Calla stepped out from behind a particularly tall first-year and gave the nun a small, awkward wave. The vision of so many other girls dressed like her had left her a little bit embarrassed but this felt like the sort of moment that needed her input. “It’s all true,” she said. “There’s no time to explain everything fully. But we have to get into that study.”
Good Sister Christine took a deep breath. The situation in front of her made very little sense, but she had no doubt whatsoever that the headmistress worked for an evil organization. This was not the sort of thing that she suspected of many people, but it fit the persona of the headmistress so well and explained so many of the strange things that had happened since the start of that term, she was rather disappointed she had not realized this sooner. Besides, she knew that Edie and Calla were not lying. She had witnessed Edie telling untruths and the rather remarkable fact that the greater the lie, the more innocent the small French girl looked. She rather suspected Calla was cut from a similar cloth.
And so Good Sister Christine came to a decision:154 “Look, girls, whatever this is, I can’t be involved officially, because I’ll get fired within a heartbeat, but I’ll help you out as much as I can. I’m with you.” Several of the first-years, who were slightly giddy by this point, let out a very tiny cheer. Edie silenced them all with swift and strategic pokes in the arm.
Good Sister Christine ignored this side drama and crouched down so that she was talking directly to Calla. “Calla, are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” said Calla in a small voice. “But I will be. We just need to get into the study without the headmistress knowing.”
Good Sister Christine nodded. “Say no more,” she said. She straightened up, opened the common room door, and looked out into the corridor. “Were I the sort of person to have noticed other people in this room,” she said, in a just loud enough to catch the attention of everybody in the room but quiet enough to not attract outside attention sort of manner, “I would be telling them that now might be a good time to go and do what they came here to do.”
“Thank you,” said Calla as she followed the other girls out of the room.
“Make me proud,” said Good Sister Christine.
IN WHICH BATTLE COMMENCES
The headmistress was not having a good day. It had begun well, with Calla presenting herself in the study like a turkey on Christmas Day, but it had gone rapidly downhill from that point. She had neither the girl nor her mother under her control and this did not sit comfortably with her. When she had also realized that a substantial number of girls had gone missing during the day, and that at least two of them were Edie and Hanna, and that Calla herself had to be somewhere but quite simply was not, she had gone from being uncomfortable to being angry. She had left Gareth to keep an eye on the study and spent the afternoon marching from one corridor to the next and willing herself not to explode with rage.
The problem was this: They needed Elizabeth. And now they did not have her. They needed Calla. And now they did not have her, either. This was no easy thing to deal with. Nor was the thought that, sooner or later, her employers were going to phone and ask her how the situation at the school was going. Gareth was good at answering the phone. He was not good at coming up with convincing cover stories on the fly.155
It was only when the headmistress checked the fourth-floor laboratories for the third time that day that everything changed.
There was a small girl, a girl with hair the color of corn and a light sprinkling of freckles, sitting by herself in one of the classrooms.
The headmistress could not stop herself. She ran into the classroom and said, “Calla!”
And the girl gave her a grin. “You wish,” she said, in an unexpectedly Polish accent, before suddenly—quite confusingly—being hoisted into the air and disappearing into the ceiling.
This, as you might imagine, was something that the headmistress had not expected to happen. She stood there for a moment doing a remarkable impression of somebody who could not quite believe what they were seeing156 and then, upon hearing a burst of laughter outside the classroom door, she turned to see another girl standing there watching her.157
The girl looked just liked Calla.
And she was not—as far as the headmistress could see—attached to the ceiling and likely to disappear.
The headmistress ran to the door. She opened it and lunged for the girl, but she was already running down the corridor and the headmistress could not stop herself from following. The two of them hurtled around the corner before—quite suddenly—the girl that she had been chasing ran past another one on the stairs who looked just the same.
“What’s going on?” said the headmistress, as she tried to understand what she was looking at. “What is this?”
The girl on the stairs smiled. “The most beautiful of things that could happen. The girls are rising against you. Vive la resistance! Vive la revolution!”158
The headmistress howled and lunged for her.
But the girls were already running.
MEANWHILE, GARETH
Calla and Hanna were not aware of any of this, for they were at that moment having a discussion with the enormous man at the study door. Calla had been very nervous about going back to face him, but Hanna had persuaded her to do so.
“Sometimes it’s important to face your fears head-on,” she said, in the manner of somebody who had done this many more times than she liked to confess. “And we need to get to the phone in that study. We’ll take some of the first-years and he won’t be able to work out which one’s you. I promise he won’t. Adults aren’t the quickest at working things out.”159
Hanna proved to be quite accurate about the man’s ability, or lack thereof, to distinguish between small children, even those he had grabbed at only a few hours before. He didn’t figure out which one of them was Calla, not even when she stood right in front of him and asked to go into the study. It was as if they had never met.
“I can’t,” he said apologetically. “I have to mind this door and only go in if the phone rings. My boss—she’s right particular about doing things her way, and things haven’t been going the way they should. If she was here I’d ask her, but she’s not. She’s trying to find a girl.”
“There are a lot of girls here,” Hanna said wisely. “It is a girls’ boarding school, after all. Was she after one in particular?”
Gareth shrugged. “Yep,” he said. “But search me if I know why. She had yellow hair like you lot, and those freckles, too.” He paused as he realized that he was surrounded by girls who matched that very description. “She’s not one of you, is she?”
Calla shook her head. So did Hanna and the little crowd of first-years they’d taken with them. “Sorry,” said one of the first-years. “We can tell you if we see her.”
“But we don’t know your name,” said Hanna.
“Gareth,”160 said the man. “I provide security where I’m wanted, and I’ve been wanted here this term. Honestly, I’d rather be baking. This job’s been very dramatic, and a tiny little bit confusing. Some days I just long for a simple Victoria sponge.”
“We love cake,” one of the other first-years said dreamily. “We could talk about baking forever.”
“Can I talk to you about ganache, then? I’ve been trying to make it, but it keeps splitting and I can’t quite figure out why.”
“Temperature,” said the first first-year in a learned manner. “You have to get it just so, and not be afraid of—”
“Gareth, I’m sorry, but please will you open the study door for us?” said Hanna. She glared at the first first-year, the second first-year, and the other three first-years who were quite nervous but excited at being involved and had settled on saying nothing at all and just clutching each other breathlessly. “Gareth, please, it means a lot. We need to get to that phone and we’re running out of time.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” said Gareth. “Honestly, it’d be more than my job’s worth. But I
’m happy to talk to you. I mean—it’s a bit difficult, though, with you all having the same color hair. And now, there’s those other girls there.”
Calla gave him a quick look. “Which other ones where?”
He gestured down the corridor. “Those other ones,” he said, pointing at the group of yellow-haired girls that was running toward them.
The group of yellow-haired girls that was being chased by the headmistress.
THE DIPLOMATIC QUALITIES OF GANACHE
Gareth shifted so that somehow he was blocking both the study door and any potential chance of an exit. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the first-years who were looking at him in a very accusatory sort of manner. “It’s just that there’s something clearly going on and I am meant to help her, and she does yell so awfully loudly. Look, I have to do my job, I’m sorry. Come and find me later so we can share recipes for sticky toffee pudding?” He paused and then, unable to stop himself, said, “I hear the secret is dates and I am “desperate to try it.”
One of the first-years nodded and was about to reply to him when Hanna bumped her with her hip and made a Pay attention to what’s going on face. She jerked her thumb at the advancing group of girls and then back at Calla. They got the point and flocked in front of Calla, blocking her from view of the headmistress, whilst Gareth stood there and tried to figure out what was happening. When the other group of girls joined them, they did the same until Calla was surrounded by yellow wigs and freckles and people twice her height. To help matters even more, Calla brushed her hair forward so that it covered her face and stepped behind Rose Bastable, who was the tallest in their year and twice the height of dear Good Sister Gwendolyn. Calla took a deep breath and tried to calm the wild fear inside her heart. Edie managed to position herself so that she was next to Calla and when she was there, she took Calla’s hand in hers and squeezed it tight. And when Calla glanced at her, Edie smiled and winked.
Calla took a deep breath and looked straight at the face of the headmistress who was, I think, enjoying the moment a little bit too much. Actually, now that I have written that, I think I am being generous. The headmistress was enjoying herself in a manner that had made every girl there realize precisely just how evil she was.
“Well,” she said, “you thought you were clever, didn’t you? Setting me up all those traps. But here we are. Lambs to the slaughter.”
Calla felt the headmistress look at her for what felt like forever before, suddenly, her gaze moved on to study the tall first-year at her side. A small voice inside Calla’s head whispered: She doesn’t know which one you are.
Gareth said, “I’m sorry, but there can’t be any slaughtering—they’ve got tips for the perfect ganache and I need to figure out where I’m going wrong.”
The headmistress stared at him as though she could not quite believe the conversation she was about to have.161 “Ganache?”
“It’s a mixture of chocolate—”
“Shut up,” she said. “This is no time to be talking about baking.” One of the first-years made a little sound of horror.
“I know she’s here,” said the headmistress. “And though I am interested in your sudden ability to procure all these wigs and paint freckles on your faces, I’m more interested in getting my hands on Calla North. I won’t punish any of you if you hand her over. It’s better for you all if you just hand her over right now.”
Sethi Gopal grabbed Calla’s left hand. Sabia Gopal grabbed her right. Faith Reed made a vague Not going to happen noise. Rose Bastable stared very firmly at the ceiling. Hanna smiled blandly at the headmistress. One of the nameless first-years started to whistle. Nobody moved an inch.
Until all of a sudden somebody said, “I’m Calla.”
And stepped forward.
THE BEAUTIFUL SACRIFICE OF EDIE BERGER
“I’m Calla,” said the girl again. She stuck her hand up. “Please, if I come with you, will you let the others go safely? I’ve been crying all morning about it.”
“Yes, of course,” said the headmistress. “Do come along with me. I’ll try to make you feel better.” She tried to smile but failed substantially, and instead delivered the sort of grimace that a snake might give to its supper.
“Wait a minute,” Calla said urgently as she watched all of this happen. Nobody was going to suffer for her. She had to deal with the headmistress herself. That’s what her mum would do. She’d face up to this and try to solve the problem. “I’m Calla. I don’t know who that is. She’s pretending to be me.”
The headmistress’s eyes flicked from Calla to the other girl and then back again. It was clear that she still wasn’t sure who was who. “Come with me, Calla,” she said, talking to a space somewhere in between the two girls. “I’ll speak to you other girls later. Gareth—take them back to their rooms. They need to take off those horrific wigs.”
Calla stepped forward to follow the headmistress but then Hanna elbowed her forcefully in the ribs. “I’m Calla,” she said, ignoring the fact that the real Calla was doubled up at her side and gasping for air. “The other two are lying. I’m the one you want.”
“I know which girl I want,” said the headmistress.162
“No you don’t,” said Sethi Gopal. “I’m Calla.”
“No,” said Rose Bastable, “I’m Calla. I’m the one you want.”
“I’m Calla,” said one of the first-years, rapturous with excitement. “Don’t listen to them.”
“Stop it, all of you,” snapped the headmistress. She turned to glare at Gareth. “Aren’t you meant to be working for me? Grab that girl.”
He looked blankly back at her. “But which one, though? They’re all called the same thing and they all look the same. It’s a bit weird.”
“You are looking for the child from this morning,” the headmistress said through gritted teeth. Even from where she was standing, Calla could see the whiteness of her knuckles and the way she kept balling her fist. The headmistress was losing control of both the situation and herself. “The one that we have set up this entire thing for—the one whose mother we—”
“And then can I talk to them about ganache?”
The headmistress said a very rude word that I shall not repeat here.
Gareth took the hint. He made a Sorry about this but it’s the way it goes face. “Look,” he said. “I need the girl from this morning? I’m not sure which one you actually are, and I don’t want to pick the wrong one, so it would be really helpful if you gave yourself up now? Would you mind? Please?”
Calla took a step forward, but she was already too late.
Because Edie Berger was a step ahead of her. “It is I,” she said, thoroughly enjoying being the center of attention. “I am the one that you want.” She smiled and held up her hands. “Handcuff me. Incarcerate me. Take me to the Tuileries.”
And then, just as Gareth placed his hand on her shoulder and the headmistress opened the study door, Edie glanced back at the girls and her expression completely changed. “Run,” she said urgently. “Run!”
LIVING TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY
And so they did. At least, they tried to. The only problem was that several of the first-years were near tears over Edie’s noble sacrifice for them, and Calla was starting to wonder if she’d even woken up and had been dreaming the entire thing, and so their run-away was more of a sort of Let’s all just move in the same direction and hope for the best affair as opposed to anything purposeful and dynamic. It was a good job that Hanna was there or else I don’t know what would have happened to them. She led the girls through one of secret doors that was tucked behind an umbrella stand in the math corridor, before bolting it shut behind them. For good measure, she pulled a plank of wood across the door as well.163
Nobody said anything until they got back to the hidden room. It was only then that Hanna finally cracked and had a tiny cry into the nearest cushion.
“It’s just that it’s Edie,” she explained when she felt sufficiently recovered. “She’s been at my side
since I got here, and she’s done everything for me, ever, and now she’s done this. She’s sacrificed herself for us. She’s in that woman’s hands all by herself—!”
“She’s our Gandalf,” said one of the first-years in a swooning sort of fashion. “We’ll write songs about her,” said another first-year with misty eyes.
“I didn’t want her to do it,” Calla said tightly.
“It’s Edie,” said Hanna. “She was going to do it all along.”
“But I didn’t ask her to. I’ll go back and hand myself in. This is all because of me. I hate the thought of her being with the headmistress all by herself. The woman’s crazy. She tried to kidnap me.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” said Rose, looking up from the packet of biscuits she had found under the sofa. Her expression was very serious despite the fact that her bright yellow wig was askew and several of her freckles had fallen off. “You can’t think like that. We’re your friends. We chose to do this, and Edie chose to hand herself over. She’s bought us time. We have to figure out what we’re going to do next. We have to get into that study.” She pushed a biscuit over to Calla. “We’re going to solve this. We’ll get rid of that horrible woman and find your mum, I promise.”
“Well, whatever we’re going to do, we have to do it fast,” said one of the first-years, eyeing the packet hungrily. “If the school’s on lockdown, then that means we’ll run out of food soon. I haven’t had a biscuit for weeks now and I think I might actually die if that continues.”
“The school’s not the only thing that’s going to run out of food,” said Calla. “My mum doesn’t have much time—”
Hanna grabbed the biscuits from Rose and pushed them at the first-year. “Eat,” she said. “We’ll never be short of biscuits in this school, trust me. There are custard creams in every cupboard.” She paused suddenly and narrowed her eyes at the first-year. “Wait. Aren’t you the first-year who was going on about ganache? What’s your name?”
How to Be Brave Page 13
