The Dance in the Dark

Scarlet was definitely protesting too much. She’d been yelling in her sleep, and I’d had a feeling she was dreaming about the auditions. Now I was worried too. The last thing I needed was for her rivalry with Penny to flare up again.

“I’m sure you could fit in some extra practice somewhere,” I said.

Scarlet came to an abrupt stop outside the English classroom. “Practice?”

“That is traditionally how people do well at things,” I pointed out.

“I don’t need practice!” Scarlet snapped. “I’ll wipe the floor with Penny. You’ll see.”

Our English teacher, Miss Charlett, peered out of the classroom door. “No wiping the floor with anyone, please,” she said. “Come in, girls. You’ll be pleased to hear we’re beginning Oliver Twist today!”

I smiled, but Scarlet just rolled her eyes.

Behave, I mouthed at her, for all the good it would do. My sister’s mind was firmly set on defeating Penny, and toeing the line was the last thing she cared about.

As if to prove me right, Scarlet got three detentions that day. She tried begging me to take them for her, but quickly gave up when she realised I was still cross about her attempt to persuade me to do it last term. Thankfully it now only meant writing lines, instead of a caning or worse.

As I passed Miss Fox’s office on the way back to our room that afternoon, I saw Mrs Knight standing in the doorway, talking to the caretaker – a middle-aged man with overalls and a bushy moustache.

“We really need to get rid of these,” I heard her say, waving at the bizarre collection of stuffed dogs that still populated the office. “They’re rather vulgar, aren’t they?”

He scratched his head. “I s’pose we could sell them,” he said. “To an antiques dealer, pr’aps.”

I stopped, a sudden realisation dawning. “You mean you haven’t moved any of them, Miss?”

“Oh, hello, Ivy,” Mrs Knight said, a little distracted. “No, the whole office has been left just as it was.”

“Right,” I said, frowning. “But, um, there was a Chihuahua on the desk, wasn’t there?” I pointed to the little empty space where it had sat, which was now nothing but a slightly darker patch on the wood. “I remember it. It had pens in its mouth.”

The caretaker grimaced, his lip twisting under his moustache. “Sounds unnatural to me.”

Mrs Knight looked puzzled. “You haven’t touched anything, have you, Harold?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say I like to go in there at all, Miss. Had to fix the window once and that old Miss Fox threatened to give me a whack with her cane if I weren’t quick enough. And all those dead mutts are enough to give any man the heebie-jeebies. Preferred to stay well clear, meself.”

“It probably just got mislaid,” said Mrs Knight. “Perhaps when they were carrying out the investigation.”

I nodded, remembering when I’d seen all the policemen going through her things. “That’s probably it,” I said. “Thank you, Miss.”

“You’re welcome,” the acting headmistress replied. Then she blinked. I think she’d just realised that it was a bit strange of her to talk to a student about such things. “Go and get ready for dinner, then. Where’s your sister?”

“Detention,” I answered, feeling a spike of loneliness.

“Ah,” she said.

I hurried away, leaving them both to discuss what to do with the unfortunate dogs.

But I couldn’t help thinking that Mrs Knight’s explanation was odd. If that little dog wasn’t in the office, given that everything else was still in its original place, then someone had deliberately taken it. And what would the inspectors want with a stuffed Chihuahua that held pens? Come to think of it – who on earth would want it at all?

I waited patiently in our room for Scarlet. I tried to do some prep work, but my mind wouldn’t stay on task.

I thought about telling my sister, I really did. Twins are supposed to tell each other everything, and that was always what we had done …

Or at least, I’d thought so. Until I found out that Scarlet had swapped our exam papers to get into Rookwood School in the first place, because she’d known her marks wouldn’t be good enough. Remembering things like that made me wonder if we could ever really trust one another again.

I doodled on my paper – only realising halfway through that I’d drawn what looked like a tiny dog. I scratched it out.

I wouldn’t tell Scarlet yet. There was no sense in worrying her. And I would keep quiet about Penny’s threat too. Hopefully she would give up and leave me alone. It seemed unlikely, though. As I passed her in the corridor just now she’d tried to trip me, her friends Ethel and Josephine breaking out in peals of laughter.

Around half-past five, my twin barrelled back into our room.

“Finally!” I said, laying down my ink pen.

“Pfft,” she replied, blowing a lock of hair out of her eye. “I’m so sick of detentions. I hate them.”

“You realise there’s a really simple solution to that, don’t you?”

“And what’s that then, Little Miss Know-It-All?” My twin dumped her satchel on to her bed, her workbooks spilling out of it.

“Stop getting into trouble!” Honestly, I wondered how we were related, sometimes.

“Oh, that. Well, obviously. I will. I’ve got the ballet recital to think about now,” she said.

She had that to think about this morning, I thought, and it didn’t make a difference.

“So,” Scarlet continued, leaning over me to grab her silver hairbrush from the desk – the heirloom she’d inherited from our mother. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

I felt my cheeks get a little warmer. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s been very uneventful.”

My twin stared into the mirror as she brushed out her hair, which was the same dark brown as mine. “It’s so strange,” she said suddenly, “imagining our mother brushing her hair here, with this brush.”

“In this room?” I was sceptical. “Probably not.”

“No, not in this exact room. But here, at Rookwood. Isn’t that weird?”

I met my twin’s gaze in the mirror and nodded. Last term we’d found out that our dearly departed mother couldn’t have been who we’d thought she was. She had died shortly after we were born, and all we really knew about her was her name and date of birth: Emmeline Adel, 26/02/1914. But then we’d found those facts written on a memorial plaque for a girl who had drowned in the lake at Rookwood over twenty years ago. Whoever our mother was, it seemed she had been a Rookwood pupil, but she couldn’t have been Emmeline Adel, who had met her unfortunate demise at the hands of the now-incarcerated headmaster, Mr Bartholomew.

Scarlet looked down at the hairbrush in her hands. It had the initials EG on the back, for Emmeline Grey, our mother’s married name. “I see this every day,” she said, “and I just wonder … about everything. What was her real name? Who was she? If she cared. If she’s … watching us now.”

I shivered a little despite myself. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll ever know.”

My twin put the brush down and preened in the mirror. “Do you think she’d be proud?” she asked.

That lightened my mood. “Ha! Proud of your three detentions in one day? Well, I suppose it’s quite the achievement …”

Scarlet whacked me on the shoulder.

“Hurry up, smarty-pants. A horrible dinner awaits us once more.”

I smiled. I could say one more thing about Mother – if Scarlet took after her, she must have been quite a character.

Chapter Four

SCARLET

I was practically buzzing when the time came for ballet class on Friday afternoon. My whole week had been building up to it.

“Come on, come on,” I said to Ivy, dragging her through the corridor towards the studio.

“You don’t have to drag me!” she protested.

“I can walk myself!”

“Then walk faster! I have ballet to attend to!”

We reached the door that led down to the studio in the basement, only to find Miss Finch standing outside it. We were a little early, but it was unusual for her to not be inside already.

“Miss?” I said.

“Oh, good afternoon, girls,” she said. “Go on down, I’ll be right there.” But her voice was shaky.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. She was looking at the stairway as if it were about to bite her, her walking stick clutched under one arm.

“Nothing, really,” she said. “Don’t worry. I just find the stairs a bit … difficult at the moment. I’ll be all right.”

Her brave face wasn’t fooling me. “I’ll go ahead,” I told her, “and Ivy will be right behind you. Just in case …”

She smiled gratefully. “Thank you, girls.”

I took the gaslit steps down into the basement, careful not to go too fast. It was still cold down there, as it had always been.

I reached the bottom and turned to watch our teacher take the last step. She grinned, though her face was pale and I could hear her breathing heavily. “Made it,” she said triumphantly. “Go on. Since you’re early, you can start your warm-up. I’ll be grateful for my piano stool today.”

Ivy and I went over to the barre and started our stretches. The rest of the class weren’t far behind.

Penny and Nadia walked in together, arm in arm. Penny looked annoyingly smug, and I fought the urge to make a cutting remark.

I was working through my pliés in each position, when I saw that Penny was smirking.

I looked down at my feet. Was I doing something wrong? No. I shook myself. It was a simple warm-up exercise, and one I had done a thousand times before, at that. I had to get Penny out of my head.

When we moved to centre work, I didn’t have to look at her, as we all faced forwards. That was fine, until we got to the Allegro portion of the class, where we did the faster steps.

Miss Finch was instructing us from the piano, since she didn’t feel up to demonstrating. I’d heard some of the other girls whispering, saying that she shouldn’t teach a ballet class if she couldn’t always dance. I thought she did a fine job, and I’d always tell them to shut up.

“We really need to work on our pirouettes, girls,” she called. “They need to be polished for Sleeping Beauty, especially for whoever wins the role of Aurora.”

We lined up in rows of three to practise, and, as luck would have it, I ended up with Ivy … and Penny. Ivy looked horrified, but I wasn’t going to let it bother me. Easy, I thought. I can do pirouettes in my sleep.

I kept my eyes fixed and held my body tight. I lifted my back foot, held my arms out and turned quickly, whipping my head around …

And I spun.

But I was off. Just a little. The realisation that I was going to stumble hit me the minutest moment before it happened. I fell forwards, my foot landing heavily on the wooden floor with a thunk.

My nightmare came flashing back. Tumbling from the stage into the darkness.

Penny laughed.

I stood up straight, fists clenched. I didn’t know who I was more furious with, myself or the freckled witch cackling next to me.

“Penny,” Miss Finch chastised, “we don’t laugh at others. Concentrate on yourself, please.”

“Oh, but Miss,” Penny giggled. “Scarlet’s definitely the best ballerina here. She told me so herself!”

And just to rub it in, Penny demonstrated a perfect pirouette right there and then.

Miss Finch still looked cross. “Ballet is about elegance and respect as much as it is about dancing. You’re showing neither.”

Penny bit her lip.

“Sorry, Miss,” said Penny. “I’ll stop it, I promise.”

Ha. I gave her my stealthiest death glare. I knew she was thinking exactly the same as me: trouble in front of teachers would mean no lead role.

Things went from bad to worse. The mistake had completely thrown me off, and I just couldn’t seem to get any of the steps. Ivy kept asking me if I was okay, and I wished she would shut up. I needed to be perfect, and I wasn’t even close.

My turnout wasn’t right. My toes weren’t pointing as much as I wanted them to. My spins were wonky.

And all the while, Penny was smirking silently.

By the time we were curtseying to Miss Finch in reverence, I felt like screaming. What was wrong with me? I knew these moves off by heart. Why wasn’t my body cooperating?

I must really be out of practice, I thought, feeling deeply, horribly embarrassed. The thought of getting it wrong on stage, of all those blank faces hissing at me …

That was when I had the idea.

“Ivy,” I said, as we sat and unlaced our shoes. “Can you go on without me? I want to talk to Miss Finch.”

Ivy looked a little baffled. “Why?”

“Oh well … I’m worried about her, and her leg, and all that.” Which was the truth, just not the whole truth. “I thought I’d stay behind and see if she needs any help.”

“I can help too,” my twin said.

Drat.

“Well, I just … I’d just like to do something for her myself. You know, I still haven’t made it up to her after the piano-smashing thing.”

Ivy twisted her mouth, and I wasn’t sure whether she was seeing through my excuses, or just thinking how stupid I’d been. In the first form, I’d taken a mallet to Miss Finch’s grand piano, then framed Penny for it. It hadn’t been my finest hour.

“All right,” said Ivy eventually, though she still looked unsure. “I’ll see you later.” I watched as she followed the rest of the girls out of the studio, and then wandered over to our teacher.

“Need any help, Miss?” I asked.

Miss Finch smiled at me. “I’ll be all right, Scarlet, but thank you.”

“Oh.” I shuffled my feet.

“Did you want something, perhaps?” There was a twinkle in her eye. Hmmph. She’d seen right through me. I leant back against her new piano and folded my arms.

“I …” I swallowed. The words didn’t want to come out. “I think I need extra help.” I felt my face heating up.

“You’re just a little out of practice, that’s all,” she replied brightly. “You’ll get it back again soon enough. It’s just an off day. We all have those.”

“But you could help me, couldn’t you, Miss? Maybe just … some extra tuition, in the evenings?”

Her brow knitted. “I’m not sure about that. Wouldn’t it be unfair to the other students? If this is about the recital … I’m one of the judges, you know. I can’t be seen to be favouring anyone.”

I racked my brains for a way to convince her. And then it hit me. “But … the reason I’m out of practice … is because of what happened, isn’t it? Miss Fox – your mother – she had me locked up. That’s got to be special circumstances. I’ve not had the same chance to learn as everyone else.”

Miss Finch’s face crumpled a little.

“Scarlet, I’m … I’m so sorry. I would have got you out sooner, if only I’d had any idea. You know that, don’t you?”

I nodded, and chewed the corner of my lip.

She sighed. “Come back on Monday evening, after dinner. We’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Five

IVY

I felt sure that Scarlet was up to something, but I couldn’t say what. Perhaps she was just helping Miss Finch out of the goodness of her heart, but that didn’t seem like a very Scarlet thing to do.

I didn’t like being on my own. I walked down the corridor towards our room, and it felt strangely like my very first walk there – where I’d trailed along behind Miss Fox, believing my twin to be dead, not yet knowing Ariadne. The feeling left me hollow.

But worse was to come. Penny was leaning against our door, examining her fingernails.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. Suddenly, the fire I’d picked up from pretending to be Scarlet was back.

She looked up at me. “Alone again, are we? I’m beginning to think your twin doesn’t like you.”

“Penny.” I glared at her. “Why are you leaning on our door?”

“Waiting for you,” she said.

“You told me to stay away from you,” I pointed out. “That’s not easy if you’re blocking the door to my room.”

She ignored me. “Don’t you wonder what she’s up to without you? Getting herself in more trouble, do you think?”

“You wish,” I said. “You just want to stop her getting that part in the ballet, don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t want to,” said Penny. “I know I will. And you’re going to help me.” Suddenly she stepped forwards and pushed me back against the wall. “She’ll do anything to protect you, won’t she?”

“Let go of me!” I yelled, but it came out more weakly than I’d hoped, more of a squeak than a roar. I looked around the corridor desperately. A group of first years were passing, but they huddled away, looking terrified.

I could really use your help, Scarlet, I thought.

But then again … Penny was right. Scarlet would flip if she saw this. Could I risk that? She could lose that part. Worse, she could be kicked out of school, and then I’d really be alone …

“I mean it, Penny,” I tried again, louder this time, but with my voice shaking.

A door further down the corridor opened, and Nadia peered out. “Penny?” she called. “What are you doing?”

Penny dropped me like a hot iron. My uniform was crinkled from where she’d pinned me against the wall. “Just helping Ivy do up her tie,” she called back, a sickly sweet grin on her face. She turned back to me and winked. Ugh.

As she stalked off to meet Nadia, I took a deep breath. Shortly afterwards Scarlet appeared at the top of the stairs. She sauntered over to me.

“What took you so long?” I asked. I couldn’t mention what had just happened. She’d chuck Penny out of the nearest window. “I still don’t understand why you needed to talk to Miss Finch so badly. Is something up?”

“Nope,” she said all too casually. “Nothing at all.”

“Is something up?” I asked Scarlet again, as we brushed our teeth in the chilly school bathrooms. I still wasn’t convinced things were okay.

“Blurble,” she replied, her mouth full of toothpaste.

“What?”

“I said, no!” She slammed down her regulation toothbrush, which had PROPERTY OF ROOKWOOD SCHOOL stamped into the handle. “Nothing is up, just as it has not been the last five times you asked. Let’s just go to bed, all right?”

“All right. Fine.”

Scarlet was soon snoring, but I lay awake, watching the moonlight dance on the walls through the thin curtains.

There was something troubling me, and it wasn’t just Penny. I still hadn’t mentioned the missing stuffed dog. I’d been trying not to think about it or about anything to do with Miss Fox. She was long gone, I had to remember that.

And that was when I heard it.

Out in the corridor, an unmistakable sound. One I thought I’d never hear again.

The clacking of heels, and the jangling of keys in pockets.

No. Oh no.

“Scarlet!” I whispered, panicked. “Scarlet!”

The sound echoed past, louder and then quieter, as if she were walking right by our door.

It can’t be!

“Scarlet!” I leapt out of bed and dived into my twin’s, grabbing her blanket and pulling it over my head, my heart racing.

“Unf,” she said, giving me a sleepy shove. “What is it? I’m trying to sleep.”

“I heard … I heard …” I stopped, gasping for breath, and listened.

The sound was gone. I could hear nothing except my twin’s breathing, and my own.

“… heard what?” Scarlet asked, putting her head under the blanket next to mine. “What’s the matter?”

“I …” I frowned. Surely I was imagining things. “I don’t know. Sorry. I think I might have been having a nightmare.”

“You are a nightmare,” she replied. “But if it’ll calm you down, you can stay over here.”

“A-all right,” I said. “Night, Scarlet.”

“Night, Ivy,” she murmured. She turned over to face the wall, taking most of the blanket with her.

I rolled on to my side, but my panic refused to fade. Could you dream a sound? Perhaps you could. It was late, after all, and dark, and I was tired.

I tiptoed over to the door, opened it, and cautiously peered out. There at one end of the corridor was Matron, holding a bunch of keys. She yawned, unlocked the door to her room, and stepped in.

I leant back, breathless with relief. It was only Matron. There was nothing to worry about.

*

Scarlet seemed more cheerful the next morning, perhaps because it was the weekend.

I didn’t want to spoil it by blabbing about my worries, and if I said a word about Penny, Scarlet would surely go mad, so I left things well alone.

“Let’s go and find Rose,” suggested my twin at breakfast. “I haven’t seen her in ages!”

“Well, she doesn’t go to lessons, does she?” I said. “She’s not even officially a pupil.”

Nadia leant in. “I think she’s down at the stables most days. I heard Mrs Knight saying she’s a natural with horses. Happy to muck them out, apparently!” She pulled a face.

We’d met Rose last term, when Violet had rescued her from the asylum – we’d never quite figured out whether it was true friendship or the promise of a family fortune that had motivated Violet. The mysterious girl had always loved horses and ponies, and we’d even found Rose in the stables one night when she’d escaped the hidden room where she’d been staying.

Ariadne loved ponies too, I thought. I felt another pang of loneliness for our missing friend. Perhaps a visit to Rose would help.

As soon as we’d gulped down our porridge, we headed outside to the stable yard. It was a warm day, with the sun peeking through the clouds and a hint of spring (and only a little drizzle) in the air. We tramped through the mud and straw that lay scattered on the ground.

I spotted Rose’s blonde hair over the top of one of the stable doors.

“Hello, Rose,” I said.

She looked up, stepped out of the stall and waved a shovel at me. Rose wasn’t usually one for words.

“How are the horses?” I asked.

I wasn’t sure if Rose would answer at first, but she had been getting a little better at talking lately – especially if it was to do with horses. She twisted her golden locket nervously before tucking it inside her jumper.

“Good,” she replied decisively. Then she paused, and stared back at the stall she had just come out of. “This one isn’t hungry,” she added quietly.

Scarlet snorted. “I’m going to go and give one a new hairstyle,” she said, grabbing a brush and wandering off across the yard.

But she hadn’t noticed which horse Rose was talking about.

Stall number four. Raven. The big black horse that belonged to …

Miss Fox.

I stepped closer to Rose and lowered my voice. “Why isn’t he hungry?” I asked.

Rose leant the shovel back against the wall, then gestured at me to follow her over to the stable door. She pointed inside.

Raven was lazing in the far corner, lying down and looking – though perhaps it was just my imagination – a little fatter than he had before. But what I wasn’t imagining was what Rose was trying to show me: there were bits of treats left scattered in the straw. A carrot top. An apple stalk. A few loose shavings where the big horse’s teeth had carved slices off the veg.

It was clear from the puzzled expression on Rose’s face that she wasn’t responsible for them.