher, Miss Bowler. She had the loudest voice in probably the entire world; she also seemed to have been given the job of ordering everyone about. “SIT DOWN, ALL OF YOU!” she boomed.
When we had all done as she said, she stepped aside, leaving Mrs Knight in full view.
“Welcome, girls!” she said, her expression as bright and cheery as ever. “Welcome to a brand-new year at Rookwood! We will be having a completely fresh start. I’m sure if we all work together, this will be the best year yet.”
She did a sort of fist-pump, clearly expecting people to cheer. Nobody did. Except Ariadne.
“First things first,” she shuffled all of the papers in front of her. “I want to announce that as I am officially the headmistress of the school, I am stepping down as the head of Richmond House. Your new house mistress will be Madame Zelda.”
Well, that was an odd choice, considering that Madame Zelda hadn’t been at the school very long and she wasn’t exactly normal. Everyone looked around to see the silver-haired ballet teacher, who was tapping her long fingernails against her arm and smiling. She gave a small nod, and a flurry of whispers began.
“So now,” Mrs Knight continued, “the first thing we need to do is get everyone lined up in alphabetical order in their house groups, then your teachers will give out room assignments and make sure that everyone knows where they’re going. Then we will give out the lesson timetables, and the lists of rules and maps of the school for the new pupils.” She took a deep breath, “And then—”
She was interrupted by the doors at the back of the hall flying open.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” came a voice.
Everyone turned in their seats to look.
It was a girl, about our age, with incredibly long jet-black hair. She was dressed in Rookwood uniform, but instead of the regulation shoes, she was wearing a pair of black pointed boots. There was a suitcase in her hand (black too, and very battered). She stood there, chin raised, as if the fact that she had just walked in late in front of the entire school was nothing at all.
Miss Bowler strode towards her. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m Ebony McCloud,” said the girl. “Who are you?”
Everyone gasped and Miss Bowler spluttered. “I am your games teacher, Miss Bowler,” she said, “and you are in trouble unless you sit down right this minute!”
“All right, then,” said Ebony with a twitch of a smile, wandering over to a seat and sitting down.
She had a Scottish accent, and a voice that made me think of mist and mountains. There was a strange darkness to it.
“Ahem,” said Mrs Knight from the stage. “Everyone! Back to me, please!”
We all turned round again, but Ebony stayed stuck in my mind. She was … interesting. She reminded me a little of Violet, my former arch-nemesis. Speaking of which, I wondered if Violet had returned. I scanned the hall, but I couldn’t see her. But I did see her friend Rose – now our friend Rose – who had proved herself to be truly magnificent in the summer when she’d overcome her shyness to stand up to her evil relatives. I gave her an enthusiastic wave, and she grinned back at me.
“Now for a few notices,” Mrs Knight was saying, “and then we’ll all line up. Firstly, the library is up and running again and will be open from nine o’clock each morning for anyone who wants to read …”
I tuned out, and my mind wandered to the room assignments. Would Ivy and I get our old room back, my lucky number thirteen? I wasn’t sure how it worked. First years always had bigger dorms, but everyone else was in twos. Hopefully we’d get to keep the same one. If we didn’t, well … I hoped the new occupants wouldn’t notice the hole in the mattress where I’d hidden my diary.
“Right then,” Mrs Knight said when she’d finished reading her seemingly endless list. She waved her hands about in the air. “I repeat – line up in your houses, everyone! Richmond down the left, Mayhew in the middle, Evergreen on the right! You should have been assigned your house in your welcome letter! Alphabetical by surname, please!”
I don’t think our headmistress quite anticipated the chaos that ensued. There was a huge amount of scrambling as everyone tried to pick up their luggage and head in the right direction, climbing over seats and in some cases the other students!
“Carefully!” I heard Mrs Knight call out.
“Calm down, the lot of you!” Miss Bowler yelled. “It’s not a race!”
I picked up my bag (though we left Ariadne’s in a heap), and tried to head for the Richmond line. It wasn’t easy, given that a large amount of people were trying to head the other way.
“Watch it!” I called out to one girl who nearly sw
ung her bag into my face. She stuck her tongue out at me as she passed.
Finally, after a lot of jostling, the three of us made it to the other side of the room and into the line. Then there was yet more jostling as we tried to figure out the order we were supposed to stand in. Ariadne’s surname was Flitworth, so she had to go further up.
Ivy nudged me. “Look,” she said. “Rose is near Ariadne.”
I realised what she meant and smiled. Rose had had to hide her identity for a long time when she’d first arrived, but now she could tell the world that she was from the wealthy Fitzwarren family.
Ivy and I slotted in next to a first year who informed us she was named Abigail Greenwich. I peered to the front and saw that Madame Zelda was up by the stage handing out sheaves of paper and clipboards, and that she was talking to Miss Finch. It made me smile to see my favourite teacher, Miss Finch, again, and to see that she and Madame Zelda were getting on all right. Or at least, passably. That was really something, considering that Madame Zelda had admitted to pushing Miss Finch off the stage when they were at ballet school, leaving her with an injured leg for life.
I was less pleased to see Penny at the head of the line, still wearing her shiny prefect badge. Would we ever get rid of her?
The teachers started at different parts of the very long line that went all the way to the end of the hall, walking along with clipboards. It wasn’t long before one of them reached us – Miss Pepper, the slightly eccentric art teacher.
“Name?” she asked.
“Ivy Grey,” my twin replied.
She nodded and ticked off the name on her register. “Of course, I taught you last year. Here’s your timetable and some forms to fill out for elective lessons and such.” She leant forward. “I hear art is very popular,” she said with a wink at the first year behind us.
Ivy took the papers and rifled through them.
“All right …” Miss Pepper ran her finger down the register. “You are assigned room thirteen on the second floor. Aaaand …”
The Curse in the Candlelight Page 2
