The Last Secret

With a meaningful glance at Miss Bowler, she left the room.

Miss Bowler turned to all of us. “What are you lot looking at? Spoons back in mouths and stop gaping! You will eat in silence!” Her face was red as she strode out after the headmistress.

The silence, as you can imagine, didn’t last long.

“Is she being serious?” Scarlet asked, leaning over the table.

“Obviously,” I replied. I was struggling to know what to say. “But maybe it’s nothing. Just some inspections, like she said.”

“But does he really have the power to shut the school, just like that?” my twin replied. “And if he does … couldn’t he just decide to close it down permanently?”

“This is horrible,” Ariadne said. Her face crumpled for a moment, and she looked like she was about to cry, but then recovered herself. “If the school closes … we’ll all be split up! Where will we go? What if I get sent back to Hightower Academy? If they’d even have me back, after I was expelled.”

“We won’t let that happen,” said Scarlet. I raised an eyebrow at her. I didn’t know how she could promise such things.

I stared down at my plate for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. “I think we have to listen to Mrs Knight. We can’t start panicking when we don’t even know what Henry Bartholomew is going to decide.”

Ariadne made a sort of strangled sound in frustration, and dropped her head into her hands.

I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure how to feel. Rookwood had changed and it meant something different to me. Now it seemed that someone might have the power to take our school away. Not just to ruin its reputation as our old headmistress, Miss Fox, had once tried to do in a wild act of revenge, but perhaps to get rid of it all together. There would be no more secrets for us to find if it was closed down. Nothing left of our mother’s legacy. No more adventures with Ariadne and Rose and the others.

What if we were sent somewhere worse? Or – and it didn’t bear thinking about – sent back to our stepmother? She had more or less threatened in the past that she would have us both locked up rather than live with her again.

“Let’s not all start worrying about this right now,” Scarlet said, unusually being the voice of reason. “Maybe we should just listen to Mrs Knight. We have bigger things to think about.”

“Bigger things than the school being closed?” Ariadne asked, open-mouthed.

Scarlet poked her with a fork. “Yes, like translating that code! We have to find out what our mother was up to when she wrote that note. It could be important.”

My twin was right. There was nothing we could do about Henry and his plans right now, but we could find out what was in those letters.

Ariadne puffed the air from her cheeks. “All right, of course. I’ll try this evening. But how am I going to hide it from Ebony?”

“Just tell her you’re doing extra arithmetic work,” Scarlet told her. “Nobody would care about that.”

“But I do have extra arithmetic wo—” Ariadne started, before wisely cutting herself off.

I lay in bed that night with my mind racing. I didn’t want to think any more about what would happen to us if the school really were to shut down, so instead I tried to chase the thoughts of our mother. Just when I’d imagined there was nothing left for us to learn about her, we were on the brink of discovering more.

I silently prayed that Ariadne would be able to solve the code, that it wouldn’t be something completely different that she had never encountered before. But it would make sense for our mother to use the same code that the Whispers in the Walls had used, wouldn’t it? Would it reveal more secrets from her time with them?

I couldn’t sleep. I needed to know.

Sitting up, I whispered to my twin, “Are you awake?”

“Ugh. Yes,” she replied.

“I can’t even shut my eyes,” I told her. “I can’t wait to find out what the papers say.”

“Same,” my twin said.

But then there was a knock at the door.

It was well after lights-out. That meant the person at the door was either Matron checking on us, or …

We threw the covers off, jumped up and ran to the door.

“Ariadne!” I exclaimed as I opened it.

She was standing there in her nightgown, with a jumper on top, holding the sheaf of papers. “I translated it,” she whispered. I couldn’t read her expression in the darkness. “All of it. I think you’re going to want to know what it says.”

Chapter Six

SCARLET

e ushered Ariadne inside and shut the door as quietly as we could. I went to turn the light on, but Ivy stopped me.

“Don’t!” she cautioned. “If Matron gets up, she’ll see it.”

I didn’t think this was likely, given how Matron usually slept like the dead, and it seemed incredibly late, but I supposed she was right. We shouldn’t risk it.

“Don’t worry,” Ariadne said. “I brought a candle.” She sat down on the floor and pulled out a small holder from her pocket, complete with a tealight. Then a match appeared in her other hand, and she struck it, the bright flame flaring against the wick.

“Where do you keep all this stuff?” I asked her.

“In my suitcases,” she replied. That made sense. She did have far too many suitcases. “I’ve been decoding it non-stop since dinner. It took hours.” She shivered. “I had to tell Ebony I was doing extra-difficult arithmetic for fun.”

We sat down beside her on the patchy carpet, huddling together for warmth. She laid out the pages and her translations.

I peered at them in the flickering glow. “So it was the old code?”

“Yes, thank goodness. That made it easier, but still time-consuming.” She pointed at what she’d written. “Start here.” I began to read it aloud, as quietly as I could.

1

We moved into the cottage today. I never thought that I would be back living so close to Rookwood School. Mortimer has no idea that this is where everything began. He doesn’t even know who I really am. Knowing that Rookwood is just a few squares away on the map … that he may still be there … it brings it all back into focus once more. I thought I could forget, but I cannot. The truth is there and it scares me. After all these years, I remember our old secret code. I think I have to write this down.

2

Things are clearer today. I spent all night torturing myself. I have been running from my past, hiding from it, for too long. It isn’t just my truth that has been covered. My darling Emmie was killed and for all I know her killer is still right there in Rookwood School, facing no consequences. Perhaps I have been thinking about this all wrong. Moving here may be my chance to set her free.

3

I went back to Rookwood village. I persuaded my husband, Mortimer, to take me, told him it would be nice for a visit. I wore gloves in a vain attempt to hide the fact that my hands were shaking. I left him talking to the priest in the churchyard and headed to the shop. I covered my face with my scarf, praying that they wouldn’t recognise me, but nobody seemed to. Speaking to some of the villagers, my worst fear was confirmed. He is indeed still running the school. The lady I spoke to first glanced all around as if he were about to jump at us from the shadows. They are almost as afraid as I am, though they seem not to know why. But they told me the rumours—

Ariadne had stopped there. I glanced up at her. “What happened?”

“She cut herself off,” Ariadne said, handing me another page. Ivy leant over to see it too. “Here you go.”

4

I am back. Mortimer interrupted my writing yesterday. Perhaps he cannot read this code, but I still do not want to take any chances. He would only ask me what I am working on. I hope to tell him the truth someday, but not today.

The rumours I was told concerned the headmaster (I do not wish to write his name). He continues to have a fearsome reputation. But they also say that he does not truly own the school, that he took it on false grounds! This is important. I must investigate further.

I looked up at the others. “Are you hearing this? Mr Bartholomew might not have been the real owner of the school! Which would mean that Henry wouldn’t have inherited it. This could change everything!” I felt amazed that we’d found a secret about Mr Bartholomew so soon after his death. It was just what we needed – almost as if our mother had known, somehow.

Ariadne nodded. “Keep reading,” she said.

5

I think the rumours might be true. I have done all the research I can. Rookwood was owned by an old family for centuries – how did it pass to him? One minute he was merely the headmaster; the next, I read in the newspaper that the place has always belonged to him. Something is very wrong here. I fear that the only evidence may be inside Rookwood.

6

I have made a grave mistake. I should never have gone back to that school.

Ivy gasped.

I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“She came back here?” my twin exclaimed. “I never thought …” She trailed off, speechless.

Mortimer agreed to take me there again. He thinks I have a strange fascination, but he didn’t argue. This time I left him at the Fox and Hounds with his friend while I went to the school. Walking down that long driveway brought back years of memories I had tried to forget. I told the secretary that I was a prospective parent and she let me look around. Every step along the corridor felt dangerous, but I had to search for evidence. I made it to the library and I found some documents on the history of the building. But that was all. I searched other places, even the secret places I had known long ago, trying to look like an interested parent whenever anyone set eyes on me. But there was nothing.

As I went to leave, I saw him – the headmaster, Mr Bartholomew. He was striding down the hallway towards me. He met my eye for a split second, and my blood turned to frost. I quickly faced away and ducked into a nearby classroom. I still do not know if he saw me, and if he did … whether he knew I was the girl that had challenged him all those years ago. The one witness to Emmie’s murder.

I am afraid, though, that he does know. I am afraid that he will find out who I am and where I live. How could I have been so foolish? This is not for me to solve, not now that I am happy and safe and married. If I am to defeat him, I cannot be reckless. I need to be stronger. I need a plan.

That was all she had written. There were no more pages of Ariadne’s translation. I frowned. “She had all of this, and she never managed to take Mr Bartholomew down?”

“But we did,” Ivy said.

I looked up at my twin. She wasn’t meeting my eye, but I could see a tear glistening on her cheek. I knew how she felt. We’d been the ones who’d got justice for our mother and her friend. We’d finally stopped him.

If only she could have known back then that she’d finally be vindicated. I hated the thought that she’d died without finishing what she’d started, feeling that she’d failed. I curled my fist tightly round the pages.

“This is important,” Ariadne said. “Perhaps your mother was on to something. If Mr Bartholomew didn’t really own the school, then who did it belong to? Could it have been this family that she talked of?”

“Hmm.” I sniffed. I was trying to pretend I wasn’t on the verge of tears.

Ariadne’s eyes glittered in the light. She pulled out the remaining pages – they must have been the documents that our mother had found. They were a little yellow, folded very small and covered with curly handwriting that looked many years old. “I read these as well. It wasn’t easy.”

I squinted at them. Even some of the spellings looked unfamiliar, but I could make out the word Rookwood. “Anything useful?”

“It talks about the Lord and Lady of Rookwood. It’s a bit of their family history and the history of the house, how it was originally built in the sixteen hundreds and expanded and changed over the years. It’s all rather fascinating—”

“Summarise?” I said impatiently. Ivy rolled her eyes at me.

“Well,” Ariadne said, “I think what your mother was trying to get across was that this same family, the Woottons, owned the house for many generations. It was always passed down to the eldest child or, if there wasn’t one, to a cousin. It was supposed to stay in the family. So how did it end up in the hands of Mr Bartholomew?”

“Perhaps there was no one else left,” Ivy suggested, running her fingertips over the paper. “And he was given it because he wanted to run the school.”

“It sounds like that’s what Mr Bartholomew wanted everyone to think,” I said. “But what’s the truth?”

Ivy smiled sadly. “It’s been so long. I don’t know if we’ll be able to find out.” Ariadne gave a silent nod in response.

I stared into the candle flame for a moment, and I felt a flicker inside myself too. A spark of something. Something that would never go out.

“No, come on,” I said, looking back and forth between my twin and our best friend. “This is us we’re talking about. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s finding the truth.”

“But after all these years—” Ariadne started.

“We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again. The Whispers. Miss Fox. Rose’s family. We’ve uncovered all their secrets, haven’t we?” I told them. A grin spread across my face. “The truth can’t hide forever.”

Chapter Seven

IVY

e were rudely awoken that morning by the sound of a commotion from the corridor. I yawned as I pulled the door open to peer out.

There was a man standing several doors down, and he appeared to be having some sort of confrontation with Matron.

“Never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!” she was shouting, waving her arms about. She still had her dressing gown on and hair rollers in. “These are girls’ dormitories!”

There were other heads peering out of doors too. Everyone wanted to know what was going on.

“I appreciate that, madam,” the man said. He was short, with silver hair and spectacles, and he was carrying a clipboard. “But I’ve been employed to do a full inspection of the building.”

Matron shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t care what you’ve been employed to do! I’m not letting you walk around these rooms, certainly not while they’re occupied. And preferably not at all! What gives you the right?”

The man didn’t seem to be particularly concerned by Matron’s outburst. He looked slowly from his clipboard to his watch, not meeting her eye. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I have my orders from the owner.”

Scarlet leant round me. “He doesn’t sound particularly sorry,” she whispered.

She was right. He didn’t.

“You can’t be serious,” Matron said, flapping her arms. “When the headmistress hears about this—”

“When the headmistress owns the school, she can give the orders,” the man replied. “But for now I really must insist that you let me inspect the rooms.”

I could tell that Matron was taking a deep breath, the sort that she usually took just before shouting at us. But then she deflated like a burst balloon. “Fine,” she said, a little more quietly. “Fine. But you will do it later; do you understand? During lesson time.”

There was a moment of silence, and I thought that the man was going to argue again. But he just looked at his watch once more, and then gave a dramatic sigh. “All right. I’ll go to the third floor first, then. But I will be back. I need to look at every room.” And without further comment, he marched away.

Matron put her head in her hands, and she looked rather surprised when she lifted it again to find herself surrounded by a swarm of us. I had been swept along by Scarlet, but honestly I was as curious as she was.

“What’s going on, Miss?” Penny demanded.

“Who was that man?” Scarlet asked.

Matron muttered something under her breath, and whatever it was, it didn’t sound particularly flattering. “An inspector,” she said finally. “Sent by the new owner. Wants to look around and, I don’t know, measure the place or something. Well, not on my watch! Nothing goes on in these dormitories without my say-so!”

I shared a glance with Scarlet. I was fairly sure that wasn’t exactly true.

There was a rush of perplexed muttering as everyone began to debate exactly what this meant. Matron looked around at all of us, and then suddenly seemed to remember exactly where she was and what was going on.

“I can’t believe you lot are out of bed before the bell! I didn’t think that was possible! Shoo, the lot of you!”

She waved us back into our rooms where, sure enough, the screeching bell rang out to tell us it was time to wake up.

“Bit late for that,” Scarlet grumbled. “What do you think the inspector’s going to do? Do you think he knows about the secret rooms?”

I frowned as I pulled my uniform from the wardrobe. “I don’t know. The stairs to the ones in the basement were destroyed by the library fire, and the ones on the third floor are locked.”

“And they were mostly full of broken old furniture, anyway,” my twin finished. “But there could be more that we still don’t know about or haven’t found a way to get into. If he’s so keen to poke his nose in everywhere, he’ll want to know every single one, surely?”

She had a point. “Let’s just hope Mrs Knight doesn’t tell him anything,” I said. If there were more secrets to uncover at Rookwood, then we couldn’t let Henry Bartholomew be the one to find them first.

At breakfast, I wasn’t entirely surprised to see Henry standing by the door to the dining hall. He had a clipboard too, with a sheaf of notes on it – presumably given to him by his inspector.

I was planning to ignore him and walk into the hall. Scarlet, though, had other ideas.

She marched straight up to him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Henry lifted his eyes from the clipboard and smiled down at her. His teeth were white and perfect. “Hello,” he said cheerfully. “Good morning to you too!”

Scarlet folded her arms and frowned at him. “Good morning? We got woken up early by your inspector trying to measure our rooms!”

“Mr Hardwick? Well, yes,” he said, his pleasant expression not wavering. “It needs to be done, I’m afraid. I must see what state the old building is in before I decide what I want to do with it.”

I tried to pull my twin away gently, but she wasn’t finished.

“What about what we want? Does that not matter to you at all?” she demanded.

He gave a sort of quiet laugh. “Look – what’s your name, girl?”

“Scarlet.”

“Look, Scarlet, I wouldn’t worry. This inspection is about safety. You don’t want the old place falling down on your heads, do you? It’s just something that has to be done.” He raised his palms to the ceiling in the universal gesture for I can’t do anything about it, honest. Then he patted her gently on the shoulder. “I’m sure whatever conclusion we come to will suit everybody.”

He flashed her yet another winning smile, then walked off, hands in his pockets and whistling.

“Hmmph,” Scarlet said.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She turned to me. “I wanted answers. I thought it would be easiest to get them straight from the source.”

“I’m not sure that helped,” I said, finally managing to drag her into the bustling dining hall.

She shook herself free of my arm. “It did no harm,” she insisted. “But he didn’t exactly give us anything useful. Thinks he’s a charmer, clearly. But he’s a snake!”

I thought about it for a moment as we pushed our way towards the serving hatch. “You think so? I mean, what if he’s genuinely nice?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “He’s the son of Mr Bartholomew. You really think he’s doing all this out of the goodness of his heart?”

I winced. She was probably right. But then again, shouldn’t we be the first to admit that children weren’t the same as their parents?

It was at that moment that Ariadne and Ebony walked in. Ariadne waved as they came over to join us in the queue. Scarlet turned to her. “Where were you two this morning?”

Ebony wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

“We just woke up,” Ariadne said, yawning.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. Ariadne was a very heavy sleeper, and she’d been up so late translating our mother’s messages, I wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t heard the commotion.

“I was up till all hours thinking about everything from yesterday,” Ebony explained. “I was sound asleep this morning.”

We filled them in about the inspector and our encounter with Henry.

Ariadne tried unsuccessfully to pat down a piece of her hair that was sticking up at an odd angle. “I suppose that makes sense. He wants to see if the building is worth saving. Or whether they should knock it down and use the land to build on.”

“Surely it’s worth saving,” Ebony said. “A place like this? It’s full of history. It should be treasured.” The radiator pipes beside us chose that moment to clank miserably, and a gust of wind blew the window open. Ariadne ran over to shut it.

“That’s what I’m worried about, though,” Scarlet told her. “That it’s the history they’re really after. The secrets that are here.”

I didn’t know if I believed that. “What if he really does just want to make money off the place? Is that better or worse?”

No one had an answer.

Several of our lessons that day were graced by the distracting presence of Mr Hardwick, the inspector. The teachers, most of them having unsuccessfully tried to shoo him away, agreed to allow him to look around each classroom. It was hard to conjugate French verbs and discuss Oliver Twist in English with him pottering up and down at the back of the class.

Every so often, he would stop, say “Hmm,” a little too loudly, and pull out a tape measure. Next he would be scribbling notes on his clipboard, the sound of the pencil scratching in all our ears. Then he’d be kneeling to peer at the skirting board, or standing on tiptoe as he tried to examine the ceiling.

“I swear,” said Scarlet during the last lesson of the day, “if he says hmm like that one more time, I’m going to strangle him with that bloomin’ tape measure!”

I watched as Mr Hardwick went over to the fireplace at the side of the room, one of the remnants of the old house, paused, and then said, “Hmmmmm …”

Scarlet jumped up out of her seat, but thankfully the bell rang right at that moment. I quickly dragged her out before she could do any damage.

The next few days continued in much the same manner. Lessons carried on as normal, and I felt almost settled back into being at school, but it was as though there was a cloud hanging over everything. We frequently glimpsed Mr Hardwick disappearing down corridors with his clipboard. Scarlet even tried to sneak a peek at what he was writing, but she came back mumbling that she couldn’t read his messy scrawl.