The Whispers in the Walls (Scarlet and Ivy, Book 2)

by Sophie Cleverly

  The date didn’t seem to trigger any sort of recognition in the librarian. She just ran a finger along the rows until she came to the book marked ‘1914’. She retrieved it and balanced it on her knee, having to blow some of the dust off it first. Then she tipped it open and rifled through. “February, February … ah, here we go. That’s funny, someone has torn the corner off.”

  I took the yellowed paper out of her hands. And I knew instantly which article we were looking for.

  DROWNS IN FREAK SCHOOL ACCIDENT

  I tried to press down the emotions that bubbled up and to keep my face totally blank. Ivy and Ariadne didn’t do so well – they looked like they were about to be sick. “That one,” I said, pointing at it. “That’s the one.”

  Miss Jones appeared not to even register the horrific headline; I supposed she hadn’t read it.

  “You girls will look after this, won’t you? Don’t take it out of the library. You can spend ten minutes with it now and then you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” She replaced the volume in the archive and then picked up her stack of books again. “So much to do …”

  Before we could say anything else, she had wandered away, leaving us staring down at the newspaper. If she knew something, it was going to be difficult getting it out of her.

  “This is it,” I said. “We need to read this.” Scarlet nodded briskly, wide-eyed.

  We headed for a nearby table. But just as we did so, I heard a familiar dry, hacking cough. Quickly, I pulled the others out of sight behind a bookshelf and we peered back round and watched as Mr Bartholomew greeted the librarian.

  “H-h-h-hello, Headmaster,” she replied. She sounded terrified. Was every adult in this school intimidated by Mr Bartholomew?

  “Ah … Miss Jones. I’m just making my rounds to check no misdemeanours are taking place. I trust the library is a haven of quiet and study?”

  “O-of course! I was showing some pupils the newspaper archives just now – such keen students of local history …”

  I wasn’t sticking around to get caught by him. All three of us ducked under the table and hid there until he had left. Then I placed the torn-off corner back against the page – it fitted perfectly. We read …

  GIRL DROWNS IN FREAK SCHOOL ACCIDENT

  Tragedy struck at the prestigious Rookwood School last night, as a pupil (15) was discovered drowned on the shore of the estate’s lake this morning. Distressed fellow students reported seeing something floating in the water and teachers were swiftly alerted. The deceased has not yet been named and little is known about her, but it is believed that her death was the result of a night-swimming escapade gone badly wrong.

  An Anonymous Teacher commented thusly: “We are all deeply saddened by the unfortunate loss of life here at Rookwood. Rest assured that we are doing all we can to ensure that this does not happen again. Parents do not need to panic, this was clearly an unforeseeable accident, and we want to reassure them that their daughters are perfectly safe in our hands.” She added that a plaque would be erected on the school grounds, in memory of the student.

  Headmaster Edgar Bartholomew declined to speak to The Richmond Gazette at this time.

  I turned my head to look at my twin. “I bet I know what happened,” I said. “It wasn’t an accident. Well, not the kind they think it was.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ivy.

  “He probably made her do it! He made her go swimming in the lake at night, as a punishment! That’s why he wouldn’t talk to the reporter!” I clenched my hand into a fist.

  “This is what the Whispers meant,” said Ariadne. I nodded. Ivy put her hand over her mouth. She had finally seen what I was getting at.

  And I wondered: had Miss Jones been a pupil here at the beginning of 1914? And could she have seen it happen?

  It was sickening. He’d more than gone too far. Mr Bartholomew had killed someone. His obsession with discipline had resulted in a pupil’s death and terrified the Whispers into silence.

  And I was not going to let him get away with it. Scarlet was about ready to run to the headmaster’s office and beat him around the head with the newspaper. That, or personally call the police and demand his arrest. It took Ariadne and I some time to talk her out of it, until Miss Jones reappeared and asked us to replace the newspaper and head to bed.

  As Ariadne slunk back to her dorm, I turned to Scarlet. She’d finally calmed down a little.

  “We need evidence,” I said, for what felt like the fifth time. “Otherwise nobody’s going to believe us.”

  She didn’t look at me. “Why not the code book?”

  “We could have just written that ourselves. And we can’t exactly show off the secret room, can we? If they find out what Miss Finch did, she’ll be fired. We need to look after Rose.”

  “Speak for yourself. I don’t see why I have to look after her.”

  I glared at her. “It’s your turn tonight!”

  That got her to look up. “I’m not going on my own. Mr Bartholomew could catch me and have me torn to pieces and fed to the rooks.”

  Although she was being ridiculous, the thought made me pause. Can’t lose her again …

  “Fine, I’ll go with you. But just to make sure you don’t get yourself into any more trouble.”

  It was earlier at night than we usually ventured out, but it had been a freezing cold day (Scarlet had refused to take off her coat and scarf) and I was getting worried about Rose. It was still late enough that the teachers would all be at home in their beds.

  Ariadne joined us and the darkness swept over us as we all crept down the stairs. A sudden noise as we passed one of the tall windows made me jump, but it was just an owl hooting in the night.

  I stifled a yawn, wishing that I were curled up in bed.

  My twin seemed on even higher alert than usual. I didn’t blame her – I could almost imagine Mr Bartholomew stalking behind us, shuffling along, his breathing creaking like an open door in the wind. Was he really always watching?

  As we tiptoed through the school, I imagined I could hear the victims of the headmaster’s years of terror. Crying out. Begging for their stories to be told.

  The girl whose arm had been broken. Did her parents know? Did Mr Bartholomew tell them she’d hurt herself in a fall?

  The teacher who’d been locked in a cupboard all night. Did she bang on the door and scream, waiting to be let out? Was she frightened?

  The girl who’d been forced to run around the school until she’d suffered an asthma attack. Had anyone believed her?

  These people went round and round in my head until I felt dizzy.

  I promised myself that I wouldn’t forget them. I carried the book with me, hoping to stash it in the hidden room, where it would be safe.

  And that was when we saw the shadow. It flickered and grew larger, looming up the wall. There were heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.

  We quickly pushed open the moving bookcase and dashed inside.

  It was probably a rat, I told myself.

  An enormous rat.

  Rose was sitting on her makeshift bed, reading one of the pony books that Violet had given her and eating a bar of chocolate, some of which had smudged on to her cheeks. She was half-buried under a pile of blankets, and she’d plaited her blonde hair into a braid. She looked up as we walked in and smiled.

  “Are you all right?” I asked her, handing her a fresh mug of water that I’d brought from upstairs. She nodded and took the mug, drinking gratefully.

  “I don’t know how she can live down here,” said Scarlet, scuffing her foot against the floor.

  I gave my twin a Look. “Just because Rose doesn’t talk much, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have ears. And besides, she doesn’t have a choice.”

  Rose looked up at me, but her eyes gave nothing away. She seemed fine, but it couldn’t have been nice, in the cold and the dark. Even with all the candles. We couldn’t keep her down here forever.

  We sat there in her quiet company for a while, tr
ying to stop our teeth chattering, until suddenly we heard footsteps on the stairs. I jumped up, worried. They sounded heavy.

  Oh no. That shadow I’d seen. Was it him? Had Mr Bartholomew been lurking outside all this time?

  Scarlet jumped up too, and took my hand. There was nowhere to run. Whoever this was, we had to face them together.

  A figure staggered into the room, laden with blankets. To my surprise, it was Violet. She looked as astonished to see as us we were to see her.

  “Violet! What are you doing down here?”

  “I’ve sneaked down from the sick bay,” she explained, rushing to Rose and draping another woollen blanket around her tiny shoulders. “Nurse Gladys is going to let me out tomorrow, so it was my last chance to smuggle these out and bring them down here.”

  Rose stared up at her happily. “Hello, Miss Violet,” she said.

  “You’re just in time,” I said. “It’s freezing. I don’t know if she’d have survived the night down here without the extra warmth.”

  “Well, I’m back now,” said Violet briskly. “You can leave her with me. I rescued her from the asylum, so I can look after her.”

  I frowned. Didn’t she remember what Miss Finch had said?

  Scarlet was furious. “Don’t I even get a thank you for hauling you out of the lake? I could have been pulled into the water myself! Or what about looking after your little pet while you’ve been recovering? Of all the ungrateful …”

  “Miss Violet …”

  “Scarlet Grey, if you think I’m ever going to thank you after all this, then …”

  “Miss Violet!”

  That stopped everyone in their tracks. We all looked at Rose. Here eyes were fixed on the doorway we’d entered through. “They’re here,” she said.

  “Rose, what are you—” Violet started.

  We all turned.

  Someone was there.

  It was Penny.

  The expression on Penny’s face was one of pure fury.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice was flat, her eyes narrowed.

  To my surprise, Violet started babbling. “Penny, listen, it’s nothing, I’ll explain, don’t …”

  “No,” said Penny, and she stood firm as a rock. “What is this?” She got louder. “What are you doing with them?”

  I looked round. Ariadne had her hand over her mouth and had gone pale as porridge. Scarlet looked like she was considering violence. I grabbed her hand pre-emptively.

  “It’s nothing,” repeated Violet, and she stepped forward, her arms raised in a defensive gesture.

  Penny merely swiped them away. She was out for blood. “No,” she repeated. “You do not do this to me. You do not just sneak around with these losers in the dead of night and then lie to me about it! You’ve only just got out of the sick bay, and you haven’t even spoken to me yet! I tried to find you in the nurse’s office to APOLOGISE, but you’d disappeared AGAIN!”

  “You were the one who put me in there,” Violet replied. You could taste the acid in her voice.

  “That’s irrelevant,” said Penny, although I was pretty sure it wasn’t. “I searched around the school for you. Then I swear I see you slipping into the library, and I find this bookcase that swings open and it’s ajar and there’s a secret passage and …” She stopped, almost too furious to go on. “This is madness! Tell me what you’re doing and tell me who the heck this girl is, right now!” She flung out her arm and pointed, her chest rising and falling as if it could barely contain her anger.

  And then, with the worst possible timing, Rose stood up. The blankets fell loosely around her.

  “AND WHY IS SHE WEARING MY CLOTHES?” Penny screamed.

  “I rescued her,” said Violet. “From the asylum. Please, Penny, I’ll do anything, just don’t tell …”

  “Don’t tell the headmaster?!” Penny yelled back. And then she suddenly froze. We all stared at her. The candlelight glinted off her golden prefect badge.

  “Oh no,” I whispered.

  And before I could even move, Penny turned on her heels and ran.

  “NO!” Violet shouted, and in seconds she was giving chase. And then I was running too, and I prayed that Scarlet and Ariadne were behind me. We couldn’t let Mr Bartholomew find out about Rose – even more than that, we couldn’t let him find out that we were involved. As I ran to the stairs, flashes of his hideous punishments sparked in my head.

  But Penny was fast, and she had shot a way up the spiral staircase before we even got there. Violet lunged up through a gap in the wood and grabbed her ankle, but Penny kicked like a donkey and threw her off.

  “Penny!” I yelled up at her. “Stop this! We can sort something out!”

  My words had no effect. She had already hurled her weight at the moving bookcase and tumbled out. I heard thundering footsteps on the stairs behind me, but I didn’t look back. We needed to catch her. Violet was already slowing, her breathing ragged.

  We raced through the bookshelves, Penny’s copper hair whipping out behind her as she ran. I didn’t shout again, dreading the thought of someone hearing us. Faster and faster, out of the library doors, along the corridor. She was getting nearer to his office, and every frantic step made my heart beat faster.

  Please, I begged silently. Please don’t be in there. Please be at home in bed.

  To my horror, Penny skidded to a halt, and began hammering her fists on the office door. “Sir!” she yelled. “Sir!”

  We were too late.

  I stopped, caught my breath. Violet was beside me, and she sank down to her knees.

  Penny knocked with all her might, but I sensed an air of desperation. The door remained firmly shut.

  I walked over to her. She wouldn’t stop hitting the door. Without hesitation, I grabbed her wrists. Her fists were raw, and she started to cry.

  “I hate you,” she sobbed. “I hate you all. I will tell him! I will!” She choked back the tears and wiped her face on her nightgown.

  Violet hadn’t even looked up. She was staring at the floor. It was like she had just shut down.

  Scarlet and Ariadne appeared behind her. Ariadne stopped when she saw that nothing was happening, and leant forward with her hands on her knees as she attempted to regain her breath. But Scarlet marched over to where I was standing with Penny.

  “Who do you think you are?” she demanded, giving Penny a firm shove in the chest. Penny stumbled back, tears still streaming down her face.

  “I’m … I’m doing what’s right,” Penny said. Her fists were clenched. “You’ve broken all the rules!”

  “Oh, so you’re a saint now, are you?” snapped my sister. “Saving everyone from our wicked misdemeanours? YOU pushed Violet in the lake, and now you’re punishing her for having the audacity to leave you out of something!”

  “Who cares?” Penny snapped back. “I’m not letting you get away with it either way! I’ll find Mr Bartholomew tomorrow and tell him, I’ll …”

  My twin grabbed her by the collar. “Listen here, you little weasel. What makes you think he’s even going to believe you?”

  But Penny had hold of her arm and I watched as she slowly dug her nails into Scarlet’s skin. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

  Scarlet stood still, her grip remaining solid. But the sharp fingernails sank deeper. She began to wince, and the wince turned to a grimace. She shook her arm away. “Fine! Fine. But you can answer the question.”

  “I’m a prefect,” Penny sniffed. “Of course he’ll believe me.” But even she didn’t look that convinced by her own words. She leant back against the heavy door, defeated.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, for the moment at least. We’d bought ourselves time. We could get Miss Finch to move Rose somewhere, get rid of the proof that she’d been there. We could tell Mr Bartholomew that Penny was making the whole thing up, that she had a known vendetta against Scarlet and had fallen out with Violet – even pushing Violet into the lake hadn’t been enough revenge for her.

  “Can you smell smoke?”
Ariadne said suddenly.

  I sniffed the air. It did smell of smoke. Where was it coming from?

  “One of you circus freaks probably knocked over a candle,” Penny sneered through her tears.

  I looked at Scarlet in horror. Together we went and peered back around the corner. Smoke was billowing violently from the vast doors.

  The library was on fire.

  “Oh my god,” I said.

  Ivy turned back. “Fire,” she whispered. And then louder, “There’s a fire!”

  Ariadne flapped her arms. “We’ve got to fetch someone!” she said. “Or get everyone out! Or both! Oh no, oh no …”

  “ROSE!” Violet shouted. She’d snapped out of it, and before I could stop her she was up and running past us into the library. This was not good.

  I ran after her.

  “Scarlet, don’t!” Ivy begged, terror in her voice.

  “Get help!” was my only response.

  As I ran back into the vast room, I saw just how not good it was. The fire was raging, a seething orange and yellow mass flickering its way across the shelves. The smoke was threatening to choke me. I wrapped my scarf around my face and ran on. “Violet!” I yelled after her, hoping to slow her down.

  “The secret door!” she called back, panic-stricken, and I realised with dismay what she meant. The moving bookcase must be on fire.

  I pulled the scarf down from my mouth for a second. “Go the other way!” I tilted my head. Violet leapt into action, and she was beside me as we sprinted down the rows of books.

  The fire was spreading quickly. I could see the moving bookcase, and it was burning, pages curling up from the books as the flames ate away at them, flecks of white floating up to the ceiling. The heat was intense.

  All my senses were telling me to get out of there. But Rose …

  “How can we get in?” Violet gasped, tears streaming from her eyes. The smoke stung mine as well, and I tried to pull the scarf up further.

  I thought faster than I’d ever thought in my life. “We need to try and bash straight through it. Ladder,” I said, my hand snapping out.