I nod, even though I am unsure what he is asking me to forget.
“What I am saying, Becky, is please keep the events of this morning to yourself. It is easy for innocent matters to be blown out of proportion, if you understand my meaning.”
Outside, voices and boots crunching over gravel announce Mrs Baxter’s and Cook’s return. Eager to bring the conversation to a close and get back to work, I look earnestly at Mr Alexander. “Consider it forgotten, sir.”
“Thank you.” He gives me an encouraging smile. “I am much obliged. And do not fret about Mrs Reade. I shall clear things up with her.”
As I watch his retreating back, I cannot shake a niggling concern at the back of my mind. Why should Mr Alexander feel the need to explain himself to a servant?
I cannot guess the real reason why he and Mrs Reade were alone together today, but I resolve to keep their secret safe no matter what. Even though I have a sinking feeling that whatever they are up to might have serious consequences.
The tinny sound of the lunch bell woke me and I sat up quickly, feeling sure all eyes must be on me. But as I looked around at the others hastily gathering their books I realised that everyone was too focused on themselves to really care about what I’d been doing.
While making my way across the campus to the cafeteria, I got the eerie feeling I was being watched. I stopped in the middle of the quad and allowed the student traffic to part around me as my eyes examined the space, making sure to sweep every dark corner. I could see no sign of anything suspicious and yet the feeling remained. Clouds passed over the sun, plunging the quad into temporary shade. It caused me to look up and that’s when I saw her.
On the uppermost floor of the science wing, a child stood by an open window. I recognised her face. It was the same ghost child I’d found locked in my car. Everything seemed to grow slower as she looked down at me, hair streaming even though there was no wind. Her face was blackened with soot, and behind her huge sheets of fire were quickly devouring the room. When the child climbed onto the windowsill, I wanted to look away but something kept my eyes glued to her. I zeroed in on her scuffed lace-up brogues as they lifted from the sill and she leapt from the inferno to a fate no better.
“No!” I couldn’t help the cry escaping even though I knew the child couldn’t be harmed.
The scene of her death continued to play out as if it was really happening. Halfway to the ground she disintegrated to ash, then faded completely away.
Up in the window I could see another figure framed by a blazing backdrop of fire. She stared at the sky with a strangely resigned look on her face. I wondered if she would follow the child and plummet to her death, but she didn’t. She turned and walked straight into the fire, which hungrily swallowed her up. Her agonised screams echoed through the quad, heard by no one but me.
It was then I realised that people were staring at me. I couldn’t say I was surprised. After the incident in the cafeteria I was bound to publicly embarrass myself again sooner or later. But I was so disturbed by the vision of death, I didn’t have the energy to care what people thought of me. I held my head high and went on my way acting as if nothing had happened.
Zac was waiting for me in the cafeteria as planned. We chose the most secluded table we could, tucked in a corner at the far end of the room. I looked up to see Sam and Natalie interrogating me with their eyes from the salad bar, but when I met their gaze they tossed their heads and turned away. They were giving me the silent treatment. I knew they felt confused and abandoned, but I couldn’t help that. I knew they’d eventually come around just as I knew that for now keeping a distance between us might be in everyone’s best interest.
“So,” Zac said as he took a bite of his ham and cheese on rye, “there’s plenty you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But only because I don’t want to drag you into it.”
“What if I want to be dragged into it?”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what was involved.”
Zac gave a nervous laugh. “You make it sound like you’ve got hit men after you. You don’t, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why not let me be your friend? Sounds like you could use one.”
“Well,” I said slowly, “there might be one thing you could help me with. I need to know more about the history of this school.”
“That’s it?” He looked surprised. “Piece of cake. There are archives in the library — you just need permission to access them. What do you want to know?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ve picked up enough signs now. I have to find out what they mean.”
“What signs?” Zac asked, lowering his voice.
Despite what he might have been thinking, I wasn’t being deliberately cryptic. “I can’t really explain.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I do, I’m pretty sure you’ll think I’m completely nuts.”
“It’s a little late for that.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Oh, come on,” he urged. “You don’t know me very well yet, but I’m the least judgmental person you’ll ever meet.”
My reluctance wavered. Deep down I desperately wanted to tell someone, even if just to temporarily alleviate the burden.
I sighed. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Zac stopped eating and leaned in closer, waiting for me to continue.
I chose my words carefully. “Recent events have led me to believe there are some people at our school who don’t belong here.”
“Like the weirdos in drama club?”
I shook my head. This was proving harder than I’d thought. “No. Like people that really don’t belong. I’m not sure I can even call them people.”
“Yeah, I’m not following.”
I needed to be blunter. “I guess they were people … once.”
Zac was starting to squirm a little. “Chloe, what are you on about?”
“This isn’t their world,” I said emphatically.
He gave a short nervous laugh. “I think the world belongs to everyone, doesn’t it?”
“Not to those who’ve already left it.”
Spoken out loud the words sounded absurd, like lines from a B-grade horror movie. Zac looked at me oddly, clearly wondering if this was my idea of humour.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry … are you talking about people who are …”
He trailed off so I finished the sentence for him. “Dead? Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He sounded surprisingly rational. “But you know the dead can’t hurt us, right?”
“That’s what everyone thinks, but they’re wrong.”
“Chloe, listen to yourself —”
“Hey, what happened to no judgment?”
“You’re right.” He held up his hands. “I apologise. Go on.”
“Look, I didn’t believe it till I saw it either. But I know what I’m talking about here. There was a kid in my car a couple of days ago. She was badly burned and screaming for help.”
“What? What kid?” Zac frowned.
“It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t help her. She was already dead.”
Zac opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was painfully clear that this was no joke and he hadn’t the faintest idea what to say next. That was fair enough. It wasn’t something you heard every day.
“I can get you access to the archives,” he said finally. I was grateful he’d decided to change the subject rather than press me further.
“You can?”
“Yeah, I’m on the magazine committee. It counts toward your SATs.” He frowned again and bit his lip. “Chloe, are you sure you don’t need any … y’know … help?”
I laughed drily. “Oh, I need help alright, but not the kind you’re thinking of. And you’re already helping me.”
“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Does that make us partners in crime?”
“It’s not exactly criminal activity.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “Although I guess that depends on what we find.”
I turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me. Sam and Natalie were standing there, arms folded, lips pursed. They clearly had something to get off their chests.
“Chloe,” Natalie said, “we’ve just come to let you know we’re not speaking to you.”
“Kinda breaking the golden rule right now, ladies,” Zac said with a smirk.
“Shut up,” Sam retorted. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Look, guys,” I said, adopting my most diplomatic tone, “I have a lot on my mind right now. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to us?” Natalie asked, shooting Zac a resentful look. “Instead of a stranger. We always tell each other everything.”
“No, we don’t,” I said. “I stopped doing that a long time ago.”
Natalie looked taken aback, as if she was registering something for the first time. “Why?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t understand, and no one likes to be judged.”
Sam let out an indignant gasp. “We never judge! We’re only trying to help you be normal again.”
“Okay. Well, here’s something you haven’t considered,” I said, standing up. “Maybe I’m just not normal.”
When I walked away, leaving my unfinished lunch behind, they didn’t try to follow me.
CHAPTER TEN
I decided to go home that afternoon before my dad finished work to get some clean clothes and check on things. My car was still parked at Zac’s place so I had to take an Uber, but luckily it wasn’t that far. When I got to the house, I checked the kitchen to find the fridge full of take-out boxes. I found a sticky note, wrote BUY GROCERIES on it and stuck it to the door of the microwave. I could see things were already starting to fall apart and I’d only been gone twenty-four hours. I wished Dad would take more responsibility. I thought I might as well do a load of laundry for them while I was there so Rory didn’t have to show up at school in dirty clothes.
I was in his room picking up gym shorts and socks when a sudden weight pulled me down. The brooch in my pocket felt as heavy as a rock. Leaving Rory’s clothes on the floor, I walked quickly into my own room and closed the door. I took out the brooch to examine it. It hadn’t changed much other than its weight, but as I held it it emanated a bright glow, as if trying to tell me something. I placed it on my desk behind some books to create some distance between us. The last thing I needed right now was a trip through time.
But it happened anyway, even though the brooch wasn’t in my hand. I felt a wave of dizziness strong enough to make me sink to the floor with my head between my knees, and when I looked up the walls of my room had melted away. In fact, I wasn’t in my house at all.
With the master away, Mrs Reade and Mr Alexander choose to dine in the parlour rather than the imposing dining room. Mrs Baxter has assigned me the task of waiting on them. As I ladle soup into their bowls, I keep my eyes downcast, feeling conscious of every movement. I was worried there would be repercussions for the incident in the library, but it seems to be forgotten. They are immersed in their own world, planning activities for the morrow. I have become invisible again for which I can only feel grateful.
As I take my place against the wall to wait statue-like for them to finish before serving the next course, my eye falls on something under the table. Mrs Reade’s dainty foot, clad in a grey satin slipper, inches forward until it is positioned snugly between Mr Alexander’s black riding boots. The seemingly small gesture is so intimate and so improper that the truth hits me like a bolt out of the blue. Suddenly everything makes sense: Mr Alexander and Mrs Reade are lovers. There can be no other explanation.
I feel as if I have been trampled by a carriage drawn by four horses. I am finding it hard to draw breath and wish I could erase this newfound knowledge from my mind. There are not many secrets in our village and folk delight in discussing matters that are not their own. But being privy to such private, not to mention scandalous, information only makes me uncomfortable. I have but one desire now and that is to be anywhere but in this room. How can they be so careless? Do they think a housemaid is too slow-witted to notice their intimacy? Or are they indifferent because I am young and my opinion matters so little?
“That will be all, Becky,” Mrs Reade says, as if she can hear my thoughts.
I know I am being dismissed so they can be alone and I scamper quickly out of the parlour. Instead of returning to the kitchen in search of Mrs Baxter, I retire to my room to gather my thoughts. There are no fireplaces in the attic and I immediately begin to shiver, though I cannot say whether it is from cold or shock. I reach for my mother’s shawl hanging from my bed rail and wrap it around me. I wish my mother were here to advise me now as there is no one whose counsel I value more. But it will be a while before I see her next. We servants are released one afternoon every month to visit our families, except for Mrs Baxter who, so the other servants say, has never taken a day off in her life.
I have always prided myself on my common sense so how did I miss this happening under my very nose? Perhaps that is what happens when one is silly enough to elevate people to a level above that of mere mortals; one sees only their virtues, shining like stars and obliterating all their flaws. I must come to terms with the fact that Mr Alexander is not as superior as I once thought. He is as weak as any man, only his addiction is not to drink like my father’s, but to lust and beauty. I cannot decide which is worse.
Little signs that I missed, or chose to ignore, come rushing back to me: Mr Alexander’s hand accidentally brushing the nape of Mrs Reade’s neck, a lingering look, a secret smile shared over the rim of a teacup, an eagerness to hear one another’s next utterance as if it might hold the very meaning of life. In fact, every time I have seen them together there has been some sign that could have been picked up by a more discerning observer.
As the shock subsides, my mind strays into darker territory. How long can this go on before they are discovered? There is no telling what the master might do if he ever found out. Mr Reade could very well disown them both and leave them destitute; and the Reade family name would be sullied for generations to come. A single moment of foolishness may result in a lifetime of regret. For what else other than foolishness can have led them down this dangerous path? I may be young and, at fourteen, ignorant of some of the ways of the world, but I know enough to see that no good can come of this.
Yesterday, the world I lived in was black and white. Now I find it full of shadow. I so admired Mr Alexander; and although Mrs Reade treated me with contempt, I still thought her a noble and virtuous woman. Now I wonder if passion can be stronger than morality? Do the sacred vows of marriage mean nothing in the end? Mr Alexander and Mrs Reade are guilty of the kind of wickedness the rector warns against from the pulpit on Sundays. What has come over them to make them so reckless? Do the wealthy believe themselves immune to the laws of God and man?
They must put a stop to this before things get out of hand. But who will keep them in check? The only person in the house with the power to do so lives in ignorance and is absent a good deal of the time. If I could catch Mr Alexander alone, perhaps I could make him see sense. But that would be overstepping the mark. Who am I to lecture anyone, let alone someone of his standing?
When I finally go to bed that night I toss and turn, unable to settle until dawn breaks and I have to get up to begin my chores. I barely have enough energy to beat the rugs outside. All the while I find myself worried I may stumble upon Mr Alexander and Mrs Reade in some passionate embrace.
Feeling irked with myself, I vow to put the knowledge out of my mind. There is nothing to be done, and even if there were, I am hardly the one to do it. Interfering now would be a sure way to get myself thrown out of Grange Hall. I must remember what brought me here in the first place. My wages may be meagre, but my family will not manage wit
hout them. Whatever my misgivings, my family’s survival must come first.
I decide I will tell no one what I have seen. This secret shall be my burden to carry.
When my room came into focus again I was curled on my rug. The clock on my bedside table told me it was 5 am. I’d been out for hours. No wonder my neck felt stiff and my muscles ached as if I’d run a marathon. I groaned and shook myself back to the present. It wasn’t easy getting back into my own head; it seemed harder each time to leave Becky and her troubles behind. The brooch was still sitting where I’d left it on my desk.
I checked my phone to find several voice and text messages from Zac asking if I was alright as he hadn’t heard from me all night. I could tell he was worried, especially after our last conversation that must have left him with a million questions. I quickly sent back a message, letting him know I was fine and that we’d talk soon.
Not wanting to run into Rory or Dad, I got changed as quietly as possible and headed downstairs. I walked to the Starbucks at the end of our street and tucked myself into a seat by the window where I could watch the early commuters come and go. Most of them were half-asleep and responded half-heartedly to the cheerful server. I nursed my latte and nibbled a bagel as I watched the world outside come to life. Early morning was the most peaceful time of the day. Now I understood why some people woke up at crazy hours to go jogging. There was nothing quite like watching the sunlight slowly creep over all the cracks of the city, chasing the shadows away. I only wished the world wouldn’t wake up so fast. Soon the cafe was teeming with people, signalling it was time for me to call another Uber and head to school.
My first period was French, which I’d been dreading since my heated exchange with Doctor Ritter. I hadn’t been called into the principal’s office yet though, so perhaps he was willing to let the incident go. I would find out soon enough.
When I walked into the classroom I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, taking a seat in the very back row. When Doctor Ritter arrived I felt his gaze lock onto me for a second. I was ready to apologise and blame hormones if he made any reference to our last encounter, but to my surprise he didn’t say a word. He just subtly raised an eyebrow, then turned his back to us to scrawl something on the whiteboard.
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