by Sue Wallman
“Was Clemmie applying for the Longton scholarship too?” I asked.
Miss Sneller frowned. “After that paper was found, the scholarship wasn’t awarded this academic year.” She’d avoided my question. She asked what I knew about the man we called Kipper. Had he ever approached me to do anything?
“Like what?” I asked.
“There have been reports of him attempting to recruit Mount Norton students to sell drugs,” she said, and placed her pen down.
Was that what Kipper had meant by asking if we were interested in part-time work? Was that something else Clemmie had started to do to bring in cash while pretending she was loaded?
“While the investigation continues, the concert will be a chance for everyone to come together and reflect, a chance for Mount Norton to show that although we make mistakes we learn from them and…” She rambled on in her assembly voice. Eventually, she picked up the pile of paper and tapped the end of it on the desk to make a rap-rap-rap sound, and looked at her watch. “Was that all for now?”
“There’s something else,” I said.
“Oh?”
“It’s about Bernard. He…” I couldn’t find the right words.
Miss Sneller interlaced her hands. It felt too formal. “Fire away,” she said. “Give me your side of the story.”
“My side?”
“Bernard came to see me yesterday. It’s OK. I’m not here to judge.” She gave an impatient nod, indicating I should hurry up.
I needed to consider my words like the pebbles at Thornley harbour, the weight and colour of each one. “We kissed once, last term, but afterwards I made it clear—”
Miss Sneller sighed and interrupted. “May I suggest you keep well away from each other? If your obsessive thoughts continue, please book yourself an appointment with the school counsellor. We will do our best to support you.”
Obsessive thoughts? Had Bernard said I was obsessed with him?
Miss Sneller took off her glasses and gazed out of her window. She had one of the best views of the sea. That morning it was choppy and cold-looking. “You know, this school has a lot to deal with right now and I want you to remember your role in it.” She gazed at me. “Is that all, Miss Jordan-Ferreira?”
I nodded, my mouth dry. I understood I was being dismissed in more ways than one. I stood up. Miss Sneller was rubbing her eye as if she was tired. She wanted everything swept away. She cared about Mount Norton as an institution more than she cared about any person there.
I didn’t bother going to English. It was one of the other subjects I had with Bernard. I sat on a bench outside the performing arts block, my knees up against my chest, and watched the sea. I thought about Monro and Veronica being questioned somewhere.
At lunchtime I picked up a sandwich and went to the art room to work on my hands sculpture. Mr Hayes was talking to a technician and he jumped when he saw me. There was a panicked expression on his face.
“It’s OK if I work on my sculpture, isn’t it?” I said, walking towards the cupboard.
He reached the door before me. “No. I mean ordinarily yes, but I’ve…” His shoulders slumped and he looked stricken. “A little earlier I made the most appalling discovery. Your sculpture must have fallen off the shelf. I was going to contact you but I wanted to speak to you in person. I knew how upset you’d be…” He trailed off. He opened the door. “I’m most terribly sorry.”
“I can mend it though.” I turned it into a question. “It’s not fired yet.”
Mr Hayes said, “I’m afraid it’s completely smashed.”
With a clogged throat, I watched him switch the light on in the cupboard and I scanned the shelves for the round wooden board I’d placed it on. The paper clay was no longer covered in plastic. About fifty or sixty – maybe more – pieces lay on the board. Greyish lumps of dried-out clay. I swallowed a sob and reached for one that looked like a fingertip. Separated from the rest of its hand, it looked grotesque. I couldn’t help thinking of Clemmie’s body, smashed on the rocks, broken beyond repair. My gut rolled inside me like a churning sea and I took a deep breath.
“I put the board in the corner,” I said. “How could it have fallen?”
Mr Hayes pointed to a patch of floor. “I found it here. Perhaps someone caught it with their clothing. It’s very bad form not to have said anything. I’ll be speaking to all the art classes about this.” He stood watching me nervously while I decided my sculpture hadn’t landed on the floor accidentally. Bernard had done this.
“I’ll make some more paper clay for you,” said Mr Hayes. “I’ll have it ready for your next lesson.”
I nodded and mumbled my thanks. The cupboard was too warm and if I stayed any longer I’d be sick. I left the art room and went outside to lean against the building and breathe in fresh air. I looked at a poster in the window next to me. Concert for Clemmie. The nausea swelled. I reached into my bag for my phone. I didn’t want to be here any more. Elsie Gran wouldn’t need to be asked twice to come and pick me up.
Her phone rang and rang. There was a click as it was answered and I waited for Elsie Gran to say hello, but instead I heard, “This is Maria. Nothing to worry about, love. Your gran’s got flu and I’m over here making sure she’s getting enough fluids. What’s that, Elsie?” There was a pause. “Your gran says she hopes you’re OK and haven’t caught it. You’re OK, love, aren’t you?” Maria didn’t even wait for my response before I heard her say to Elsie Gran, “Kate says she’s fine, Elsie. She was just phoning for a chat. You were phoning for a chat, weren’t you?”
It takes me a moment, but I say, “Yes, I was only checking in.” I sent my love and said I’d phone again tomorrow, and I thanked Maria for looking after her.
“That’s what friends are for,” she said, and that’s what made me cry after I’d ended the call.
I walked out of the school grounds without permission and went back to Pankhurst, telling the Ghost, who was in the office, that I had a migraine and had to lie down or I’d vomit. She told me to leave my bedroom door open and insisted on checking me once every half hour. I asked where Calding was, and she said solemnly, “She had to take the afternoon off for personal reasons,” and wouldn’t tell me anything else.
I must have fallen asleep because when I woke the light had faded and I could hear the noise downstairs of girls coming in after the school day. I lay on my bed, pretending to be asleep when the dinner bell rang. The Furball came in with food on a tray, saying she’d been drafted in at short notice and if I was still ill tomorrow morning I’d have to go to the sick bay in the main school. If Wibbz was still here, I’d have been allowed at least a couple of days in bed before being carted away to the main school. I closed my eyes.
“It’s very busy without Ms Calding here,” said the Furball. “I have to go back downstairs.”
I didn’t respond.
I woke up in the night, still fully dressed, and ate cold Squirrel stew. Then I dozed until I was jolted awake by Meribel crashing around her room. It was five-thirty. Of course: she was leaving for Japan. I got up and went into her room. Lo was helping Meribel close an overpacked case on the bed. They both looked at me awkwardly.
“I thought you were ill,” said Meribel.
Lo looked away and went back to edging the zipper round the suitcase.
“Have a good time,” I said. It came out flat and wrong.
Meribel nodded. It was the moment when we should have hugged, but she checked the time on her phone and said, “I’ve got five minutes until my taxi’s here.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, and left her room. I sat up against the headboard on my bed, listening to the thump of the suitcase hitting the floor, and Bel and Lo murmuring to each other, and then the rapid thumps of the case being dragged down the stairs.
I sent a text to Maria saying if Elsie Gran became worse she had to let me know, and then I got up and put my dressing gown on over my school clothes, pushed my feet into sliders, and went to sit outside on th
e fire escape. I could hear the slam of a car door – the taxi probably – from the other side of the building, followed by the sound of it driving away. Perhaps I couldn’t sleep because I’d slept so much the previous afternoon. I sat on the cold metal, leaned my head against the railings, and watched the sky change from grey to gold to various shades of blue. I had no idea what time it was, but I could hear an early morning delivery van pull up and Squirrel complain loudly about something.
A low whistle came from Churchill, then another. I stood. I so wanted it to be Monro that I almost didn’t look because I couldn’t bear the disappointment if it wasn’t, but I did.
It was him, and I didn’t hesitate. I clambered down the fire escape in my clothes, sliders and dressing gown to meet him.
CHAPTER 27
He reached out to me as soon as I was in touching distance, and pulled me towards him. When our lips met, I could have sworn they fizzed, and we kissed as if we might be pulled apart any moment.
“Are they expelling you?” I asked when we eventually stopped.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m waiting to find out.”
I supposed I was in the same uncertain situation, depending on what Miss Sneller decided.
Monro took my hand and appraised my outfit with a smile, but didn’t comment. We walked to the bench and huddled as close together as we could without damaging our internal organs. He touched my calf and I said, “I’d keep away from my feet if I were you. They probably stink. I slept in these tights.”
He pretended to reel backwards but kept hold of my leg. I laughed at his reaction while wishing I hadn’t spent twenty-four hours in the same clothes.
“I wasn’t feeling good, but I’m fine now,” I said, then added, “Apart from needing a shower.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t keep up with what I was talking about, but his smile told me he didn’t care what clothes I was wearing.
“Is Veronica back too?” I asked.
His face became serious again. “She went back to her parents’ house. The police took our phones, and when I tried to call her on her home landline, nobody picked up. I don’t think she’s allowed to speak to me. The police are trying to pin Clemmie’s fall on Vee. There’s a witness saying they had an argument. It’s serious. They say even if Vee didn’t push Clemmie, she threatened her and caused the fall. Manslaughter.”
“Paige is the witness,” I said. “But … weren’t you with her? You were a witness too.”
“I’d gone on ahead,” said Monro. “I was putting her suitcase in the car. She said she wanted to speak to Clemmie on her own. Veronica said Clemmie shouldn’t be hanging out with Kipper. She’d heard things about him, not just getting kids into dealing, but being properly stalkerish.”
I nodded.
“They argued. Clemmie didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Vee’s tried hard to be good to Clemmie even though there was bad feeling between their parents over money. It wasn’t Vee’s fault. Any of it.”
“Did you see Bernard? Or Kipper?”
Monro shook his head. “That doesn’t mean they weren’t hiding there, though.” He shuddered.
I put an arm round him. “What’s the sweat pad receipt about? I swear Calding and the Ghost are looking for it.”
“I wish I knew,” said Monro. “The police took me and Vee to separate police stations.” He paused and from the way he was breathed in, I guessed he was trying to get a grip of his emotions. “See if you can get in touch with Vee. I’ll never be able to reach her. I’m not her parents’ favourite person right now. If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t have run away.”
“So why…” I took my arm away and spoke slowly because I really wanted the answer to the question but feared it at the same time. “Why did you and Veronica run away together?”
I felt Monro tense. He removed his hand from my leg and sat up straighter. “There’s no easy way to tell you this.”
“Spit it out. You’re making this weird.”
He looked at the ground. “I have a thing which Vee knows about. It’s degenerative.” He looked up at me.
“Are you deliberately trying to confuse me?”
“I have a disease which affects my muscles, and it might get worse. It might improve slightly, but not completely. Or it might stay the same. No one knows for sure.”
“Oh,” I said. I did my best not to sound shocked. “That sucks.”
He nodded. “Yep, it really does. In the summer I was told I might get to a point where I wouldn’t be allowed to drive a regular car any more. I’d need an adapted one.”
I remembered times when he’d been unsteady. He’d broken his ankle at the beach café party last year. Veronica’s concern about him standing on the stool in the beach house, his neoprene leg braces at running club.
“It’s a rare disease with a ridiculous name,” he said, “and there’s no regular pattern to it. Vee said we should just take off. Screw school. Have a driving adventure. That was what her art project was about. My hidden disease. She asked if I minded. By the time I did mind, it was too late. At least the money paid for our petrol and other things on our trip. She’s giving the rest to a research charity.”
The things we keep hidden.
I could hear Veronica suggest a driving adventure. I could see her campaigning on Monro’s behalf for the charity. And I could understand his reluctance for it to become public.
“I love my grandad’s car. I can’t get insurance on it at the moment until we know more about my condition, so I shouldn’t be driving. My parents thought it was locked away in my uncle’s garage. The whole thing makes me so angry. It used to make me nuts, proper nuts, so I guess it’s better now.” His jaw clenched. “But I don’t think I’ll ever not be angry about it.”
I felt angry for him too.
He couldn’t look me in the eye any more. “I wish I hadn’t told you.”
“Why?” I slipped my arm under his and leaned my head against his shoulder, so he wasn’t confronted by my confusion.
“Everything will change between us. You’ll feel sorry for me, like Vee does.”
I lifted my head. “You want a pity kiss?” Our lips pressed against each other with a new pressure, tender but still urgent.
“Pity kisses aren’t so bad,” he said. As his hands moved inside my dressing gown, the bell sounded loudly in Churchill.
We reluctantly pulled away from each other, getting up from the bench, and Monro said, “I need to go. I’m on a final-final warning. Walk with me to the entrance.”
I walked as far as I dared, and took off my dressing gown so I was just in school uniform and less conspicuous, but I was still a girl in the grounds of a boys’ boarding house. We kissed goodbye, and I turned and made my way back to the gate.
I showered, changed into clean uniform and, as soon as it was eight o’clock, I phoned up customer services at the online pharmacy. The female voice which answered on the third ring was efficient and cheerful.
“If I give you an address and the item ordered, please can you tell me the name of the person who ordered it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, what?”
I repeated it, glad the person at the other end couldn’t see my face. It sounded bizarre to me too.
“What’s the order number?” The cheeriness in her voice had been replaced with impatience.
“I don’t have that,” I said. “Can you just look up the address and see who ordered three packs of sweat pads?”
“I’m sorry,” said the lady, in a voice I imagined was reserved for not very bright customers. “I’m not allowed to access that information for you, I’m afraid. Anything else I can help you with today?”
“Er … no thanks. Thanks anyway.” I hung up and cringed.
School was manageable because I knew Monro was there. The morning dragged, but at last it was lunch. We sat at the end of a long table in the main dining hall, and I blocked out the sound of everyone else. I told him about my phone call to the website
, and he said, “Maybe Veronica meant some other bit of paper?” He pulled apart a bread roll. “Was there anything else on that noticeboard to do with sweating?”
I shook my head.
Monro eased a post-it note out of his trouser pocket and gave it to me. “Here. I’ve written out Vee’s parents’ landline for you. See if you can speak to her.” He dipped some of his roll into the tomato and basil soup in front of him and said, “Bring me up to speed on what I’ve missed.”
I took a deep breath and began with my surgeries. I had to.
He studied my face as I knew he would. To cover up my awkwardness, I kept talking. I told him how I’d watched Sasha be expelled and kept quiet. He looked shocked but didn’t comment. I couldn’t stop talking – I described the visit to the hospital and my fallout with Lo, the printout which outed me as a fake, and about Bernard. I looked at my hands as I described what had happened at the beach house and he swore in a low voice, pushing away his bowl so hard the soup slopped over the edge.
“I want to… You don’t want to hear what I want to do to him,” he said, and put his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Kate. I should have been there for you.”
I rubbed the smooth edge of my thumbnail with my forefinger.
“Have you reported him?”
“Yes.” I made painful eye contact with him. “It’s his word against mine.”
Monro screwed his face up as if he couldn’t believe it. “I saw him push a girl hard against a wall in the first form,” he said. “We got in a fight about it. He came off worse. Next time, you won’t recognize him.”
I placed my hand in his. “Leave it. Let’s talk about something else,” I said.
“This isn’t over,” said Monro.
“I know,” I said. Some things were never over.
After school, I walked back with Monro. We took our time, going the extra-long way by the sea, holding hands and stopping to kiss in the bus shelter. When other people showed up, we moved on.