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

by Sophie Cleverly

  I looked at my twin. She was a reflection of me, as always, but there was something older and wiser about Ivy’s face than I’d ever seen in my own. It didn’t take me long to realise why.

  She’d lost me. She’d been through my death.

  It hadn’t been real, but she hadn’t known that at the time. It was as real to her as the cold marble floor beneath us.

  “You’re right,” the librarian sighed sadly. “A lot can be saved. But all those books … I can feel them burning …”

  I leant back against the wall, listening to Miss Jones sobbing quietly.

  It felt like there was a huge weight pressing down on me, one I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to lift. The weight of every person in Rookwood, the ghosts of the past and the victims of the present. Of Miss Jones and Ivy. I might have had the power to save them, but I’d lost it.

  At least things couldn’t get any worse.

  “I’ve been expelled,” said Ariadne.

  “What? You’re … you’re joking, right?”

  We’d been heading back past the headmaster’s office when Ariadne had walked out of the door, her eyes wide as saucers.

  “No,” she said. “I … I’ve really been expelled.” Scarlet’s mouth dropped open, as did mine. This can’t be happening.

  “Gosh,” said Ariadne, and suddenly her legs had buckled under her and she was sitting in the middle of the corridor. Other girls milled around her like she was an unexpected rock in a river.

  I knelt down beside her, feeling numb. I didn’t even know how to start processing this. “What … what happened?”

  “Um,” she murmured, “Mrs Knight and Mr Bartholomew, they said I was seen setting off the fire alarm, and I had a chance and I blew it, and I didn’t but they don’t know that, and they think I did it because, because …”

  “Ariadne.” I shook her gently by the shoulders. “Please. What are you trying to say?”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “My old school,” she said.

  “What about your old school?” I asked.

  “I was expelled.”

  “We know you’ve been expelled, but what happened at your old school?” Scarlet demanded, perhaps being less than sensitive.

  “I was expelled from my old school,” said Ariadne, and her voice was as quiet and mouse-like as the day we’d met. I struggled to hear her over the noise of the chatting girls that passed us. “There was a fire and, um, I might have been responsible.”

  “Might have?” said Scarlet.

  “All right, I was responsible! It was stupid, really!” Her eyes filled with tears. “These girls, they bullied me every day. They stole my things and pulled my hair and kicked me, and –” she sucked in another breath – “they had this awful club that met in this old woodshed and they’d never let me in. There was this pile of dry leaves outside and I had a match and I thought, what if I lit it, just to scare them?”

  I gave Scarlet a nervous sideways glance, wondering where the story was going.

  “I thought I would be able to put it out,” she said softly. “But the whole thing caught. There was nothing left of the shed at the end.”

  We stared at her, horrified.

  “The girls got out,” she said, apparently realising that this was an important detail. “They were fine. They came running out as soon as they saw the smoke.” Then her face fell again. “But they told everyone it was me. I got kicked out. My daddy was furious.”

  I began to understand just what was going on. “So they think that you started the fire in the library?”

  She nodded cautiously. “I didn’t, I promise!” I believed her. She had no motive, no reason, and Ariadne didn’t lie. “But they think I’ve got some sort of problem …” She stopped then, mid-sentence, mouth flapping open and closed like a fish.

  I didn’t know what to say, either. Ariadne. Expelled.

  Scarlet wasn’t as speechless. “What happens now?” she asked.

  “I have to go and get my things,” said Ariadne. “And Daddy’s coming here to … to … collect me …”

  She burst into tears.

  I didn’t think I could handle any more crying without starting myself. So instead, I reached out and took Ariadne’s arm. “We’ll help you,” I said. “We’ll find out how the fire was really started, and we’ll clear your name. I promise!”

  Despondently, the three of us trooped up to Ariadne’s room. There was no sign of Violet – she and Rose must still be with Miss Finch, being ‘questioned’. I breathed a sigh of relief that our ballet teacher had arrived in the hall when she did. If they had been taken off by Mr Bartholomew, goodness only knew what could be happening to them.

  Scarlet and I helped Ariadne pack all her things into the little convoy of suitcases that had followed her into school.

  None of us spoke. We couldn’t bear it. I just wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening.

  When Ariadne’s side of the dorm had been packed away, we all stood and stared at her luggage. Finally, I brought myself to look at my best friend. I must have looked stricken, because she quickly said, “It’s okay. I’ll be all right. I promise.”

  “We’ll get you back,” said Scarlet, and I saw that her fists were shaking.

  Ariadne and I both stared at her.

  “What?” she snapped, before softening slightly. “I think you’re pretty great, okay? This whole thing is a joke. Mr Bartholomew started that fire, I’m sure of it. But how can we prove it?”

  I nodded, breathing deep. “We’ll find a way,” I said.

  “Thanks,” Ariadne replied quietly.

  But a deeper fear was stirring in my heart. What if Ariadne didn’t want to come back? I wouldn’t blame her. She was getting away from Rookwood, just what we’d always wanted.

  She’d probably be better off without us.

  That evening, we waited in the foyer for Ariadne’s father to arrive. Rookwood’s nervous secretary had gone home for the day, so we sat around her desk, surrounded by suitcases.

  “He’s going to kill me,” said Ariadne, shaking her head. “I’ll never hear the end of it. He’s going to lock me up until I’m forty-three!”

  “Fathers are like that.” Scarlet shrugged. “They get over it eventually.”

  “Not my father,” our friend replied darkly. “He’s going to kill me,” she said again, burying her head in her knees.

  “What will we do without you?” I asked, thinking aloud.

  “You helped us,” said Scarlet. “We might have lost everything, but we only know what we know because of you. So … well, thanks, that’s all.”

  Ariadne looked up again, her expression a little brighter. “You’ll solve this, won’t you? For me? Prove what he’s done?”

  We nodded. “Promise.”

  “And you’ll write to me,” she said, worriedly.

  “Of course!” I gave her a weak smile, but it faded as soon as it had appeared.

  There was a thunk as someone opened one of Rookwood’s enormous front doors and stepped inside, brushing snow off their overcoat.

  Ariadne stood up and I followed, bracing myself for confrontation. Ariadne was innocent, and I wouldn’t let him punish her, no matter what.

  The man came closer. I held my ground.

  And then I realised something: he was only as tall as me.

  “Ariadne! My pumpkin!” he cried.

  He lifted his hat up from his face, which was round and friendly, like a bespectacled owl. He swept her up into a crushing hug.

  “What have they done to you?” He held her out at arm’s length. “I knew we should never have sent you away. Now I told your mother—” He trailed off, apparently noticing I was there. “Hallo,” he said. “Who’s this?”

  “Um.” I was a bit thrown at this point. “I’m Ivy. Nice to meet you, Mr Flitworth, sir.”

  Then he caught sight of Scarlet as well. “Ooh, another one? You match!” He beamed at her.

  “Scarlet,” she said, nonplussed.

&nb
sp; His attention went back to his daughter. “Darling, I don’t know what this nonsense is about, I’m sure. I’ll be glad to have you home. Your mother said we should have you examined for pyromaniac tendencies, but I don’t believe a word of it. You’re still my girl.”

  I realised that Ariadne hadn’t said anything. Her expression was one of pure horror and embarrassment.

  “Say goodbye to your little friends now, eh?”

  She turned back to me. I grabbed Scarlet and dragged her up off the floor. “I’ll see you soon,” said Ariadne, and we all hugged each other. “Please!” she added.

  “I’ll have Horace carry your suitcases out,” said Ariadne’s father. He put a hand to his mouth and said in a stage whisper, “He’s my driver, you know. Only met him last week. I don’t like to go outside too much – you never know what dangers are lurking.” He shot a look out of the door and shuddered a little. “Besides. Not good for the digestion.”

  My friend’s cheeks were flushed bright red as he pulled her into another hug.

  “Come on, darling,” he said. “You’ll be home and safe in your room again. I knew you weren’t ready to go out in the world just yet.” And then, as an afterthought, “Lovely to meet you, Sally and Irene!”

  We watched, gaping, as he steered Ariadne away. She turned her head back towards us. HELP, she mouthed.

  But then she was gone, out into the flurry of snow. The heavy door swung shut behind them.

  If this day got any stranger, I wasn’t sure I would cope.

  We were in the darkest of spirits as we walked to dinner. Scarlet’s frown hadn’t left her face and I felt like a boat adrift without a rudder in an endless sea.

  “I know I didn’t trust her before,” said Scarlet suddenly as we joined the queue, “but I was an idiot. We needed her. All this stuff with Mr Bartholomew and Violet and Rose – where are they, anyway?”

  I shook my head. I had no idea. I just kept thinking that our bad luck had rubbed off on Ariadne, that she wouldn’t have been expelled if it weren’t for us.

  “We need to find out what he’s done with them,” Scarlet hissed. “I wouldn’t put it past him to … to …” she trailed off. To do what Miss Fox did to her. I knew she was thinking it.

  Scarlet filled her tray with a bowl of soup and a slice of bread, and shot off towards the Richmond table. Dejected, I set off after her, and almost walked right into Nadia’s big sister Meena, who had been so kind to me when I first arrived at Rookwood.

  “Ivy,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  I suppose it was written all over my face. I balanced my tray on the end of the Evergreen table – the empty space where Violet should have been.

  “My friend, Ariadne,” I said, trying to keep myself from crying. “She’s been expelled. They think she started the fire, but I know she didn’t.”

  “Oh no,” Meena said sadly. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

  “And that’s just the start of it.” I stared into the soup for a moment. “Why do we stay here, Meena? What’s the point? What if I just ran away tomorrow, or begged my father to take me home?” Whether or not he’d listen was another story.

  Meena looked down at her blazer, at the embroidered rook and oak tree. “I stay for my friends,” she said finally. “Not just my friends, even. Everyone else. We’re all in the same boat here. They need me, and I need them.”

  She had a point. If we somehow managed to escape, who would help Violet and Rose? Who would let the Whispers’ truth be told? Who would prove Ariadne innocent?

  My eyes were filling with tears. I reached into the pocket of my dress for my handkerchief, and found a folded square of paper. It was a note from Ariadne!

  Ivy! All is not lost – look inside my pillow-case as soon as you can. I disobeyed Miss Jones, so kept it quiet.

  Good luck! We’re all counting on you.

  Your friend,

  Ariadne

  She must have slipped it into my pocket as we hugged goodbye. And just like that, my boat had a rudder again.

  Ivy slammed her tray down on the Richmond table, sending her now-cold soup sloshing over the sides of its bowl.

  “Careful, Miss Grey!” Mrs Knight frowned at her.

  I gave my twin a questioning look. Her face had gone from morose to utterly cheerful in a matter of minutes. She looked manic.

  “Ariadne didn’t return the newspaper! She left me a note saying to check inside her pillow-case – I just did and found it there! It didn’t burn in the fire, Scarlet – we still have proof that the girl died!”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “This is AMAZING!” I yelped. “Clever, clever Ariadne – who would have thought she’d have the guts to disobey a teacher – even one as drippy as Miss Jones!”

  Ivy grinned back at me triumphantly. What had happened to my timid, goody two-shoes sister? I had always loved my twin fiercely, but this new version of her was particularly brilliant!

  I ate my soup with glee, and I didn’t even care that it tasted like cardboard.

  Assembly the next day began with an unwelcome visit from the headmaster.

  “We have dealt with the person … responsible for starting the fire, and they are no longer on the premises and will not be returning,” he said, before moving on surprisingly quickly. “Two other girls seem to have been involved, and they are being –” a cough – “questioned. One is not a pupil at this school.”

  Someone in front of me put their hand up. I blinked. Who was crazy enough to question Mr Bartholomew?

  “Who is she, sir?”

  Penny.

  Ugh. I’d almost forgotten about her. She had somehow managed to avoid suspicion after the fire, but clearly hadn’t decided to tell on us so far … so was she trying to land us in it now?

  The headmaster frowned. “We are trying to ascertain that.” He violently brushed a speck of dust from his suit. So he didn’t know who Rose was yet – and he seemed particularly annoyed about it. Miss Finch was doing an excellent job of stalling things, then – thank goodness we had her on our side.

  Someone had to get Rose out of there, and I suppose it had to be us. If our hunch was right …

  Lessons slowly whirred their way back to life. I’d barely slept, and had to hide my snores through boring geography and arithmetic. How could I concentrate? I was desperate to find out if the library was open again. We needed to get hold of Miss Jones and see if we could unlock her memories of the past.

  At lunchtime, Ivy and I raced through our sandwiches so that we’d have enough free time to get there.

  We rushed through the corridors, prompting several teachers to tell us to slow down. Everyone in the school seemed particularly on edge, paranoid that Mr Bartholomew might catch any further rules being broken.

  The ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign remained, but the doors were no longer locked. I peered in. “Miss Jones? Are you in there?”

  After a moment, a voice echoed back, “Just a minute!”

  Presently, the librarian slid into view. She was wearing a pair of long black overalls and a black shirt, together with heavy gloves. She wiped her face with the back of her arm. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m starting to clean up. Apparently some of the other teachers have volunteered to help. Miss Finch will be along later.” She gave a feeble smile.

  Ivy nudged me. “We’re sorry to bother you, Miss, but it’s quite important.”

  “Hmm, you’d better come in, then,” she said. She opened the door a little wider so that we could slip inside. “Just stick with me, and don’t go near any of the … damaged … areas.” Sniff.

  As I pushed past the door, I saw what she meant. All the shelves over by the secret entrance were ruined, blackened and twisted like winter trees. The books and archives near the centre were nothing but ash – further out they were merely charred. Soot covered everything and the whole place still smelt horribly of smoke. I fought the urge to turn and run back out into the fresh air.

  “The headmaster …” Miss Jones mutte
red. “He said we were lucky that the damage didn’t spread too far. The rest of the building hasn’t suffered much.”

  “Where do they think the fire started?” Ivy asked.

  “By the newspaper archives,” she said. “All that old paper, I suppose. They told me it was a girl that started it, but –” she blinked the tears from her eyes – “I don’t see why anyone would do such a thing.”

  “It wasn’t Ariadne, Miss!” I blurted out. “She was framed. Someone else did it. Someone smashed an oil lamp deliberately and, well, we think it was Mr Bartholomew. And you might be able to help us prove it.”

  At the mention of his name, the librarian went deathly silent, her lips in a tight line. She looked furtively all around us, as if expecting him to jump out, and then scuttled off towards the far side of the room, where all the windows were black and grimy with smoke and soot.

  I gave Ivy a puzzled look, and then we both trotted off after her. What was she doing?

  I caught up and grabbed her by the sleeve. “Miss, please!”

  She stopped and gave me a proper library “shh!” with a finger to her lips. She spoke quietly. “You think he was trying to destroy something?” she asked, the fear pooling in her voice.

  Ivy nodded. “Miss, do you know who the Whispers are?”

  “I … I don’t think so …”

  Ivy pulled the newspaper from her satchel. “The twenty-sixth of February, nineteen fourteen. A girl drowned here …”

  That definitely got a reaction. “Oh my word,” said Miss Jones, sinking down on to the ash-covered seat. At least she was wearing all black. “That horrible day. I tried to block it from my mind. You’re saying that has something to do with this?”

  “It might,” I said quickly, before she could notice that technically we shouldn’t be in possession of the paper. “What do you know?”

  “I was very young, and I’d not been at the school that long. I didn’t stay long, either. Mother moved me to another school the following year. That day was when one of the older girls, she … she was found dead, floating in the lake. Everyone was so upset.”