I gave her my attempt at the angry-Scarlet look, narrowed eyes and stiff cheeks. Nadia seemed unfazed, responding with a smug expression of her own. I ignored her and tried to remove my clothes without revealing any of myself, which was quite a feat. I wriggled into the bathing suit. It was itchy, cold and smelt of mothballs.
There was a rubber swimming cap on the hook in front of me. I already had my hair up tight for ballet, so I just pulled the cap over it. I was quite sure I looked a sight.
I put my clothes into locker number twenty-four, and took out the little brown key. It was on a safety pin, which pricked at my skin when I attached it to my bathing suit, a tiny spot of blood appearing on the fabric.
We went out to the pool, and Miss Bowler lined us up, stood on a wooden box and made us follow her arm gestures.
“No, like this, Ethel! Straighten and bend! One in front of the other! Mary Jones, you look like a diseased frog!”
I tried my best to keep up, but the movements were unfamiliar. Not to mention that I had no idea how to translate them into actual swimming.
“Right! Time to get into the water, ladies.”
I winced. My toes were already turning blue.
“Line up along the edge of the pool.”
With a class twice as big as it should have been, there was very little room. I gingerly curled my toes over the concrete edge.
Moments later I felt an elbow in my back and suddenly I was submerged in the icy pool. I thrashed my arms out desperately, my mouth and nose filling up.
The murky water closed over my head.
truly thought I would drown. That the last thing I would see would be the bottom of Rookwood’s pool. I saw distorted greeny-blue water, the bubbles from my gaping mouth lit up with waving shafts of sunlight. Drowning.
The day I heard the news about Scarlet, the rain was pouring down. It made me wonder, Can you drown in the rain? They say that you feel it when something happens to your twin, but I felt nothing. I had no idea she was gone.
The rain fell and fell.
No, I thought blinking wildly, I want to stay alive. For Scarlet, and for me.
I stretched out my legs and found the bottom of the pool with my toes. I launched myself back to the surface and managed to push my head above water, gasping and spluttering.
“NADIA SAYANI!” I heard Miss Bowler shout.
I blinked and wiped my eyes. Nadia was standing over me looking pleased with herself.
“She slipped, Miss, honest,” she said, batting her eyelashes. A group of girls snickered behind her.
“It didn’t look like that to me,” Miss Bowler replied. She picked up a wooden ruler that was leaning against the wall. “Knuckles out!”
“But Miss, I …”
The swimming teacher grabbed hold of Nadia’s arms and slapped the ruler across both of her hands, hard, leaving a red slash on her skin. Nadia winced, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Meanwhile I was still trying to evict the water from my lungs. It burned in my nose and throat as I heaved in the fresh air.
“Calm down, Scarlet,” ordered Miss Bowler.
I nodded and coughed simultaneously. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, with Nadia giving me an especially lethal glare. Even though she’d only been punished because she’d pushed me in the first place.
“Everyone in! I want to see ten lengths from all of you!”
When the torture of the swimming lesson was over, we headed back into the changing hut to shower in lukewarm water. I had never been in a shower before, and afterwards I didn’t have much desire to do it ever again. But I was pleased to see that Nadia chose to stay as far away from me as possible. I’d had to swim alongside her, managing a passable attempt at a stroke and splashing a little more water in her direction than was necessary.
Miss Bowler handed me a threadbare cotton towel, which bore a faded Rookwood crest. I did my best to wrap the towel around myself, concealing my body as I peeled off the horrible woollen bathing suit. I felt as though I’d never get warm again.
I went to the locker and retrieved my clothes. Stepping back into Scarlet’s uniform was strangely comforting.
“Back to your dorms, girls,” said the teacher. “You have a couple of hours until dinner. And continue to work on your strokes. Especially you, Scarlet!”
“Yes, Miss,” I said.
But in my head I prayed that Miss Finch would be back in time for our next ballet class. I didn’t think I’d survive another swimming lesson.
I trailed behind the other girls and we walked into the hockey class coming back from the field. I wasn’t surprised to see Ariadne at the back of the group. Her hockey socks were ripped in several places, there were bruises blossoming on her legs and arms, and she had a nasty lump on her forehead.
I ran over to her. “Goodness, what happened?” I asked.
She leant on my shoulder and stopped to catch her breath. “Hockey,” she gasped, “is a lot more … violent than I realised. I got hit with … three balls, two sticks and four elbows! It was a massacre!”
She looked up and caught sight of my slightly damp hair, which hadn’t been brilliantly protected by the swimming cap. “Have you been swimming?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Our ballet class was cancelled, so I had to.”
Ariadne rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I think I’d rather go swimming than play hockey again. I don’t know what Miss Fox was talking about, saying it was easier.”
“I think she just likes to see people suffer,” I said, trying to squeeze some of the water out of my hair. Ariadne nodded vigorously in agreement.
I glanced around. Everyone else had gone inside, and we were left in the courtyard. Ahead of us, Rookwood School stood, tall and imposing. To the right, some distance away from anything else, there was a long building.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing, and then fought the urge to put my fist in my mouth.
Ariadne looked at me, bemused. “I think it’s the riding stables. But … you know that, don’t you?”
“Oh,” I said, “no, not the stables. I-I saw some kind of strange bird over there. It was really big. And blue.”
“A peacock!” said Ariadne, a smile spreading across her face. “I love them! Their tails are like fabulous evening gowns.”
I tried to ignore Ariadne’s implication that I didn’t know what a peacock was. I had a feeling there was something important I was missing.
“I might go and take a look,” I said. And then, after a moment, “I like peacocks too.”
Ariadne gave me a pained expression, and tried to blow a lock of mousy hair away from the bump on her head. “Well, I think … I think I need a rest,” she said. “And I don’t want to get covered in straw as well as bruises. Besides, I’d rather not go to the stables. It’ll only make me miss Oswald.”
I’d forgotten that Ariadne had a pony. I was under the impression that girls could keep their own horses at the school, yet hers wasn’t here. Poor Ariadne.
I patted her gently on the back, the one place that didn’t seem to be bruised. “Why don’t you head for the dorm? We can both come another day and search for peacocks. Perhaps we could find a carrot to give the horses, while we’re at it.”
Ariadne’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “Really?”
“Well, I’m not sure if the cooks here actually know what real vegetables are, but we can try.”
“Thanks, Scarlet. I’ll see you upstairs.”
I watched her limp over the gravel towards the main building. I walked off down the path and peered around the corner of the stable block. The place was deserted, apart from its animal inhabitants. The nearest horse turned its head curiously towards me, brown nostrils flaring. I stepped out into the little courtyard and petted it.
Something snapped under my shoes, and I looked down. I was standing in a pile of straw.
Straw…
A memory flared.
This is the final straw.
Straw. The kind of thing you m
ight find in, oh, say a stable!
“Thank you, Scarlet,” I murmured.
There were three rows of stalls, each with five doors. I bit my lip, trying to think. If she had hidden anything in here, it could take me an age to find it.
I stared at the brass-numbered doors and I thought about the bathrooms, and how they’d been numbered too. I’d found the first diary entries in bathroom number four … And Scarlet’s desk in Madame Lovelace’s class – that was number four too!
Stall number four contained an unusually large black horse. The nameplate above the stable door read ‘Raven’. He walked towards me as I came near, and I could hear his hoof scraping against the ground.
“Shh, boy,” I whispered. “This is top-secret business.”
The horse flicked his tail and blinked dark eyes at me. I tried shooing him to the back of the stall, but he just snorted disdainfully.
I looked around the courtyard for something to distract him.
There! Next to a stone mounting block, someone had left a crate with ‘Bramley Apples’ printed on the side. There was a single apple left in the bottom, looking rather sad.
Everyone else should be inside at this time of day, but I had no idea when the staff came by to check on the animals. I kept my ears pricked as I climbed on to the upturned crate and swung my leg over the stable door.
Raven snorted again and backed off.
“Just checking on things,” I whispered, handing him the apple with the flat of my hand. He took it gratefully and began munching away.
It wasn’t a particularly big space. The floor was covered in trampled straw, and a food and water trough lay in one corner with a hay net hanging above it. There was a strong smell of horse.
Not for the first time, I wondered if Scarlet couldn’t have picked a more convenient hiding place. The next one could be at the bottom of the pool for all I knew!
That’s why you’re here, I reminded myself. Standing with damp hair and goose bumps in the middle of a stable.
It was unlikely that the pages would be anywhere on the floor. They’d be stood on or eaten in a day. So I turned to the walls. I felt the thick wooden slats that separated the stall from the one next door, searching for any holes or hidden panels. Nothing.
Raven whinnied as I went past him, dropping half of his apple to the floor. I hushed him again. “Easy, boy! Do you want me to get caught?” I hoped he would stay quiet, and hoped even more that he wouldn’t get cross and start kicking. That could be fatal.
As I pondered this, I suddenly noticed something on the wall. There was an arrow chalked there – tiny, imperceptible, unless you were paying attention. And, as I looked, I saw that there was a slender gap at the top of the wooden wall. I stood en pointe, the best I could in leather school shoes, and reached up to the top. I worked my way along slowly, feeling for anything stuck up there.
I could have sworn the horse was looking at me as if I were mad.
And then, when I got to the rear of the stall, I felt the rustle of paper under my cold skin.
More pages!
I pulled them down, exhilaration rushing through my veins. Scarlet’s handwriting met my eyes and I smiled. But I couldn’t risk reading the words straight away where anyone might come by, so I concealed the pages in the waistband of my dress and started to make my way out of the stall.
Then Raven began to make a sort of low grumbling noise. And seconds later I heard footsteps approaching.
Oh no.
And worse, I recognised those footsteps.
The clacking sound that those shoes made on the stones.
The jangling of keys in pockets.
I looked up, and there was Miss Fox, standing in the doorway.
“Scarlet Grey!” she boomed. “What on earth are you doing in my stable?”
iss Fox flung open the door of the stall and pulled me out into the courtyard. “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.
In a panic I ended up saying the first thing that came to mind. “Your stable?”
“Yes, my stable! Which you appeared to be in with my horse. When you should not be out here at all. Would you care to explain yourself, child?”
I opened my mouth, but there was nothing I could say and she knew it. Her dark eyes bored into me.
“I can’t,” I said.
Her mouth dropped open a little in shock. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t, Miss. I don’t have an explanation,” I breathed.
She grabbed me roughly by the ear and I fought the urge to scream. “Thought you’d play a prank, did you? Steal the shoes from my horse? Maybe set him loose in the playing fields?”
I tried to pull away from her and my ear burned. I squeezed my lips shut, my eyes too. Let her think I was being a rule-breaker. Anything was better than her finding out about the diary pages wedged in my waistband.
“You horrible, insolent girl!” she screamed at me. “I will not tolerate this behaviour in my school! Do you understand?”
I winced. “Yes, Miss.”
“You’re no better than your good-for-nothing sister!” she hissed.
Suddenly, she let go of my ear. Had I miraculously escaped punishment? No, Miss Fox was just glancing around to make sure that no one else could have heard what she said.
She leant forward and I could feel her cold breath on my throat. “Your sister is gone,” she said, so quietly that I could barely hear her, “and nobody has even noticed. Do you think anyone would miss you?”
I froze, terrified.
Then she cleared her throat, and straightened her back once more. “Come with me, Scarlet. Perhaps a taste of the cane will remind you how we do things in my school!”
Before I could blink, her talon-like nails were clinging to my arm and she was hauling me back towards the school building. My heels bit into the dirt and tears pricked at my eyes. The heavy door almost caught me on the way in, and gasps followed us down the corridors as the Fox dragged in its prey.
It was time to face my punishment.
I wasn’t allowed to attend dinner that night. I was glad of it, because I didn’t feel like eating. I lay in bed, too sore to move, too upset to want to. My skin was covered in bruises, and I felt dizzy and nauseous. And to top it all off, I felt numb with pity for Scarlet. No doubt she must have suffered this punishment often.
The only consolation was that I’d found another part of her diary, and successfully concealed it from Miss Fox. I’d had little time to worry about it during the caning. But now I was here with it in my hands, and I could read my sister’s words, safe in the knowledge that everyone else would be downstairs in the dining hall. The diary entry shook in my hands, but I knew I had to be brave.
It began:
12th of September 1933
Dear Diary,
I have arrived at Rookwood! It’s quite the adventure. I had to lug my suitcase up huge flights of stairs. They told me I’d be sharing a room with another girl, and that I was lucky because normally you have to start in one of the big dorms. I thought I wouldn’t mind sharing though. I am a twin, after all.
But that was before I met her.
Her? Was this the same person Scarlet had been referring to before?
Violet Adams. I knew as soon as I saw her that she was going to be vile. Vile Violet! She took one look at my battered suitcase and glared at me like I was dirt on her shoe.
“Scholarship girl, are you?” she asked, and when I said yes she started trying to order me around. I told her I wasn’t her maid, but she didn’t seem to care. “If you can’t afford to be here, then you should earn your keep,” she said. Then she tossed her shoes at me.
I considered tossing them right back in her stuck-up face, but I knew Father would kill me if I got expelled on day one. So I just glowered at her and kept quiet.
I can’t believe I have to share a room with that. I don’t know how I’m going to stick it out until the end of term, let alone for a whole year.
Strange. I hadn’t met an
yone named Violet so far, hadn’t even heard the name on the register. I flipped over to the next page.
Dear Diary,
Today was our first ballet class with the new school instructor. Her name is Miss Finch, and she dances beautifully. She told us that she had danced in theatres in Paris and Rome!
But then she hurt her leg badly and could no longer dance professionally. What a shame. If I were a world-famous dancer, I would insure my legs for thousands of pounds so that if I got injured I could retire to a life of luxury! I wouldn’t want to be a teacher. Especially not in this awful place.
I felt a pang of sympathy for Miss Finch, losing everything she’d worked for … To dance in Paris or Rome was something I could only dream of, and it had been the same for Scarlet – though her dreams had always seemed more likely to come true somehow.
Miss Finch is so much better than Madame Everclear back home, that sour-faced old biddy! There’s something about Miss Finch, when she dances. She looks so sad, like a china doll.
It’s unfortunate that I have to share ballet class with Penny Winchester. She really is dreadful. She tried to trip me up every time I went past her for no reason at all. Later I saw her chatting to Violet. They were moaning about how they couldn’t share a room, and when they caught me listening, they linked arms and stalked off. So I suppose that explains it.
Anyway, it’s time for dinner now. If it’s good, I shall try and sneak some extra helpings!
I chuckled a little at the last part, but underneath I felt a strong sense of unease. Penny was awful enough on her own, but this other girl sounded even worse. Vile Violet indeed.
I climbed out of bed to hide the pages away with the rest of the diary in the mattress, my sore limbs protesting all the while. Then I threw myself back on to my bed, grateful to lie still once more.
At about eight o’clock, just as my stomach was beginning to protest noisily, Ariadne ran into the room, her mousy hair bouncing with her.
“Scarlet!” she cried. “You weren’t at dinner!”
I raised my eyebrows, which was about as much of a response as I could manage. Breathless, she looked down and noticed my cuts and bruises, not dissimilar to her own hockey-inflicted ones.
The Lost Twin Page 6
