Secret Lives

by Gabriella Poole

  ‘Oh, OK. So he kind of knew Jake through his sister?’

  ‘He offered Jake a scholarship in his sister’s memory. Sir Alric was right to do that, I think. It was a fine way to behave, whatever Jake says.’ Isabella squeezed Cassie’s arm, and lowered her voice. ‘The school was where it happened.’

  ‘Where what happened?’ Cassie felt a chill in her spine.

  ‘The accident. Jake’s sister died at the Darke Academy.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cassie leaned on the ornate balustrade and stared down the west-wing staircase. This was where Ranjit had stood, watching her, three weeks ago. She tried to remember how afraid she’d been that night, but in daylight the staircase seemed only beautiful, not threatening. Below her, other students were hurrying down to the dining room, chattering and laughing easily. Out of the general chatter she heard Richard’s abrupt, confident bark of laughter, and she smiled.

  Still, she couldn’t shake a niggling sense of wrongness.

  As the noise and gossip faded, Cassie lingered, frowning. The balustrade was all black iron swirls, punctuated with gilt flourishes of feathers and suns. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw herself and the tall south-facing window reflected in an ornate gold mirror. You wouldn’t think the place could seem so dark and sinister. Cassie shook her head.

  She died at the Darke Academy. Jake’s sister died …

  At the Academy, in Cambodia. Isabella had been reluctant to explain, which was most unlike her. Cassie had had to badger her for days.

  ‘I should not talk about it. Honestly, Cassie. A terrible thing. So very sad. Such a young death. And not the firs—’

  Her roommate, uncharacteristically, had blushed and clamped her lips together, and no nagging from Cassie would persuade her to finish that sentence.

  And not the first, either. Was that what she’d been about to say?

  No. Could have been anything. Heck, Isabella could have been about to say, Not the first time somebody had an accident. Or, Not the first tragically young heart-attack victim.

  But somehow Cassie didn’t think it had been either of those.

  ‘I don’t know what happened.’ Isabella had shrugged unhappily. ‘We were never told details. It seemed … not right to ask, you know? There were rumours. There always are.’

  Cassie had bitten her lip, hoping she didn’t sound ghoulishly curious. ‘What kind of rumours?’

  ‘Oh, terrible things. People make things up, when there is no information. That is why I think we should have been told. Then gossip does not start.’ Isabella had hesitated, picking at a fingernail. ‘You look like her, by the way.’

  ‘Like Jake’s sister?’ Cassie shivered. Resembling a dead girl was not an appealing thought.

  ‘A little. Not exactly, of course, but her eyes were almost the colour of yours. Not so pale but still, that yellowish green. And a similar sort of face – how do you say, sharp? Intelligent. I think Jake got a fright when he first met you.’

  She remembered. Spooky. ‘So what were the rumours?’

  ‘Oh, crazy things. That her body was … damaged.’

  ‘What?’ Cassie swallowed hard. ‘Mutilated, you mean? Like she was killed deliberately?’ Poor Jake.

  ‘No, no. I don’t know. Not mutilated. More … drained, dried-up. Maybe she cut herself, bled to death; that is what I think. By accident or not, who can tell? Something so simple and so tragic.’

  ‘For God’s sake. That wouldn’t drain her whole body.’

  Isabella shrugged. ‘Maybe she lay in the sun too long. Before they found her, I mean. Horrible, but it was all exaggerated, I’m sure. Oh, the dreadful things people say. And that’s why …’

  ‘Why what? Come on Isabella, spill.’

  Isabella sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. ‘That’s why Jake doesn’t like Ranjit. Jess was Ranjit’s girlfriend, you see. There were rumours at school that he was involved.’

  Cassie went pale. ‘But that’s—’

  ‘Crazy, of course! But it is hard for Jake to ignore the gossip. He cannot stop thinking that perhaps Ranjit … well, I don’t even like to say it. It was a terrible accident, that is all, and Jake is grief-stricken. He cannot bear to blame it just on the school’s bad luck.’

  ‘Bad luck,’ repeated Cassie, licking parched lips. Dried-up …

  ‘Yes. Only bad luck. We are lucky Sir Alric has influential friends. Our parents, too. That is, I mean …’ Biting her lip, she blushed furiously and rushed on. ‘Such incidents can destroy a school, yes?’

  ‘Such incidents.’ At some point, thought Cassie, she would think of something original to say, instead of echoing Isabella like a dazed parrot.

  ‘Accidents, I should say. Another one a few years ago. Before that … well. Let’s not talk about it, Cassie. Let’s talk about Richard!’

  Which, by that point in the conversation, Cassie had been more than happy to do.

  Still, it wasn’t like Isabella to clam up. Hah! Great Understatements of Our Time, thought Cassie fondly. Oh, she was probably imagining things. Being paranoid. She wasn’t having any miraculous revelations just by standing on the stairs, anyway. Plus, she was hungry. Isabella would be in the dining room, and Richard too. She was supposed to be meeting him later, but it would be nice to bump into him now.

  She was halfway down the flight of stairs to the third floor when she heard the voices. They weren’t muted. They rang out clear and confident, and she recognised them straight away.

  Especially Richard’s.

  ‘Oh, come along, Katerina. It’s not like you to be insecure.’

  ‘Insecure?’ The voice froze Cassie where she stood, there was such malevolence in it. ‘I can’t think what you mean, Richard.’

  A hidden door closed sharply, and Cassie jumped. The pair were in that long corridor with the rows of classical busts, the one where she’d tracked down Jake. The one that led to the Few’s common room, she realised with a jolt.

  Giving its archway an anxious glance, Cassie ran down the stairs to the landing and ducked behind a marble-topped cabinet. An enormous gilded clock and two candelabra obscured her view, but she could peer past, just.

  Mad, thought Cassie, almost laughing. Why was she hiding? It was only Richard. And Katerina, of course, but it wasn’t as if she was scared of the Polar Rottweiler. Still, when they appeared at the end of the corridor, she didn’t saunter out to say hello. Not yet. Those instincts kicking in again …

  ‘Darling, she’s a chav from the sticks.’ Folding his arms, Richard raised an ironic eyebrow at Katerina. ‘You don’t actually feel threatened, do you?’

  Cassie’s whole body went rigid. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

  ‘“A chav from the sticks.” What a quaint turn of phrase you have, Richard.’ Katerina sounded immensely bored. ‘That poor-little-scholarship-girl thing. How it vexes me. Such a mooning little kitten. Yet you seem to have a soft spot for her.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Katerina darling. She’s pleasant company and I find her amusing. So do you, if you’re honest.’

  ‘Oh, hilarious.’ Katerina sniffed.

  ‘I’m not the only one with a soft spot, either,’ murmured Richard. ‘Jake can barely let her out of his sight, if you see what I’m getting at.’

  ‘Oh, yes. His protective instincts,’ said Katerina contemptuously. ‘She’s very like poor little Jessica, it’s true.’

  ‘Doesn’t that worry you?’ There was mischief in his tone. ‘Jessica was good-looking too.’

  ‘Why would it worry me?’ she snapped. ‘Ranjit had a silly crush on a girl who was beneath him. And that ended in tears, didn’t it?’ Her lips twitched as she checked herself in the nearest mirror. ‘He’s hardly likely to make the same mistake again.’

  ‘That’s what I love about you.’ Richard winked. ‘Such perennial optimism.’

  Katerina shot him a baleful glare. ‘And that creature from the cattle farms encourages her to think above herself. Good God, darling, you’d think Is
abella could at least encourage her to get a hairstyle and some decent clothes. Your “chav” can’t even pronounce Versace. She wouldn’t know Prada from Primark.’

  ‘Perhaps bella Isabella could give her some hand-me-downs.’ Richard chuckled. ‘No wonder Sir Alric hides in his office. I mean, one fairly dreads to think what the likes of Cassie Bell or Jake Johnson will wear to the Christmas Ball. The poorhouse rejects do nothing for the aesthetics of the place, do they?’

  They were obviously planning to linger and bitch before heading downstairs, and Cassie could hear every word. She wished she couldn’t. Her cheeks burned with shame and fury, and she ached to leap out, grab a throat in each fist and tell these tossers what she thought of them. But something held her back.

  Idly, Katerina twisted a lock of pale satiny hair. ‘I can’t think why Sir Alric encourages this scholarship nonsense.’

  ‘Now, now, darling,’ said Richard darkly. ‘You know very well why. Besides, it’s excellent public relations. A fine pickle we’d be in if Sir Alric wasn’t so skilled in that department.’

  Even mired in miserable rage and embarrassment – how could I have been so stupid! – Cassie found herself intrigued. There was something wrong here. It wasn’t her imagination. The picture-perfect world of the Academy hid something very ugly: she was sure of it.

  The same could be said for the beautiful faces of Richard and Katerina.

  Something hot stung her eyes, and she gritted her teeth. To hell with that. He wasn’t going to make her cry. He was a male Katerina: stringing her along the way Katerina dangled Jake. She was humiliated, that was all.

  Richard had turned at the top of the stairs, grinning back at Katerina. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

  ‘Starving, darling. But I think I shall miss lunch. What about you?’

  Richard gave that sudden bark of laughter again. ‘You know, I rather fancy a Danish.’

  ‘Do stay away from Ingrid.’ Katerina’s look was sharkish, if amused. ‘She’s my roommate. If Sir Alric could hear you …’

  ‘No sense of humour, that’s his trouble.’ With a giggle of delight, Richard jogged down the stairs.

  Katerina stayed put for a long moment, unmoving, her eyes flickering to the mirror. Cassie stood very still.

  Katerina gave herself one last reflected smile, turned, and disappeared back down the bust-lined corridor. Cassie didn’t dare move until she heard the door open and close softly once more. Then she bolted.

  She couldn’t face the dining room: the red silk walls, the linen and crystal, the hubbub of gossip. She couldn’t face the sly sidelong looks of the other students. Sickeningly, she realised she needn’t have bothered struggling to learn which bloody fork to use: they’d always despise her, always. God, did every one of them know what a fool she’d made of herself? Fool, Cassie! Being dazzled by white teeth, warm eyes and a slick line in patter. She couldn’t even face Isabella or Jake.

  Recoiling, she sidled down the passageway and slunk out of the French windows. Her eyes stinging again as she ran between two great stone urns, she took a flight of curved steps two at a time and stumbled across the expanse of lawn to the shadow of mature chestnut trees. Already tinged with autumn, the trees were beautiful. Growling, she punched one of them, hard. Then she hit it again. And again.

  That felt better. Not much, but at least her sore knuckles took her mind off her bruised pride. That was what it was, she thought. Not a broken heart. Just her stupid, cracked pride. Who did she think she was, trying to impress an upper-class jerk like Richard Halton-Jones? Miserably she clasped her grazed fist, then lifted it to rub away a stray tear. The gold-and-bronze trees were splashed with sunlight, animated like an Impressionist painting. Staring at them, she wished more than anything she was back with the weed-choked yard, the rusty wire and the pitted brown grass of Cranlake Crescent. Just thinking about it made her vision blur.

  A different shape came into her distorted view, moving purposefully across the lawn. Tall and humanoid. Oh, hell. As it came under the shade of the equally blurred tree-shapes, the figure stopped dead. Aghast, Cassie rubbed her eyes clear and blinked.

  Not just hell, double-hell.

  Ranjit.

  For a moment he stood nonplussed, staring at her. Furious at herself, she blinked again. The gorgeous Ranjit. Oh, God, how typical: this was the first time in weeks he’d seen far enough past his princely nose to notice her, and here she was with red eyes, a blocked nose and a scowl like a moody harpy.

  He looked her up and down. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she snapped. ‘I’m fine.’ Why are you biting his head off, Cassie?

  ‘You don’t look it. What’s the problem?’

  ‘There’s no problem.’ She clenched her fists. ‘Or nothing I can’t handle. I don’t need your help.’

  His stare was unswerving. It made her shiver.

  ‘Don’t be too sure of that.’

  Not knowing what to say, she could only glare back at him, breathing hard. You can take the girl out of Cranlake Crescent, she thought bitterly, but you can’t take Cranlake Crescent out of the girl. His sheer beauty didn’t make him worth trusting: look at Richard. She had to keep her guard up. The last half-hour’s humiliation stung so much.

  ‘I’m going to give you a piece of advice,’ he said.

  ‘Whether I want it or not?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ranjit’s eyes were cold. ‘Stay away from Richard Halton-Jones.’

  ‘I’ve worked that out for myself, thanks,’ she spat.

  ‘Oh. I see.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Please don’t be. Just sod off.’ Cassie bit hard on her lip, desperate not to burst into tears in front of him.

  ‘Fine, if you do me a favour too. In fact, do yourself a favour. Stay away from all of us.’

  ‘I’m not good enough for the precious Few, is that it?’

  ‘Oh, get down from your high horse before you fall off. Listen, if you get involved with the Few, you’ll regret it.’

  Cassie felt blood creep hotly up her neck and throat. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘No. I’m warning you.’

  ‘And how the hell is it your business to warn me?’

  ‘I’ve made it my business, Cassandra.’

  The way he spoke her name he almost sounded concerned, but when she looked up to his face it was a study in inscrutability. Jerk.

  ‘Well, you can just unmake it, then. I don’t need your advice, or your warnings. And I really don’t need you stalking me around the corridors at night.’

  Ranjit’s eyes widened, and Cassie gave an inward smirk. He hadn’t been expecting that.

  ‘I wasn’t—’ He shrugged and smiled a strange, bitter smile. ‘Well, if you’re so perfectly self-sufficient, I won’t waste my time worrying about you.’

  In disbelief, Cassie watched him stride off across the lawn. He didn’t so much as glance back, the stuck-up tosser. He could go screw himself. ’Cos obviously no one else would ever be good enough.

  Cassie slumped down against the trunk of the tree, still staring after him.

  She’d never met such a horse’s arse in her life.

  And she fancied him like crazy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cassie’s eyes snapped open. Must have been a nightmare. Rubbing her arms, she stared at the stirring curtains and listened to the moonlit silence. She had lain awake until well past midnight, cringing inwardly about Richard. So the hard and streetwise Cassie Bell had fallen for a bit of chinless charm? Pathetic.

  Not that he was actually chinless. Hell of a handsome, really. But all of it skin-deep. And there was a good chance that the rest of these rich brats were the same. So she should stop letting Ranjit creep into her brain the way he did.

  She was sure he had been part of the nightmare that had just woken her, though she couldn’t remember the details. It had dissolved as she woke, but she could still sense a pair of night-eyes branded on the inside of her eyelids. And silence was always so o
minous coming out of a nightmare, though she could hear the echo of an imagined whisper.

  No. That wasn’t an echo, and she hadn’t imagined it. That really was a whisper. Cassie swung her legs off the bed and held herself still.

  Soft footfalls. Even softer voices.

  As usual, Isabella was sleeping like a sedated baby. Cassie almost wanted to shake her awake, but she resisted the temptation. She could stay in bed herself. She should stay in bed. What she ought to do now was pull the soft bedclothes over her head, blot out those whispering voices and go back to sleep. What she really, really ought to do was mind her own business …

  Uh-huh.

  Isabella’s long cashmere cardigan was slung over a chair. Dragging it round her shoulders, Cassie pulled open the door. It was still October, and though it wasn’t cold she shivered as she stepped cautiously into the corridor. Jake again? This time she’d confront him. This time she’d find out what he was up to.

  It wasn’t Jake.

  Cassie pressed herself against the wall. Two girls were walking silently towards the west wing, and she’d know one of those silhouettes anywhere: small and perfectly formed, with a black razored haircut. Keiko.

  The girl with her was a little taller, and fair-haired. It took Cassie a moment to recognise her, since her hair was usually bound up in a chic knot: Alice, Keiko’s roommate. As the light from a wall sconce fell on the pair, Cassie saw that Keiko’s fingers were locked round Alice’s wrist. She wasn’t dragging Alice, exactly, but Alice didn’t seem too thrilled to be going along with her.

  Cassie frowned.

  ‘Keiko.’ Alice’s whisper drifted back through the silent corridor. ‘I don’t like this.’ She jerked Keiko to a halt.

  Keiko turned to face her roommate, watching her silently for a moment. Cassie shrank further into the wall.

  ‘I told you before,’ murmured Keiko silkily. ‘It’s a request from the Few. You can’t say no. Come on, Alice. What could possibly happen?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t— What happened last time? I mean, I don’t remember.’