by James Dawson
‘Sure. I got car today. More weird dreams?’ he replied.
‘Worse. Had a visit. Got a new clue.’ She debated putting an X but noted he hadn’t so she left it professional. The strict business of ghost hunting.
‘Cool. Same time n place,’ came his response. Still no kiss. Which was fine. JUST FINE. Bobbie threw her phone onto the bed and went to shower before the early-morning rush began.
With Exeat starting early, the school would be manic today: most girls leaving as soon as lessons finished and some getting collected even earlier. Not surprisingly, once news of Sadie’s disappearance had become common knowledge, a number of parents couldn’t get their kids out fast enough: a few girls had gone home last night. In all the chaos, Bobbie hoped sneaking out and in again might be easier today.
She locked herself in the shower room and peeled off her robe. Not even caring if Mary was in the mirror (although she couldn’t see her), Bobbie examined the phantom scratches. She grimaced. They had spread. The wounds now covered her collar bone, ribs and thighs. She was covered in sore little lines. It made no sense. All she could think was that Mary had cut herself – it wasn’t too uncommon amongst the current pupils, with some hardly bothering to hide the scars at all. Bobbie didn’t understand, but certainly didn’t judge. But in those cases, the girls seemed to cut their arms or legs and there was usually some order to it, even neatness. These marks seemed utterly random – all different sizes and locations. There was a madness to it, an insanity.
One thing seemed pretty clear to Bobbie. This was why Bloody Mary was bloody.
After she’d showered (and discovered that no amount of soap removes ghostly wounds), Bobbie changed into jeans and a flea-market woolly jumper, and slipped out of Piper’s Hall with ease, blending in with a small group of girls being collected early for Exeat. With other girls out of uniform it was about a million times easier than it had been yesterday.
The process was aided by the freezing-cold mist that invaded from the sea. It rolled across the front lawns and driveway as thick as dry ice, straight out of Jack the Ripperville. Bobbie could barely see a metre in front of her and had a sudden fear of the cliff edge creeping up on her unawares.
Caine was parked in the same spot as yesterday, next to the leaning signpost pointing to the school on one arrow, Oxsley in the opposite direction and the coastal path in the other. This time the car was a true Barbie-mobile – a pearl-colour soft-top VW Beetle. This had to be Caine’s mum’s car. Sure enough, as she stumbled into the passenger seat, she noticed a load of cuddly toys lined up in front of the rear windscreen and cushions on the back seat. ‘Nice ride,’ she smirked.
‘Do you like my Beanie Babies?’ Caine grinned back. Bobbie laughed and he immediately looked wounded. ‘I’m not kidding. They really are mine. I collect ’em.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry, I –’
‘I’m totally kidding, you muppet.’
Bobbie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Just drive, foolish young man.’
They drove deep into grey, murky countryside, taking the bends with excruciating precision as the fog refused to lift. The headlights failed to cut through it, and the trees lining the twisting roads were becoming more and more bony as they gave up the last dead leaves they clung to.
Squirming in her seat as she did so, Bobbie relayed the events of last night to Caine, who, to his credit, accepted everything she said without question. ‘Man, that’s messed up. In your bed?’
‘Yep. I may never sleep again. The closer we get, the worse it’s becoming.’
Caine took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her and they were full of concern. ‘You’re getting it worse than the rest of us.’
That hadn’t really occurred to her until that moment. ‘Yeah, I guess so. Haven’t you seen anything else?’
Caine shifted uncomfortably. ‘There is one thing … ’
‘Go on.’
‘Take a look at my phone.’ It rested on the dashboard, so Bobbie picked it up and swiped the touchscreen open. ‘Look at the pics.’
Bobbie raised an eyebrow. ‘Do I want to be doing this?’ God only knew what sort of gallery a seventeen-year-old boy’s phone contained.
‘It’s safe. Kinda.’ Bobbie did as instructed. The photo gallery started, as ever, at the most recent images.
They were all of Caine. Of Caine sleeping peacefully, face down in his pillow.
‘Who took these?’
A pause. ‘Who do you think?’
‘Oh God.’ Bobbie gulped. ‘It’s like … it’s like she wants you or something.’ Bobbie recalled how much Mary had wanted the teacher, how all-consuming it had been, and couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for Caine. It was like the dead girl was fixated on them, never letting either of them out of her sights. Spirit stalker, much? With each passing day, Mary’s power seemed to increase – becoming more intrusive, more impossible, as they counted down to the fifth day. By tomorrow, who knew how powerful she’d be. What she’d do to them.
Caine went on. ‘And I’m still dreaming. It’s like they’re getting louder in my head, you know what I mean?’
Bobbie nodded. ‘Yeah. What happens in yours?’
More shifting. Definitely uncomfortable. ‘They’re pretty X-rated, man. I can’t tell you … ’
‘Because I’m a girl? I’m not a nun, Caine.’
He blushed. ‘It’s not that, they’re just pretty hot and heavy. It’s not … it’s not what I’m like. My mum taught me how to treat women right.’
Bobbie didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t believed a word of Grace’s mark-my-territory warning, but she sort of had assumed that Caine was a ‘lad’s lad’ – a polite word for ‘slut’ that girls don’t get the benefit of. It was an absolute given that he’d have more experience than her. ‘Caine. I need to know what you’ve seen. It might help. Somehow.’
‘Okay,’ he sighed. ‘Well, I’m not me, that’s for sure – for one thing I’m white. I’m with a girl, although I can’t see her face. It’s like I’m in the dark and I get these flashes of images. I can see trees, and the moon sort of coming through them. Pale skin – like a girl’s back or her tummy or neck. It’s cold, but I’m hot and sweaty, like it’s running down my back. I’m … um … definitely naked and so is she and we’re … you know. The weirdest thing is, we’re on a stone thing. I think it’s the graveyard.’
‘Our graveyard?’ She wasn’t sure when it had become theirs, but the words left her mouth before she could halt them.
‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘Graveyard sex. Dignified and not-at-all creepy.’
Caine grinned. ‘Ha! You just said sex!’
‘Child!’ She playfully punched his bicep. ‘My dreams are edging out of PG territory too.’
‘For real?’
‘No, er … sweatiness, but in the dream, I’m Mary. I’m … she’s in love with a member of staff. A teacher, I guess.’
‘Ew, skanky.’
Bobbie allowed herself a small smile. ‘I know. At first I thought it was pretty hot, but now I’m not so sure. I mean, he was so much older than her. It freaked me out a little – he was totally taking advantage of her.’
‘What a perv.’
She sighed. ‘It’s not like he’s a dirty old man. From Mary’s point of view, it didn’t feel wrong. Right or wrong aside, it was what Mary wanted. She was into it in a major way.’
‘Wow. Pretty kinky.’ He smiled back and said no more. Bobbie became aware of a now familiar heat inside. Suddenly there seemed to be less air in the car; in fact the whole vehicle felt smaller and Bobbie was very aware of their proximity. She really wanted to touch Caine, put a hand on his thigh the way the teacher had touched her in the dream. She resisted the urge. Caine finally spoke, changing the subject and clearing the hot haze from the air. ‘According to your directions, we should be there.’
Bobbie squinted through the fog. High hedgerows towered over them on both sides, closing in around them. The car shot past a
narrow opening in the hedge through which Bobbie caught a glimpse of a cottage. ‘Stop!’ she urged. ‘I think we just went past it.’
‘Oh. Okay. I need to find somewhere to park.’ The nearest layby was about two minutes down the lane. Caine parked up and they walked the rest of the way back towards the cottage. Judy, it seemed, lived in the middle of nowhere – a remote thatched cottage on the periphery of a clump of trees. Somewhere close by a fast-flowing stream sounded like applause. It was so peaceful out here.
Bobbie pushed through a creaking wooden gate and followed the uneven flagstone path to the front door. The picturesque cottage, cute as it was, was somehow foreboding, reminding Bobbie of the gingerbread house. With a last wary look at Caine, she tapped the lion’s-head knocker. After a minute and no response, she tried again. ‘Oh God, she has to be in,’ Bobbie moaned, a new sense of hopelessness washing over her.
‘Can I help you?’ said a voice from behind them. Both she and Caine sprang back in cartoon surprise.
‘You scared me,’ Bobbie said, hand to her chest.
An elderly woman had come around the side of the cottage. Her white cotton-wool hair was swept up into a bird’s nest atop her head and she wore a wax jacket, with pink fleece-lined slippers on her feet. In her hand she held a bucket of chicken feed. ‘Is this a penny-for-the-guy thing? There’s a sign on the letter box that says I don’t want nuisance calls. Or menus for that matter – I don’t care for pizza or curry thank you very much.’
Bobbie pulled herself back together, remembering her finest Piper’s Hall manners. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you Judy Frier?’
Shrewd grey-blue eyes narrowed behind glasses even thicker than her own. ‘I haven’t been Frier for forty-five years. I’m Judy Ledger. Who’s asking?’
‘Hi. I’m Bobbie and this is Caine. I’m from Piper’s Hall.’
The old woman smiled. ‘Crikey, are they delivering the newsletter by hand now? I didn’t realise it was required reading.’
Bobbie smiled – Judy took the ‘Piper’s Legacy’ about as seriously as she did then. ‘I … we need to talk to you about something that happened a long time ago. It’s about Mary Worthington.’
At the mere mention of the name, the colour drained from Judy’s cheeks. She looked to the path underneath her feet. ‘Goodness me, it’s a long time since I heard that name. You’d better come inside.’
Through the patio doors, Bobbie could see the gaggle of chickens picking grain from the cracks in the paving. They sat at a simple wooden table in the centre of a slate floor, with low-beamed ceilings creating a dark yet cosy cottage feel. There was fresh bread in the oven as Judy carried over the teapot.
‘So are you related to Mary or something? Is she your grandmother?’
‘God no,’ Caine blurted out, helping himself to a third Hobnob.
‘I thought not.’ Judy joined them at the table. ‘I admit, I never thought I’d hear that name again – such a long time ago. So long ago it doesn’t quite feel real – like that entire period was a story someone once told me.’
Judy poured tea into Bobbie’s cup. Bobbie said, ‘I know this must sound really weird, but we need to know anything at all you can tell us about Mary.’
Pouring a cup for herself, Judy said: ‘It’s more than sixty years ago, my dear. Ooh, this tea’s a bit anaemic.’
‘I know … but anything might be helpful.’
The old woman regarded her over the top of the china cup. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
Bobbie’s stomach flipped, but she knew she couldn’t tell her the truth – they’d be out on their ears in seconds. ‘What makes you think that?’
Judy pursed her thin, lined mouth and took a sip of tea as if readying herself for confession. ‘When I was a teacher, there were always the good kids and the rogues. That’s just children for you, isn’t it? But every once in a blue moon, there was a little boy or girl who was that bit different. Something dark in their eyes – they’d look right through you and it’d chill you to the bone. They simply lacked kindness. Sometimes even their own mothers were wary of them. Mary was one such girl. There was something not quite right about her, you know? From the first time you saw her, it was quite apparent.’
‘How do you mean?’ Caine muttered.
‘I wish I could say it was this or that, but it was more of a feeling. When she was around, it was … unsettling. Gosh, how to describe it? Rather like when you find you’ve swam out too far from the shore – that sudden sensation of being out of your depth.’
Caine shrugged. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘And nor did we. But being around her was … again, unsettling.’
‘Is that why you were so mean to her?’ Bobbie didn’t know why she said it so abruptly, knowing full well it was rude, but she supposed she wanted an honest reaction.
Judy smiled sadly. ‘Nothing could excuse how cruel we were to her. Once you realise you’ve been something of a bully, you don’t ever stop feeling guilty.’
‘So why did you do it?’
She threw her hands up. ‘It’s school! I was a teacher for fifty years and the places never change. It’s survival of the fittest and all that jazz. There will always be the Susan Fletchers and Mary Worthingtons.’ Grace’s Venus flytrap smile instantly flashed into Bobbie’s head. ‘It’s curious though – do you know what happened to Susan Fletcher once we left Piper’s Hall?’
Bobbie shook her head.
‘Absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. At school she was a queen, and then … nothing. The rest of the world had plenty of pretty schoolgirls, thank you very much, and she was surplus to requirements. Once you leave that school, nothing really matters any more.’
Bobbie bit her tongue to stop herself from saying there wouldn’t be a future beyond tomorrow for her and Caine unless they stopped Mary. ‘But what happened to Mary?’
‘You tell me, dear. She vanished.’
‘Vanished? Brilliant.’ Caine scowled.
‘Oh I felt so guilty. I think even Susan did, deep down, although she never said anything.’
‘What happened?’ Bobbie held her breath.
Judy paused to mull her next sentence. ‘What you have to understand about Mary Worthington is that she arrived under a black cloud. She appeared at Piper’s Hall one day, without a word as to where she’d come from, so naturally there were questions. Rumours.’
‘What sort of rumours?’
‘Gosh, I do hope you’re planning on becoming either a detective or a journalist, young lady.’ Bobbie smiled but said nothing, willing Judy to continue. ‘There were so many it was impossible to separate fact from fiction. Some people said she was an orphan, some people said her parents were in jail – goodness, some people said she’d fled Europe in the war. Some people went so far as to say … ’ Judy trailed off.
‘Say what?’
‘Oh nonsense. Mumbo jumbo about gypsies and curses and devils. All I know is that when that girl arrived, a shadow fell over our school. It had nothing to do with what she looked like – she was very beautiful in her own way – but it was that feeling. That awful, ominous feeling that accompanied her everywhere she went.’
‘When did she vanish?’
‘It was 1954, I remember it so clearly. I don’t know if it was true, but Mary gained quite a reputation for herself. Susan took it upon herself to spread the rumour that she was sneaking into Oxsley and, well, seeing young men. Now that wasn’t especially unusual. Contrary to what you may have heard, even back then we were all partial to a spot of … bother, shall we say, but Mary was often found loitering in the churchyard at St Paul’s. It was queer.’
Bobbie remembered Sadie’s original tale. Even though it had only been last Saturday night, it felt like a lifetime ago. ‘You think she ran off with a guy?’ It hadn’t even occurred to Bobbie that Mary might have been seeing more than one person.
Judy dipped her head. ‘That was the most popular explanation.’
‘She didn’t hang he
rself?’ Caine sprayed crumbs as he spoke.
‘Hang herself? Oh goodness me, no. At least not that we ever knew about.’
Bobbie and Caine shared a glance. That poured water on the official version of events. ‘What do you think happened?’
‘Mary had such a difficult time at Piper’s Hall. I wasn’t surprised when she ran away, but I will say this: as soon as she left, things got better – like a shroud had been lifted. No one missed her, look at it that way.’
Bobbie felt tears prick her eyes. ‘She wasn’t evil, Mrs Ledger. She was just lonely.’
‘And how would you know?’
‘Because I know.’ Bobbie swallowed back a bitter mouthful of anger and pity. ‘She just needed a friend.’
Judy shook her head. ‘If you’d been there, you’d have done exactly the same as we did.’
‘I doubt that.’ Bobbie felt for her rucksack. It was time to go. ‘I don’t think Mary ran away. I think something happened to her and no one cared enough to find out what.’
Judy looked angry and then just sad. ‘We’ll never know.’
‘We will,’ Bobbie said defiantly. As she swung her bag onto her shoulder, she had one final thought. ‘Oh. When you were at Piper’s Hall, was there a teacher with short reddish hair? A man?’
Judy frowned. ‘Well, yes. That was Mr Millar. Kenton Millar.’
Bobbie eyes widened. Oh, she’d been so stupid.
Chapter 19
Immortal
Bobbie and Caine stood together in the empty main hall, with only distant footsteps and giggles for company. They’d lingered in Oxsley until after lessons finished to make sneaking back in less of an issue. Most of the remaining girls were in the Accy Area, Bobbie guessed, either waiting to be collected or bedding in for the long, extended weekend. At her side, Caine had a hood pulled over his head. ‘If anyone asks, you’re a very butch Upper, got that?’