A kind of honey-light filled the room. The whole sky was like a glowing sword taken out of a forge fire before it cools. He turned on the sofa and gazed out of the window. Below him was the courtyard that he could also see from his bedroom window. The Manor filled three sides of it, and it was open to the valley, the church and the river on the fourth.
There was a pillar in the middle of the courtyard. It was a small stone construction with a flat top–there had probably been a sundial on it once. As he watched, it began to tremble, shaken by some unseen force, as if a minor earthquake were attacking it alone.
He looked around. Nothing else seemed to be moving. This was extraordinary, he thought. What was going on? The pillar shuddered, and then began slowly to topple over, tearing a great chunk of the courtyard with it, making a clunking, creaking noise, gathering momentum, until it hit the ground with a final, crashing racket. Edward covered his ears with his hands, the noise invading the calm of the library.
He was sure that for a second, just for the moment it takes a thought to leap from one synapse to another, he saw a figure bending over it, reaching into the earth and bringing something up; but then Mr Fraser ran out of his office, and the kitchen staff came running out too, and whatever imprint he had seen on the air had gone. He was alarmed. It seemed as if the earth had opened up for a purpose, as if something had been brought out for a reason. The thought that he had seen a ghost reclaiming a lost treasure flashed across his mind. He shivered, and he felt a pleasant edge of fear.
Frightened, he heard a movement behind him, scratching and swift, and spun round: again, faster than the shutter of a camera, he saw the figure reaching out towards the shelves and putting something down. And he saw it, unmistakeably, beckon to him. He blinked, and that was enough time for whatever it was to have gone. He felt a cold terror seize him.
He moved towards the shelves where the figure had stood just a moment ago. A ghost … a figment of his imagination, surely, he thought, fighting down the horror he felt rising in his mouth. His tongue was dry, and he swallowed, two or three times.
The shelves stretched all along the sides of the library, far up the walls, higher than Edward could reach. There was a moveable ladder, with three steps and a dark-red cushioned surface, that could be used to reach the very top shelves, which he would often swing on from side to side. He knew these books extremely well. Sometimes he would imagine that the library was the only place in the school–that everything else was destroyed, and that only the books would live on, whilst the cold, harsh winds blew dust through the empty halls.
Edward headed to the shelf where the figure had bent down, so briefly. He ran his finger along it and stopped at an unfamiliar texture–a calf-bound feel, like those in the antiquarian section.
He knelt down to have a look at the book. The title was printed in gold on the spine, and there was a small heraldic crest, some kind of bird, embossed on it. He bent his head sideways to read it. It was Idylls of the King. It was a series of poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, about the Knights of the Round Table. They had been studying it in English.
Edward read out the title of the book and the syllables felt like drops of wine on his lips. He took the book off the shelf. The noise of the boys below him, filing into supper, disturbed him for a moment. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the library. He felt no compulsion to join them, even though he was hungry. Their voices were a hazy backdrop to this object, which had suddenly become the focus of his being. He took it to his favourite part of the library–the corner seat, by the window, overlooking the valley and the courtyard below–and opened it up.
It was stamped with a familiar-looking coat of arms and dated in the late nineteenth century. The pages were delicate and light, and he began to turn them over gently.
A storm was coming, but the winds were still …
The unwelcome noise of clattering feet pulled him out of a trance. Somebody must have noticed that he was not in supper, and been sent to find him. He did not want to be parted from this book. It felt as if he had always been meant to find it, just as, in an odd way, it had felt that he had always been meant to find the savaged raven.
The door swung open. It was the worst person that it could have been. Guy Lane Glover swaggered in.
‘What do you want, Glover?’ said Edward, standing up and holding the book behind his back.
‘Pollock, Pollock, weirdo Pollock!’ said Glover. ‘You’re such a fre-eak.’
‘You too, freako Glover. What do you want?’
‘You’ve been busted, loser. O’Brien saw you weren’t in supper. He told me to go and find you. He’s really hacked off.’
‘Well, now you’ve found me, so go away.’
Glover noticed the book Edward was trying to hide. ‘And what’s this? What’s the little baby reading now?’ He moved towards Edward, who clutched the book to his chest. ‘Is it the little baby’s diary?’ Glover stopped in front of him and took on a theatrical pose. ‘Oh, cruel, cruel world! It’s all too much! Nobody likes me! Everybody hates me!’ He looked at Edward, a dark slant on his face. ‘Go on, Pollock, give me your diary!’ Glover leapt at him, and grabbed the book. The two boys grappled for it, on the floor, and Edward fought with a ferocity that he had never shown before. He managed to wrench the book from Glover’s grip and, just as he was about to get up and run, Glover punched him in the stomach. Edward threw the book away before he doubled up and brought Glover down with him. But out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw something fall out of it that looked like a piece of paper. He watched it float down and settle underneath the bookshelf. And something pulled at the inside of his gut, and drew him towards where that paper had fallen.
Then Glover punched him again, and Edward punched him back.
‘Stop that! Stop it, at once!’ It was Mr Fraser. He was standing in the doorway of the library, looking faintly bemused. Edward could hear mumblings behind the headmaster. ‘Both of you, get to my office. Now!’
The two boys scrambled up.
‘Go on. And Pollock, go and pick that book up and put it back where it belongs. Go on, now!’
Glover jumped up from the floor, catching Edward with the side of his foot, and then fled out, down the stairs and through the passageway to the office. Edward looked around and saw where Idylls of the King had landed by the shelves. He picked up his satchel and put it over his shoulder, and hesitated. He wanted to find the piece of paper. The green, gold spine of Idylls was glinting in the sunlight. As he picked it up he clumsily pretended to drop it, and knocked it under the shelf.
‘Hurry up, Pollock! We haven’t got all day.’
There was a tension in Fraser’s voice which perplexed Edward. He could still hear low murmurings coming from behind the headmaster. He reached under the shelves for the book and his hand closed on something. He felt pierced by terror and a shockwave rippled up his arm. His mind filled with dark and fear.
He grabbed whatever it was and stuffed it into his satchel, his hand jerking back as if he had experienced a small electric shock, picked up Idylls, and scrabbled for the piece of paper he was sure had fallen out of it. He found it, and pulled that out too. He stuffed it into his pocket as he put Idylls back on the shelf, where he had found it.
‘That book doesn’t belong there, Pollock,’ said Fraser.
‘But sir, I found it there.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Put it back where it should be when I have finished with you. To my office, now. I am very disappointed, Pollock.’ Edward watched as Fraser turned his leathery face to the people behind him. ‘My apologies,’ he said.
Edward’s heart was beating very quickly. He walked past the headmaster and through the door. Standing behind Fraser, giving off an air of callous indifference, were the two ladies Edward had seen on the drive. Again, danger signals flashed throughout his body. He kept his head down and carried on walking. The ladies did not get out of his way.
The elegant lady seemed to be s
training underneath the surface of her calm, like a hound that has scented its kill. As Edward edged past Mrs Phipps, she turned her head slowly to look at him, and her soft, flapping skin was pulled tightly across her face as she attempted to smile. Her eyes were like balls of fire burning into him. And then he ran as fast as he could, taking the stairs two at a time. He could still feel those eyes as he fled down the spiral stairs into the headmaster’s office and closed the door behind him.
It was then that Edward noticed his bag was weighing down heavily upon his shoulder–which was strange, as there wasn’t much in it. Surely whatever he had put in it couldn’t be as heavy as that. It felt like a stone slab. He wriggled uneasily. Lane Glover was slouching in one of the easy chairs. He didn’t look at Edward, but continued to stare glassily at the floor. Edward sat down in the hard chair by the desk.
Mr Fraser came in a few minutes later. He walked slowly behind his desk and glared at the boys. They both stood up when he entered. Guy left it slightly longer than Edward.
‘Well, I would like to thank both of you,’ said Fraser, sarcastically, ‘for providing such an appropriate welcome for our important visitors.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ mumbled Edward. Guy said nothing.
‘Do you know who that was?’ Fraser said, searching Edward and Guy’s faces. ‘I don’t suppose you do.’
‘No, sir,’ the boys said, in lilting unison; Edward realised it was probably the only time that he and Lane Glover had ever agreed on anything.
‘That was one of the school’s most generous benefactors–without her family this school wouldn’t even exist. That, you wonderful little boys, was Lady Anne de la Zouche.’ Fraser announced her name with a certain amount of relish. The name chimed with something in Edward’s memory–the name on the tomb he had just seen.
‘Lady Anne is with her new … er … assistant, Mrs Phipps. Lady Anne is a school governor; and both are here on an extended visit to see what the school needs, and how best to … improve it. And for the moment, dear boys, it seems that what the school does not need, is you.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘Pollock!’ he growled, and rapped his hand on the desk. ‘Will you explain to me exactly why you were throwing school property around with such careless abandon?’ He sneered, and his yellow teeth did not seem so friendly to Edward any more. ‘May I remind you that this is not a centre for criminally delinquent children–although sometimes I may think it is. I expect this sort of thing from you, Lane Glover,’ he said, sounding sad for a minute, ‘but not from you, Pollock.’ He clenched and unclenched his fingers. Edward could see he was fumbling for a cigarette in his trouser pocket.
Edward remained silent. The weight on his shoulder was getting heavier.
‘No explanation, eh?’ said Fraser. ‘As usual. I am very disappointed in both of you.’ He started to pace up and down. Edward longed to be able to get out. His shoulder was beginning to hurt.
‘Lady Anne will have formed a very displeasing impression. Lady Anne is going to be the new Chairman of the Board of Governors,’ he said, and he pronounced every syllable of her title with great emphasis. ‘She has many … ideas.’ Here he looked a little crestfallen, and the fire at least seemed to have gone out of him. ‘You have both earned the gracious honour of a double kappa.’
‘That’s not fair! I never threw anything!’ said Glover plaintively. Edward willed him to shut up. He was only making it worse.
‘I am sure that Pollock was not throwing books around because it pleased him, or because you asked him nicely, Glover. One more kappa for impertinence.’ Mr Fraser was back to his old self now. Edward was relieved. ‘Now you’d better go up to second prep.’
He seemed to have forgotten that Edward hadn’t had any supper. Edward didn’t mind at all. The weight in his satchel was what was interesting him. As he watched Fraser speak he could not help himself from feeling the bag surreptitiously. Something moved in it, and he jumped. Fraser looked back at him.
‘Pollock, I can’t supervise you in the library, and since you can’t supervise yourself, you’d better go too. Quickly now.’
Edward stared as Lane Glover stormed out of the office, then he followed more slowly after him, out of the back entrance to Oldstone Manor and round the side. The two boys walked up to prep, Edward about ten feet behind Lane Glover.
Edward saw Glover hitting a stick against his shorts, taking a half-smoked cigarette out of his pocket which, Edward thought, he must have nicked from Fraser’s ashtray, and then swearing to himself and throwing the cigarette away.
‘Stupid!’ Edward heard him say, under his breath. He must have realised Edward was behind him, because he suddenly swung round and threw the stick at him.
Edward hurried to walk past him. His shoulder was aching again.
‘I’m not going up,’ said Glover. ‘And you know something?’
‘What, Glover?’
‘Those two women. They’re going to change things. They’re going to shake this place up a bit.’
He’s right, thought Edward. He sped on, as Lane Glover threw a stone that just missed him and hit a tree. They were going to change things. The weight on his shoulder shifted. As he turned the corner of the building, he ran straight into Mandy.
‘Watch out!’ she said, laughing.
‘Sorry …’ muttered Edward.
‘What are you running from, anyway?’
‘Oh … nothing …’ said Edward, and then a thought occurred to him. ‘Hey, Mandy, are you helping out your mother tonight?’
‘Yeah, I am. Why?’ she said.
‘Well … it’s just something I’m worried about. Two people came today … Lady Anne and Mrs Phipps. Lady Anne–she’s in charge–she’s tall, and beautiful. And Mrs Phipps … she’s the total opposite. Can you … just keep an eye on them?’
‘Sure,’ said Mandy. ‘What for?’
‘It’s a hunch.’
‘You’re mysterious, aren’t you!’ laughed Mandy. ‘Well, I’ll let you know if I see anything strange …’ She made a ghostly face, and ran off giggling.
Feeling a bit better, Edward walked on up to prep.
Mandy made her way into the kitchen. It was vast, and covered the whole of the basement floor. She wound her way through it to find her mother, who was filling up the enormous dishwasher.
‘Sorry, love, I nearly forgot. Tea, two cups, staff sitting room. Do you mind?’
‘Sure,’ said Mandy. After brewing a pot of tea, she placed two cups and the pot on a heavy silver tray, and took them out into the corridor.
She knew who the tea was for. Lady Anne de la Zouche and Mrs Phipps. Balancing the tray carefully, she came to the end of the long, stuffy passage and paused at the door, ready to knock.
But something made her put her eye to the crack of the door. Something made her wait, and listen.
Mandy saw through the fug of the the smoky, tatty staffroom that two women were seated in the two most comfortable chairs. Old sofas on which ancient cushions had been carelessly scattered filled up the rest of the room, with ashtrays placed conveniently at hand. Mandy knew that boys were strictly not allowed in, on pain of death, or worse.
Mandy guessed that the better-dressed woman with haughty brown-blonde hair was Lady Anne, and the woman with the frumpy, ill-fitting clothes was Mrs Phipps. There was something wrong about Mrs Phipps–something she couldn’t quite place, like looking at a picture that you knew should resolve into something clearer.
There were no other staff members in the room. Lady Anne held a crystal glass full of water in her hand. Mrs Phipps sat immobile, swaying slightly, like a billowing sheet.
‘The whelp must be waning,’ Mandy heard Lady Anne say. ‘I can feel it …’
Lady Anne tightened her hand around the glass. Small cracks made their way up the sides. ‘I need you to come here, Phipps,’ she said.
Mrs Phipps, to Mandy’s astonishment, glided across from her seat to Lady Anne, and kneeled in front of her. Stretching out her hands, Lady Anne placed t
hem on top of Mrs Phipps’s head. She breathed, heavily, in long, gasping breaths. Mrs Phipps seemed to shimmer, and to fade, and then, to Mandy’s amazement, her body, starting with her head, began to–and there was no other word for it–dissolve. And as Mandy watched, horrified, the body turned into a thick, treacly smoke-like substance, and Lady Anne was breathing it in.
It was all Mandy could do not to drop the tray. It slid in her hands, and she managed to stop a cup falling off. Luckily Lady Anne was too occupied to hear anything.
Then Lady Anne became rigid, and her eyes rolled back in her head, and it felt to Mandy as if she had become a monster, eyeless, faceless, and her body heaved, and heaved, and her head snapped back … and then, as horribly as before, a stream of liquid and air gushed out of Lady Anne’s mouth and re-formed into Mrs Phipps.
But if that didn’t frighten Mandy, what she said next certainly did.
‘Pollock …’
The two ladies sat, in silence, composed.
Mandy gulped, swallowed her fear and knocked sharply.
‘Tea!’ said Lady Anne brightly as she came in. ‘Thank you!’
Mandy put the tray down, terrified that at any moment they might realise she’d seen them and, as soon as she was dismissed, ran down the corridor. She had to tell Edward what she’d seen. But when? She wouldn’t be able to see him until tomorrow. Her mind humming with images, she fled back to the kitchen.
Edward was nearing the main teaching block. He could only think of Mrs Phipps’s eyes burning into him, the mysterious figure in the library, and the thing in his bag that was like the Pole dragging a compass needle ever north.
He checked in his pocket for the piece of paper, then thrust his hand into his satchel. It grazed something soft, and strange, and a jolt of terror shook through him. Involuntarily, he yelped. He let go of the object, forcing it back into his bag.
He stopped near a clump of trees, just yards from the form rooms, and dared himself to peek. OK, he said to himself. It can’t be anything that strange. What could you find in a library apart from books? He counted to himself. One … two … three … he opened the satchel and looked in.
The Other Book Page 4