by Kerstin Gier
I very much hoped she’d find a better psychiatrist than Senator Tod this time.
Anabel looked up at the bat, still describing circles in the air, snapped her fingers twice, like Mary Poppins, and then simply disappeared.
Mia landed on the floor in front of us with a thump. “Ouch,” she said. Her face looked slightly green. “I feel sick to my stomach. I need a slice of Lottie’s carrot cake with whipped cream this minute.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do,” I said. “Wake up.”
Henry grinned. “I can be with you girls in ten minutes’ time,” he said. “Even five minutes’ time, if I come on my bike and don’t change out of my pajamas.”
* * *
TITTLE-TATTLE BLOG
The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, with all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals from our school.
ABOUT ME:
My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know all your secrets.
27 March
An era is ending. Or should I call it a social experiment?
This blog is a perfect example of how to provide a large quota of nasty comments, unjust statements, and distorted truths, and I am truly sorry for what I’ve done with it.
This is the last blog that Secrecy will be posting. The site is closing down and will be taken off the Internet this afternoon.
First, however, I’d like to apologize wholeheartedly to all the people whose secrets I’ve exposed, holding them up to ridicule, and to everyone I’ve injured, wounded, and robbed of their dignity—I’m ashamed of myself, really ashamed, more than you can guess.
But I’m not the only one; the rest of you ought to be ashamed too. All of you who have read this blog, greedily taking in all the latest news, all of you who have e-mailed me information and cell-phone photos, all of you who were glad when you yourselves were spared, and instead you could revel in the misfortunes and embarrassment of others. The Tittle-Tattle blog could never have worked if it had attracted the attention it deserved—none at all. Secrecy would never have been so powerful if you hadn’t been so malicious and eager for sensational news, if you hadn’t encouraged Secrecy’s own intolerance, nastiness, and false morality so much.
Now it’s up to you to decide what that says about yourselves. And to decide whether an attitude like that doesn’t promote everything that’s wrong in the world today.
I for one don’t want to go on being one of those irresponsible people who hide behind their superficiality and cowardice, and let bad things happen in the first place. From now on, I want to be one of those who make the world a little bit better.
Amen.
See you—but from now on I won’t be looking at you quite so closely.
Love from Secrecy
PS—This is a message for Gil Walker. Stop wasting your outstanding poetic talent on Mia Silver. She isn’t worthy of your poetry.
Tittletattleblog.com
* * *
* * *
TITTLE-TATTLE BLOG
The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog reloaded. Without all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals of Hampstead, but with lots of love.
ABOUT ME:
My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know all your secrets.
21 June
Okay, okay, so it’s me again. I did try, honestly. I wanted to take the blog off the Internet. But I gather from your comments that you need me. You love me. You can’t live without me.
So I’ve decided to revive it, but in a different way. Do something good with it. The subject is obvious—there’s a lot of it about.
Love.
Wherever you look these days—love all over the place. And peace and joy. It would be downright unbearable if I was still the old Secrecy.
Take Liv Silver and Henry Harper, for instance. A match made in heaven if ever there was one! It’s even rumored that they keep on smiling at each other in their sleep. The whole time, at that!
Or there’s Pandora Porter-Peregrin and her little sister—so touching, don’t you agree? Not only does Pandora help Persephone with her homework, she also offers to lend her clothes to her sister. And she wasn’t cross even when Persephone recently trod in some dog mess with Pandora’s pumps on. That’s what I call real love between sisters. Pandora is going to Canada for a gap year after A levels, and she’s offered to let Persephone have her room while she’s away.
In fact, a good many students in the top class are having a gap year abroad after the exams, but luckily a few of them—and the nicest, if you ask me—will be left.
Jasper Grant, for instance, who surprised everyone by passing his A levels, doesn’t want the year abroad that his parents were going to give him as a reward. He’d already matured from a boy to a man in France, he said, and if possible, he’d rather spend the next few years in the parental home, recovering from that experience. Persephone in particular will be glad of it. The two of them were spotted holding hands at the cinema on Monday.
Of course Grayson Spencer is staying here—otherwise Great Britain would have lost its last Knight of the Round Table (and he’s starting his studies of medicine this fall). When he isn’t helping old people cross the road or looking after orphaned children, he visits Anabel Scott in the psychiatric hospital to which she’s committed herself. Apart from that, he spends a lot of time with Mia Silver—give that girl another year or two, and I’m not guaranteeing anything.
Emily Clark is looking much healthier than before the spring vacation, and as if she’s getting more sleep. Maybe because she’s finally given up stalking Grayson and has more time for her true love—her horse, Conquest of Paradise. They won at two gymkhanas only last weekend. And her A-level results were the third best in the entire country, just after Theo Ellis, by the way. It’s only her relationship with her brother, Sam, that has cooled off—no one knows why.
Have you noticed something? Love has many faces, and here we have them all. Love between sisters, love of animals, love of your neighbor, love between parents and children, love of yourself, and, of course the staple of a gossip blog, romantic love.
The latest fine example: Ann Matthews (Liv and Mia Silver’s mother) and Ernest Spencer, with the understated wedding of the year (not my own phrasing, the tabloids had that and even better headlines). It was preceded by a really juicy scandal, leading to symptoms of heart disease in Mrs. Spencer Senior, who I’m glad to say is responding to treatment, and a splendid crime story.
Here are the details: Pascal de Gobineau isn’t a wedding planner after all (or even a Frenchman) but a con man who was recently seen boarding a ferry to Calais with his Mercedes convertible, also taking the advance payments already made to him for no less than five society weddings. Interpol is investigating, a number of brides are weeping into their pillows, and Charles Spencer is laughing. Because it was he who (for other reasons, but also to do with love) engaged the private detective who got on the trail of Pascal de Gobineau, a.k.a. Peter Pickering, a gambling addict.
The only ones affected by this revelation who aren’t crying are Ann and Ernest Spencer. Last weekend they simply went off and got married in the morning sunlight at a nature reserve on the Kentish coast. Barefoot. With a small family party. It sounds terribly kitschy, almost like a hippie wedding, but anyone who saw their faces would want to get married the same way. Particularly as the picnic on the beach after the wedding was so delicious that even Granny Spencer overcame her dislike of just about everything, and ate heartily.
Or so I’ve heard.
It’s said that the tarts and cakes in particular were really special, and amateur baker Lottie Wastlhuber became famous almost overnight as the caterer to engage for society parties. I guess you could call it cupboard love—yet another variation on the love theme. It’s also rumored that Lottie will soon be marrying into the Spencer family herself. We can’t wait to hear more.
The only one who doesn’t seem to have access to all this enjoya
ble love at the moment is Arthur Hamilton. At least, he goes about looking glum, almost as if he were behind bars. When he thinks he’s unobserved, he talks to himself. “Bloody stupid sand. Bloody stupid seagulls. Bloody stupid sunset,” I heard him muttering the other day. Anyway, here are the results of his latest search when he was last on one of the library computers—maybe one of you can help him? Pier. List of piers. Women’s names beginning with M. Mandy’s Crochet Basket. Melanie’s Crochet Basket. Wool shops in Clevedon. Oh dear. Let’s hope Australia will take his mind off all that—that’s where he’s going for a year in August.
Well, that’s it for today—I hope you’ve been inspired by all the love around here to go out and make someone happy!
See you soon!
Love from Secrecy
PS—Hazel Pritchard: I just LOVE your yellow dress for the end-of-year ball. It suits you perfectly.
Tittletattleblog.com
* * *
HENRY WAS ALREADY waiting for me when I stepped out into the corridor. I smiled at him. “Hello, cheese girl!” he said affectionately. “About time too.” He took my hand. “Well, where are we going today?”
“We could pay Mrs. Honeycutt a visit,” I suggested.
Henry grinned. “I did that only the day before yesterday—for real. She’s knitted me a scarf. A mohair scarf.”
I chuckled. “Great! Just what you most need in June! Oh—look!” I stopped, feeling much moved.
On the door handle of Matthews’s Moonshine Antiquarian Books, a notice was hanging slightly askew. Someone had scrawled on it, obviously in a hurry: JUST MARRIED—CLOSED FOR NOW ON ACCOUNT OF HAPPINESS.
It had really been a perfect wedding—aside from that moment of horror when Charles had looked at Grayson and asked, “Have you had your hair cut?” For a split second we had stared at each other as if petrified and then had the most unstoppable fit of laughter ever.
“There ought to be a notice like that on my own door.” I beamed at Henry. “Any more happiness and I’d burst.”
Henry put his arm around my waist and drew me close. “Then we must go very carefully,” he said, kissing me. But only to push me away about ten seconds later and look at me with mock disappointment. “Damn it, that doesn’t work. You didn’t burst.”
No, but I had melted a tiny little bit. As usual when Henry touched me. “Forget what I said.” I heaved a sigh. “One can never have enough happiness.”
“Just like the love Secrecy was blogging about the other day,” said Henry mockingly.
“Or enough mysteries,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Henry made a face. “Mysteries are much overrated. We’ve solved enough of them these last few months. I’d be satisfied with exploring just one mystery for the rest of my life, and that’s you.”
“That’s so sentimental!” I couldn’t help laughing. “I bet you got it from a movie. Apart from the fact that I’m about as mysterious as an open book.”
“You’ve no idea.” Henry brushed a strand of hair back from my forehead. And then he kissed me again, and I forgot what I had really been going to say. Which was that we still didn’t understand the real mystery—the nature of this corridor, why we of all people had found it, and how it could be scientifically explained. But why did there have to be a scientific explanation for everything?
When we let go of each other, I glanced around.
“What are you looking for?” asked Henry.
“I’m waiting for Anabel to come around the corner and whisper mysteriously that it isn’t over yet, it’s only just begun.”
Henry smiled. “Exactly right. It’s only just begun.”
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Liv Silver, has so many dreams
Mia Silver, Liv’s younger sister, known in some circles as “the new Miss Marple,” unmasks Secrecy
Ann Matthews, Liv’s mother
Ernest Spencer, Ann’s fiancé, has a weakness for irises
Lottie Wastlhuber, Liv and Mia’s former au pair, believes there’s good in everyone
Grayson Spencer, Ernest’s son, former owner of a life-size battle droid robot from Star Wars: Episode I
Florence Spencer, Ernest’s daughter, twin sister of Grayson
Charles Spencer, Ernest’s brother, dentist
The Boker, also known as Mrs. Spencer Senior, Ernest’s mother, mourning a topiary peacock known as Mr. Snuggles
Henry Harper, likes dreaming with Liv
Arthur Hamilton, ex-friend of Anabel Scott, in fact ex-friend of everyone but Jasper
Jasper Grant, a friend of Henry, Grayson, and Arthur, ex-dreamer, has finished with “dreams and demons and all that garbage”
Anabel Scott, Arthur’s ex-girlfriend, unfortunately has lost her marbles
Emily Clark, Grayson’s ex-girlfriend, has a horse called Conquest of Paradise
Persephone Porter-Peregrin, Liv’s friend, likes lipstick, hates guns. Honestly.
Mrs. Lawrence, Liv’s ex–French teacher after an unfortunate incident in the school cafeteria
Sam Clark, Emily’s little brother, has dubious ideas of morality
Dr. Otto Anderson, also known as Senator Tod Nord, in a coma and dreaming that he is still Anabel’s psychiatrist
Mrs. Honeycutt, eighty-year-old superknitter, shelters Liv, Grayson, and Henry in her dream
Muriel Honeycutt, Mrs. Honeycutt’s sister, also a great knitter, was murdered by her husband, Alfred, in 1977
Matt next door, good-looking law student, is sometimes surprised by his vivid dreams
Pascal de Gobineau, wedding planner for the rich and beautiful
Harry Triggs a.k.a. BloodySword66, role-player, aide in a home for senior citizens, unappreciated literary genius, and the new owner of a life-size battle droid robot from Star Wars: Episode I
Timothy Donnelly, first a role-playing friend of Harry, then an unemployed roofer, later on guru of a sect, even later on dead
Rasmus Wakefield, an imaginary person called after an overweight chow
And not forgetting Secrecy. Se. Cre. Cy.
In minor parts, also:
Princess Buttercup, the family dog
Spot, the Spencers’ cat
Ben Ryan, pees in umbrella stands when he thinks no one is looking
Maisie Brown, sometimes spills things, but honestly, it really was just lemonade on her dress
Mr. Vanhagen, tore Mrs. Lawrence’s heart out, figuratively speaking
Gil Walker the Stalker, writes love poems to Mia
Molly, the donkey, and Herby, the amorous crocodile; Alfred, the murderer with a flowered cushion; a blackbird; several bottles of 1972 Château Margaux; a great many feathers, tarts, cakes, quiches, some whipped cream, and of course … THE SNAKE!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I wasn’t really going to write any afterword for this third and last volume. Time is short. As I write this, the final showdown still has to be written. It’s already late May (I was really meant to deliver the manuscript in March), and no one ever reads all the acknowledgments. Just to make it more exciting, I somehow stuck a bamboo cane in my eye the day before yesterday—and in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room I had plenty of time to reconsider the afterword question. It’s really a good opportunity to say thank you. Particularly to those to whom I can’t send e-mails, cards, boxes of wine, and so on: my readers. Thank you for immersing yourselves in my books, feeling for my characters, and always wanting to know what happens next. It’s for you that I rethink every sentence fifteen times until it finally seems to be right, and there are days—there truly are—when it’s only for you that I get up at all. This book is for you.
Anyone who has read my books will know that I have a weakness for secret societies (right now I am toying with the idea of founding the Lodge of the One-Eyed Lady, if you ever happen to hear of it…), and sometimes I imagine that the people who like my books are at heart a kind of secret society, a community in which they can all laugh at the same things and exchange ins
ider remarks that no one who hasn’t read the same books will understand, such as “He’s more of a Grayson than a Henry, if you see what I mean.” (And of course the others will know just what you mean ☺.)
I’m sometimes a little sorry for those not in the society. But there we are: one of the good things about secret societies is that not everyone can belong. We’re an exclusive, elite club of dreamers, night owls, romantics, and bookworms, and I am glad, proud, and thankful that we can dream together.
Whether it’s by night in the endless labyrinth of dream corridors, virtually online at thesilvertrilogy.com, or in the next story—see you again soon!
Love from
Kerstin Gier
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerstin Gier is the author of the New York Times–bestselling Ruby Red trilogy, which has been translated into twenty-five languages. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16