by James Dawson
‘Try searching for more missing girls,’ Naya suggested. Bobbie did so and there was only one positive result – another Piper’s Hall girl some eight years before Abigail and Taylor. Same story – another girl who seemed to drop off the face of the earth. Naya puffed her cheeks out. ‘I bet there are more – from before everything was online. Why don’t we all know about this? My mom might have sent me to a different school … ’
‘Who’d believe it?’ Bobbie’s eyes were wide. ‘Bloody Mary is a ghost story. Hundreds of kids must do it every day … only the ones who do it here vanish in a puff of smoke. And do you know what the really funny thing is? We can’t say we weren’t warned! Sadie told us exactly what was going to happen.’
‘Bobbie. We’re going to disappear aren’t we? Something’s going to come for us.’
Bobbie wanted to say, Yes, it looks pretty likely, but she couldn’t – she couldn’t say it to Naya and she couldn’t admit it aloud. It felt like quitting. ‘No. We still have three and a half days. We can … stop her somehow.’
‘How?’
‘I … I don’t know. I’ll think of something. I’m sure we’ve been given five days for a reason. In my dream … I … she didn’t feel evil. She mainly felt sad.’
‘Maybe if we spoke to Sadie’s sister or something … ’
The final search on the first Google page caught Bobbie’s eye. ‘We might not have to. Look.’
Haunted Piper’s Hall. The TRUTH about Abi and Taylor.
Bobbie clicked on the link at once. It was a pretty basic online journal. In the pursuit of a single-minded obsession, no creativity or thought had been taken with the layout of the blog. Every post was about Bloody Mary. The most recent post, at the top of the page, was little more than stream of consciousness.
The more I say the less people believeme I don’t know why I bother or howmany timesi can say it … what they don’t undersatdn is that she is in my head. She is watching me too.
The blog’s author was one Bridget Horne, according to the banner at the top of the page. Even the most recent post was almost ten years old. Bobbie scrolled down. The older the posts got, the more cohesive and sane they seemed. Naya stopped her. ‘Look at that one.’
I told the police everything I knew. I told them about the dare. I told them about BM. I’m sure you can guess what their reaction was. I don’t know what else I can do except warn people. Never, ever say her name.
‘A bit late for that, isn’t it?’ Bobbie tugged her hair off her face. ‘Wait! If this Bridget was a Piper’s Hall girl … ’ Bobbie switched tabs back to the Piper’s Hall alumni pages. Sure enough there was a Bridget Horne on the list. One click and it brought up her contact details. ‘Ta-da!’
‘You think the contacts are kept up to date?’
‘They should be – they send out a newsletter and invites to the yearly luncheon and stuff. You know the motto … ’
‘A lasting, lifelong sisterhood.’ Naya did a pretty good impression of Dr Price.
‘It’s worth a go.’
They went to lunch as normal, aware they’d missed the entire morning session. Bobbie couldn’t bring herself to swallow even the smallest amount of food. The one mouthful of soggy pasta bolognese she attempted turned to cardboard on her tongue, requiring a gulp of water to force it down. She was like a dog with a rag. Her foot tapped impatiently under the long dining bench, waiting for the bell for the afternoon session to sound so she could continue with her mission.
This afternoon she had a proper free period, but Naya once more had to cut class. It was getting a little risky.
There were so many rules at Piper’s Hall, and she had obeyed them without question for so long that Bobbie often forgot how ludicrous they were. Right now, the fact they were only allowed to use mobile phones from 7 to 10 p.m., and only then in their dorms, seemed especially insane. But this was the institution that had special paths and corridors for Uppers and a blanket ban on black socks. Another rule was that girls weren’t allowed into the dorms between lessons or during study sessions, the (accurate) thinking being that girls would use their frees to sleep.
As the bell rang out and everyone else made their way to period four, Bobbie and Naya had to go to the Lodge to use the phone. ‘Do you think anyone saw us?’ Naya asked.
‘I don’t think so. But maybe you should go to Drama just to be on the safe side?’
‘Are you crazy? I’m not missing this to listen to Ms Flemming bang on about the freaking Stanislavski System.’
Bobbie chuckled and checked the coast was clear. God only knew where Mrs Craddock was – she was off duty until five. Somewhere down the hall a hoover purred as the cleaners went through the bedrooms. Activity surrounding Sadie’s room in Christie House seemed to have died down, although the police cars on the front drive suggested the officers hadn’t left yet. With any luck, their presence would keep teachers out of their way.
Taking the crumpled piece of scrap paper out of her blazer pocket, Bobbie started to dial the number last listed for Bridget Horne.
‘Do you want me to do it?’
‘No, it’s okay.’ Bobbie listened to the phone ring.
‘Maybe they’re all out – it is the middle of the day.’
‘Or maybe it’s totally the wrong num—’
On the sixth ring, someone answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Oh, hi. Is that Bridget?’
‘No. Who is this?’
Bobbie had a name ready off the alumni list. ‘This is Clarissa True. I was in Bridget’s year at school.’
The voice on the other end was tentative, nervy. ‘Oh. Well, dear, this is her mother.’
‘Is Bridget there?’ Bobbie knew that over ten years after graduating from Piper’s Hall, it was highly unlikely Bridget still lived at home, but she hoped they might get her new number.
‘Did you say your name was Clarissa?’
It felt like there were bubbles in her heart. ‘Yes.’
‘Did we ever meet, dear?’
‘I think we did.’ Bobbie reached into the dark. ‘At that show … ’
‘And you knew Bridget well?’
She didn’t like the past tense one bit. ‘We were close at school, but y’know, we sort of just lost touch … after what happened.’ It seemed like a safe bet that an unexplained double disappearance had sent ripples through the year group.
There was a pause at the other end of the line. ‘I see. Well, thank you so much for getting in touch. I shall be sure to tell Bridget that you rang.’
Bobbie scrabbled to keep her on the phone. ‘Isn’t there a way that I could speak to her myself?’
‘At the hospital?’
‘Yes.’ Bobbie’s blagging skills were being tested to the limits. ‘Don’t they have like a time when I could ring?’
There came another pause: a barely audible, sad sigh. Although her tone was as full of forced cheer as yellow paint, Bridget’s mother sounded tired. ‘That’s sweet of you, but Bridget doesn’t really say much any more. Least of all on the phone.’
Bobbie looked to Naya, who just shrugged. ‘Erm … what was the name of the hospital again? I’ll send a letter.’
‘Oh that would be nice – I think she’d really appreciate that. There haven’t been too many letters or phone calls since she went into care full-time. It’s the Psychiatric Care Unit at the Royal Seahaven Hospital.’
Bobbie took care to keep the victory out of her voice. ‘Thank you, Mrs Horne, I shall send a card later today.’
‘Thank you, Clarissa. You take care now.’
She ended the phone call and looked to Naya. ‘This just keeps getting more and more messed up. Bridget is on a mental ward in Seahaven.’
‘No way. That’s just past Oxsley.’
Bobbie nodded. ‘I know. I think we need to pay –’
She was halted in her tracks. A silhouette loomed tall in the frosted-glass door panel. The door creaked open, Dr Price’s slender frame somehow filling the space. Bobbie’s heart plu
mmeted in her chest and shot into her throat simultaneously.
The Principal’s eyes narrowed, glaring daggers at them. ‘And just what do you think you two are doing?’
Chapter 9
Cracking Up
‘Well?’ Dr Price’s cool tone was betrayed by the anger in her eyes.
Bobbie tried to speak, but her heart still blocked her windpipe and only a strangled gasp emerged. Naya wrapped her arm around Bobbie. ‘Bobbie was really freaked out about Sadie. I thought it might make her feel better if she rang her mom.’
‘Oh for crying out loud, Miss Sanchez. I would expect better from Lowers, never mind Uppers. Furthermore, Mr Carlos informs me that you left Spanish this morning, apparently at my say so?’
Bobbie decided to try something radical – the truth. ‘I’m really sorry, Dr Price. I was freaking out about Sadie. It’s my fault. I asked Naya to sit out Drama because I had a study session.’ She made her eyes go as wide as they possibly would.
It worked a charm. ‘I have to say, Roberta, this is most unlike you. In six years you’ve never been a moment’s trouble, and this is the second time in two days I find you in the wrong place.’
More Rowe doe eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I … I just … I’m really worried about Sadie.’
Dr Price pursed her lips. ‘We all are, which is why I need the Uppers to set an example to the younger girls.’
Bobbie nodded solemnly, feeling a little guilty. Then Naya asked a question and Bobbie swore the floor tipped like the world had been punched off its axis. ‘Was this what happened when those girls vanished thirteen years ago?’
Boom. Dr Price actually flinched. Even the robot-headmistress-with-no-soul reacted to that bombshell. Her jaw clenched and her eyes flickered with what could easily be panic before she regained control and replied. ‘How do you know about that? That was a very long time ago.’
‘Everyone knows,’ Naya said casually, like it was no big deal.
‘I very much doubt that’s the case.’ Her voice became ever so slightly shrill before she cooled herself. Bobbie could tell she was trying to downplay the past. But why? For the first time Bobbie questioned if the event had been somehow covered up. ‘Do I really have to explain the effects a bit of gossip and hysteria could have on the school at this time, Naya?’
Bobbie felt her cheeks blaze, ashamed. Her primary-school need to please the teacher had never faded.
‘Now you both listen to me, and listen carefully. Those girls both vanished miles and miles away from Piper’s Hall. Clearly what happened, although most upsetting, had nothing to do with the school. Is that clear? I want no further mention of this or you’ll both be in isolation.’
Neither girl argued. Bobbie dared not even look into her eyes for fear of turning to stone. In six years at Piper’s, Bobbie had only ever known one girl be placed in the Isolation Room – a girl who tried to hurt another girl with a knife in a dining-room brawl. Dr Price was deadly serious if she was even threatening it.
‘Bobbie. If you want to call your mother you have five minutes. I’ll be waiting outside the door. Naya, I want you in class immediately with a written apology to your teacher for your poor punctuality. Go!’
Naya said nothing, slinking past the Principal, her head heavy with shame. Bobbie picked up the phone and dialled her mother’s number – with Price lurking outside she’d have to call her now. Bobbie calculated it was about eight in the morning in New York; hopefully her mum wouldn’t be at rehearsals yet. She answered on the second ring and Bobbie greeted her. ‘Bobbie, darling!’ Her mum sounded husky, like she’d just woken up.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Oh, darling, you sound dreadful – whatever’s the matter?’
‘Did I wake you up?’
‘Yes, but that’s all right. There was this ridiculous party last night, sweetie – you would have died. Rooftop swimming pool at Soho House. Private party for Jared’s fortieth. Utter decadence like you wouldn’t believe!’
Bobbie tasted tears at the back of her throat. She didn’t even know why – something to do with the familiarity of her mum’s voice. She could see her now – the bird’s nest of expertly bleached hair on the pillow. Last night’s lashes still attached to panda eyes.
The idea that time was running out caught up with her, a fantasy hourglass hovered over her head, sand pouring through at an alarming rate. What if she never saw her mum again? ‘Mum, can you fly home?’ The words popped out before she could stop them.
‘What?’
‘There’s something really weird going on. I can’t explain it.’
‘Don’t scare Mummy, darling. What’s going on? Are you in trouble? Is it drugs? It’s drugs, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have been so liberal, should I?’
‘No. No. God, no, it isn’t drugs.’ Bobbie took her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing back the threat of tears. She could feel herself regressing, becoming the little girl who just needed her mummy. ‘Mum, I’m scared.’
There was a pause. ‘Darling, is someone giving you a hard time? Tell me who it is and I’ll have Dr Price expel them. It’s very simple. That’s your problem, sweetie, you’re too nice. You trust people and they completely take advantage. What have I always taught you … ’
‘Please, Mum. I just really miss you. I wanna see you.’
‘Bobbie, if you won’t tell me what’s wrong, there’s nothing I can do, is there?’
Bobbie closed her eyes. Her head felt like it was full of noisy, jagged images and ideas rattling around like broken glass and nails. She felt powerless, useless. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Of course I do, darling. We all get homesick. I miss home all the time – what I wouldn’t give for a bit of proper bacon right now. The Christmas holidays will come around before you know it.’
The first tear found its way out. A fat, warm thing, it dribbled down the inside of her nose and dripped off her nostril onto the phone stand. She couldn’t tell her mum that there was nothing beyond the next four days. There would be no Christmas – she wouldn’t even make it to Bonfire Night. ‘Mum, please … ’
‘Come on, Bobbie. You have less than two years left at school. I think you can cope. Mummy needs to be in New York at the moment. I thought you understood that.’
Wiping the tear away, Bobbie nodded. ‘I know.’ She pulled herself together, knowing she would never convince her to fly over and, from the fate of Taylor and Abigail, that her escaping to New York wasn’t going to work either. Bloody Mary would find her however far she ran. Deep breaths. As tempting as ‘little girl mode’ was, she’d have to dig deep for ‘strong like she-wolf’. This was just a wobble – she could do this, she had to. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been a hard couple of days.’
‘This isn’t like you, darling.’
‘I know.’ Bobbie closed her eyes and imagined borrowing strength from her resilient mother through the telephone cables. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Are you sure? Do you need money?’
If only it were that simple. ‘No. I’m okay. Just ignore me.’
‘Okay, sweetheart. I need to dash. I have a shiatsu massage at ten with Chloë Sevigny. I’ll leave my phone on though … If you need me, just give me a call.’
Bobbie pulled her knees under her chin, feeling flaccid. ‘Sure. I’d better get to class.’
‘Kisses, sweetie!’
‘Bye, Mum.’ She hung up the phone.
Bobbie attended Philosophy for the rest of the afternoon and then had to lip-synch through choir practice too. Her mind couldn’t focus for a second; it was hard to concentrate with an enormous, noisy, ticking clock clicking out the seconds. For the first time in her life, every minute counted and she keenly felt she was wasting them.
She went to supper with Naya, but could only face a tragic bowl of vegetable soup. Solids were a no-no. Naya looked similarly unimpressed, poking some sort of gelatinous stew around her plate. ‘Do you think there’s carbs in this?’
‘It seems likely,’
Bobbie replied listlessly.
She stuck her tongue out. ‘Man, I feel gross. Even the smell of it makes me wanna hurl.’
Bobbie knew how she felt. The mood around Piper’s Hall was even more sober than normal. The clocks had gone back the week before so night had fallen just before five and the evening mist seemed to curl in off the sea even sooner. The outdoor areas were dank, cold and cloaked in an impenetrable fog.
The atmosphere inside the dining hall was no better. With Sadie still missing, and all the scandalous gossip fried off, all that was left was worry and genuine concern – both for the missing girl and at the lingering notion that all was not well with their school. Piper’s Hall was always depressing, but now it also felt unsafe.
The girls ate in a respectful quiet, with solemn whispers into friends’ ears rather than shrieks and whoops at the end of a day of lessons. Dr Price watched over them from the head table, which was within Bobbie’s earshot. After the main sitting, Grace and Caitlin approached the Head.
‘Dr Price?’ Grace said, her voice newsreader serious. ‘Me and a few of the Ladies –’ by that she meant The Elites –‘would like to organise a search party for Sadie. Or perhaps record a YouTube appeal?’
Uh, you two-faced harpy, thought Bobbie. Anything to win favour. ‘That’s so thoughtful, Grace,’ Price replied. ‘But I rather think the police have everything in hand.’
‘Okay, let us know if you need any helpers.’ Grace and Caitlin almost bowed away from the table. Bobbie surreptitiously rolled her eyes.
Another brilliant Piper’s rule – no Wi-Fi in dorms – meant that at the first opportunity, Bobbie had to rely on faltering smartphone reception on her mobile once dinner was done and they were back upstairs. Eventually she successfully Googled the Royal Seahaven. Naya sat on her bed, nail-filing manically, even twitchier than usual.
‘Got it,’ Bobbie declared.
‘What?’
‘Visiting hours for Seahaven. Tomorrow, ten till twelve or two to four.’
‘You’re really gonna do it?’