The Magpie Society One for Sorrow

by Amy McCulloch

  We’re very different people, Clover and I – she likes meditation, singing in the choir, and will go for days without shaving her armpits and legs just to prove that women shouldn’t conform to societal expectations. She’s a bit Marmite – you either love her or hate her – but she doesn’t give a damn either way. I admire the passion she pours into everything she does. In that way, we’re kindred spirits and, as a result, we’re friends.

  Mrs Abbott’s voice brings me back to the present. ‘Welcome back, students of Illumen Hall. It is only fitting that we begin our year by taking a moment to recognize a huge loss for our small community: Dolores Radcliffe, or as many of you knew her, Lola.’ Mrs Abbott shifts on the spot. Her voice wobbles. ‘I also want to take this opportunity to thank those of you who helped the police with your statements and eyewitness accounts. I can imagine it’s been a very hard summer for many of you.’

  Sniffling starts up in little groups across the hall and tissues are passed round liberally. Lola’s close friends, Jane and Heloise, are just to the right of me, holding in great heaving sobs by gulping loudly and blowing their noses. She really was loved by everyone. She had this ability to make people feel like they belonged at the school – even though she could trace her family’s attendance at Illumen almost all the way back to its inception, she didn’t hold that above anyone else’s head.

  Lola had seen something in me. It’s hard to explain our relationship – I wasn’t one of her best friends, but I looked up to her and she mentored me. I felt like I knew her – maybe even more so than the people she hung out with. The official cause of death from the police is ‘by misadventure’, since there was no note left for her family. But we’re all warned over and over about the danger of walking near the cliffs, especially at night. To go there deliberately, to walk so close to the edge … The word ‘suicide’ floated round the edge of everyone’s speculation, and I suppose you never know what demons people are hiding.

  I’ve been gripping my hands together so tightly I’ve left little half-moon indents in my palm. Dr Kinfeld would not be happy – maybe I’d have to book another therapy appointment with her, even though I’m officially signed off.

  ‘But, although we mourn and try to learn how to live with our feelings of loss and sadness, we must also remember that Dolores Radcliffe would not have wanted us to think of her only with tears, because she was a source of light and beauty in our lives. It’s why I’m delighted to announce that, with the support of Lola’s parents, Mr and Mrs Radcliffe, we’ll be renaming the swimming pool in her honour this year.’

  The hall breaks out into thunderous applause as Mrs Abbott points to Mr and Mrs Radcliffe, who I can see now are sitting in the front row. Mrs Radcliffe is still dressed in funereal black with a shock of red at her neck in the form of a scarf. Mr Radcliffe looks solemn by her side. Next to them is Lola’s handsome older brother, Patrick, whom I haven’t seen since he went off to uni years before. He’d been head boy when I first started at Illumen Hall. The Radcliffes were IH royalty. Even their parents met at this school.

  Lola would be the only one who never got to graduate.

  ‘We also have a beautiful portrait of Dolores, which I will ask her parents to unveil at the end of today’s assembly. It will be hung at the entrance of Helios House, where she spent so many happy years. If anyone needs to speak to the school counsellor, please arrange it through your form tutor or come to me,’ Mrs Abbott continues. ‘Help is available to anyone who needs it, so please don’t suffer in silence.’

  She moves on to the standard part of her speech now, the one we hear every year. Now this is more comforting. It’s part of the bubble of life at Illumen Hall. The safety net. I actually feel myself relax, my muscles melting into the chair. I hadn’t realized how much all the talk about Lola’s death had set me on edge.

  ‘Moving forward, I want to welcome our new students! I’m sorry your first day has begun like this, but Illumen Hall welcomes you with open arms and we’re all so pleased to have you here …’

  Just as Mrs Abbott is about to move on to why Illumen Hall is the best place to learn and grow, there’s a thunderous bang – and the electricity goes out. The room is plunged into darkness. Gasps and cries ring out, and Mrs Abbott’s voice shouts over the din, ‘Keep calm, everyone!’ Without the amplification from the microphone, she might as well be trying to calm a herd of wildebeest preparing to stampede. There’s a growing energy in the room, some kind of urge to run, to move, and wind rushes on to my face like someone’s opened a door to escape.

  It only lasts a couple of breaths before there’s another pop, and the lights come back on. ‘Sorry,’ says a voice from the back of the room. Like meerkats, we all turn our heads at the same time, spotting a grizzled handyman in dark blue overalls wiping his hands down his front. ‘Blew a fuse. All fixed now.’

  ‘Settle down, please,’ says Mrs Abbott, barely able to contain her irritation. I wouldn’t want to be in that man’s shoes. ‘As you all know, we’re having some work done in the school that should be finished soon, but in the meantime there may be some … unexpected disruptions.’

  But the buzz in the hall grows again. Teddy nudges my shoulder. ‘Did you give this to me?’

  He holds up a rectangle of neon-orange paper, a flyer. I shake my head. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve got one too,’ he says.

  I look down at my lap. Sure enough, there’s a flyer sitting there – a rectangle of dayglo pink that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Frowning, I pick it up and turn it over.

  I KNOW WHO KILLED LOLA … AND ONE OF YOU IS NEXT http://whokilledlola.com

  5

  Audrey

  Damn. So she’s the reason my room is cursed.

  When I close my eyes, all I can see is the black-and-white photograph of that girl staring down at us. Dolores Radcliffe. She must have really meant a lot to the school, because there were students crying all over the auditorium.

  And then there was that flyer drop. It scared the shit out of me. But there’s no way I’m visiting that website. I came here to get away from drama like that.

  ‘You OK? You look a little pale.’

  I look up, my heart racing. I’ve been sitting in my chair for so long the auditorium has almost emptied out all around me. I find myself face to face with two girls, both in immaculate school uniforms. I recognize the girl closest to me – she was one of the students on the stage next to Mrs Abbott.

  ‘Oh yeah, sorry,’ I reply.

  ‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet? I’m Araminta Pierce, head girl this year.’ She smiles brightly at me, her long blond hair swaying in its high ponytail.

  ‘And I’m Bonnie,’ says the shorter white girl standing just behind her. ‘I’m in lower sixth, like you.’

  ‘You’re Audrey Wagner, right?’ Araminta asks, sitting in one of the empty chairs in front of me.

  ‘Oh –’ I blink several times, taken aback. ‘That’s me. You got it.’

  ‘Oh my God, your accent is so cute! I feel like I’m on the set of Nashville.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you a darlin’,’ I say, doing my best Dolly Parton. I get an appreciative squeal from Araminta.

  ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you when you arrived. I try and do that with all the new people. But I’m sure Ivy’s been showing you the ropes! She’s just so smart, isn’t she?’

  ‘But maybe not so good at sharing,’ says Bonnie with a wink.

  Araminta laughs. ‘Good point! How are things with the two of you in that room?’

  ‘Um …’

  The longer I pause, the wider she grins. ‘Oh, silly me! Being head girl makes me so interested in everyone. You’ll have to get used to seeing a lot of me around here, nosying about in all your business.’ She waggles her finger at me and laughs.

  ‘Well, it’s real nice to meet you,’ I say.

  ‘How are you liking the school so far?’

  Her eyes are so wide, her face so earnest, that I
find it difficult to lie. ‘It’s great!’ I say, through slightly gritted teeth. Maybe it’s just my accent, but she doesn’t notice.

  ‘It’s impossible not to love it here,’ she says, while Bonnie nods in sage agreement. ‘But there are a few things you should know.’ She leans in conspiratorially. ‘There’s a hierarchy in the school. The younger kids – we call them fledglings – help out the sixth-formers. Run round the school, doing our errands, that kind of thing.’

  I wrinkle my nose. ‘Bit weird, isn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose it is if you’re not used to it. But then you’re going to find a lot of things are like that at Illumen Hall. Fledglings mostly support the prefects anyway.’

  ‘Prefects?’ I ask.

  Araminta slaps her forehead in an exaggerated manner. ‘Of course! American – you wouldn’t know. Prefects are like … school enforcers,’ she says with another laugh. ‘You’ll recognize them because they wear these little badges.’ She pulls out a bright yellow badge in the shape of a shield, with a black letter P embossed on the front. ‘Mine’s a bit different – as you can see.’ It’s a bright red star embossed with the gold letters HS.

  ‘It used to say HG for head girl, and HB for head boy – that’s Xander. But our Clover in Year Ten petitioned to make them more gender neutral – so we’re head students now. I still call myself head girl though because that’s how I identify!’

  I barely listen as Araminta drones on about how prefects have to ‘help with the smooth running of the houses’ and ‘supervise activities for the younger years’, which sounds a lot like hard work to me. At least now I get the badge Ivy was wearing. My eyes drift to Bonnie, who’s staring at Araminta like the sun shines out of her ass. I suppress the urge to giggle at that thought, before Araminta realizes I’m not listening. I’m sure she’d say that prefects were no laughing matter.

  ‘So, have you had the full tour yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I reply, snapping my attention back.

  ‘I wish I could do it myself, but Bonnie here knows so much about the school. And she’s in your year, so it’ll be good for you to have a friendly face in your classes. I’ll leave you guys to it! I have to get all this mess sorted out anyway.’ As she stands, she picks up one of the flyers, then tosses it back down on the floor in disgust.

  I purposefully haven’t touched one myself. I can see that a lot of students are grieving for their lost classmate, but I can’t allow myself to get sucked in. I’m sure it’s a sad story – and, from a brief glance at the wording on the paper littered all around me, there are lots of questions surrounding her death. But it’s not my – well, not my business.

  ‘Ready?’ Bonnie asks me. When she smiles, little dimples appear in her freckled cheeks. She seems nice enough, and I remind myself that I shouldn’t be afraid to make new friends. I’m sure they’re nothing like the people back home. And not everyone will be as rude as my room-mate.

  ‘Absolutely. Let’s go.’

  She leads me out of the auditorium, through long, meandering hallways to the cafeteria – or, as she calls it, the canteen. Artwork is hung on practically every wall, from paintings of trees and weird Victorian buildings to nonsensical abstracts. The way Bonnie leads me is warm and bright, but every now and then we walk past entrances to long hallways that seem to disappear into shadow. When I pause to peer into the darkness, the temperature seems to drop.

  At this school, it isn’t long before something new takes my breath away. The canteen is bright and modern, under an enormous domed glass ceiling, almost like a greenhouse, with a tree growing up through the centre. Bonnie explains that there’s a more formal dining hall too, but most of the meals are taken here. My stomach rumbles – I haven’t eaten since I arrived here and I refused Ivy’s offer to take me to grab something to eat. ‘You’re in Helios House, right?’ she asks, once we’ve grabbed a takeout coffee and a slightly stale muffin from the ‘tuck shop’ in one corner of the canteen (I like this girl already).

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply.

  ‘OK, that’s cool – it’s one of the oldest ones. I’m in Nova, the all-girls one. Do you know much about the houses?’

  I shake my head. Bonnie grins, eager to share her knowledge.

  ‘Well, Illumen Hall has six in total, all of them named after different stars. They were a sort of obsession of the Illumen Hall founder, Lord Brathebone – a super-rich merchant with an extraordinary interest in astronomy and astrology. Back then, there were only two houses – Helios and Polaris. But, as the student population grew, more houses were added to keep the small, “family-style” atmosphere of the school. Nova House was added when girls were first allowed to come here. There’s a portrait of the first housemistress, Lady Penelope, in the Nova House front room – I could show it to you another day, if you like?’

  I smile. ‘Thanks.’

  There’s an awkward pause where she waits for me to expand on my gratitude, I guess, but I don’t know what else to say. I can feel her passing judgement, and I know I have to bring her over to my side. I don’t want to isolate everyone I meet at this school.

  ‘Wow. So much history. I don’t think I’ll ever learn my way around!’

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised.’

  I know this type of girl. She wants to give me something – she’s desperate to. I offer up the only thing I’ve been really curious about so far, and I hope it doesn’t set the wrong tone.

  ‘So, there is one thing … I was kinda thinking of finding some place called the SCR?’

  ‘Oh, I can definitely take you there. But first, do you play any sports?’

  I shrug. ‘Um, not really.’

  ‘Hmm, well, they like us to pick some sort of physical activity – I’m on the hockey team.’

  ‘I like playing tennis, I guess?’

  ‘Great, let’s go and see the grass courts before it gets too dark.’ Bonnie grabs me by the hand, pulling me through a set of double doors and out into the grounds.

  I feel like I’m on an Illumen Hall crash course as she fills me in on some of the rules and regulations and I get a tour of the grounds. Bonnie seems to know everyone – but then this school is a lot smaller than my old high school in Savannah. Only a few hundred students compared to a couple of thousand.

  It turns out there are a whole bunch of sports teams I could join, clubs I could become a member of, basically every sort of extracurricular you could think of. Bonnie is sweet and friendly, and I find myself relaxing in her company. For the first time in a while, I’m laughing and chatting normally. I’ve been stiff as a board lately.

  ‘OK, one last thing before we go to the SCR. It’s a bit of a weird Illumen Hall tradition.’

  ‘I’ve trusted you this far,’ I say, laughing.

  She grins at me and we head back towards the main school building. This part of the Illumen Hall grounds, just behind the school, is neatly manicured – all sculpted hedges and trimmed lawn. We stick to sandy, gravelled pathways, which wind their way through the gardens. Up in one of the topiaries, a scruffy-looking bearded guy in a close-fitting denim shirt and mud-stained trousers is pruning the bushes.

  ‘Who’s that?’ I ask Bonnie.

  She squints in the direction of the hedges. ‘Oh, that’s Mr Tavistock’s grandson … Ed, I think? They’re in charge of the grounds. They’re both super creepy though, so I’d be careful not to get in their way. Mr Tavistock’s wife disappeared in mysterious circumstances and they say the only reason her body hasn’t been found is because he knows all the school’s secret hiding places.’ Bonnie shudders, but she has a grin on her face.

  I don’t find the rumour amusing, but I force a smile, so she’ll think I’m easy-going.

  The sun hangs low in the sky, casting an orange glow on the grey brick of the school. All around us is the sea, and the wind lifts my hair, tossing it around my face.

  From this angle, the school is a mishmash of styles, thanks to all the extensions and additions. There’s the glass dome of the canteen and a
tower at the far end that looks straight out of a fairy tale. Bonnie catches me looking.

  ‘That’s the art wing. Well, the ground floor is.’

  ‘Sucks I’m not taking art then!’

  Bonnie shudders. ‘Oh no, that doesn’t suck at all. That place is freaky too. I swear if you walk by it at night it seems to hum like something out of Black Mirror. I avoid it whenever possible. OK, here we are! Do you have a fifty-pence piece or something?’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Some change. Like a coin.’

  We’ve come to a large pond, with yellowing lily pads and a gently bubbling fountain in the centre. As I look more closely, I see that the stonework that surrounds the pond, and the bottom of the pool itself, are carpeted with coins, bright pins and other shiny things. Bonnie balances a silver coin on her fingers and flicks it into the water. Then she crosses her fingers and says, ‘I won’t cross the magpies, and the magpies won’t cross me.’

  She turns back to me, her round face bright with expectation. ‘So, do you have an offering?’ she asks me.

  ‘Um, sorry – no. Don’t carry cash on me.’

  ‘Anything shiny will do – a hairpin or earring or something …’

  My hand flies up to my earrings – delicate hoops that were a gift from Brendan. As if I’d toss those into the school’s water feature! Suddenly I yearn for Lydia. She would have laughed with me at how absurd this is. She’d cackled at the lady reading tarot cards in downtown Savannah. This tradition would be a step too far for her as well.

  ‘I got nothing,’ I repeat.

  ‘Oh, OK then.’ Bonnie’s face falls. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Everyone does it.’

  She’s not joking either. When we turn to walk back to the school, a small line has built up behind us. Students preparing to make their offering.

  ‘I’ll come back and do it another time,’ I say, trying my best not to roll my eyes.