by Sue Wallman
“Do you have the order number? Or the date the item was ordered?”
“Oh. No. I’m afraid not.”
“Let’s see,” said the man. “Give me the address, and the item.”
I spelled out everything, aware of the noises in the house. A pipe was making a banging sound, and there was a faint scratching coming from nearby. I shuddered to think it could be a mouse or a rat. I waited.
“Right. Pankhurst House, you said? Got it.”
Boom. I scrunched up in the pause, and stayed motionless. Was the man having second thoughts about telling me?
Don’t say anything.
“Right. Just refreshing the page. Here it is … three packs of our regular sweat pads were ordered by a Ms Scarlet Mires.”
Scarlet Mires.
“Scarlet Mires, not Sasha Mires?” I queried slowly.
“Yes, Scarlet,” said the man. His voice sounded far away.
Calding’s first name was Scarlet. I grappled to understand what this meant.
“If you or Scarlet want to reorder the sweat pads, we’ve got a three-for-two offer on at the moment provided you—”
“Thank you,” I interjected weakly. “Really helpful.” I couldn’t keep up the pretence of it any more, and I hung up.
Veronica must have picked the delivery note out of the recycling bin in the hall. Maybe she thought it was an old order, and that Sasha’s real name was Scarlet. Veronica would have cut off the top of the paper to make it anonymous, and pretty much forgotten about it. Perhaps she saw Calding’s first name in the newspaper and made the connection.
At the beginning of term, Tessa had said Calding had reminded her of someone.
Calding reminded her of Sasha.
Were Calding and Sasha related?
The house made another of its creaking sounds. It sounded as if there was someone on the stairs. I looked up. There was.
Calding.
CHAPTER 30
I stood up immediately. Fear flashed through me, instant and burning.
“Hello,” she said. “That was an interesting phone call.” Her face was greyish and unhealthy-looking, and one of her eyes was bloodshot.
She was blocking the stairs, so I went backwards towards my room. She stepped up on to the third-floor landing, one hand on the bannister.
“You’re Scarlet Mires,” I said. It sounded silly, but I knew it was true when I saw her face twitch.
“Scarlet Calding Mires,” she said. “So much trouble over a delivery note which should have been shredded. One silly little slip-up.” She shook her head. “I’ve disappointed myself.” She clenched her free hand into a fist and hit her forehead with it. It shocked me. It must have hurt.
I couldn’t remember the Furball’s name for a moment. “Mrs Parwood?” I shouted, then more desperately “Mrs Parwood!”
“She won’t hear you,” hissed Calding.
There was no sound from downstairs. The implications of the empty house sunk in. I tensed my leg muscles to see if that would stop them shaking but it didn’t. I had to keep her talking. I would distract her until I could shut myself in my bedroom and phone for help. If Calding was back, soon most of Pankhurst would be too.
“Are you Sasha’s sister?” I asked. I could see it now. They did share similarities. They both had slim, athletic bodies and the same shape chins. I had a vague recollection that Sasha had a much older sister.
Calding said, “Half-sister, to be precise. You know, I used to think she was so lucky being able to come to this school. I didn’t have this opportunity. But this school is cruel. Sasha was thrown out for something she didn’t do, and nobody cared.”
Sasha must have told her family about Wibbz’s drinking. Had Calding been looking for an opportunity, a way in to get revenge?
I turned to make a dash for my room, but I’d forgotten there was so much broken stuff on the floor. I was too slow to get in and close the door before Calding reached it, and too caught up in pushing her out to see that she was after my phone.
“This needs to be confiscated,” she said, holding it up. Her foot was against the door. I wasn’t going to be able to keep her out.
I pointed to the wreckage of my room. “Did you do this?” I asked in a shaky voice, keeping my distance from her.
“I was angry,” she said. “Very angry about my sister. You know, I was never jealous when my mum married my stepdad and they had Sasha. Never. All I ever wanted was a nice family with a dad and a sister.” She stepped slowly over a mound of mutilated clothes. I moved towards the window: I’d run down the fire escape and go out of the back gate.
There was a crunching under my shoes, and I glanced down to see the remains of my Italian shot glasses.
“Sasha took her expulsion badly,” said Calding. “We tried to help her, but she spiralled. Have you ever seen anyone lose hope? It’s the worst thing. She was on medication that didn’t suit her. The dosage was all wrong. We were trying to sort it out. Nobody cared. And then she walked right into traffic.”
“I’m sorry,” I said shakily.
“I’m the one who cares the most,” said Calding. “Dad wrote letters, but what good do letters do?”
“Why did you take this job?” I whispered, even though I knew the answer.
She looked at me as if it was obvious. “To find out what happened. And I did. Clemmie told me everything that night, when she was on the edge of the cliff. She’d got away with too much. She didn’t even touch the light switch. It wasn’t fair. She needed to be punished.”
The light switch? The one that shocked Paige?
So Calding had sabotaged it. I had a vision of her efficiently unscrewing the panel in her crisp white shirt.
“It seems you had quite a role in my sister’s expulsion, didn’t you?” said Calding.
“You killed Clemmie,” I murmured. I couldn’t control my breathing. It was making me dizzy. “You pushed her.”
Calding nodded. “Lo kindly sent Sasha a text about your beach party. You less kindly told her not to come. I was going to shut it down, until I saw Clemmie on the path. I caught her by surprise as she was trying to take a photo. Such a vain girl – like you. And so selfish.”
She bent to pick up something and the object in her hand glinted in the afternoon sunlight. A piece of glass. Her eyes were entirely focused on me now, and I turned to fumble with the window to the fire escape. It opened with a shudder and I stepped out. She grabbed my leg and I fell on to the metal. I had to get up. If I didn’t get up…
“You’re a fake, Miss Jordan-Ferreira,” she said. “And you need to be punished too for what you did to my sister.”
The image of the printout on Veronica’s artwork flashed into my mind. It was her who’d put it up there. She must have attached the printout of the hospital too. Was she behind the smashed sculpture and the graffiti as well?
“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “You’ve already done enough,” I pleaded, as I pulled away.
Her grip on my leg tightened, and her hand came near my face. It was bleeding from the glass. She hadn’t noticed. She was too intent on reaching for me, almost rigid with determination. She was going to cut my face. I kicked out with my other leg and propelled myself along the metal fire escape platform, out of reach. My body was floppy with relief for an instant, but I had to move. Calding was climbing through the window.
I clattered down the fire escape. Through the haze of panic, I was aware of my own screams. I saw someone walking down the lane behind Pankhurst, and I screamed louder. They’d call the police. Soon there would be sirens. The man showed no sign of having heard me though – he carried on walking at the same pace. As I gave him a last yell, I saw he was wearing headphones.
There had to be someone in Churchill. Someone would hear me, but perhaps the housemaster I’d seen earlier had been the only person left and he was taking Monro to the police station.
If I ran to the gate I’d lose vital seconds inputting the code. Calding was behind me, not even out of br
eath. It was safer to run back into the house and out of the front door. I’d scream at the Furball to call the police.
I burst through the back door and the house vibrated with my voice. As I raced down the hallway to the junior common room, I pushed the door so hard it hit the wall with a bang, and bounced back, almost knocking me out.
What? In a split second I could see the room was empty. The Furball had gone. The screwed-up pieces of kitchen towel and the mug of Lemsip were no longer there. I was dimly aware the makeover show had got to the reveal stage.
“I sent Mrs Parwood home,” said Calding, immediately behind me. She shoved me into the junior common room. The intensity of her eyes was chilling. “She wasn’t well.”
“Where’s everyone else?” I wished I hadn’t asked out loud.
“They won’t be back for ages,” said Calding.
I thought of Zeta, wanting to slip away from the tea. She’d be back any minute.
“Everyone had to return to their last lesson of the day after the tea. Did you miss that announcement because you’d sneaked out with your boyfriend? We’ve got plenty of time before we’re disturbed. I’ve only got a few things I need to do before I leave here for good. Boarding school life isn’t for me.” She advanced with her piece of glass.
I looked around wildly for something to protect myself with. All I could reach was a cushion. Calding was backing me into the corner of the room. I knew the windows would be locked. They didn’t open this end because they faced on to the road. I was going to be sliced with that piece of glass in Calding’s hand. I gagged at the memory of Clemmie’s body on the rocks, the blood still leaving it.
The sound of the front door opening surprised us both. Zeta!
Calding was quicker to react than me. She lunged at me, grabbed the cushion, and held it against my face. I struggled to breathe. Panic flooded my veins.
“In here,” shouted Calding. “The junior common room.” She released the cushion slightly and held the glass against my throat. As it touched my skin, I froze. “Keep quiet,” she whispered.
The footsteps came nearer, sure and certain on the polished tiled floor. The presenter on the TV programme was saying goodbye. I held my breath. If I breathed in too far, would that exert too much pressure against the glass? Calding had her eyes on the door.
It swung open. “Ms Calding, I was told you wanted to see m—” It wasn’t Zeta. It was Lo. She stepped back, her face rigid with the shock of seeing Calding’s bloody hands at my throat.
Our eyes met. I saw the horror of my situation reflected in them.
“Ah, perfect. Hand over your phone,” said Calding. “Or I slice Kate’s throat.”
With trembling hands, Lo swung her backpack round and unzipped the front pocket for her phone.
“Hurry up,” snapped Calding. She moved the glass away from my neck but kept a tight hold of my arm. “Put it on the mantelpiece where I can see it.”
Lo did as she was told. “What’s going on?” she croaked.
“As your friend here – ex-friend – recently discovered, I’m Sasha’s half-sister,” said Calding.
Lo swallowed and exchanged a horrified look with me.
“I’m so glad you could join us, Lois. You knew my sister the best and still you took everyone else’s side. You didn’t believe that she might be innocent, did you?”
Lo swallowed. She was choosing her words carefully. “Not straightaway. I’m really sorry. We went to the hospital to hand her a card.”
I was grateful Lo included me in the last sentence.
Calding snapped, “I know. Too little too late.”
Lo suddenly ran at Calding, going for her hand with the piece of glass. Calding dropped the glass, but swung her arm back and punched Lo in the head. The single blow felled her. I screamed and shot across the room for the phone on the mantelpiece. Holding it was the last thing I remembered before everything went black.
The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the insistent siren-like noise, which seemed to pulse in time with my aching head. Next, I became aware of the smell. Smoke. I felt strangely calm until I turned my head and saw flames leaping above the grey-black smoke pouring off the curtains and the sofa. I sat up and coughed.
“Lo?” She was lying exactly how she’d fallen when Calding hit her. There was no reply.
The room was becoming darker from the smoke. We didn’t have long to get out of here. I’d watched a video once about staying low to the ground to avoid smoke. The door to the junior common room was closed. I crawled over to try the handle. The metal burned my hands. I pulled my school jumper over one hand and tried again. It was locked.
We were trapped. I couldn’t breathe.
The tears on my cheeks were too hot. In a minute, I was going to choke. I would drown in this smoke. I couldn’t see further than a metre or so in front of me.
The windows were old. They were locked, but old. They’d smash. Please God, they’d smash. But I needed to find Lo first.
I felt the ground in front of me. The rug was already hot. The fireplace wasn’t ever used but there were fireside tools in a revolving set. They might be too hot to touch by now, but I was near the fireplace. I could feel the stone hearth. There. I had a poker in my hand, and it hurt so much to hold it. I smashed it against the fireplace to wake Lo up. And again. I hit the fireplace with all my strength until I realized how stupid I was to sap my strength like that.
I crawled forward, fumbling for Lo’s body. I must have been disorientated, heading round in circles, and then I felt her soft, motionless body.
I dragged her past the armchair and the coffee table. I kept squeezing her arm, hoping she’d wake. Eventually, we reached the end of the room and I felt my way up to the window. I lifted the neck of my jumper over my nose to help me breathe. I was suffocating. I coughed so much I was sick. I wasn’t sure where my sick had landed but I could smell it mixed in with the smoke. My eyes and nose streamed. The smoke alarm seemed more distant now.
I had to be sure I was ready to strike the window because standing up would be unbearable for too long. Gripping the poker, I counted down in my head.
I slammed the poker against the glass. The noise was hopeful but the glass didn’t budge, even when I shoved my shoulder against it. I ducked down to breathe. I let my head flop back. This was futile. I dropped the poker and lay down, feeling for Lo’s hand. I squeezed it. She’d been such a good friend in this place, and I’d let her down, just as much as I’d let Sasha down.
Coughing. I couldn’t stop.
I was Kate Lynette Jordan-Ferreira.
I was fearless.
I would do this.
I would die doing this.
Grab that heavy poker. Rise up. Kneel. Cough. On my feet. Cough. Hit the glass. Crack. Crack. Crack. The smoke appeared to move like a snake through the small opening.
Crack. Crack. Voices. Someone yelled, “There are girls in here.”
Everything shattered. It was raining glass, and I lay down to shield Lo, and I gulped and coughed and retched. I could do this. I lifted Lo, flopped her against my shoulder, and heaved her up. I knew what a fireman’s lift was. I knew more useful stuff than I thought I did. Strong hands helped me get Lo through the window, and then it was my turn. I climbed out, and someone clapped my shoulder, and blackness from my clothes, skin and hair puffed into the air, and it still hurt to breathe, and I was about to be sick again, but I could smell the sea, and I heard someone say, “Tell Monro she’s safe.”
THE BEACH
Monro and I walk along the beach together. It’s sunset, and we aren’t going to get back to our boarding houses before curfew. We might end up grounded for a few days, but it’ll be worth it. It’s a special evening: the sky’s bright pink and purple, the air is warm, the beach is empty, and it’s my birthday.
Pankhurst was refurbished, but I haven’t gone inside the building again. After I was discharged from hospital, I returned to Elsie Gran’s. My parents flew over to see me for
a couple of days and there were discussions about which school I was going to when I was well enough.
I finally got my own way: I’m back at Mount Norton, but I’m at a different boarding-house.
I’ll finish out the year and do my exams. Changing schools in the fifth form wasn’t going to do anything for my grades. Ms Calding ruined so much, and I’m not going to let her set back my future. I realized I’m competitive. I like to do well.
For sixth form, I’m going to a college local to Elsie Gran. I’ve looked round it and it’s going to suit me fine. I already know Josie, and she says I can hang with her and her crew.
Lo never came back at all. She couldn’t face it. She was given a scholarship transfer to another school. Meribel dropped out to do more modelling, and is allegedly being home schooled. I’m in touch with both of them, and I miss them.
I have a room next door to Zeta in my new boarding house. She moved over after the fire. I’m getting to know her, and she’s not quite as feeble as I thought she was, but that freaky hamster cushion is not allowed anywhere near me.
There’s currently no House Prefect at Pankhurst, but a new one will be appointed next term. I heard there’ll be a proper vote.
I haven’t seen Veronica since the beach house party. Monro says she goes to a day school near where they both live, and when I visit his family in the summer, we can meet up. The summer is still a way away, and I like that he thinks we’ll still be together then.
People talk about what happened with Calding from time to time. They say they knew there was something psychopathic about her all along, and I think, “Sure. It’s easy to say that now.” There’s a trial coming up, and Lo and I have to be there. It won’t be pleasant, but I’ve learned it’s better if you face up to stuff.
Sasha is in the process of recovering. One day soon, Lo and I are going to visit her. We want to see her before the trial starts. I want to apologize in person.
Kipper’s disappeared. The café was closed down for a bit until a couple took over. They do organic fruit smoothies and vegan all-day breakfasts now. Parents have started going there, which is annoying.