The Lights Under the Lake

by Sophie Cleverly

  “… or it was Rose,” I finished. My brow furrowed. This wasn’t right. I shouldn’t think that way about her. She was just a frightened girl.

  “Or,” said Scarlet, “it was a ghost.”

  “It isn’t a ghost,” I insisted. But no matter how much I tried to keep it out, Mr Owens’s story kept floating into my head. Those poor people, losing everything, even their graves …

  We went back into the room, to find that Rose had fallen fast asleep in a chair in the corner, still wearing her wet clothes. There wasn’t much we could do about it, so we draped the blanket over her and left her to sleep.

  I blew the candle out and lay back in bed. Soon my eyelids were fluttering shut, and I dreamt of restless souls floating through the water. And, just on the edge of hearing, I could have sworn that I heard the echo of ringing bells …

  The sun rose on another day at the Shady Pines. But it rose even more reluctantly than I did, and hid behind the clouds as soon as it got the chance.

  I stared out at the lake as I brushed my hair. There were so many secrets beneath its surface, I was sure.

  I’d wanted to talk to Rose, although I couldn’t think what to say. “Did you really paint a creepy message on someone’s wall while you were sleepwalking?” wouldn’t be an easy question to ask or to answer.

  Besides, Miss Bowler had already come to take Rose for questioning, so I hadn’t had the chance. That meant that Elsie and Cassandra hadn’t given up on accusing her, but at least they’d stopped taking matters into their own hands. I had tried to protest that Rose was innocent, and to explain about the sleepwalking, but Miss Bowler was too busy ranting to listen to me – no surprise there, I suppose.

  We ate a distracted breakfast and tried to explain to Ariadne what had happened. The first thing she said was, “Do you think they’d let me photograph it?”

  “I very much doubt it.” I’d already seen Mr Rudge heading to the room with a bucket of whitewash and paintbrush. His face had been whiter than the contents of the bucket.

  “You should have woken me up,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  “You were out like a light,” Scarlet said. “And besides, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”

  “Indeed,” I added. “I’m crossing ‘getting chased through the rain in my nightgown by angry prefects’ off my list of things to ever do again.”

  “Fair enough,” Ariadne said, but she didn’t lift her eyes from her toast. “I hope Rose is all right.”

  We carried on eating in silence. Even with the other girls and guests there, the talk in the restaurant seemed so quiet compared to the usual racket of Rookwood’s dining hall. I looked around at the different faces at each table, remembering what we’d said the night before – that either the message was supernatural, or the culprit was someone at the hotel.

  The man with the green suit was sitting a few tables over, reading a newspaper. He hadn’t given up on the hotel, then. Did he look tired, or guilty? It was hard to tell, especially when his face was partially obscured by his reading material. There was the lady in the wheelchair, though I imagined she probably wouldn’t be able to get up to the top floor, let alone go about painting spooky messages and dripping water all over the carpet.

  Besides that, there were some younger ladies who looked dressed for a hiking trip, all fresh-faced and giggly. There was a very elderly couple, both wearing outlandish hats. There were the Mosses, who were lovingly sharing a boiled egg on the next table over. And finally there was a man with a monocle and a moustache like a walrus, who was wearing a napkin like a bib.

  I stared at every single one of them over breakfast, and learnt nothing. None of them seemed particularly the sort to be haunting a hotel, but then what was the sort? And why would they? What would be in it for them?

  “It’s useless,” I said, keeping my voice low, and sighed. “I don’t see how we can prove that Rose didn’t do this, especially when I’m not even certain myself. But it couldn’t be real ghosts … could it?”

  “It would fit with the story,” Ariadne said. “Maybe the spirits really are angry about what happened to the village. Maybe they’re trapped under the water and can’t get to heaven. Just think about it.” She shuddered. “Not that I believe in ghosts, of course.”

  “Of course,” Scarlet and I chorused.

  “But wouldn’t their souls go to heaven as soon as they died?” Scarlet asked. “Or do they wait around until their business is finished on earth?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I think we’ll have to assume that a flesh-and-blood person is behind this. That leaves us with Rose. Or someone else at the hotel.” I glanced around again furtively, but no one had seemed any more suspicious than when I’d first looked.

  “I still think the harpies are doing it to themselves,” Scarlet said. “It’s just the sort of thing they’d do. They want to pin the blame on Rose. They’ve been terrible drags ever since she wouldn’t show them her locket. I thought they were going to snap it off her neck.”

  “Even before that,” Ariadne pointed out. “They wanted their friend to come on the trip, didn’t they?”

  I took a sip of my tea, trying to savour it. I would miss all this when we were back at Rookwood – the food, that is, not the haunted hotel. “But … they really did look genuinely scared about the writing. I suppose they could have messed up the rooms and planted Cassandra’s necklace. But what about the bathtub filling up with water? And all the other things? The prayer book and the candlestick and the cross?”

  “And if those things really are from the church under the lake …” Ariadne said, her eyes wide, “… if Elsie is responsible, or one of the other guests, or even Rose … how on earth would they have got them?”

  “Could be fake,” Scarlet said.

  “But why? Why do any of that?” I really couldn’t fathom it.

  “I think someone wants us to be afraid,” Scarlet replied darkly.

  Suddenly I didn’t feel like eating another bite of the breakfast. I was afraid.

  Afraid she was right.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  SCARLET

  swore to myself that if the harpies were behind this, I was going to get them back, somehow. Whatever it took.

  We returned to our room to find Rose crying. I didn’t know what Miss Bowler had said to her, but we at least gathered that she hadn’t been sent home or punished. I guessed Miss Bowler couldn’t prove that Rose was guilty any more than we could.

  Honestly, if she did want to scare the prefects, I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine it, though. She had always seemed so sweet and friendly, even without using any words. An image of her clutching the pony book that I’d given her came to mind. If Elsie and Cassandra opened their eyes for five minutes, maybe they could see her that way too.

  But when we went back out into the corridor, hoping to find out what the day’s activity was, we found Elsie protesting to Miss Bowler.

  “But, Miss,” she was saying. “We know she did it. We saw her. She was all wet and crazy-looking. She’s mad, or she’s possessed, or both!”

  “How dare—” I started, but Ivy and Ariadne grabbed my arms and pulled me back into the doorway.

  “This is all claptrap and twaddle!” said Miss Bowler. “I’ve never heard such balderdash in all my life! There’s no such thing as being possessed. Someone vandalised your room, that’s all. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” She shook her head.

  Elsie decided to try a different approach. “But we saw her, right after. And she was all wet. She should be punished, shouldn’t she? For vandalising? Or what’s to stop her doing something worse?”

  This time I wasn’t going to let myself be held back. “Oh, you little snitch! You don’t have proof that Rose has done anything!”

  Elsie swung round. “Well, who do you think did it, then?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. I just floundered uselessly.

  “CALM DOWN, BOTH OF YOU!” Miss Bowler boomed. “Get
back in your rooms and get ready for the day! We’re going horse riding. I don’t want to hear another word about this incident! Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Miss,” we all mumbled.

  “I SAID, IS THAT CLEAR?”

  “Yes, Miss!”

  We made a hasty retreat back into the room.

  “Did she …” Ivy paused. “Did she say horse riding?”

  Ivy and I had only been on horseback a couple of times, when we were much younger. It had been at a farm near where we grew up. And they weren’t horses at all, really, but tiny Shetland ponies. Father rode a big old mare called Chestnut, who was bad-tempered and would snort and flick her ears at you. She had these enormous chomping teeth and trying to feed her a carrot was a dangerous business.

  Each time we’d gone riding I had hated it. I screamed the whole time and insisted I was going to fall off and die. Ivy had clung on for dear life, her face pale and eyes wide, not saying a word.

  I wasn’t hugely enthusiastic about the idea. “It’s a horse,” I kept saying. “They’re big and angry. I don’t think they want me to sit on them.”

  Ariadne, on the other hand, was overjoyed. “Oh, goody!” she kept saying, clapping her hands. “Ever since Daddy sold Oswald I haven’t been able to go riding. This will be such fun!”

  It had cheered Rose up as well. At the mere mention of the word ‘horse’ she had dried her tears and was looking a lot more eager. “I’ll help,” she whispered, and suddenly she had pulled her boots on and dashed off out of the door.

  “Help with what?” Ivy said after her.

  “Preparing the horses for the ride, I suppose,” Ariadne said. “Fetching their tack and grooming them and so on. I think she does that a lot at school.”

  I peered down at my suitcase and realised another problem – we didn’t own any trousers. I definitely didn’t fancy riding side-saddle. “Oh, look,” I said. “We don’t have any trousers. So we probably can’t go anyway. Such a shame.”

  “You can both borrow some of mine!” Ariadne said cheerily.

  I gave up and flopped on to the bed. It looked like I wasn’t getting out of this one.

  We went down to the courtyard once we were dressed, me trudging reluctantly and Ivy doing her best to look like she wasn’t doing the same.

  Ariadne was bouncier than ever, bounding down the stairs with her camera round her neck as usual. She’d even found her own riding hat in one of her suitcases – goodness knows how it had fitted in there. Ivy had read a book called Mary Poppins about a nanny who had a magical bag that somehow managed to contain things like an armchair and a bedstead, and she was convinced Ariadne had one the same.

  The weather was warm, but there were some angry black thunderclouds looming overhead, threatening to rain. The unsettled air smelt of pine and moss, with a strong undercurrent of horse.

  Mrs Knight was standing in one corner of the courtyard, beckoning us all over. The drive continued round the corner there, to a large block of stables. I could hear some of the horses stomping and snorting already, and it reminded me of angry old Chestnut. I fought the urge to run back to our room and hide.

  Mrs Rudge was standing in the stable yard – I guessed she owned the horses – along with a small group of local girls who were hurrying around. They must help out here, I thought. I spotted Rose carrying a saddle, and smiled. At least she was feeling better. I took the chance to glare at Elsie and Cassandra, who were muttering things to each other again. I wished they would get sent home.

  I left Ivy chatting to Anna and wandered over to one of the stalls. According to the door, the horse was called Daffodil. She looked at me warily and then went back to chewing hay.

  Just then, Phyllis Moss popped up beside me. “Hello!” she said brightly. “Off for a ride, are we?”

  “Apparently,” I mumbled.

  She didn’t seem to notice my reluctance, looking at the horse instead. “Fine beast, isn’t she? I was hoping I might be able to go for a ride myself.” She turned to gaze around the stable yard.

  “I don’t think there’ll be any horses left with all of us having a go,” I pointed out.

  She frowned. “You’re probably right. Ah well, another day, then! Don’t forget your orienteering skills if you get lost,” she said with a wink.

  “Is everyone here?” I heard Mrs Knight call out from the other side of the yard. She was standing on a mounting block and taking a quick head count, so I hurried back over.

  “I’m here!” I announced to no one in particular. Ivy laughed at me.

  “Right,” said Mrs Knight. “Good morning, everyone! I know we’ve had some further trouble in the night, but let’s put it all behind us, shall we?”

  This time it was the prefects who glared at me. I pulled a face at them.

  “Mrs Rudge runs these riding stables, and today we’ll be having a go.” Mrs Rudge curtsied, but I couldn’t help noticing how preoccupied she looked. In fact, I could’ve sworn she’d flinched when Mrs Knight mentioned the events of last night.

  Mrs Knight gestured to another lady who was already sitting astride a horse. “Mrs Hunt will be instructing us today and leading us on a hack.”

  “Good morning,” Mrs Hunt said. She had a long, thin face, with blonde hair and an expression that seemed to indicate that no one was living up to her standards. She reminded me a lot of Miss Linton, who taught horse riding back at Rookwood. Just like Miss Linton, she wore a riding hat with a long coat and jodhpurs, her feet perfectly pointed in the stirrups. She was definitely dressed for the occasion – unlike Ivy and me, in our trousers that didn’t fit properly.

  Mrs Knight smiled. Miss Bowler, I noticed, was standing at the back of the courtyard, looking as if she had no intention of getting on a horse. I didn’t blame her. I wondered if anyone would notice if I sidled over there …

  “Get back here, Scarlet,” the headmistress warned. Reluctantly I slunk back to my place in the crowd. “All right,” she continued. “I’m sure you all know the basics of riding.”

  “Yes, Miss,” most people chorused.

  “Not really,” I added.

  Ivy gave me a look, and I could tell she was nervous. I hoped we’d both just remember how to do it.

  “The girls have been helping to get everything ready,” Mrs Knight said, gesturing at the stable girls and Rose, who was smiling shyly. “They’re going to line the horses up and pick the best one for you to ride, based on your height. Then we’re going to go on a fun adventure!”

  I doubted it would be either fun or an adventure. But I had to grit my teeth and get on with it. I just hoped nothing would go horribly wrong this time.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  IVY

  et’s get started, then,” Mrs Knight said. She clapped her hands, and Rose and the girls began to fetch each of the horses over. They looked so tall.

  “I don’t like the look of that one,” Scarlet whispered, pointing to a huge black horse that reminded me uncomfortably of Raven, Miss Fox’s horse. It was stamping angrily as Rose led it across the yard, its hooves clicking on the cobbles. Rose seemed unfazed, but I supposed she was used to that sort of thing. I had to admit that I felt a little relieved when she led the horse to Mrs Knight instead of us.

  Miss Bowler bustled around, putting us into height order. She spent a good amount of time trying to decide which way round to put me and Scarlet, even though I was fairly sure we were exactly the same height. She was a mirror image of me, after all. Scarlet was somewhat miffed when it was decided that I was taller. “Hmmph!” she declared loudly.

  I hoped we might get some nice riding helmets, but no such luck – we were stuck with the awful ones that Miss Bowler had brought for caving. I at least got one that wasn’t cracked this time, but it was rather worryingly wobbly instead.

  The stable girls began helping people on to horses. Some were obviously more experienced and just jumped up with one foot in the stirrup. Others got a boost or used the mounting block. I had a suspicion that we’d ne
ed it too.

  Eventually Rose came over and tugged at our sleeves. She seemed to be considerably happier – she was in her element, I supposed. She led us to a pair of almost identical grey horses – same height, same dappled coats, same saddles. She held her arms out, smirking as if she’d done something really funny.

  “What?” Scarlet said suspiciously.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “I get it! Grey twins! Like us!”

  Rose laughed, nodding. Both of us grinned. I felt a pang of shame that I’d doubted her.

  Another girl, short and wearing boyish dungarees, came over to help us get on. She told us that the horses were called Shadow and Whisper. Sweet names, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to ride either of them. They at least seemed calmer than some of the other horses I’d seen, standing there peacefully, only gently flipping their tails to keep the flies off.

  I went over to the one named Whisper – remembering our mother’s secret society, the Whispers, and hoping it was a good omen. “Hello,” I said nervously. She put out her nose and nuzzled my hand. Well, that seemed a good start.

  The stable girl was apparently known as Emma Two due to there being several Emmas. She led our horses over to the mounting block and then pulled sugar cubes out of her pocket to keep them occupied. “Up you get,” she said to us with a toothy grin.

  I took a deep breath and climbed the small steps up on to the block. My palms were sweating. Getting on a horse is nothing, I tried to tell myself. Yes, but it’s staying on that’s the hard part, my mind insisted.

  I looked over at Scarlet for reassurance, but she was chewing her fingernails and pointedly looking anywhere other than at the horses. No help there.

  “You remember how to do it?” Emma Two asked in her singsong accent. Seeing my expression, she put her hand in the stirrup. “Just stick your foot here, put your weight on it and then throw your leg over the other side. And make sure you end up facing the right way.”

  I tensed my muscles … and did as she said. My foot seemed to swing over the horse all on its own. I waited several seconds before I dared to open my eyes. I was the right way round, at least. I slid my foot into the other stirrup.