by Ann Bryant
There wasn’t a breath of air in the dorm and yet I found myself shivering as the darkness gathered.
Chapter Two
At breakfast the following morning I whispered to Emily not to tell Izzy about the noises in the night. “I don’t want her to be scared again.”
It was another hot, bright day and there was a lovely, happy atmosphere around Silver Spires. Everyone really likes Saturdays here because, once lessons are over at the end of the morning, you know you’ve got the rest of the weekend free from classrooms. Emily nearly always goes riding on Saturday afternoons and Sasha goes sculling. Sometimes there are organized activities, which are great, but at other times you really don’t want to do much, and today felt like one of those days.
As soon as Emily and Sasha had gone, I went to e-mail Dad and Anna, then I joined the others, who were lying on the lawn. I usually love reading and I’d got a really good book out of the library, so I was looking forward to enjoying it in the sun. The other three were sunbathing and chatting as I tried to get into my book, but somehow I just couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t their chatter that was breaking my concentration. It was my own thoughts. I kept remembering the noise we’d heard in the night, and thinking about what Emily had said. Perhaps she was right and it was just a bird?
In fact she probably was right, I just wished I knew for certain. I found myself reading the same page of my book over and over again, because every time I got to the bottom of it, I realized I hadn’t taken in a single word. In the end I knew I had to do something, so I jumped up.
“What’s up, Bry?” asked Nicole, squinting at me and trying to shield her eyes from the sun.
“I’m going for a walk.”
“You’re not going in the direction of Forest Ash, by any chance, are you?” asked Izzy, smiling at me pleadingly.
“Want me to get something for you, Iz?”
“Yes please, my ballet magazine. It’s on my bed.”
I didn’t go straight to Forest Ash, because I’d decided to see if I could find Mr. Monk – even though he hardly ever seems to be around at weekends. It would be such a relief if he could somehow clear up the mystery. I knew Mrs. Pridham had gone away for the weekend, so I hadn’t been able to talk to her, and I wasn’t sure where to start looking for Mr. Monk.
In the end, I just wandered around, keeping my eyes open and hoping for the best. I’ve always enjoyed walking. It kind of helps me sort out the muddled mass of thoughts going on in my head. My friends say I’m the complete opposite of a chatterbox and that I never waste words, and I suppose that’s true. It’s because I’m so used to keeping my thoughts inside my head.
I think it started seven years ago, just after my mum died. I was only five, so my memory of that time is pretty muddled. I don’t remember a point when Mum suddenly wasn’t there. I just remember being surrounded by people all the time, and having tea parties and picnics and playing games and going to the shops. Everyone must have tried so hard to look after me. I’ve got one clear memory of playing in a room full of brightly coloured toys, spongy mats and squidgy tunnels and slides, and having such fun, and then sitting down with an enormous cake in front of me, while kind, smiling people talked to me. That was the only thing that spoiled the day for me – all the talking. I preferred having conversations inside my head. On my own. It was easier.
Now I’m older I realize that people were probably just trying to take my mind off the sadness of what had happened. But I must have been too young to take it in because, to tell the truth, I really can’t remember feeling sad. I don’t even have any recollection of Dad crying, and sometimes now I think how immensely brave and strong he must have been to shield me from his grief.
But it’s odd how, when you’re so young, everything gets mixed up and distorted, because the thing I can remember feeling sad about when I was little is our lovely grey cat, Lana, dying. I can clearly recall Dad burying her in our garden, then holding my hand tight as I whispered, “Bye bye, lovely Lana” over and over again, with a sadness that felt like a stone sitting in my stomach.
Apparently Lana died just after Mum. Dad was upset too, as he’d had Lana ever since he’d known Mum, long before they’d got married or had me. They’d got her from a rescue centre when she was already quite elderly for a cat. So she just died naturally, of old age. It’s strange, but every so often I get a really strong memory of sitting beside Mum on the sofa watching TV, leaning right into her, my head resting against her shoulder, while Lana sat on her lap very still, like a lovely, floppy old cushion. But I try not to dwell on that too much as it makes me so sad.
I clearly remember asking Dad if we could have another cat, and him saying, “We’ll see. One day.” But even though I’ve asked him loads of times since, he’s always refused. I so wish he’d change his mind, because there’s nothing I’d like more than to have a cat of my very own. In a strange way I think it might stop me feeling so sad when I think back to the Lana days.
I realized I’d drifted off in my head again – what was I supposed to be doing? Oh yes, looking for Mr. Monk. My footsteps had taken me towards the shrubberies at the side of the lane that runs from the big Silver Spires gates right up to the beautiful, grand main building that stands in the centre of the school grounds. Its spires remind me of sparklers throwing glitter into the sky whenever the sun shines. I jumped as a squirrel appeared from nowhere and went skittering up a tree right at the back of one of the shrubberies. There are lots of squirrels around the Silver Spires grounds. I used to be fascinated by their speed and nimbleness but I’m used to them now and, anyway, we’re usually all so busy going about our own lives that we don’t notice much wildlife activity.
I turned and walked back up the lane, then headed off towards the athletics field, passing the hazelnut tree outside Hazeldean. There are so many trees in the Silver Spires grounds – the weeping willow near Willowhaven, the line of beech trees curving round Beech House, and the tallest tree of all, the oak that towers over Oakley House. Elmhurst used to have an elm tree, but I’ve heard it got struck down by Dutch elm disease, and now they’ve got some lovely, shimmery silver birches instead. As for Forest Ash, we look out over a whole beautiful forest of ash trees just beyond the Silver Spires boundary.
I’m hopeless! I’d got completely distracted again from my search for Mr. Monk. But if he was here, he was bound to be working outside on such a lovely day, so perhaps I would find him at the athletics field. Or perhaps he’d be nearby at Pets’ Place, where a few of the Year Sevens and Eights keep guinea pigs and rabbits that they’ve brought to school with them. Although the girls are responsible for their own pets, Mr. Monk sort of supervises the whole area.
None of the girls in my dorm have got any pets at Silver Spires, though I must admit, when I was homesick last September I did think it would have been comforting to have a furry friend to look after. My little half-brother, Adam, has two guinea pigs that live in the shed at home, and I often clean them out to help Anna, but I don’t really feel as though they’re mine. We joke that we share a cat called Fellini with the people who live next door to us, because he’s always coming round to our house and Anna can’t resist giving him titbits. He doesn’t seem very grateful for them though, because once he’s eaten he just wanders off and won’t let anyone except Adam touch him. Adam scoops him up and leaves his back legs trailing, which doesn’t seem to bother Fellini, strangely. I don’t have anything like the same feelings for Fellini that I had for Lana. He’s so different from her that he might as well be another species altogether.
I was deep in thought as I walked past the Pets’ Place shed, which is about ten times bigger than the one we have at home. “Hi!” someone said, and I jumped round to see a Year Eight girl called Katy. She was in the middle of the big grassy area, where there are runs for the pets to roam around and graze, holding her rabbit. “Sorry, can you do me a favour…?”
“Yes, of course,” I said.
She was standing beside a hutch that had
a small run attached to it. “The catch seems to be stuck. It’s kind of jammed and I can’t undo it without putting Buddy down and if I put him down he’ll scamper off…”
I quickly bent down and fiddled with the catch until I got it to move. Then I opened the door for Katy to put her rabbit inside.
“Thanks…it’s Bryony, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “It must be nice having a pet here.”
She smiled. “Yeah… It really helped me with the homesickness, when I first came here, having something familiar with me that I could look after. Even before I joined it made the school seem less scary – you know, coming away to board and all that…” She grinned at me. “It stopped me panicking at the thought of what lay ahead in this big unknown place.”
I nodded. “I can imagine…”
“Are you okay?” Katy suddenly asked.
“Yes. Fine. Just felt like walking. You haven’t seen Mr. Monk around, have you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think he works at weekends.” Then she smiled. “Thanks for your help, Bryony.”
“That’s all right.”
It was quite a few minutes later when I looked at my watch and realized two things. One: Emily would be back soon. Two: I’d forgotten all about getting Izzy’s magazine for her.
I made my way to Forest Ash and up to our dorm. The magazine was on Izzy’s bed, but there was another one on her desk underneath and I wasn’t sure which one she wanted. I was just peering at the date of the one on the bed when I stopped dead.
That sound again.
Only it wasn’t the same. This time it seemed more like a gentle swishing. A mouse wouldn’t make that sound. Neither would a bird…
“Bry! What are you up to?” Emily was standing in the doorway in her riding gear. “I was just going to get changed and come and find you. But you’re here so—”
“Shhh! Listen…”
She rolled her eyes. “Not that ‘ghost’ again!”
“But…I don’t get…what else could it be?”
We both stood quite still and only had to wait a few seconds before the exact same swishing sound came again. Emily and I held each other’s gaze for ages, listening, as I waited to hear what she thought.
“So what are you doing inside anyway?” she said as soon as it stopped.
I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “Getting a magazine for Izzy. But what about the noise, Em!”
“It’s just a bird. It’s dragging its prey around.” She started to get changed. “That’s my guess anyway. Might be an owl. We had one in the loft of our hay barn for a while. Honestly, it sounded like someone was dragging a dead body around right over your head.” She grinned as she pulled on a dark green top that went well with her mass of red hair and green eyes.
As Emily had been talking I’d felt myself relaxing, which meant I must have been tense without even realizing it. “Are you sure?” I double-checked.
She shrugged. “It’ll be something like that, yes. Our owl was only there for a few days,” she added. “Anyway, which magazine did Izzy want?” She didn’t wait for my answer, just picked them both up and made for the door.
But before she rushed off I wanted to see what she thought of an idea I’d just had. “Why don’t we find out how you get up to the attic?”
She turned and rolled her eyes. “You’re obsessed, Bry!” But then she broke into a grin. “Come on then!”
If you turn right outside our dorm you come to the big landing window. If you turn left you can walk quite a long way down the landing, past Matron’s rooms, then turn a corner and walk even further. As it was such a hot day, and because it was the weekend, there was no one else about. We walked along the corridor and round the corner to the end, our eyes glued to the ceiling, looking for some kind of a hatch into the attic space. We already knew where all the various doors on this landing led to, so it had to be a hatch like the one at home. We’ve got a long stick with a hook on one end that undoes that hatch, and lets out a metal ladder that gradually unfolds into a staircase.
But there was no sign of anything like that here, which irritated me.
“There has to be a way to get up there,” I said, frowning.
Emily shrugged. “Maybe it’s just roof space. Not used for anything and no access to it. I mean all the doors lead to dorms or bathrooms, don’t they?”
“Or the airing cupboard or Matron’s room,” I added.
“Or that other room. The cleaning room, isn’t it?”
I nodded, but then frowned again. I’d never looked in there properly. “Let’s just check.”
We’d already passed it but we went back and Emily flung open the door dramatically. “See!”
It was a dingy room with a strong disinfectant-type smell and we were staring at a vacuum cleaner, buckets, cloths, detergent…and masses of other things. But no staircase.
Emily closed the door. “It reeks in there.”
She was right.
“Come on, Bry. Let’s get out in the fresh air. Race you downstairs!”
It was frustrating. There was nothing more I could do until I could speak to Mrs. Pridham at the end of the weekend. Perhaps Emily had been right to say I was obsessed. So now I was going to drop it.
I rushed off after her at top speed.
Chapter Three
That night we played a game after lights out, because none of us were tired. Saturday nights are good, because you know you can lie in bed on Sunday mornings and then have the whole day free. Well, sometimes you have work to catch up on, but apart from that it’s a nice free day. We’d handed our phones in to Matron, which we have to do every night, and then we’d gone to bed and Sasha had suggested playing “Best and worst”. So we’d waited for Matron to check we were all settled, and then waited a bit longer, because occasionally the member of staff on duty pops her head round the door a second time as a spot check. Actually, it’s only Mrs. Pridham who does this and, as she was away that weekend, we knew we were pretty safe with Matron.
“Lights, camera, action!” said Emily, sitting up in bed and clicking on the switch, which lit up the little night light in the headboard of her bed.
Sasha and Izzy giggled as they followed suit, but Nicole and I stayed lying down and didn’t bother with our lights. There was enough light in the dorm filtering its way through the curtains for my liking, and I wanted to feel comfortable, so I put my hands behind my head, and laced my fingers together.
The game consisted simply of taking turns to name a category, like Best colour, worst colour, or Best moment ever, worst moment ever, then we each took turns to tell the others our personal answers.
I far preferred the straightforward categories like colours or places you’ve visited, or girls’ names. I found some of the other categories quite difficult because…well, I suppose it goes back to me being less chatty than my friends. There are some things I’d rather keep inside my head. Private, personal stuff. I’ve often been really surprised at how easily people discuss things that I’d never dream of talking about, and sometimes I feel a bit guilty, as though I’m not being fair to my friends – especially Emily – by not sharing enough of my real self with them. It’s true that Emily knows more about me than anyone else does – apart from Dad and Anna, of course – but I’m sure she still doesn’t know as much about me as I know about her.
Tonight Nicole suggested the category Scariest story you’ve ever heard. I didn’t mind that too much, because the stories could be made up or real. I planned to stick with a made-up one when it was my turn.
Antonia volunteered straight away to go first. “This is a true story,” she began.
A tremor, or something in her voice, made me glance across at her and I saw that her eyes looked very round. Her face seemed paler than usual and somehow smaller too. It was framed by her mass of nearly black, shoulder-length curls, but her hair looked as though the ends were singed because of the eerie glow that her night light was casting over her.
“Aunt Angela – my mother’s sister,” she began, speaking as always with just a trace of an Italian accent, “used to live in a really ancient town in Italy that is supposed to be the most haunted place in the whole country. She moved there for her job and was to be sharing a flat with her friend, because it was before she got married. But the friend changed her mind at the last minute so Aunt Angela had to live on her own until she could get someone else to share with her.”
I glanced at Izzy, because I wasn’t so sure that a story about the most haunted place in Italy was such a great idea, but Izzy didn’t look scared, just curious.
“The first time Aunt Angela saw the apartment she thought it was very old-fashioned and…what is that word…?”
“Quaint?” suggested Nicole.
“Yes, quaint!” said Antonia. “And sweet. It was winter when she moved in, so it felt cosy too. After a few days, my aunt started to feel rather pleased that her friend had not been able to share the apartment. It was so much fun having the whole place to herself. But then, one night, something happened to change her mind…”
Antonia paused and looked around the dorm to see how we were all taking her story. I looked around too, still feeling anxious about Izzy, but she didn’t seem fazed – not yet anyway.
“So what happened?” Emily asked in a gabble.
“Well, when she came home from work she saw that a photo frame that had been on the top of her cupboard was now on the other side of the room. And upstairs she found her toothbrush on the floor, and yet she had definitely left it in the glass.”
“What, definitely?” asked Nicole. “I mean couldn’t it have fallen out?”
“Well it could have done, but then she found that all the pictures in her bedroom were just a little bit tilted, and the book she was reading wasn’t in its usual place.”
