“It wasn’t! It was a bat! I swear it was a bat!” She was so close to me, I could feel her breath on my face. “I really don’t like it. I’m sorry, Lizzie, but can we go back now, please?”
“Just a tiny bit further, Bee. I’ll look after you, I promise. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to explore these caves.”
We squeezed ourselves through the cramped passage for a few more steps and then the ground dropped down slightly, taking us into a big circular space. It was impossible to see anything except the vague outline of the walls. It was like a secret room. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. This was easily the most exciting thing I’d done in ages.
“These caves have been here for hundreds and hundreds of years,” I whispered. “Apparently there used to be treasure hidden in them, left by the Romans, and it was guarded by these vicious dogs who watched over it night and day.”
Bee pressed herself right into me, her voice quivering in the gloom. “I really don’t like it. I know I’m being a wimp, but it’s so dark.”
“We’ll just stay for a few minutes. There are no vicious dogs these days, I swear.”
I decided to keep quiet about the trapped spirit. I didn’t want to freak her out even more. There’s no such thing as spirits anyway. When you’re dead, you’re dead. I don’t believe in spooky white ghosts floating through walls, or that Luke is still with us in some way, like Mum does. She’s been to see all sorts of clairvoyants and mediums to see if she can make contact with him – as if he’s up there somewhere, just waiting to have a chat.
“We did a topic on the R-r-romans once,” said Bee suddenly, her voice still shaking. “It was brilliant. We had a proper Roman banquet, and we made these beautiful mosaics using tiny pieces of broken glass.”
“But I thought you said you didn’t like school?”
“This was when I was in primary school. I go to Glendale High now and I hate it.”
“Hey, I know Glendale High. It’s that really posh girls’ school with the purple uniform. It’s right near where I live!”
“I don’t believe you!” cried Bee. “You live near Glendale High?”
“Just a few streets away. The girls who go there are all rich and stuck up, aren’t they?”
Bee snorted. “Well, don’t start thinking I’m like that. I only go there because I won a scholarship – and most days I wish I’d never even sat the exam in the first place.”
“I still think you’re lucky. I never get to do anything fun like banquets or mosaics. It’s just literacy, French, maths and science at my house.”
“Oh, I love literacy,” said Bee, her voice a little stronger. “Not just reading. I really love writing as well. I’ve got a big literacy topic to do this summer. We have to pick a theme, anything we like, and write a series of poems.”
“Oh my God, I’m rubbish at writing poems. Have you decided on a theme yet?”
She shook her head in the gloom. “Not yet, but I’ve got a few ideas.”
“You could write about Spain, or maybe about ancient caves?”
“Yeah, but you know what it’s like with poetry,” said Bee. “You can’t just write about anything, you have to feel really inspired.”
I thought about asking her to help me with the poem for Luke’s memorial if she enjoyed poetry so much, but then I’d have to admit that I’d lied to her yesterday about being an only child. Mum was still going on about the poem. She wanted me to come up with some emotional tribute to this amazing brother I was supposed to miss so much. But every time I thought about Luke, especially about Luke dying, I felt like smashing something up – and how was I meant to express that in a poem?
I ran my hands over the solid stone walls. They felt cold and slimy. There were some grooves scratched into the rock; lines or something, carved deep into the stone.
“Hey, look at this.”
Bee turned towards the wall and I lifted her hand up, guiding her fingers over the carved area. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes, I think it might be letters,” she said. “Do you think someone’s scratched a message?”
I ran my fingers from the top of the first carved-out line and followed it down. “It is a letter, you’re right.”
“What do you think it says?”
“Hang on, I’m not sure.” I started again, straining to see in the dark, pressing my fingers into the rock. “There are three letters and some dots.” I ran my finger down and round, again and again, but it was impossible to tell what they were supposed to be.
“I can’t make it out. You try.”
Bee slipped her hand under mine, tracing the lines and dots again. “We should’ve brought a torch,” she said. “What about your phone? Does the screen light up?”
I took it out of my pocket but it was dead.
“It’s not working,” I said, staring down at the blank screen – and feeling the first flicker of fear myself. “Come on, maybe we should go. I don’t want my mum to find out I’ve been breaking one of my dad’s stupid rules.”
“Hang on a sec. Oh my god!”
Bee pulled her hand away, stumbling back.
“What? What’s the message? What does it say?”
“R.I.P.,” she said, her voice shaky. “That’s what the letters spell, R.I.P.”
She stumbled back further and I reached out to stop her falling. “You don’t think someone’s buried here, do you?” I hissed.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning back the way we’d come. “But I’m not hanging around to find out!” She lurched across the circular space, squeezing herself into the narrow passage.
“Wait a sec,” I said, stuffing my phone back in my pocket. “It’s just a carving on the wall. It doesn’t really mean anything.”
I squeezed myself into the passage after her, grabbing hold of the back of her T-shirt as we made our way out. The passage seemed narrower somehow, and much longer. I must’ve been so excited on the way in that I hadn’t noticed how far we’d come. I was just beginning to wonder if we’d ever see light again when the exit came into view. Bee sped up as much as she could and we both stumbled out of the cave.
She stared at me for a minute, blinking in the sun, and then burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I said, but then I started to laugh too and once I’d started I couldn’t stop. We hung on to each other in hysterics.
“Oh God, I’m so happy we’re out!” gasped Bee. “I swear I thought we were going to die in there. That was so creepy.”
I sank down to the ground, wiping my eyes. “I didn’t tell you before, but one of the caves is actually supposed to be haunted.”
Bee stopped laughing and stared at me. “You are joking.”
“Well, I thought it was only a rumour, but now I’m not so sure.”
She sank down next to me. “What is the rumour exactly?”
“That someone died in the caves. I don’t know how, but apparently their spirit became trapped and it’s been knocking about in there for hundreds and hundreds of years.”
Bee’s eyes were as big as saucers. “So what are you saying? That there’s a body? Or a grave, or what?”
“I don’t know, but I’d love to find out!”
“You’re crazy,” she said. “I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I’m not going searching for dead people or bones or anything like that.”
“Come on, don’t be such a killjoy! Think how exciting it would be if we discovered something. We could come back tomorrow and—”
My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out.
Three voicemail messages from Mum.
“I’d better get back to the beach,” I said, jumping up. “I thought my mum might relax a bit without my dad here breathing down our necks, but she seems to be even more uptight than ever.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lizzie and I met up every day after that but we didn’t go back to the caves. She was dying to find out more about the message carved into the wall – she had all these go
ry theories – but I was way too frightened. It wasn’t just the fact that it said R.I.P.; it was the narrow passage and the smell and the damp, murky gloom. Just the thought of it made my chest tighten up until it was difficult to breathe properly.
I was worried at first that Lizzie might want to go off and explore without me, or that she’d think I was too boring. She had this sort of restless energy, as if she was constantly waiting for something to happen, but the more time we spent together the closer we became – and the closer we became, the more we discovered how similar we were.
Like the fact that we were both born in October: me first and then Lizzie two weeks later. And the fact that we lived in the same part of London, only fifteen minutes away from each other. And then there was the way we both hated school so much – even though she was homeschooled and I was stuck at Glendale High. It was spooky, but it began to feel as if we’d been destined to meet.
“Maybe we were separated at birth,” Lizzie said one morning. “Torn away from each other and forced to live apart until fate brought us back together.”
I wanted to believe that was true – that we really were sisters – but you only had to look at us to know we weren’t related. Lizzie was so pale you could see the faint blue of her veins running under her skin, whereas my tan was getting deeper and deeper by the day. She did this thing every morning where she’d hold her arm out next to mine, groaning at how white she was, desperate to change colour. I don’t think she had the first idea about how pretty she was.
She told me about this boy she liked in her road called Dilan. They’d been homeschooled together years ago when they were little, but then he started going to proper school.
“I call him C.C. in my diary, just in case my dad ever reads it. It’s a kind of code. It stands for Cromwell Corner, because Dilan lives in the corner house at the end of my street.”
“I didn’t know you kept a diary. Do you write in it every day?”
“Nearly, apart from when I’m too tired. And I haven’t written in it much this holiday. I’ve been having too much fun! How about you? Do you keep one?”
“I used to when I was younger, but not any more. So do you think Dilan knows you like him?”
“No way. I watch him from my window all the time – he’s always in the garden messing about with his bike – and I’ve even walked past a couple of times, when I’ve managed to get out of the house. But he never even says hi. I could probably drop dead right in front of him and he still wouldn’t notice me.”
“I bet he would,” I said. “He’s probably madly in love with you already; he just doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“Don’t be stupid!” she cried, turning scarlet. “And anyway, my dad would rather die than let me have a boyfriend. What about you? Do you like anyone?”
“No...yes...oh, I don’t know.” I could feel my face growing as hot as Lizzie’s. “I’m really good friends with my next-door neighbour, Bailey, and I suppose he is cute in a weird sort of way – not like the lifeguards or anything – but we’ve grown up together like brother and sister.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lizzie teased, as I put my hands up to my flaming cheeks. “It sounds as if you like him to me.”
“No I don’t!”
“Well, I’ll just have to check him out when we get back from holiday, won’t I?”
I smiled at the thought of Lizzie coming over. It was amazing that she lived so close by. I still didn’t get why Nan had booked the holiday in the first place, or what was going on between Mum and Dad, but coming to Spain and meeting Lizzie was easily the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Mum seemed happy enough that I’d made a friend so quickly, although she was so caught up with her own worries that I don’t think she noticed what I was doing most of the time. She spent a large part of each day on her own, walking around the resort or sitting in the hotel lounge, reading. I kept meaning to ask her about the letters – I even thought about searching her room when she was down at breakfast or off on one of her walks – but I was too scared. It was easier in a way to hang out with Lizzie and try to pretend that everything was okay.
Some days when it got too hot on the rock, Lizzie and I would go for a swim in the hotel pool. Nan was always there, relaxing on one of the sunbeds with her bumper book of crosswords and a tall, icy drink. I felt a bit sorry for her, lying there by herself without Mum, but she said it was the first proper break she’d had in years and that she’d never felt better. It was weird how the three of us had come away together, but were all busy doing our own thing.
We’d been at the resort for exactly a week when Lizzie’s dad arrived. She’d been dreading it for days, convinced he wouldn’t let her out of his sight once he was there. His plane was due to land at four in the afternoon, so we’d arranged to meet up straight after breakfast, worried it might be for the last time.
“I’m not actually going to tell him about you,” she said, as I clambered up the side of the rock to sit with her. “If we see each other again, it’ll have to be in secret.”
“Really? What about your mum? Does she know about me?”
“She knows I’ve made friends with someone, she’s seen us together a few times, but I haven’t gone into any details. She’d only end up telling my dad and then he’d insist on meeting your mum and nan – and then he’d want to know where we were and what we were doing. It would be a total nightmare.”
“Are you sure he’d be that strict?”
She pulled a face. “You’ve got no idea. Look, I know my mum’s been texting me non-stop, but it’s been brilliant this week, just coming down here every day, hanging out like a normal person – having a laugh with Mum in the evenings. It wouldn’t be like that with my dad.”
“I can’t believe he’s that overprotective. Why is he like that? Why doesn’t he let you go to normal school and choose your own friends?”
Lizzie was quiet for a moment. “I’d do anything to go to a normal school,” she said, not really answering my question. “It’s awful having lessons at home. I have to sit there with him every day and it’s SO boring. Just me and my dad, hour after hour. I feel like running away sometimes.”
“That’s how I feel about my school,” I said. “I wish I never had to go back.”
“You keep saying that, Bee, but what’s so bad about it?”
I wrapped my arms round my knees, a familiar heavy feeling pressing down on my chest. “There’s just this girl, Melissa Knight. She’s been on my case ever since I started last September. She found out I was there on a scholarship and she’s been out to get me ever since.”
I’d never told anyone about Melissa, not even Bailey, but I found myself telling Lizzie everything. There was just something about her; the way she sat there taking in every word, her eyes never leaving my face for a moment, as if she understood exactly how I felt. What it felt like to be bullied.
“Why don’t you tell your mum and dad, or your nan?” she said when I’d finished. “Tell them you want to change schools? There must be another school you could go to.”
“I can’t. They’d be so disappointed if I said I wanted to leave, especially my dad.”
“Seriously, Bee, I think you should tell them. Do they know anything?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell my mum. She’d only want to come up to school and get it sorted out and that would just make it a million times worse. She’s always going on about how there’s a solution to every problem, but there isn’t, not to this one. And my dad would just be gutted – he was so proud of me when I won the scholarship.”
“But however proud he was, he wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, would he?”
I shrugged, staring out to sea, thinking about Dad. I still hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask Mum or Nan for Uncle Ron’s number, and Dad still hadn’t answered any of the messages I’d left on his mobile. He’d sent me another text, but it had only said hi, and that he hoped I was having a good time. It was weird how much Lizz
ie was dreading her dad coming, while I was desperate to see mine again.
“What’s so special about this Melissa Knight anyway?” said Lizzie suddenly, her turquoise eyes flashing. “If I ever got to meet her, I’d tell her to take a flying jump!”
“You think you would, but trust me, she’s evil. If you knew all the things I’d planned to say to her over the past year, the brilliant put-downs I’ve practised in my room, but she only has to look at me and I shrivel up like a piece of old leather.”
When I was in Year Six this policewoman came to talk to our class about starting secondary school – about gangs on buses, and older kids offering us drugs. She spelled out all the dangers we might face, but she didn’t say anything about nice girls from posh families. Nice girls like Melissa Knight. She was the only danger I’d had to face so far.
“But you wouldn’t be scared if I was there, would you?” said Lizzie. “I wish I could come and meet you from school one day, when you go back in September. I’d sort her out for you; seriously, I’m not scared of anyone.”
I hugged myself, imagining the scene. Me and Lizzie against Melissa Knight and all her stupid mates. I knew it would never happen, but just the thought of it made me feel better.
We didn’t talk about her dad arriving again but Lizzie’s mood seemed to sink further and further as the day went on. We had a swim in the pool and then sat at the cafe to share a ham baguette, but she was really quiet, lost in her own thoughts. I’d never seen her so down. She didn’t even react when one of the lifeguards came over to buy a bottle of water, smiling at her and flicking one of the red balloons in her direction as he passed our table.
“You’re not scared of your dad are you, Lizzie?” I said in the end. “Only you seem so—”
Her head snapped up. “Of course I’m not scared!” she interrupted, her eyes cold and hard. “I told you. I’m not scared of anyone! You’re the one who’s scared of everything!”
I blinked back tears, shocked at how angry she sounded. She’d never spoken to me like that before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to understand why you were so...” I trailed off and neither of us said anything for a moment.
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