The man!
She looked uphill, bleeding, panting
Nothing. Long green shoots. So very green, lurid almost, with that grim, black, thundery sky behind them. More trees further uphill, alive, shaking their leaves, but no human movement. What had tripped her?
Blood on her knee. Grazed elbows. Some kind of dull pain on her cheekbone. Heart thumping. And then a noise over the pants: oh, sweet sound of safety!
Angela had heard the steady hum of the morning rush-hour traffic shooting along the bypass
3
Kizzie was examining the pictures on the walls outside the Headmaster’s office, being nosy
Various old Heads of St Francis’s scattered the walls and she righted the frames that were slightly askew. There was an aerial view which Kizzie knew had been taken in summer because she could make out the blue rectangle of the school pool. Her eyes drifted across the panelled wall to a small painting which might have been a bible scene or – ah, yes, of course, Kizzie thought – Cleopatra and some Roman. Julius Caesar? Mark Antony? She got a shock as she noticed a strange old lady lurking in the shadows at the back of the picture who was the spitting image of her sister Athy
“Kizzie!”
Turning, Kizzie saw her boyfriend Zak coming down the corridor towards her, a big grin on his face. “What are you doing up here?” she hissed. “Dressed like that, too! Firmin will have a heart attack if he sees you.”
Zak was in a grey trench coat, the shoulders black with rain. He wore a beige fedora hat, also stained, and cowboy boots, but, as he told her, was otherwise in regulation school uniform and couldn’t see what the problem was. “Priya just gave me a heads up on what’s happening. I wanted to come and wish you luck, that’s all.” Zak grinned and Kizzie felt the corners of her own mouth lifting in response
“Nutter.”
“Are you OK?” Zak put a hand on her arm
“I am, I am. Thank you. But go! You’re going to get both of us in trouble. Go, go!”
“What’s funny?”
Kizzie tried to control her wild smile, which only made it worse. “Nothing! Just go, will you! You’re making me worse!”
“Ohhh kay.” Zak backed away. “I’ll wait for you downstairs at the Steps.” He assumed a very serious expression. “By the way, I hope you put two pairs of undies on in case, you know –” he faked a caning – “Whack! Whack!”
“Go!”
“Did you?”
“No!”
“Ooh, beginner’s mistake, Kiz. It’s gonna hurt. Want a stick or something to bite down on? A pencil?” Now at the end of the corridor Zak, pretending to search his pockets, blew Kizzie a kiss, made a strong-arm gesture and disappeared. Kizzie heard his cowboy boots clip-clopping their way down the staircase and turned back to the oak door
She raised her hand to knock but suddenly became aware of a weird thudding sound coming from behind her, like monster’s footsteps. Turning, she was about to scream at Zak when she caught sight of the wretched figure of Angela, face bloodied, holding her own elbow with her only good hand, hobbling across the landing on two skinny white legs grazed at the knees. “Oh my God! What happened to you?” Kizzie cried
Angela waved Kizzie’s help away and said she was going to surgery. “Nothing’s going on. I’m just clumsy, me. As usual. Just clumsy.”
“You should see Matron. Now.”
Angela nodded. “I’m going.” She raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
“Have to see Firmin.”
“What have you done?”
Kizzie shrugged. “Dunno.”
Angela thought about this but suddenly winced at a fresh pain. “Well, good luck.” She shuffled on towards the door of the girl’s house and let out a loud breath as she turned the handle. Whatever superpower had got her up off the ground, over the road and through the school grounds was now wearing off and everything was starting to throb and hurt. Despite this, before going to the surgery – she could see the door was open and hear Radio Two booming out as usual – she went into the dorm and walked right up to the window
Whoever he was, Angela hoped the man she’d seen up in the hills was all right. He’d seemed weirdly familiar. The whole thing had been so weird. What was he doing up there dressed like that? Probably a nutter. Some people said the big house at the top of The Gallops, the one that was fenced off, was an Asylum, or hospital, or whatever you called them now
Angela liked her dark reflection in the window. It was so much gentler than the mirror proper. No glowing zits. No weird, pointed ears. No odd, square, mannish jaw and jutting teeth
In the dark reflection she looked like she wanted to look, not harsh and grotesque like she was in reality
4
“Ah, there you are, Jull-Costa. Come in, come in.”
Kizzie was grinning like The Joker. She held her hands pressed onto the front of her skirt to stop them trembling. “Hello, Headmaster. Everyone.” Her eyes flickered around the faces
She knew Mr Firmin quite well. He’d taught her last year. He was standing at the bay window at the far end of the room in his usual white linen suit, smiling but serious, listing slightly, as he always did, as though he was on the deck of a ship. Kizzie also recognised Sam and Leana, the Head Boy and Girl, and Alain Verne, the leader of The Magistrate. The three prefects were smiling up at her from their seats in front of the fire
“Come and sit here,” Leana said to Kizzie, patting an empty space on the dark leather sofa. The Head Girl’s eyes were friendly, though guarded, and it put Kizzie at ease. She did as she was told and they all looked up at Firmin, who had come around to the front of his desk and was examining the tip of his well-chewed pipe
“Apologies if we’ve made you feel uneasy, Kizzie,” the Headmaster began. “This meeting is a little something I like to do with all those who are about to be promoted to The Magistrate. A chance to clear the air, have a little informal chat, as it were, before announcements become official and the whole rigmarole is put in place.”
“Sorry, sir?” Kizzie asked, startled. “Did you say something about promotion?”
“Yes,” nodded Mr Firmin, grinning. He had a clipped, neat moustache and, when he was happy, like now, his whole face was lit up by a warm, paternal smile. “That’s right, my dear.”
“Congratulations, Kizzie,” Sam told her, holding out his hand
Leana, closer, hugged Kizzie and whispered, “Welcome!”
“Now the way we do this is as follows. Alain will be your shadow today.” Mr Firmin pointed to the Head of the Magistrate with his pipe. “He’ll have a little chat with you this morning and try to answer your questions and help you reach a decision. You have about twenty-four hours –” Firmin checked a timepiece he’d dug out of his waist-coat – “to give us your answer. If we hear nothing from you to the contrary, we’ll expect you in the Eleusinian Room this time tomorrow morning for the investiture. How does that sound?”
“Oh.” Kizzie didn’t know what to say
“Just take your time,” Leana whispered to her. “Have a chat with Alain. Think about it.”
“I thought we might take a little walk now?” Alain said, leaning across and showing her his empty palms. “You are excused Assembly. The school will be quiet. Only the rain to worry about.”
“Fine. Yes. That sounds fine.” Kizzie felt as though she were in a dream. Sam, Leana and Alain were people she’d only ever seen from afar, on the stage at school in Assembly, passing by in an untouchable bubble or eating at The Magistrate’s table in the dining hall. It was odd to see them here, so close and being so freakily friendly. “Are you sure this is right?” she asked them all. “You’ve got the right person?”
“Of course it is!” Leana laughed. “And you’re going to be one of the youngest ever members of The Magistrate, if you accept. You should be very proud.”
“Well,” drawled the Headmaster, wringing his big hands. “Perhaps I should be getting across to the Assembly Hall. Try to keep word
of all this to yourself for now, Jull-Costa, if you wouldn’t mind. At least until you’ve made a decision.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kizzie, nodding. “Of course.”
“Good morning to you all then.”
5
Alain Verne turned his collar up as he stood with Kizzie on the back step of the Main Building. “Can we risk not taking an umbrella?” he wondered aloud. “It’s stopping now. Do you think it will hold?”
Kizzie felt very self-conscious and gabbled, “Let’s just go. Bit of rain never hurt anyone. Not like we’re going to shrink, is it?”
She walked a step behind the prefect, aware that just across the pathway, outside the Assembly Hall, queuing to go in, she’d been spotted. Gillian, Priya, Angela and Athy were nudging each other and turning to gawp. Kizzie tried to show with a smile that she wasn’t in trouble – it’s all right! He’s not frog marching me out of school! – but at the same time Alain made a gesture with his leather-gloved hand, the merest waggle, which sent the girls and all the other onlookers into the Assembly Hall without a backward glance
It was strange, Kizzie thought, to walk around the school with someone who had such an effect on other people. She was used to being half-invisible, standing in lines, crushed up against others, waiting all the time, sitting or standing near the back of the class, in the huddle and muddle of things. But now people moved out of their way. People did double takes and smokers sneaking back from the fields darted head-first into bushes at the merest sight of them
She felt slightly ashamed and self-conscious but boy it was fun
“So,” Alain said, holding out his arms as they walked down towards the place called The Dips, a series of mud hills near the red-brick perimeter wall of the school. “As you probably know, this is the oldest part of the school, where the first buildings on the site were built.” Kizzie immediately knew she was listening to a speech he’d made more than once before. “Next year we were thinking of marking the school’s anniversary down here. Perhaps putting up a marquee or a stage. Reclaiming it from the smokers and lovers. Trouble is –” the head prefect gestured towards the heavens – “One never knows what the weather will be like, as you can see.”
Kizzie noticed two sycamore trees which rose from the dirty-copper mud and whose branches interlocked, creating an ad-hoc shelter used for the various illegal purposes Alain had alluded to. “How come they didn’t just build the school here?” she asked, recognising with a jolt some initials carved into one of the trunks. She turned her back to cover them and save Priya’s life
“The road is too close,” Alain told her. “It’s always been a main road. A public path, thoroughfare, turnpike. Now a bypass.” As they listened, they could both hear the steady drone of cars passing by. It was always there if you listened out for it but thankfully most of the time you could ignore it. Nature seemed louder, somehow. “It was easier to move everything uphill, especially in recent times. This all used to be farmland.” Alain pointed uphill, towards the tennis courts. “The best land was up there, where the Assembly Hall is. Oh, I think this rain is getting worse. Come on. Let’s get under the trees over there.”
As they walked quickly towards the playing fields, along the back of the dripping tennis-court chicken fencing, Alain asked Kizzie if she knew why she had been offered the chance of joining The Magistrate
“Because I’ve been helping a lot in the library?” Kizzie answered, laughing. She’d been nervously awaiting the question ever since she’d heard the news in Firmin’s study. Now her face alternated between manic happiness and a kind of grief. Her real feelings were somewhere in the middle. “Maybe that?”
“No, no.” Alain tutted and ticked his finger from side to side like a pendulum. “No, no, no.”
Kizzie giggled horribly. It was more like a cough than a laugh
They were coming to the wet wooden fence at the edge of the fields where green-and-white-shirted boys would be soon go trudging out through the dew to play football. In the distance lay the Pavilion, half rubbed out by the drizzle, and Kizzie shivered when she realised she’d be walking out there to play hockey in an hour or so
“It’s because of last term’s English class results, Kizzie. The girls’ results specifically.”
Kizzie was relieved and confused. “I don’t get it.”
“All the girls passed.”
“Ah, did they? Did we?”
“Yes, yes. And all with stories about the same family. Interlinking stories. Surely you haven’t forgotten? Miss Christie was very impressed. So impressed, in fact, that she asked me to have a look at the work.”
“We didn’t cheat, if that’s what you’re getting at!”
“I know you didn’t cheat.” Alain laughed
“We just talked about it before. Together. Brainstorming.”
“Ah, but from what I understand, you imagined all of the characters; all of the stories?”
“More or less.” Kizzie honestly couldn’t remember. The whole class had stayed behind one lunchtime and talked about ideas. Perhaps she had taken the main role but it had been more of a sharing of ideas. “But I didn’t write their essays for them. I swear.”
“The ability to believe in and share ideas is unique to human beings, Kizzie,” Alain said gravely, turning to face her as he leaned back against the fence. “You have the ability to inspire people, to make them believe and see worlds that you have created. It’s a very important, powerful talent.”
“Thank you.”
“Much depends on the personality who wields a talent like yours. Some people use it for selfish reasons, simply to show off or perform, some for manipulating others, the worst of all possible uses. You understand the best way to use the skill you have. Yes, although you might not have thought about it in such a way, you have shown us your personality, Kizzie: the type of person you are. That is why we’ve asked you to join The Magistrate.”
“Thank you,” Kizzie repeated. Again, she didn’t know what else to say. “Great.”
Alain, who was looking at her with a rather cheesy smile, suddenly clapped his gloves together. “All right. That’s the serious part.” He laughed, bounced up off the fence and held out his arm, indicating that they should walk together up to the main path
“Can I have a bit of time just to think about things?” Kizzie asked, glad to be out of the mud and onto concrete
“Of course, of course!”
“Just to, you know, think a bit. Get my thoughts straight.”
“Yes, yes. Of course, of course.”
They walked on in an awkward silence. Kizzie began to speak but Alain started at the same time and she was happy to smile and say, “After you. Please.”
“No, it’s only that I do, actually, have one more question.” The prefect was suddenly shy, smaller somehow and Kizzie was surprised to realise he was nervous. “It’s a personal question. I will be speaking in a personal capacity, if I may?”
Kizzie buried her chin in her scarf and raised her eyebrows. “Oh-kay.”
“It’s not about you,” Alain said, a little too quickly. He walked around in front of Kizzie, noticing her attention had wandered, walking backwards. “I don’t mean that badly. I don’t mean it’s not about you. I mean, it’s about someone you know. A question, really. Nothing more. Personal, as I say. About a friend of yours.”
Kizzie looked at the blonde-fringed prefect standing before her with his badge, his perfectly tied scarf, handsome chin, gelled hair and plucked eyebrows and felt powerful. “Go on, then.”
“This friend of yours,” Alain began, falling back in to line alongside Kizzie. The hulk of the red-brick Assembly Hall now appeared ahead of them, to the right of the path. The school was quiet: everyone was in the Hall and there was a thin, cold mist in the air
“Yes?”
“And you must understand, again, that I am asking you this in a personal capacity, not as the leader of The Magistrate.” Alain seemed to lose his nerve and spoke to himself quickly in French
, something Kizzie didn’t understand. A second later he was in front of her with a very serious look on his face, wiping his high forehead free of three stiff hairs. “I need to know about Gillian Shelley. Your friend. Gillian.”
“Ah-ha,” said Kizzie, nodding. “I see. Righto. Well, go on, then. What do you want to know?”
“I want to know if she would be interested in me,” said the prefect, very directly. It was bravado but it had obviously worked before. A kind of bald arrogance. He smiled, bowing slightly
“Interested? What do you mean?”
“In a relationship.” Alain couldn’t look her in the eye. “To be … with me? To – to make a couple?”
“Ah, OK. Like that.”
“Like that.”
“OK, I’ll ask her,” replied Kizzie, eyes wide, slightly shocked
“Bon.” Alain nodded
They were at The Steps now, a convergence of pathways, the main intersection and meeting place of the school. Alain morphed back into the prefect he’d been for the first part of their walk. He sniffed, whacked the fingers of his gloves into each other and flicked the hair off his fringe with confidence. Kizzie remained still. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened
“Very well, Miss Jull-Costa,” Alain said, holding out a rigid hand. “It was a great pleasure to meet you and it will be a great pleasure to lead you in The Magistrate, should you chose to accept.”
Kizzie shook his hand. “Lovely.” She nodded. “I’ll get back to you very soon.”
“I would appreciate it.” Backing up, Alain laughed, crouched and cocked his gloved fingers into pistols. “On both matters, eh?”
Kizzie nodded, wanting to be alone. “Gotcha,” she replied, making a similar shooting gesture for some reason she’d never know. She turned around and walked away with her face scrunched up in embarrassment
Cold Fire Page 2