скачать книгу бесплатно
“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 (#ulink_5eb59d0b-2a32-53bf-8e5f-8bf123283d17)
IVY (#ulink_5eb59d0b-2a32-53bf-8e5f-8bf123283d17)
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.
Friday dawned with a cold fog that crept on to the school grounds. I shivered as I looked out of the window. The skeleton trees resembled charcoal sketches against the silver sky. Nonetheless, I had a good feeling about the day.
But that feeling evaporated as soon as we walked into assembly.
For a start, Mrs Knight wasn’t in her usual place at the front of the stage. None of the teachers were. Instead, it was Henry Bartholomew.
“Why is he up there?” I whispered to Scarlet, but she was too busy staring at him to reply. The hall was abuzz with conversation.
“Hello, girls,” he said loudly, and everyone went deadly silent. I knew they were desperate to know what he had to say. “I thought I ought to come and tell you this myself. It just seemed the right thing to do.” He smiled as if he was congratulating himself.
“You smug—” Scarlet started to mutter under her breath, but I hit her before she could finish.
“I’m afraid my inspector has found that the school building is in need of a lot of repairs. And so it has been decided that Rookwood will shortly be closing in order to carry them out.”
He paused, his eyes scanning the hall for our reaction. I expected a rush of whispers, but there was still an uneasy silence. I think we were all trying to figure out what he meant. Would the school reopen afterwards? Questions filled my head until Penny finally raised her hand. Without waiting to be called on, she asked, “Closed temporarily? Or closed permanently?”
“Ah!” Henry exclaimed, clapping his hands together and pointing back at her. “Good question. We’ll be looking into the possibilities. It might be that the building would be better for another purpose. And if that’s the case, then, when it closes …”
I realised that Scarlet and I were leaning forward. We were both holding our breath.
“… it might be closing its doors forever.”
Chapter Eight (#ulink_4d3eb6d1-beda-502b-a302-34f71af5ca10)
SCARLET (#ulink_4d3eb6d1-beda-502b-a302-34f71af5ca10)
didn’t know how the teachers expected us to pay attention in lessons later that day after being hit with that bombshell in assembly. For the whole morning, they tried in vain to get us all to shut up. But it didn’t work. All anyone could talk about was the school potentially closing. There was endless debate as to whether Henry would really do it, or whether it was just a possibility.
“What are we going to do?” Ariadne asked desperately that lunchtime.
I swallowed the bit of sandwich I was chewing. “I’m working on it.”
The thoughts were whizzing through my brain. There had to be something we could do. I wasn’t about to let our old chum Barty take away the one thing that was keeping Ivy and me from the clutches of our stepmother. Who did he think he was?
I just didn’t have a plan. I hated not having a plan.
Ivy sighed. “Perhaps … if he really does decide to close the school, we just have to accept it, at this point.”
“Absolutely not!” I told her. But deep down, a tiny part of me wondered if she was right.
Friday afternoons meant ballet, and I was looking forward to that, at least. Ivy and I ran down the chilly steps to the basement.
“Oh, hello, Scarlet,” Miss Finch said. She was sitting in her usual spot at the piano. “Hello, Ivy. You’re the first to arrive, once again.”
“Anything to get away from the misery up there,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Well, we have some good news for you,” Madame Zelda said. She was stretching her leg up on the piano, rather impressively. “Just you wait.”
“Good news would certainly be welcome,” said Ivy, although she didn’t seem optimistic. She still looked despondent as she sat down to lace her shoes.
I prodded her in the shoulder. “Cheer up! Good news!”
