by Sharon Jones
‘You really have done your homework.’
‘Wikipedia is a great resource.’
‘Not always accurate, though.’
‘What did I get wrong?’
The Master chuckled. ‘As I said, I can’t speak for the Apostles. But I will tell you that I’ve spoken to a representative of the society to express my concern.’
‘Current, or former member?’
‘Former. He’s a contact between the college and police. An emissary, you might say.’
‘You mean a…messenger?’ Poppy asked.
Michael turned to look at her properly. He had no idea where she was going with this, but he was dying to know, and the excitement in her eyes told him she had something up her sleeve.
‘Isn’t that what angels are in the Bible? Divine messengers.’ Poppy was watching the man like a hawk.
The Master was positively grinning now, and Michael got the feeling he was missing a whole chunk of what was going on.
‘That’s precisely what they are.’
‘Funny thing to call a Chief Constable. I bet he doesn’t appreciate being your messenger boy.’
The Master stopped smiling and his jaw dropped open. He stared at Poppy like she was some kind of freak. ‘How do you know that?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘People say things. I listen. It really wasn’t that hard to work out. In fact, for a society supposedly made up of the brightest and the best Cambridge has to offer, you’re all pretty crap at keeping secrets.’
At that moment there was a knock on the door, and in came two waiters in uniforms bearing silver trays of finger sandwiches and cakes.
The Master rapidly changed the subject and began talking about his last visit to see Poppy’s grandparents, but Michael got the feeling that he wanted them gone as quickly as possible.
After a very rushed afternoon tea, at which Michael and Poppy ate barely a thing, the Master herded them out of the study and towards the door.
The Master held it open, but stopped in the doorway, blocking their way.
‘Poppy, I hope you’ll be sensible about who you talk to about the Apostles.’ His face held a threat, even if his voice remained even. Michael rested a hand on her back, half warning, half supporting; but she didn’t break eye contact with the man.
‘There are staff and more than a couple of students who feel that membership of the society was their birthright and yet failed to meet the mark. The last time someone tried to leak the names of the Apostles things got very messy. I hope, for your father’s sake, you’ll keep out of whatever’s going on.’
Michael groaned. He looked at the older man in disbelief. The Master clearly had no idea what he’d just done. Now Poppy would never stop digging.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘I wonder what he meant about things getting messy the last time someone tried to out the Apostles,’ Poppy thought aloud as they walked back through Great Court towards the Dean’s study. ‘Who would know about something like that?’
‘I’ve no idea. But I’m not sure we should try to find out. The Master’s an important guy around here, Poppy; you could get your dad into serious trouble.’
‘Trouble? I’d think being suspected of murder pretty much covers that.’ Poppy glanced at Michael.
He nodded. ‘Why don’t we wait for your dad to get back from the police station and talk to him?’
‘He could be hours. And there’s no guarantee that the Master’s solicitor will be able to get him out of there.’
‘And there’s absolutely no guarantee that you will succeed where the police seem to be failing.’
Poppy stopped walking. He seriously expected her to stay out of this – even with Dad being accused of murder?
Michael didn’t seem to notice she’d stopped. He just kept on going. ‘Is the Chief Constable really an Angel? How the hell did you work that out?’ When she didn’t reply he spun around, looking for her.
Poppy’s pocket started ringing. She grabbed her phone hoping it was Dad, but the screen said Home Calling. She took a deep breath and accepted the call.
‘Poppy, is that you?’ Mum said.
‘Mum, you called my phone, just who did you think it would be?’
‘What’s going on? I can’t get hold of your dad.’
‘Umm…’ If she said Dad was at the police station, possibly being charged with murder, all hell would break loose. ‘He’s busy.’
‘What’s going on with you?’
‘I’m fine. Really,’ she said, giving Michael the serious look meant for Mum. He shook his head, flipped up the collar of his jacket and kicked at a pile of snow.
‘Michael said that you took part in a séance. And that you…had some kind of episode.’
Some kind of episode? She narrowed her eyes at him. He didn’t even blink.
‘Mum, it was a crazy thing to do. This girl, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. But I’m fine. It just freaked me out a bit. You know I don’t like that kind of thing, right?’
‘That’s why I was so surprised. Pops, Dad told me how upset you got last night. I’m really worried about you, sweetheart. You don’t sound yourself.’
‘I’m fine. Dad and Michael are freaking out over nothing.’
‘OK, but me and Jonathan are going to drive down there and pick you guys up.’
‘No!’
‘This isn’t something we’re going to discuss.’
‘Like hell it isn’t! Meg, I’m totally fine. We have return tickets and we know how to use them. It’ll be loads quicker than you driving. Trust me. If there was something wrong with me I’d tell you. I just got a bit stressed – seeing Dad and stuff.’ It was pretty low, but at this point she wasn’t above playing on Mum’s lingering guilt about the divorce.
‘I want you on a train today.’
‘OK – OK, today. Actually, it’s kind of late; it might be tomorrow now. I can’t leave and not say goodbye to Dad. Just promise me you’ll stay there.’
‘I want to hear from Dad which train you’re getting.’
‘Fine. Please, don’t worry. I’ll get him to call you. I promise, everything will be OK. Love you, Mum.’
She waited for Mum to say goodbye, put the phone back in her pocket, then took a deep breath and folded her arms.
Michael put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off. ‘Don’t.’
‘I know you’re angry with me…’
‘You shouldn’t have called Mum.’
‘I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘You could have talked to me.’
Michael huffed out a laugh and turned his face to the clouded sky. ‘Excuse me? But don’t you think I’ve tried talking to you? What happened at Ria’s wasn’t normal, Poppy. You really scared me.’ He stepped closer and slid an arm around her waist. She resisted, but was no match for his strength. She rested her hands on his sides and leaned her forehead against his chest. Everything was slipping out of control.
‘Hey,’ Michael murmured.
‘What…what do you think’s happening to me?’ she whispered.
She took a deep breath and turned her face to his. For a second he didn’t look at her. He focused over her head and bit his lip. When he finally looked down at her his serious blue eyes searched hers. ‘What do you think is happening?’
Poppy swallowed, her throat dry. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you want to know?’
Did she want to know if she was seeing ghosts or going crazy? That was a big question – one that she didn’t have an answer for.
‘Poppy?’ His thumb grazed her cheek.
‘I’m scared, Michael.’
‘I know.’
They arrived at the Dean’s study, not speaking but holding tightly onto one another’s hand. Admitting to Michael that she might be going crazy had drained Poppy of every last drop of energy. She just wanted to hide somewhere. Go to sleep for a hundred years until everything was normal again.
The Dean ushered them in and se
t about making yet more tea. The thought of drinking any more of the stuff made her feel physically sick.
Bea looked between the two of them and frowned. ‘Has something happened? What did the old bastard say to you?’
Poppy glanced at Michael, hoping he wasn’t going to bring up what they’d just been talking about. She really couldn’t handle that.
Instead, he turned to Bea and asked: ‘What do you know about the Apostles?’
The Dean fingered her clerical collar as if it had suddenly become too tight. ‘I – uhh – I know that over the years the society’s caused some trouble.’ She let out a laugh, and rolled her eyes. ‘What am I saying? It’s a pernicious influence, responsible for more trouble than people will admit. Personally, I’d ban all secret societies. They cause so much hurt. Why are you interested in them?’
‘I read something about them in that history of Russia I was telling you about.’
‘Oh yes,’ Bea mused. ‘Some of the Cambridge Spy Ring were members. Back in the States there are fraternities and sororities. There are a fair few secret societies too, but they don’t seem to cause the same amount of trouble as they do here.’
Poppy felt her pocket vibrating as the ringer sounded. She half expected it to be Mum again. She was about to reject the call when she saw it was Dad. Quickly she pressed accept.
‘Dad? Where are you?’
‘Poppy, are you OK?’ he asked down a rubbishy line.
‘I’m fine. What happened?’
‘They’ve almost done with me, I’ve just got to finish up some paperwork. I hope to be back in about an hour. Pops, I’ve had your mum on the phone again. She wants you on a train, and so do I.’
‘If they’re letting you go, does that mean they know it wasn’t you?’
At that, Michael looked at her. He leaned a little closer as if trying to hear what was being said.
‘It means someone believes me,’ Dad said. ‘I’m not so sure the detective in charge of the case is convinced. Do me a favour and let me speak to Michael for a minute.’
Her grip on the phone tightened. ‘Why?’
‘Because I want to talk to him.’
Her breathing quickened and her jaw tensed. ‘Why?’
‘You know why, Poppy, now put him on the phone.’
Poppy’s eyes flicked up to Michael. He gazed steadily back, lips tight.
‘Poppy, if you don’t put him on then I’ll just call him.’
They’d made up their minds. They thought she was having an ‘episode’. They were watching her like an experiment gone wrong. Suddenly the room was too hot. Sweat prickled on her forehead. She needed to get out of there…get some air. She handed her phone to Michael and got up.
‘Hold on a minute, Jim.’ Michael sprang up and blocked her path. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Just the bathroom.’
She saw the struggle behind his eyes. He didn’t want to let her leave but couldn’t think of an excuse to keep her there. He stepped aside.
‘There’s one just a floor down,’ the Dean said.
‘Thanks,’ Poppy murmured and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Poppy ran down the stone steps. She didn’t even pause when she reached the floor with the loos. She just needed ten minutes by herself to think. She kept going, out of the archway and into Great Court, along the icy pathway until she reached M staircase.
By the time she reached their set, her legs were shaking with the exertion and her lungs burned, but she couldn’t stop. She had about a minute before Michael would come looking for her and, right now, she didn’t want to be found. She needed to be alone…get her head together. She unlocked the door to her room, grabbed her purse. Her gaze stalled on her laptop; she grabbed that too, stuffed it into her backpack and heaved it over her shoulder. Then she ran, down the corridor past Ria’s set. She swung open the door onto the staircase and crashed into a solid body, at least a foot taller than her. Michael?
‘Bugger!’ she gasped.
‘What’s the hurry?’ Conal stepped forward, forcing her back into the corridor.
Behind her the door to Ria’s set opened. ‘Poppy?’
‘I have to go,’ Poppy said, trying to step around Conal.
‘No, grab her!’ Ria shouted. ‘She knows something and it’s about time she shared.’
Poppy felt Conal’s hand close around her upper arm.
Panic ripped through her; she jerked her arm, but he wasn’t letting go. His dark eyes narrowed and suddenly he looked cruel. Cruel enough to kill?
The next second, Ria was in her face. She pushed Poppy against the doorframe, almost knocking the air from her lungs. ‘What did he tell you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Poppy gasped.
‘Don’t play with me. What did Danny tell you?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t see anything, OK?’ But she had seen something: those eyes so full of pain and hatred. Could they have been Conal’s eyes, or Ria’s? The note could have been a fake – Ria could have written it herself. Why would Ria be so determined to know what she’d seen if she was innocent in all of this? And there were those words that had slid from Poppy’s mouth, almost as if someone else was speaking them… What did you do?
Ria glared. ‘That’s a load of shit. You know it. I know it.’
‘I tried,’ Poppy said, trying to keep her face neutral, to not show the fear that was zipping around her body. ‘I tried but I can’t do that…contacting the dead thing.’
Ria laughed. ‘Oh, I think you can, Poppy. I think you’re a natural. But if you’re not in the mood to share, how about I share a few things with you? Let me start by telling you that your father is seeing a student. How do you feel about that? Him seeing someone a couple of years older than you. Maybe that’s why he left your mother. Maybe she got a bit old for him?’
‘That’s not true.’ Poppy shoved Ria away, but she couldn’t as easily push away the image of Dad and Chrissie sitting together on the sofa in his rooms – the way he’d draped his arm behind her like it was a normal thing to do.
Ria studied Poppy, her eyes alive with power. Ria was enjoying this – towering over her like a playground bully. ‘You knew. You knew it already. Think they’ve done it in the chapel, Poppy?’
Poppy shook her head. ‘That’s crap.’
‘And you might want to ask him about his time of experimentation when he was a student. Quite the wild child, from what I hear. Sex…drugs…magic. I hear they arrested him for Danny’s murder. Wouldn’t be the first death he was responsible for, but if I find out he…I’ll kill you both.’
‘Ria,’ Conal warned.
Ria smiled, coldly. ‘Maybe you don’t know your father as well as you think you do.’
Poppy pushed Ria away from her and barged past Conal. She ran down the stone stairwell, Ria’s laughter echoing around her.
The wind had grown meaner. Her jeans were still damp and every icy blast cut through her like a knife. Darkness fell with surprising speed along with a swirling mist that clung to the ground like dry ice. It was going to be another foggy night. Poppy kept her head down and folded her arms over her chest as she walked out into the courtyard. She half expected to run into Michael but no one stopped her until she reached the porter’s lodge.
Standing outside, bundled up in a big overcoat was the porter they’d met when they’d first arrived. He smiled at her. ‘Where are you off to?’
‘I’m just running to the shop.’
He gave her an assessing look and then his red, weatherworn face frowned like he thought that there was something wrong with her too. ‘Where’s your friend?’
‘He’s with the Dean. I’ve gotta go.’ She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, before slipping out the gate and onto the bustling lane.
She took a left off the main street and followed a cobbled side street until she hit what appeared to be another of the main shopping streets. She turned right again and followed the lane until she found a coffee sh
op with free Wi-Fi. Poppy bought a bottle of water and slumped into a chair at the table furthest from the door.
For a moment, she could do nothing but sit there and breathe. But then the things Ria had said played over and over again in her head. Your dad’s seeing a student… Danny’s death’s not the first he’s been involved in.
No! Dad couldn’t be seeing Chrissie. He wouldn’t do that, would he? She swallowed back the tight feeling in her throat.
She tried to put it all out of her mind but the fact was, this trip had proved to her that Dad had a whole other life that she knew nothing about. Maybe she didn’t know him at all. She didn’t even know herself any more, for God’s sake. What was she thinking, running away from Michael like that? She hadn’t run away since she was ten years old and protesting the imposition of bedtime. All she’d done was prove him right. She was acting like…like a crazy person.
She had to go back there. But she needed some space and after this little stunt Michael wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. She closed her eyes and tried to think beyond the pounding in her head.
She thought back to the séance. The horrible sense of being apart from herself lingered worse than a memory. God, if she’d explained that to Michael he really would think she was losing it. She’d felt like she’d been torn out of her body, and not in a nice floaty, how-great-to-have-an-out-of-body-experience kind of way. She shuddered. Maybe her imagination had got the better of her. The eyes that had stared down at her and the sharp burning pain in her chest – that could all be the product of her mind. Why had it felt so real? Her hand rubbed her stomach through the layers of T-shirts and sweatshirts.
Beyond the windows of the coffee shop, snow had begun to fall again – big fluffy flakes blown by the wind like feathers caught in a storm. The window of the bag shop opposite caught her eye. Fairy lights twinkled and right in the centre of the bay window was a large renaissance angel dressed in a blood-red gown, with golden hair that fell around her shoulders in graceful curls. She was beautiful. But how could Poppy ever think of angels in quite the same way again? Instead she imagined a terrifying creature flying high over the town, its huge feathery wings brushing the steeples and towers of the colleges…just waiting to collect more souls…more murder victims.