Say Her Name

by James Dawson

  ‘Do I have a name?’

  Bobbie smiled. ‘Pretend to be Naya.’

  ‘Sure thang,’ he said in the worst American accent Bobbie had ever heard. ‘What are we looking at?’

  Bobbie pointed up at the oil painting. The hair had receded, and there was a neatly groomed ginger beard, but she was pointing at a portrait of Kenton Millar, former head teacher.

  ‘That’s the guy in the dream?’

  ‘Yep. I’m such a freaking idiot. I have looked at, slash ignored, that picture every day for the last five years and I didn’t even recognise him in my dream.’

  ‘I guess he was younger.’

  ‘Yeah, but still.’ Bobbie blushed. He had literally been under, or rather above, her nose the whole time. ‘We have a whole wing named after him.’

  ‘And you really think he was getting it on with Mary?’

  ‘I’m certain.’ Of course, they’d asked Judy if it was possible, but she’d dismissed the suggestion. Of all the rumours circulating about Mary Worthington, the possibility of a sordid affair with a teacher wasn’t one of them. Bobbie did question if her dreams were mere fantasies, but she knew they were more than that – she’d smelled Kenton Millar’s cologne.

  ‘When was he in charge?’

  ‘According to this he was Head from 1974 to 1985.’

  ‘How old did he look in your dream?’

  ‘Young. He can’t have been teaching for very long in 1954.’

  ‘Man, why do girls always fancy the teachers – even if they’re fug?’

  Bobbie turned to him. ‘I don’t. The whole thing creeps me out.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really! But I guess it’s a whole big power trip. Or daddy issues – which I don’t have. Hardly surprising given that my dad was an anonymous Hungarian dude with a plastic beaker.’

  Caine looked to her for permission to laugh, which she gave him with a smile. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t find it amusing.’

  ‘Are you kidding? If you think my dad’s funny, wait till you meet my mum!’

  That silenced them both. As Bobbie understood it, meeting the parents is a big deal. At least it would be if there was a future for either of them.

  Bobbie dragged focus back onto Mary. ‘Caine, it was wrong. He was her teacher … and she was so lonely. Vulnerable.’ Bobbie glared up at the smug ‘gaze into the future’ face Millar wore. For them there was no future to gaze into. Sighing, she pulled herself onto the stage at the furthest end of the empty hall, letting her legs dangle over the side. ‘This is useless. I don’t know why Mary wanted us to see Judy so much … we’re no closer.’

  ‘We are.’ Caine joined her on the stage, keeping his hood up. ‘We know that she didn’t kill herself.’

  ‘No, we don’t. We just know that she didn’t kill herself here … ’

  ‘It’s still something.’

  ‘We … we’re running out of time,’ Bobbie said mournfully. As ridiculous as it seemed, she’d never really noticed how much she liked being alive until this week. It was the ultimate ‘taken for granted’. ‘I really, really don’t wanna die.’

  If she was being really honest, this week was the first time she had even felt truly alive. In her attempt to blend in and go unnoticed, she saw now that she’d lived a beige existence, only coming to life through her fiction. She was a fictional girl. This week, as awful and scary as it had been, she’d felt every minute and now she didn’t want it to end. That was in no small part because of this strange new creature next to her.

  ‘Me either,’ Caine admitted, staring at his hands.

  ‘Like, I don’t know about you, but I totally took things for granted. It’s not just this week. I’ve been counting down the days at this school. I’ve been waiting for five years for this purgatory to end so I could start living, but now there isn’t going to be a life to live. I haven’t done anything, Caine. I’ve literally achieved nothing except a few grades and some stories under my bed.’

  ‘Man, that’s bleak.’

  ‘You should read the stories sometime.’

  Caine smirked. ‘If we get through tomorrow I’ll read anything you’ve got, and I never read.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘My mum is always talking this “live in the now” chat. I guess this is what she means. Don’t put stuff off that you can do today.’

  ‘Because you might be dead,’ Bobbie finished. ‘It’s a bit late to start a bucket list I suppose.’

  ‘What would you do?’

  Bobbie knew what she wanted to do, but wouldn’t even know how to go about getting it. ‘I dunno. I never thought about what I actually wanted to do. I thought there’d be infinite time to work it all out.’ It was true. The two things that Bobbie had taken for granted were that she had time and choices. As it happened, she had neither. It felt so stupid and so, so childish – she’d almost seen herself as immortal.

  ‘It’s a conundrum,’ Caine said from out of nowhere.

  ‘Steady there with the big words. What do you mean?’

  ‘If we hadn’t done the stupid dare, we’d have never met. But because of the stupid dare, we won’t find out what happens next.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s strictly a conundrum, but I see what you mean.’ Bobbie took off her glasses and rubbed a speck from the lens. ‘Anyway, what do you mean, “what happens next”?’

  Caine looked at her out of the corner of his eye, too coy to face her. It was too cute to be legal. ‘You know, if we’re a thing or not.’

  Bobbie’s heart flung itself around her chest like a gleeful Labrador puppy. ‘Would you want us to be “a thing”?’

  This time he did look her right in the eye and it was more than she could stand. ‘Yeah, I reckon I would.’

  ‘I would too.’ Bobbie couldn’t even pretend to be cool; the words came out high and light like she was a scared little girl, and wasn’t she just.

  Caine leaned in closer and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. ‘I’d better live in the now then, hadn’t I?’ They met in the middle and she closed her eyes, hoping above all else that kissing was something you could be innately good at the first time you tried it. The graveyard didn’t count – this was the real deal. No ghosts, no spells.

  They kissed.

  So this was what kissing was like. It was warm and intensely intimate. In her head it was at once both noisy and quiet – the kiss blocking out everything else.

  It was all about his lips.

  As they brushed against hers, as light and airy as feathers, she started to worry about the Frenchness of the kiss. She thought it best to follow his lead and when he parted his lips, she did the same.

  This was the best feeling she’d ever experienced. It was no small wonder all the other girls were so keen. Bobbie was briefly annoyed at herself for not giving it a go sooner before letting herself melt into Caine’s embrace, lose herself to him. She finally let herself touch him, her hand sliding under the rim of his hoodie. The skin was smooth and hot and he shuddered under her touch. She took that as a good sign.

  His lips curled into a smile. All things considered, for a first attempt, Bobbie was quite proud of her efforts. He tucked her hair behind her ear and, smiling, went in for round two. The kiss was a door into something completely new. She wasn’t sure what waited on the other side and she didn’t care. She felt a sense of graduation.

  Before they could get back into their rhythm, a familiar sound brought her back with a bump onto this astral plane. Her phone sounded harsh and horribly indelicate next to the wonder of the kiss. ‘That’s me,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘Not yet anyway.’

  Bobbie took out her phone. A local landline number was displayed. ‘Hello?’ she answered.

  ‘Oh hello, is that Bobbie? It’s Judy Ledger here.’

  Bobbie had left her number just in case. ‘Oh hi. It’s Judy,’ she told Caine.

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more helpful ea
rlier, but something else occurred to me after you’d left. It was a silly thing. Just more gossip, I’m sure.’

  Bobbie still felt flustered from the kiss, like it had turned her brain to love-mush or something. ‘Oh, okay. Like what?’

  ‘Well, a lot of the girls, when she vanished … you have to understand, Bobbie, having a baby out of wedlock back then was a very different affair to how it is now.’

  Bobbie caught up to the same page. ‘Oh … you mean that Mary was … ’

  ‘Yes. People were saying that Mary was pregnant.’

  Chapter 20

  Ever Closer

  ‘Quick – the coast’s clear.’ Bobbie hauled Caine out of the secret passage staircase and into Brontë House. Bobbie thought about how most of the Piper’s Hall Ladies were now at home, eating Mum-cooked food and sitting in front of proper fires and widescreen TVs.

  They didn’t stop until they were safely inside the dorm. Naya was waiting anxiously by the door. The second they crossed the threshold, she slammed the door shut behind them.

  ‘I can’t breathe.’ Caine was bent double, hand on his heart.

  They were greeted by a mightily unimpressed side-eye. ‘Having a sleepover with a guy,’ Naya pouted, responding to a text Bobbie had sent her earlier. ‘Gotta say, this expulsion plan of yours is right on track.’

  Bobbie brushed her off. ‘We need to stick together. I don’t know why. We just do.’

  ‘Mum’s on a night shift tonight.’ Caine told Naya the same thing he’d told her. Yes, having him sleep over was an insane risk, but it seemed a whole lot less deadly than letting him sleep in an empty house.

  Naya relented. ‘Whatever. I lifted as much food as I could from the cafeteria. The dinner lady must think I’m a hoarder or compulsive eater or something.’ She pointed to the array of wrapped sandwiches, crisps and yoghurts on the writing desk under the window. Quite the midnight feast.

  Kicking her trainers off, Bobbie flopped onto her bed, crossing her legs, Buddha style. ‘This is finally starting to make some sort of sense.’

  ‘It is?’ Naya uncurled a hoop earring while Caine propped himself against her bed on the floor.

  ‘Yeah! If Mary was pregnant that explains the baby crying in Mark’s video for one thing, but it also gives her a reason for running away.’

  Caine nodded. ‘Did they have workhouses in 1954? I bet she went to one.’

  Bobbie stroked his head, her smitten hands reluctant to be anywhere other than on Caine. ‘Wrong century, but nice try.’

  ‘Would she have been able to have an abortion back then?’ Naya asked, mirroring her stance on her own bed.

  ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Bobbie. ‘I’m guessing even if it was legal, it probably wasn’t something you chatted about over brunch with your sassy gal pals.’

  Naya suddenly shot about a foot in the air. ‘You know Dirty Dancing?’

  ‘Yes … ’ Bobbie looked to Caine, unsure of where this was going. His head rested against her calf and for now that was enough, but she estimated she’d jettisoned approximately twelve per cent of her brain functioning to lingering memories of the kiss.

  If Naya was noticing the ever-increasing closeness between them, their need to be within a millimetre of each other, she didn’t acknowledge it. Bobbie suspected she’d get the interrogation once they were alone. Whether their future held gossip sessions remained to be seen. ‘Well, in Dirty Dancing, the dancer, Penny, gets a backstreet abortion from some quack and almost dies.’

  Bobbie processed the theory and it tested well. ‘That’s not a bad idea. If she was young and scared and desperate, perhaps she would have done anything to get rid of the baby.’

  ‘But that’s not what you saw in the dream,’ Caine reminded her. ‘You said that Mary was happy when she was with Millar.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Bobbie frowned before quickly filling her room-mate in on the identity of Mary’s potential secret lover. She now understood the bliss that Mary had shared with her teacher, because she’d had her first taster during the kiss in the hall, like a child sneaking a sip of champagne at a wedding. Mary’s dreams were like an Instagram picture of the same high-def multi-colour explosion she’d just experienced first-hand. There was nothing in the dreams to make her think Mary was anything other than enamoured with Millar. But she was lonely, and perhaps if she was tired of being alone … ‘Maybe she had the baby … ’

  ‘Maybe she had the baby and DIED IN CHILDBIRTH!’ said Naya with an inappropriate level of morbid glee. ‘That was huge back then.’

  ‘My God, you are full of gruesome factettes tonight!’ Bobbie pulled a distasteful face. ‘But it’s also a good idea. It’s all connected. Mary, Millar, her baby. We’re getting close now, really, really super-close.’

  Caine huffed. He clambered to his feet and poked about in the food Naya had snaffled for them. ‘Good thing too, cos we’ve got less than a day left.’

  That dampened the mood to say the least. Bobbie turned to Naya. ‘Naya, are you sure you haven’t seen anything in your dreams?’

  Her friend shrugged, flipping metres of black hair over her head. ‘I told you, I haven’t dreamed this whole week. Nothing. Nada.’

  Caine looked at her doubtfully. ‘What? You haven’t had a dream all week? As if.’

  ‘Well … I don’t know. It’s like I am dreaming – you know how you know you’ve had a dream? But there’s nothing happening.’

  ‘Eh?’ Caine picked the salad out of a ham salad sandwich, grimacing at the abundance of mustard.

  ‘In the dream there’s nothing – just a big black blob. It’s cold though.’

  Bobbie sat up straighter. ‘That is a dream. You’re dreaming you’re in a cold, dark place somewhere.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m not moving though. Like I’m stuck.’

  Ice crept up the vertebrae of her spine. ‘Stuck? Or buried?’

  Naya shuddered. ‘I … I don’t know. I guess. I hadn’t thought of it that way … but yeah.’

  Caine swallowed a mouthful of his sandwich before discarding the rest. ‘Okay, that’s messed up.’

  ‘Oh God, I don’t wanna think about it.’ Naya hugged herself.

  Now Bobbie couldn’t think of anything else (except for that twelve per cent). What happened, Mary, she thought to herself. Is this it? Is this all you’re giving us? They’d been given five days – five days might not be enough.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Caine asked.

  ‘I don’t know. We can’t risk wandering around the school. The fact that no one’s seen you is a miracle.’ With most of the girls now away until Monday, the school was quieter than normal so Mrs Craddock would be all the more focused on the few who remained. ‘I think we should get rid of the mirror somehow.’ Bobbie motioned at the wardrobe. The thought of the cupboard door creaking open in the middle of the night …

  ‘You’re right,’ Naya agreed. ‘How do you want to do it?’

  It turned out the thing was screwed inside the door. It only took a couple of minutes to unscrew the bolts holding it in place. If Mary was in the mirror, Bobbie couldn’t see her this time, but she avoided looking right at the reflection. She and Naya took hold of the glass and carried it like a stretcher to the Accy Area while Caine hid back in their room. They were spotted by a chubby Lower, who was dismissed with an unnecessarily strong word from Naya. ‘Come on,’ Naya said, leaning the mirror up against the wall. ‘We shouldn’t leave you-know-who alone up there.’

  ‘Wait.’ Bobbie hung back. ‘There’s something I need to do.’ Checking no one was in earshot, Bobbie doubled back to the Lodge, not even turning the light on. Naya returned to their room so Caine wasn’t tempted to come looking for them. Bobbie took a deep breath and dialled her mother’s number.

  Her mum answered on the fourth ring. ‘Hello, darling, how are you?’

  ‘I’m okay. Are you busy?’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine. We’re on a break. Between you and me, darling, Jared’s being an absolute pain. He won’t do a thing unl
ess the director fools him into thinking it’s his idea.’ Bobbie smiled. Elsewhere, life went on exactly as normal. If she should die, in time, her mother would still be her mother. ‘What’s new with you?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to say sorry for being so weird when I last spoke to you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s what I’m here for! I was worried, sweetie. You so rarely ask me for things, I seriously thought about booking myself onto the red-eye.’

  Bobbie closed her eyes. She would not cry. Her last conversation with her mum would not be a tearful one. ‘Don’t do that. I’m fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? Isn’t it late for you, darling? Shouldn’t you be in bed?’ In the background, she heard someone shout ‘Five minutes!’ and the wail of an NYC ambulance. It sounded noisy, like her mum was on the street, probably with a bucket-sized latte and a cigarette.

  Bobbie hadn’t prepared a speech and sort of wished she had. Last words are supposed to be epic, moving and memorable. She had nothing. ‘Mum, I’m fine. I don’t want you to worry about me, like ever, because I’m fine. So you just have a good time and don’t even think about me.’

  ‘Are you a bit drunk, sweetie?’

  She laughed. ‘No, I’m not. I just thought I’d have a go at saying what I really think for once.’

  ‘You should. I taught you to always express yourself.’

  ‘You did. So basically, I love you.’ That was so not a British thing to do and it felt ridiculous coming out of her mouth. ‘I really do.’

  This time her mother laughed. ‘Well, I don’t know what’s come over you, Bobbie Rowe, but I like it. I love you too. More than anything in the whole wide world.’

  Oh, it could be worse, Bobbie thought. Who said a life had to be long in order for it to be considered a success. She was probably going to die tomorrow, but she did feel loved. She always had. That was an achievement. ‘Okay, Mum, I have to go.’ More or less the truth of the situation. She wouldn’t cheat her with a catch you later or speak soon. ‘Goodbye, Mum.’ Turns out, knowing it’s your last goodbye doesn’t make it any easier.

  When she’d dried her eyes (her resolve had crumbled the second she hung up) and returned to the dorm, Caine had his back to the wall on her bed, legs up with his elbows balancing on his knees. He was chatting to Naya but broke off to ask a question. ‘You think we should have smashed it?’