Полная версия
The Last Secret
“We’re the first to see these since she hid them,” Ivy said, staring down in awe. I handed them to her and watched as she ran her fingers over the words.
“I need to know what it says!” I declared, jumping up. I wished we were seeing Ariadne sooner, but there was still over a week to go before we were due back at school. How was I supposed to bear having to wait that long? “It could be more information about the Whispers, more accusations!”
“Well …” Ivy replied hesitantly. “It might all be meaningless now. We got Mr Bartholomew thrown in jail. We exposed what he did to our mother’s friend. What else could there be?”
I sank back down on the bed, the spark from the new secret beginning to fizzle out. “Hmmph. You’re probably right.”
But I still felt a tingle in my fingertips from where I’d held the pages. Whatever was written there, whether it was important now or not – it had been important to our mother when she wrote it. That was what mattered. We’d never known her, but now we had something she’d left behind, that only we had seen. It was something special that could never be taken away.
Chapter Three
IVY
Father, on the other hand, seemed to be getting stranger by the day. He spent most of his time in his office, and then sometimes wandered around the house with no apparent purpose. He looked a little off-colour too, and wasn’t eating very much. But he seemed happy enough, in his own way. I wondered if he was still thinking about Mother.
We didn’t show him the papers that we’d found – Scarlet wasn’t sure if we could trust him, and we definitely didn’t want to leave them anywhere Edith might come across them. I just wanted to find out what they said first.
When the New Year arrived and the day finally came for us to go back to Rookwood School, we were practically buzzing with excitement. It seemed so strange to feel that way, given how horrible the school had been for us most of the time. But now it was full of friends, noise and chatter. It was alive, while our home just felt chilly and dead.
Our stepmother was standing in our bedroom doorway that morning, with her arms folded, watching us pack. “Don’t come back this time,” she sneered, before marching off. Scarlet made a rude gesture after her.
While Father drove us to school, I spent the whole journey through the winding lanes thinking of the music box tucked away in my bag. We’d hidden the papers inside it again, along with the photographs. Part of me was afraid that the secret catch would stop working and they’d be trapped in the box forever, but we’d tried it several times just to make sure. Each time it sprang open like it had before.
At one point, Father started coughing so hard he had to stop the car in the middle of the road.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
It took him a few minutes before he said anything again. He’d gone rather green. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all.” He slapped his face gently with his hands, recomposing himself. “Right. We must get going. I’ve got work to do.” And off we went again.
We pulled into Rookwood, through those grand gates, the stone rooks staring down at us from their pillars. It was a January morning and there was still a layer of frost over everything, making it sparkle in the sunlight. The bare trees waved their cold limbs at us as we passed.
As we went down the drive, the familiar sight of numerous motor cars and buses greeted us – each one spilling passengers out at the front of the school. I took a deep breath. We were back.
When we finally made it to the main entrance, Father stopped the car and helped us out with our bags. He seemed to be struggling somewhat. “Here you go, girls,” he said. “I hope you have a good term.”
“Thank you,” I said, unsure what else to say.
“I’m … sure we will,” said Scarlet. She wasn’t used to being on speaking terms with our father either.
Inside Rookwood’s huge doors, the new headmistress, Mrs Knight, was calling instructions to the girls who were streaming in. “Straight to your dorms, please! Assembly in one hour!”
We heaved our bags upstairs through the crowd. It took some time, but we eventually made it to our assigned dorm, room thirteen.
“Let’s dump our things here and then go and find Ariadne,” Scarlet suggested.
“Good plan,” I replied. I put my bag down in front of the wardrobe while Scarlet threw hers on her bed. Of course, there was something important I had to do first. I reached in with care and pulled out the music box, setting it down gently on the desk. It chimed quietly as it touched the wood. I hoped that it looked enough like any other trinket box that no one would think anything of it.
“I wonder who Ariadne will be sharing with?” Scarlet asked as she made a vague attempt at hanging up the few clothes she owned. A dress slid off its hanger, but she ignored it.
“Hmm.” I wrinkled my nose. “No idea.” Our best friend had been sharing with a girl named Muriel Witherspoon last term, but Muriel had been expelled after being responsible for a string of awful events. Now Ariadne was once again left without a roommate.
My excitement began to build at the thought of seeing Ariadne again. I’d missed her so much the past few weeks. She always knew how to cheer us up, like a ray of sunshine through the dark brooding clouds of Rookwood.
We made our way to her dorm room, where I was pleased to see the door already flung open and our best friend beside the bed with her suitcases.
“Ariadne!” Scarlet called out, running in to hug her.
I followed and joined in.
“Hello!” Ariadne said brightly, once we’d released her from the hug. “Did you have a good Christmas?”
I shared a look with my twin. “It was … fine,” I said. My thoughts immediately flashed to the music box, but we were interrupted by a voice from the doorway.
“Good morning,” came a voice with a Scottish accent. If Ariadne was a ray of sunshine, this voice was rain on the moors.
“Oh,” Ariadne said.
We turned round. It was the new girl, Ebony McCloud. She’d been involved in the havoc with Muriel last term, pretending to be a witch and frightening everyone. But she’d since apologised, and I supposed that at least she seemed to be trying to make up for what she’d done.
“Don’t worry,” she said, traipsing in with her black bag and dropping it on the opposite bed. She must have seen the look on our faces. “I won’t turn you into frogs in your sleep.”
Ariadne cleared her throat. “I must be forgetting my manners,” she said. “Good morning, Ebony. Nice to see you again.” She elbowed both of us.
“Morning,” I said as brightly as I could.
“Hullo,” said Scarlet.
A smile twitched at the corner of Ebony’s lips. “Mrs Knight was pretty cross when she found out I was pretending to be sharing a room last term. We’re always meant to share, so apparently I ruined the whole system.” She sighed. “And since you’re missing a roommate, Ariadne, I’ve been told I have to stay here.”
Ariadne looked a little unsure, but she still made an effort. “Oh goody,” she said.
“It’s all right, honestly,” Ebony said. “I won’t be pulling any of those tricks from last term. I promise. I’m just Ebony now. I didn’t even bring my cat.” That made us smile. Her cat, Midnight, had followed her to school last term and we’d all been convinced it was her magical familiar. Maybe Ebony really had abandoned her witchy ways.
Once we were all unpacked, it was time to go to assembly. We trudged downstairs to the hall, where we all filed in. The air was filled with chatter.
Mrs Knight took to the stage. “All right, girls, settle down!”
The chatter faded to a quiet mumble before it melted away completely.
“Welcome back for the spring term, everyone.” She cleared her throat. “I know we have had … difficulties in the past. But I am confident that we can push forward and make Rookwood School the best it can be!”
“Isn’t this what she said last term?” Scarlet whispered, but I shushed her.
“If we all work together,” Mrs Knight continued, “We can—”
She was interrupted by the doors at the back of the hall opening.
We all turned round. A man had walked in. He was fairly young, possibly in his twenties, though I couldn’t guess his precise age. He had dark hair, short on the sides and slicked back on the top. He had matching dark eyes and a close-cropped beard, and he was wearing a suit that looked tailored and expensive. He proceeded to lean against the back wall with an interested expression on his face.
“We can …” Mrs Knight tried again, but then faltered, seeming unable to ignore the distraction any longer. “Excuse me, sir!” she called towards the back of the hall. “We’re in the middle of assembly. Would you mind waiting outside?”
The young man looked around as if there might be someone else she was addressing. “Oh, don’t mind me, madam,” he said. “I’m just observing.”
There was utter silence as everyone stared at him. Few men ever set foot in Rookwood School, let alone young and well-groomed ones. And that wasn’t all – there was something strangely familiar about him.
“I …” Mrs Knight was speechless for a moment. “Look, I really must insist …”
The man sighed, stepped forward and then began striding towards the front. Hundreds of eyes followed him.
“Well, if you really must,” he said, with an unusual air of confidence. He hopped up on to the stage and stood looking out at all of us. “My name is Henry Bartholomew, son of Edgar Bartholomew, and I’m the new owner of your school.”
Chapter Four
SCARLET
I couldn’t believe it. Of all the sentences to have come out of a stranger’s mouth on the assembly-hall stage … Well, I hadn’t been expecting that. He was the son of our evil former headmaster? And he owned the school? Why?
“We will have to talk about this elsewhere, Master Bartholomew,” Mrs Knight said firmly.
He smiled back at her as if this was the most normal thing in the world. “Of course,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “That’s what I was hoping. I’ve got a lot of plans I want to explain to you. Oh, and do call me Barty, everyone does.”
He gave a winning smile as he stepped down off the stage and to the side of the room, though I don’t think anyone’s gaze left him. He leant against the wall again, putting his foot up on it like he owned the place – which, according to him, he did.
Mrs Knight looked around helplessly. Her eyes rested on Miss Bowler, our loud-mouthed games teacher, who was at the side of the room. “Ah!” she said, seeming relieved that she’d found a lifeline. “Miss Bowler, while I’m dealing with this, can you come up and give the announcements for the new term?”
Miss Bowler, who always liked the chance to shout at people, bounded up on to the stage and took Mrs Knight’s notes from her. “Right, then!” she boomed as the headmistress scurried off towards Henry Bartholomew. Her voice echoed from the walls. “Listen up! Hockey club will be starting next Thursday afternoon and …”
For possibly the first time ever, I don’t think anyone was listening to Miss Bowler (and she was pretty difficult to ignore). We were all trying to lip-read Mrs Knight’s quiet conversation with the young man in the corner. After a few minutes she led him back out of the hall, and once again all our heads turned round to follow them.
“Eyes front!” Miss Bowler yelled, and everyone snapped to attention again.
“What is going on?” I whispered to Ivy, once Miss Bowler was back in full flow. “And where did he come from?”
My twin just shrugged, but she looked worried. Whatever was going on … it didn’t seem good.
All anyone was talking about as we left the hall was the sudden appearance of Henry Bartholomew, or Barty (shudder) and what it all meant.
“I can’t believe Mr Bartholomew’s son is here,” I said. “What is he up to? Do you think he’s as bad as his father?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re on about,” said Ebony, who was walking beside us.
Oops. This was probably going to take some explaining.
“The old headmaster,” I began. “He was awful. Super strict. One of his punishments went too far and killed someone. We had to get him to admit it, so that the police would arrest him.”
Ebony recoiled. “Oh!” she said, looking horrified.
Then I remembered something. “Ivy! We nearly forgot! We have to show Ariadne …” I trailed off, seeing Ebony’s face.
After all that she’d done, had she earned enough trust to be part of our group? “Show me what?” Ariadne asked.
I looked at Ivy, but she was staring down at her timetable and not being at all helpful. I sighed. Maybe Ebony was involved already.
“We found some papers that belonged to our mother,” I explained reluctantly. “But they were in code.”
Ariadne gasped. “The Whispers’ code?”
“We think so,” said Ivy, who was paying attention again now. “Well, we hope so. Otherwise it’s going to take even longer to figure out what it says.”
“Oh gosh,” our friend exclaimed. “I’ll look at it after class. How exciting!”
But as we got nearer to the Latin classroom, there was a commotion coming from within that got louder and louder. We found our Latin teacher, Miss Simons, trying to calm everyone down.
“Please!” she was begging them. “Please sit down! We must have silence!”
But no one was listening.
“What happened to Mr Bartholomew?”
“And how come his son owns the school?”
“What do you think he’s going to do? Perhaps he’ll fix the heating!”
I saw that even Rose, who was usually silent, was whispering excitedly to her newly returned best friend (and my former worst enemy) Violet. I waved at them, but they were too engrossed in their conversation to notice.
Miss Simons looked over at us in exasperation. “Girls, please …”
I slammed my fist down on the desk. “Everyone shut up!”
That got their attention. They all went quiet.
The Latin teacher didn’t look as pleased as I’d hoped. “Scarlet,” she said with a sigh, “I appreciate the effort, but that was a bit much.”
“Sorry, Miss,” I said. “It worked, though.”
We found our seats, while Miss Simons started writing on the board. “Thank you, girls,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll find out about this Henry Bartholomew fellow in due course. Now, if we could please all focus on our Latin …”
The last lesson of the day for us was ballet. We ran to our room to change. I laid my hand on the music box. “Soon your secrets will be revealed,” I whispered to it. Ivy rolled her eyes at me.
Our ballet lessons were held down in the school’s chilly basement, with our two teachers, Miss Finch and Madame Zelda. We were the first to arrive, thanks to our speedy changing, and we stopped at the bottom of the stairs when we saw that Mrs Knight was down there talking to them.
“He says his father has died – though he didn’t seem too upset about that,” she said, running a hand through her greying hair.
I stepped into the room. “What? Mr Bartholomew is dead?”
The teachers turned to look at me.
“Oh, hello, Scarlet,” Mrs Knight said. “Yes, it would appear so. I saw the death certificate. That is how this young Master Henry has come into possession of Rookwood.”
Ivy looked shell-shocked. It was a bit of a surprise. Well, our former headmaster was a cruel man, and one who was very old and incredibly sickly. But it still seemed strange that he could really be dead and gone. After everything he’d done … And now his son was taking over?
“Um, anyway, yes, he tells me that he’s got plans for the school,” Mrs Knight continued. “But I’m telling everyone not to panic. I’m sure this will all be sorted out. I’ve arranged to meet him again at three o’clock.”
“Right,” said Miss Finch, sharing a worried glance with Madame Zelda. “We’ll see you in the staff room.”
Mrs Knight left, wringing her hands. She didn’t seem as confident as her words suggested.
“This sounds fishy,” I whispered to Ivy, who nodded, still wide-eyed and a little pale from the news. I wondered what these “plans” would be.
“Come on, then, girls,” Miss Finch called from her seat at the piano. “Let’s get warmed up.”
It was always a relief to get back to dancing again. For an hour, in front of the endless reflections in the mirrors, I could forget about everything. I didn’t have to think about the secret box or our stepmother or Mr Bartholomew and his son. It was nothing but muscles and movement and music. And for once, everyone else was focused as well. Even Penny withheld her usual snide comments.
But when the lesson ended, and we’d curtseyed to the teachers, reality came rushing back.
I kept wondering exactly what Henry Bartholomew had planned for us. “Should we spy on their meeting?” I whispered to Ivy as we took off our toe shoes.
She made a face. “How would we do that? We can’t just walk into the staff room – there’ll be teachers in there.”
Hmm. That was true. And even if we looked in through the windows, we wouldn’t be able to see anything unless we were pressed up against them, and that would certainly give us away. I sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”
At least we had something to focus on: showing Ariadne what we’d found at home. We raced back to the dorm. We still had a few hours before dinner, and Ariadne came straight to our room as soon as she’d finished with hockey. Ebony had somehow managed to get away with avoiding games all together, and was presumably still holed up somewhere writing essays on sporting activities – the task she’d been given after refusing to do sports last term.
After the news of Mr Bartholomew’s death had been thoroughly dissected, we sat around on the floor of our bedroom with the music box in front of us. “So look,” I said, eager to show our friend what we’d found. “You open it up and it starts to play the tune. But when you hear that strange click, you can open the secret compartment.” I pulled it and there, sure enough, were the photographs and the paper covered in code.
“Oh gosh,” said Ariadne as I gently handed her the papers. “How amazing! I can’t believe this secret was just hiding in there for all these years!”
“Does it look like the same code you translated before?” Ivy asked anxiously.
Ariadne frowned. “I think so. Or maybe a slight variation. I’ll see what I can do.”
I grinned at her. “You’re the best, Ariadne.”
She grinned back at me. “I’m so glad to be part of the team again.”
I wrapped my arm round her shoulder. “No matter what happens, you’re always part of the team!” I took a deep breath. “But … perhaps don’t show it to Ebony. Not just yet, anyway.”
Ariadne seemed a bit perturbed about that, but nothing could ruin my excitement at that moment. We were finally going to uncover our mother’s last secrets.
Chapter Five
IVY
It was dinner time that same evening, and we were all filing in as usual. Well, perhaps “filing” wasn’t the right word. The actual process was messier and involved a lot more shoving and name-calling.
We were in the queue for food when Scarlet started elbowing me.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed. “What is it?”
She pointed to the doorway. “Look!”
The man himself had just walked into the room. There was a noticeable drop in volume as more and more people noticed his presence. He didn’t seem to be paying anyone else any attention, though. He started pacing around the dining hall, staring at the walls and the ceiling. He kept his hands in his pockets while his dark eyes searched the place … for what?
“What is he doing?” Scarlet hissed.
I had no answer.
We were so busy staring at him that we didn’t notice the queue had moved on.
“Ahem!” The cook cleared her throat. “Move up, we haven’t got all day!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, running to her and holding my tray out to receive the day’s usual helping of stew.
By the time we’d got to our house table, Henry had made it the whole way round and headed back out of the door. What was he up to? His expression wasn’t giving anything away. He just smiled confidently at the teachers on his way out.
Mrs Knight, however, was not so subtle. She was muttering something to Miss Bowler near the entrance, when Nadia walked past them.
“What do you mean you might have to close the school?” Miss Bowler exclaimed, so loudly that most people heard her. And those who didn’t soon knew what she’d said because the words had rippled outwards like a stone that had been dropped in a pond.
“What?” Scarlet said.
“Why?” Ariadne exclaimed.
And suddenly everyone was calling out, while Mrs Knight just stood there, the colour draining from her face.
“Girls!” she shouted, trying to stop the flow of conversation. “Girls! I need your attention, please!”
For once, people listened. I think we all wanted to know how she was going to explain this.
“Please, don’t panic,” she began. This wasn’t entirely reassuring coming from Mrs Knight, who had been known to downplay even the worst of disasters. She cleared her throat. “As you have all heard, the school has a new owner. Mr … Henry Bartholomew has made his plans clear to us. He wants to …” She froze then, staring into the distance as if she was an actor who couldn’t read the script.
“Where is she going with this?” Scarlet whispered, but I shushed her.
Mrs Knight took a deep breath and tried again. “He wants to close the building.”
The noise broke out again as everyone tried to talk at the same time.
“But why?”
“What would happen to all of us?”
“Where would we go to school?”
“Enough!” Miss Bowler boomed, and I could have sworn the chairs rattled beneath us.
I couldn’t help but notice that Mrs Knight’s hands were shaking. “Everybody calm down, please. There has been talk of safety inspections. It may only be temporary. Nothing is set in stone. Let’s just wait and see, shall we?”
