I felt shivers go down my spine.
I read that last name again.
And again.
“Ivy,” I said. “Ivy, you need to look at this.”
My sister came over to where I was standing, and her eyes followed mine.
“What …” Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and I saw her rereading it just as I had, in case her mind was playing a trick on her.
“It really says that, doesn’t it?”
She nodded.
Emmeline Adel. Our mother.
Adel had been her maiden name, I remembered Father telling us that in some distant memory, foggy around the edges. It certainly wasn’t a common name, that I was sure of. I supposed there was a chance that someone else could be called that, but it seemed unlikely.
Our mother? At Rookwood? We’d not known anything about it. We’d known very little about her, in fact. And now it seemed she’d not only been at the school, but been involved in this secret club, whatever it was.
“We need to get out of here,” said Violet, suddenly edgy. “We should cover that back up, whatever it is. Rose needs to sleep, and I’m not about to let you lot get us caught …”
She had a point, but I was still angry with her. I thought that I’d get out of trouble by revealing her as the thief, not get into it up to my neck. What did all this mean?
“Shut up, Violet,” I said. I turned to Ivy and Ariadne. “Will you remember this?” I gestured at the wall. “Until we can come back and copy it down? Make some sense of it?”
They nodded, though my twin still looked shocked.
“It’s fascinating,” said Ariadne. “A real mystery …”
“Then let’s get out of here,” I said. “I don’t need this night getting any more bizarre.” I looked Violet straight in the eye. “We’ll keep your secret, but we’re doing this for her,” I pointed at Rose, “not you, all right?”
Miss Finch was still staring at the wall of words, the candlelight dancing across her eyes. “This is very interesting indeed,” she said quietly.
“Miss?” I said. She looked back at me. “You should’ve told us about this. But … thank you, anyway. Thank you for getting us out of there.”
Miss Finch smiled. “I just hope I haven’t got you into even more trouble.” Her eyes wandered back to the wall again. “All at Rookwood is not as it seems …”
I picked up one of the flickering candles and headed out of the room, Ariadne and Ivy trailing behind me. My legs were heavy and I began to realise quite how tired I was. But my mind raced with everything we’d learnt.
Somehow, we made it back to room thirteen. Words were tumbling through my mind and threatening to spill out of my mouth, but they would have to wait until morning. I fell into bed, and as soon as I hit the sheets, I was asleep.
I woke up to a bright, frosty day, and for a moment everything seemed peaceful.
And then the morning bell drilled into my ears.
I sat up, clutching my head. “Ugh,” I said.
To my surprise, Ivy was already sitting on the edge of her bed, looking over at me.
“Did all of that really happen?” I asked. “Or did I just have a particularly strange dream?”
“If you mean Violet and Miss Finch and the ghost girl and the secret room …” Ivy said. She didn’t need to go on.
I dragged myself up and over to the mirror. Now I was the one who looked like a ghost. I was too pale and my hair was dishevelled. Instinctively, I reached for Mother’s hairbrush – but my hand stopped just above it.
Those letters I’d seen every day of my life – E.G. – suddenly had new meaning.
“She was here,” I muttered. I sat down on the stool in front of the dressing table and swung round to face my twin. “Our mother was here. Can you believe it?”
“I suppose we can’t say for sure that it wasn’t someone with the same name,” said Ivy. “But it seems very unlikely. Why didn’t Father say?”
I shrugged, not wanting to think about Father. He never told us anything, why would he start now? “I wonder what she was like,” I said, thinking aloud. “I mean … what house was she in? How did she wear her hair? Did she do ballet?”
I finally picked up the brush and dragged it through my hair, trying to tease out the tangles. Although my reflection in the mirror looked just like Ivy, I tried to imagine our mother there, but I couldn’t do it. I only knew what she looked like from the one photograph that our stepmother hadn’t thrown away.
“We know one thing about her,” said Ivy, standing up. “She was in this secret society. The Whispers in the Walls. What do you think they were up to?”
I shivered a little at the mention of the name. It was uncomfortably close to my own nightmares. “Whoever they were, it sounds like they knew there were some dark dealings going on here. Maybe like what happened to me …”
“Well, we don’t know exactly when it was written, Miss Fox may not have worked here then. But Mr Bartholomew definitely was, their message said so. But what could he have been doing?”
We both went silent then, our minds awash with horror as we thought of the strange man hunched over in his dark office. I knew there was something off about him.
“He can’t …” Ivy started. “He can’t be worse than Miss Fox … can he?”
We stayed true to our word and kept quiet about Rose, and what’s more, Ariadne managed to come to an agreement with Violet.
“We’ll sneak bits of our food, biscuits and things, or whatever we’ve cooked in home ec,” she said. “And we can buy more in the village shop on Saturday. That way Violet won’t have to steal from the kitchens, and it won’t be so suspicious.”
I agreed, and Scarlet did too, though begrudgingly. She still thought that Violet and Miss Finch were crazy for trying to pull this off in the first place. I didn’t really blame her – it wasn’t exactly the most sensible of ideas.
But food wasn’t the only problem. It was getting colder every day, and there was no heating or fireplace down in the secret room. Every time I glanced over at Violet during lessons, she looked preoccupied, worrying about Rose.
I couldn’t help but wonder, though – was she really concerned for Rose because they were friends? Or because Violet saw it as an investment, if Rose’s story about her family’s huge fortune was true. Was she still Vile Violet, the same person who had tormented and stolen from Scarlet, who had been nothing but selfish? Or had she truly changed for the better? Hearing that she’d been locked in the asylum too brought all the misery of visiting the place flooding back. And mixed in with this was a curious feeling – one I’d never thought I’d have regarding Violet – sympathy.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Ariadne said one lunchtime. “The Whispers, I mean. Just imagine, your own mother …”
I took a sip of my tea. “I know. I just wish there was a way to find out more about it.”
Before that week, all I’d known about my mother was that her name was Emmeline, that she’d once owned a string of pearls and a hairbrush, and that she’d been married to our father. I had a vague idea of what she’d looked like. Suddenly I had to add to that list that she’d attended Rookwood School and been involved in some sort of conspiracy to expose the headmaster, and I really wasn’t sure what to do with that information.
“Maybe there is a way,” said Ariadne, and her eyes had that unfocused look that told me she had seen something I hadn’t. “Do you remember what the first one of their pledges was?”
I shook my head. “Something about meeting in the secret room?”
She waved a sugar lump at me. “Meeting in the secret rooms. It was plural!”
“Oh lord,” said Scarlet, sitting down with her tray. “Is she having ideas again?”
“Secret rooms!” said Ariadne, waving her hands about and nearly hurling the sugar at Josephine Wilcox. I took it off her before she could do any damage.
Scarlet raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “There’s more than one?”
; “It would seem so,” I said, and quickly I was the one whose mind was somewhere else. If we found another room, would we find out more about the Whispers? Would we find out more about our mother?
“We could look, I suppose,” my twin mused, “but we don’t have the first clue where to start.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about it,” said Ariadne. She picked up another sugar lump and ate it with a crunch.
As Scarlet and I walked to get changed for ballet, we ran into Penny. That was never pleasant at the best of times, but she appeared to be particularly angry. She was leaning against the door of the geography classroom, her arms folded and a frown plastered across her freckled face.
“What are you doing?” Scarlet asked.
“I was supposed to be meeting Violet,” she sneered. Then she started muttering under her breath: “The first time she speaks to me in months and she doesn’t even turn up … I want to find out exactly where she is meant to have been ‘abroad’ – an ‘exclusive French academy’, wasn’t it? As if she’d just leave me like that! There’s something going on and I intend to find out what!”
I was all in favour of carrying on past, but Scarlet couldn’t leave it alone. “I thought best friends told each other everything,” she said in mock pity.
Penny’s frown deepened. “I thought so too,” she said, and for a moment there was sadness in her voice. Then she looked straight at Scarlet and her usual self returned. “But it’s none of your business!”
I grabbed hold of Scarlet’s arm, worried we were going to be late. I hated disappointing Miss Finch. My twin didn’t resist this time, and we turned to leave.
“Unless …” said Penny.
We stopped.
She darted in front of us. “Unless you know what’s going on. Has she told you anything?”
“No,” I said, at the same time as Scarlet said, “What are you talking about?”
“She’s hiding something. And you two are just as suspicious as she is. The old Violet would never have stood me up!”
“Violet hates me, and the feeling is mutual,” said Scarlet. “What makes you think I would care what she’s getting up to?”
Penny changed tack and pulled out her red prefect book. “If you don’t know anything about Violet, maybe you know something about the thefts? Maybe you want to confess? I’m sure I’ll find some evidence against you …”
Scarlet snorted. “Write my name down in your book as many times as you like, Winchester, it’s not going to change anything.” She barged past, dragging me with her.
“I’ll get you for this, Scarlet! I’ll get you back for everything! You’ll regret framing me for breaking that stupid piano!” Penny shouted, but we carried on down the corridor. She sounded like a toddler having a tantrum, and I knew Scarlet would dismiss everything she’d said. But Penny was a force to be reckoned with, that much I knew.
We were just in time for ballet, hurrying down the stone stairs in our leotards. It was freezing as usual in the studio, and I began to worry about Rose again. And wasn’t she lonely, down there in the dark?
Miss Finch greeted us cheerily, with only the faintest flicker of a wink to me and Scarlet. “Let’s get moving, girls. There’s a reason it’s called a warm-up …”
She sat at her piano and I was glad to see such a familiar sight after all the weirdness of the week. I began to let loose as I practised at the barre, my body easily sliding into the positions that I knew so well.
Penny ran in, late.
Miss Finch looked up. “Where have you been, Penny?” she asked.
“I was …” she panted. “I’m …”
Our instructor waited for an excuse, but none came. She sighed and stood up, pushing on the piano lid for support, and walked over to Penny.
I looked at Scarlet, and then back at the mirror. We all pretended that we weren’t listening.
“You wanted to come back to this class, didn’t you?” Miss Finch asked gently.
“Yes, Miss.”
“Then, please, do take it seriously. Don’t give me a reason to have you removed again. Unless you’d prefer another sport? Lacrosse? Swimming?”
My skin crawled as I remembered my ill-fated swimming lesson. I was pretty sure that Penny wouldn’t fancy that, either.
“No, Miss,” she replied. “S-sorry, Miss.”
“All right,” said Miss Finch. She walked over to the wall of mirrors and began going down the class and checking our positions, while Penny hastily laced on her shoes. She saw me looking at her and glared.
Hmmph. I turned back to my reflection. It was considerably more friendly.
I lay in bed that night, thankful that the small metal radiator in the corner of room thirteen had finally come to life. It didn’t give out much heat, but it was enough to make the temperature more bearable.
For the first time in ages, I was awake while Scarlet wasn’t. She’d slipped off to sleep not long after lights out, leaving me alone in the dark.
There was a knocking on our door.
It was soft at first, and I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. I tucked the covers over my head and tried to shut it out.
But it got louder, and then I was certain that it was knocking. “Scarlet,” I hissed. “Wake up!”
And as I sat up in bed, the door flung open.
It was Violet.
“Rose is gone!”
Ivy shook me awake. “What?” I asked groggily. “What’s going on?” For once I had managed to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and now someone was trying to drag me out of it.
“Rose is missing,” she said.
I opened my eyes and saw my twin’s worried face in the moonlight. Even more worrying was the sight of Violet, who was standing just inside the doorway.
“I’ve searched the whole library and most of the building,” Violet said, her voice just loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to arouse suspicion. “I must have forgotten to bolt the door. She’s nowhere to be found! You have to help me look for her!”
“Why?”
Violet gasped, clearly affronted. Of course she’d just decided that we had to help her.
“It’s not our problem, is it?” I said. “You’re the one who decided to keep her as a pet. Why should we risk getting kicked out of school just to help you?”
“It’s not for me,” she insisted. “It’s Rose. Anything could have happened to her!”
I looked over at Ivy, who had perched nervously on the edge of her bed, and I could already tell that she’d made up her mind. “Come on, Scarlet,” she said. “She really could be in danger.”
Ugh. I peeled off my covers and went to pull on my coat and shoes. I pointed at Violet. “I’m not doing this for you,” I said.
“Where’s Ariadne?” Ivy asked.
“Couldn’t wake her,” whispered Violet, as we sneaked out of the room. “She just muttered something about not wanting any flowers and went back to sleep.”
Ivy and I followed Violet along the corridor and down the stairs. I couldn’t believe what was happening in a way – my hatred of Violet hadn’t diminished at all, and I felt nauseous even being reminded of her and of how she had made my life hell. Now I was letting her lead me around like a puppet. I would’ve given up and turned back, had it not been for Ivy. I didn’t want her falling out with me again, not after I’d only just persuaded her to trust me.
“Where are we even going?” I asked quietly, as we reached the bottom.
“Outside,” said Violet. “I mean, I’ve looked everywhere else. Everywhere that’s not locked, that is.”
Great. Just great. “But it’s freezing out. Are you crazy? They should’ve left you in the asylum.”
She spun round to face me. “Don’t you ever say that again!”
I shrugged. I knew what it was like, I was allowed to say it. “Let’s just find her, all right?”
In silence we found the nearest door that led outside. It was usually locked with a bolt, but it had been slid back. Maybe Rose had gone
outside. Violet tugged it open and we stepped outside, the cold air hitting us like a brick wall.
“We should … split up,” Ivy suggested, suddenly breathless. “And we can meet back here if we can’t find her.”
I agreed. The further away I could get from Violet, the better.
So Ivy headed towards the stables, I made for the swimming pool and Violet started walking in the direction of the playing fields. I really hoped that Rose wanted to be found, because I didn’t have much hope for any of us spotting her if she didn’t. The moon was bright but it slid in and out of the clouds, and the faint stars didn’t shine enough to light our way.
As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I felt my way around the wall of the changing rooms. I tried the door – locked.
I turned to the pool and stared into the dark water. There was nothing, no movement. I remembered the girl who had drowned, and suddenly felt ill. Was this where it had happened?
There was a cry from the direction of the stables.
I ran back over the gravel, the sudden burst of movement warming my bones. My heart raced. Ivy?
Skidding around the corner, I came into the stable yard. Ivy was standing by one of the stalls, her hand over her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said quietly, as I approached. “She startled me.” She pointed into the stall.
I peered in over the door, and I could just make out the flash of Rose’s eyes in the darkness. She was curled up in the straw beside a snoozing pony, looking perfectly at home. “Rose, what are you—” I started, before remembering that she wouldn’t talk to us. I shook my head and leant against the wall to get my breath back.
A moment later, Violet came running. “I thought I heard something,” she said, panic in her voice. “Have you found her?”
I waved at the stable. “She fancied a night-time pony ride, apparently.”
Violet ignored me and poked her head in the stall door. The pony lifted its head and whinnied at her. “Rose,” she said, “why are you out here? You know I told you to stay in the room.”
“I wanted to go outside,” I heard Rose say quietly. “I didn’t know it was night-time. And it is so cold. But the ponies are warm.”
The Whispers in the Walls (Scarlet and Ivy, Book 2) Page 9