Secret Lives

by Gabriella Poole

  He grinned. ‘Tease. I mean The Hunchback. He dies, OK? I’m bored. So how interested are you?’

  ‘Get over yourself. And shush.’

  He muffled a laugh. ‘In the Few, I mean. How interested? Would you like to be a member?’

  Cassie blinked, rendered speechless. This she hadn’t expected. Low sun streamed through the tall windows, making it hard to see Richard’s face, but there was something eager in his voice.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Mademoiselle BELL!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Cassie tried to take in the page in front of her, but her concentration was shattered. To be a member of the Few! What better way to find out what was going on here? Surreptitiously she turned again to Richard. She’d caught him unawares, and his stare was different, more intent. Embarrassed, he faked a grin and returned to his book.

  Aha! He did like her after all, she realised with amusement. She wasn’t going to be taken in by him again, but he actually did like her. He’d been acting the bitch with Katerina that day, just as he’d acted the lovestruck swain with Cassie. But he didn’t know Cassie had overheard him. That gave her the advantage. It was pretty obvious he didn’t want to offend Katerina – but he didn’t want to fall out with Cassie either. Oh, this could get interesting. She smothered a smile.

  What a lot of masks he wore. Maybe even Richard didn’t know any more which was the real one. Still, there was nothing sinister about a bit of playacting. He was looking out for himself, and Cassie had to admit that appealed to her. She knew how to watch out for herself, too. She could understand the instinct.

  Be careful, Cassie. Hearing Jake’s voice again in her head, she frowned. What had happened to Jake, anyway? Too much night prowling, as Richard had hinted?

  He wasn’t the only one throwing a sickie, either. Alice wasn’t at her desk.

  ‘You’d be great for the Few,’ Richard murmured. ‘Some of them really like you. They think you have … spirit.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Cassie remembered the empty desk three rows in front. ‘What’s happened to Alice?’

  ‘Oh, Alice.’ There was a grin in his low voice. ‘Still getting over her hangover, I should think.’

  ‘From three nights ago?’ Cassie raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Well. That girl can knock ’em back, let me tell you. And of course she was a little over-excited about being invited to the common room. You’d never be that silly, would you?’

  Cassie frowned. Over-excited? That wasn’t what she’d call it. That wasn’t how Alice had looked, perched on that chair with the silver cup clutched in her hands, skin pale, eyes dull, body limp.

  ‘No,’ she murmured at last, managing a dry laugh. ‘I’m not that easily impressed, sunshine.’

  ‘I know.’ He winked. ‘That’s why you’d be ideal. And someone already recommended you.’

  Cassie stared. ‘Who? Sir Alric?’

  ‘God, no.’ Richard looked alarmed. ‘Don’t tell him we had this conversation, will you? I’m not supposed to – um – speak out of turn. Keep it secret for now, OK?’

  ‘I’m hardly likely to be having a cosy chat with him.’ Cassie’s tone turned frosty. Why would Sir Alric object to her? Obviously Richard was still a crashing snob, if he couldn’t own up to liking her. Once more she was unsure if she liked and trusted Richard, or couldn’t stand him. ‘So who, then? Who recommended me?’

  ‘Someone very important. That’s all you—’

  ‘Monsieur Halton-Jones! Perhaps you would like to give us your insights into the structure of these opening chapters?’

  ‘Madame Lefèvre, of course!’ Richard threw the teacher a dazzling smile and cleared his throat, flipping open his notebook.

  She’d probably imagined it, thought Cassie: the nervous relief on Madame’s face. A little flushed, as if she’d got away with heinous cheek by daring to scold a member of the Few. A pulse throbbing fast in her temple.

  Richard stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. ‘Poor Quasimodo,’ he began. ‘The tragedy is foreshadowed from the outset …’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  There was too much on Cassie’s mind. Her thoughts and suspicions were chaotic, and she knew no more about Victor Hugo than she had an hour ago. At this rate she’d be expelled for incompetence before she discovered a thing. Students pushed past her in the corridor, rushing to their next class, but Cassie found she had to walk slowly, thinking furiously, examining her options.

  Richard wouldn’t have mentioned the possibility of her becoming one of the Few if he didn’t mean it seriously; she was sure of that. Thinking of Isabella, her conscience twanged painfully. If Cassie was invited to join the Few, would her roommate be terribly hurt? Should she confide in Isabella, or leave her in blissful, safe ignorance? And how risky was it to let herself be recruited? Distracted, Cassie barely knew where she was, let alone which class she was heading for.

  Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when the door opened at her side.

  She came to a dead halt, heart thumping.

  ‘Cassie! I hoped I’d catch you.’

  The mellifluous voice was instantly recognisable, as were the height and the presence. Just as well, since she was so close she was gaping only at his blazer buttons and his chic silk tie.

  ‘Hello, Sir Alric.’ She blinked up into the starkly handsome face.

  ‘Lost again?’ he asked mischievously.

  She shook her head. Beyond him she glimpsed his office. Dark-green curtains were swagged back with gold cords. A vast mahogany desk took up most of one wall, beyond an expanse of thick carpet. In the middle of the room was a smaller table, Sèvres porcelain cups and a silver teapot perched on top; two pale-yellow armchairs huddled close around it like old friends. In one of them sat a recognisable figure who laughed lightly and clapped her frail hands together.

  ‘Cassandra, my dear.’ Estelle Azzedine didn’t try to stand. ‘How lovely! Are you enjoying the Academy?’

  ‘Great. Fine. I mean, I love it.’ Cassie smiled awkwardly back. ‘Hello, Madame Azzedine.’

  ‘Estelle.’ Wagging a finger, Madame Azzedine gave her a playful frown.

  Sir Alric looked from one to the other. ‘You’ve met?’

  ‘On Cassandra’s very first day. She was kind enough to help me up the steps.’

  He gave the old woman an amused smile. ‘Did she, indeed? And speaking of your first day, Cassie, when we finally met this week I was reminded of how long you had been at the Academy before I introduced myself. Allow me to make up for my bad manners. Do join us for tea.’

  Nervously she checked her watch. ‘But I’ve got—’

  ‘A class with Mr Chelnikov? Don’t worry about that. Marat!’

  Cassie almost leaped sideways. The squat porter had appeared silently at her back. He wore a baleful expression on his stony face.

  ‘Marat. Please inform Gospodin Chelnikov that Miss Bell is excused his class for today. I wish to speak to her. Apologise to him on my behalf.’

  Marat nodded once, silent, and turned away.

  ‘Come in, Cassie.’ Sir Alric closed the heavy door and pulled up another chair opposite Madame Azzedine, who winked at Cassie.

  ‘What a lovely treat for me. Young company. Are you making the most of the school’s opportunities as I recommended, Cassandra?’

  ‘Yes. I mean …’ With a pang of guilt, Cassie remembered the last wasted hour. ‘I’m trying.’ She shrugged ruefully.

  ‘And succeeding very well. Cassie is extremely able in a wide range of subjects.’ Sir Alric gave her an approving glance. ‘I think I can safely say she is one of the most deserving scholarship students we have ever had.’

  ‘How marvellous!’ Madame Azzedine sat a little straighter. ‘Intelligent, then?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Sir Alric, pouring tea steadily into a delicate cup for Cassie.

  ‘And very pretty, too! What striking looks you have, my dear. I have never seen eyes of such an unusual co
lour. Don’t you think so, Sir Alric?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ He smiled at Cassie, almost complicitly. ‘I dare say you’re right. Cassie, what I really wanted to talk about was the other night. It worries me that you don’t sleep well. And I hope what you saw didn’t … upset you. I meant what I said about coming to me with any problems.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said cheerfully, pleased they’d finished with the subject of her looks. ‘I never did sleep well. And there were a lot more problems at Cranlake Crescent.’

  ‘Ah. Of course. I expect life didn’t always go smoothly there.’ He looked at her kindly.

  Just as she decided she really liked him, Madame Azzedine butted in again. ‘Tell me about this, Cassandra. You have had a difficult life, yes?’

  Taken aback, Cassie paused for a sip of tea. It had a perfumed taste that she didn’t much like, but it gave her a moment to think. ‘I … suppose so. I dunno. I did have a few foster families. Not many, though.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘Bit disruptive, I suppose. Hard to handle. I always ended up back at Cranlake Crescent.’

  Nobody wants you, you little waste of space. Nobody!

  ‘Hard to handle!’ Interrupting Jilly’s voice in her head, Madame Azzedine gave a throaty laugh. ‘That simply means you have spirit, my dear. And to do so well in your studies despite all the difficulties – well, how marvellous. We are lucky to have Cassandra here. Are we not, Sir Alric?’

  ‘Indeed.’ He shifted his position between Cassie and Madame Azzedine, slightly blocking the old woman’s intent gaze. Cassie blushed furiously, uncomfortable with the torrent of compliments. Still, she appreciated Madame Azzedine being so nice to her. Sir Alric didn’t have to look quite so disapproving.

  She put down her cup quickly. ‘I’d better go.’

  Sir Alric checked his wristwatch. ‘Yes. Perhaps you had better.’

  They were both watching her, only one of them smiling, as the door swung softly closed once more.

  ‘Cassie! Cassie, look at this!’

  Isabella’s miserable mood of the last forty-eight hours had evaporated. Damn, thought Cassie as she hesitated in the doorway of their room.

  ‘See what he has given me!’

  Flaming Nora. She had no idea that orchids grew so big. Was it genetically modified or what? Pure white and very beautiful, it must have cost Jake a lot more than he could afford. This might have been one of Cassie’s less-smart ideas; after all, she didn’t want Isabella getting her hopes up. At least Jake had been true to his word, though.

  ‘You know, there’s something about orchids I don’t like.’ Cassie wrinkled her nose. ‘Those black ones in the courtyard by the statue? They’re sinister.’

  ‘Oh, those are Sir Alric’s favourites. The signature flower of the Academy, but no one else has ever seen or heard of them. I’ve asked. Even Mama does not know them, and she is something of an expert.’

  ‘Really?’ Cassie suddenly felt uneasy.

  ‘Ah, but this orchid!’ Isabella laughed, not in the least put out, and ran her finger across one pristine petal. ‘Pure, but sexy. And so romantic!’

  Cassie had to smile. ‘OK. It’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Just like Jake, hm?’ Isabella planted a delicate kiss on the flower. ‘And there is something for you too, Cassie.’

  ‘From Jake?’ asked Cassie, surprised.

  Isabella shrugged, still smiling idiotically at her orchid. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so, it is not his handwriting. Here.’

  She tossed an envelope at Cassie, who snatched it from the air. She recognised that rich, parchment-like paper. Academy paper. Oh, hell; had Sir Alric found her tea-time manners lacking? Was this her kiss-off letter?

  With one trembling finger she slit the flap and pulled out an embossed card. Cassie had to read it over three times before she could bring herself to meet Isabella’s curious gaze.

  ‘Isabella.’ She bit her lip.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘I so hope you really don’t care about this. I don’t want to spoil your evening.’ Swallowing, Cassie turned the card towards her friend, and watched Isabella’s smile die as she read:

  The Darke Academy

  From the Office of the Few

  Your name has been submitted to the Congress as a potential candidate for membership of the Few.

  Please attend at the Common Room of the Few

  on November 12th, at 7.00 pm.

  Punctuality is expected.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘Gentlemen. Ready?’

  Both boys nodded, saluted Señor Alvarez and each other, and slipped their fencing masks over their faces.

  ‘En garde, then. Ready? Fence.’

  As Richard lunged hard at Ranjit, and Ranjit took a step back, parried and riposted, Cassie fiddled uneasily with her body wire. She’d already made a pig’s ear of getting her kit on and she was never going to look as elegant as Ranjit or Richard. Or any of them, for that matter. Isabella, in fencing whites and with a glossy ponytail tumbling down her back, looked like a martial goddess. She rested her fingertips casually on her épée, mask tucked under one arm, as she chatted to Perry, whom she’d just comprehensively thrashed.

  Guilt nagged at Cassie. Isabella was trying hard to act normal, but her couldn’t-care-less attitude to Cassie’s news didn’t ring quite true. When she sat down at last, pushing back damp strands of mahogany hair, Cassie smiled at her. Maybe she was doing too much smiling herself lately, and maybe that wasn’t very normal either.

  Cassie took a breath. ‘Isabella.’ She paused. ‘Do you mind about me getting an interview?’

  The interview was tomorrow. The thought of it had already been keeping her awake, and now a small thrill rippled down her vertebrae.

  For once Isabella didn’t protest or shrug the question off with a laugh. Seriously she studied Cassie’s face.

  ‘Truly, I don’t mind. You deserve it, you—’ Isabella paused. ‘Perhaps I’m just disappointed. That again they have not asked me. But I’m happy for you. Yes?’ Her smile seemed taut.

  ‘It should have been you. I’m sorry. I’m new, and you’ve got more right to it, and—’

  ‘No, it isn’t that. It’s just …’ Reddening, Isabella clamped her mouth shut.

  ‘What?’ Cassie frowned.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It’s not nothing. Tell me.’ Cassie’s tone had a dangerous edge. ‘Give, Isabella.’

  ‘Look, it’s not what I think. People are taken aback, that’s all. Because …’

  Cassie waited.

  Her roommate’s words came out in a rush. ‘A scholarship student has never been asked before. That’s all.’

  ‘I see.’ Cassie tugged off her fencing glove and twisted it.

  Isabella pulled her hair free from its ponytail. ‘Cassie, I don’t think it’s – wrong, or anything. It just goes to show how special you are, yes? It’s just that some in the school are …’

  ‘Surprised,’ said Cassie, ‘Yeah. And I’m guessing it’s not in a nice way.’

  Isabella opened her mouth to answer, but an electronic beep signalled another hit and Cassie turned her attention back to the piste. Ranjit, unflustered, had scored off Richard. Again.

  Mean and magnificent, faces obscured by black mesh, jackets and breeches tight over muscles … It was enough to make a girl light-headed. You could never mistake one for the other, though, even when their faces were covered. Both were fast and light-footed, and both made their strikes like cunning snakes, but one of them was just insanely elegant, every movement economical, graceful and woundingly effective.

  Boy, did Ranjit look good with a weapon.

  ‘Cassie!’

  She blinked, stunned, and Isabella nudged her hard. ‘Eyes front,’ her roommate whispered mischievously, all her good humour restored. ‘You’re on.’

  The bout was over; Richard and Ranjit had tugged off their masks and were shaking hands. Fifteen-nine, she noted, glancing at the score. To Ranjit, of
course.

  She tried to be disappointed.

  ‘Cassie,’ said Señor Alvarez again. ‘On piste, please. One of you two, stay.’

  ‘I’ll fence her,’ offered Richard eagerly.

  ‘No.’ Ranjit stepped in front of him. ‘I will.’

  Richard seemed about to argue, then he shrugged and unplugged his body wire, offering the connection to Cassie.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘He’ll hammer me.’

  ‘Huh,’ whispered Richard, offended. ‘You don’t think I would?’

  ‘Yeah, OK,’ she grinned as he clipped her wire on to the back of her jacket, turned her by one shoulder and closed her Velcro neck fastening. Richard was so close she could feel his warm breath, smell his fresh sweat; his fingers were almost brushing her throat. She could feel disapproval, too, radiating from the silent Ranjit like a physical force.

  Ranjit didn’t smile as he saluted, then pulled his black mask over his face.

  ‘Remember, Cassie,’ said Señor Alvarez beside her, ‘keep your wrist so, your body angled so. You are still giving your opponent too many chances, you are vulnerable to hits. And do not back off all the time! Do not be afraid to lunge. Now! Ready?’

  Nod, salute, mask on.

  ‘En garde. Ready? Fence.’

  It was hopeless. Ranjit got past every parry with no effort, blocked every thrust she made. The electronic counter sounded with embarrassing regularity, and Cassie almost fainted with relief when Ranjit made one mistake and she made a hit by default. At least he wouldn’t be wiping the floor with her, fifteen-nil.

  Cassie was well aware of Katerina, her own bout over, watching and smirking, and when Ranjit stepped back and removed his mask, then extended his gloved fingers for a curt handshake, Cassie felt only overwhelmingly glad that it was over.

  ‘Fifteen-one, on my right.’ Señor Alvarez sounded disappointed, but not remotely surprised. ‘Isabella. Richard. On piste please.’

  As Cassie disconnected her body wire and offered him the connection, Richard’s fingers brushed hers. ‘Pretty unchivalrous,’ he murmured. ‘I’d have let you make a few hits.’

  ‘What would be the point of that?’ asked Ranjit contemptuously as he swept past towards the bench.