A Royal Match

by Connell O'Tyne

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed, remembering our exeat weekend. Whenever I stay with Star I’m always afraid that I’ll wake up with Brian around my neck.

  As we dashed into Star’s room she began to cry hopelessly. ‘I can’t bear thinking about him being lost, frightened, dazed and confused. What if he gets run over?’

  I put my arms around her. ‘He’s got a good head on his shoulders,’ I told her, as if Brian was some madly sensible being (with shoulders), which I promise you he’s not. I mean, for a snake he’s bright enough I guess, but …

  We started to strip-search the room. I helped her check in all the cupboards and drawers, tearing all her bedding apart because Star was convinced he liked to cuddle up to her smell.

  We’d already missed lunch, which was bad enough because we would have to have a talk from Sister Dumpster about the dangers of anorexia. If we didn’t find Brian in the next few minutes we were going to have to tell Sister Constance that she had a six-foot reticulated python on the loose.

  I repeated this realisation to Star, who started to cry even harder. ‘We can’t do that, Calypso. Sister will totally overreact and ban him from the pet shed.’

  ‘We’ll have to, Star, otherwise, well, he could …’ I trailed off, not wanting to accuse Brian of anything – especially as Star wasn’t even convinced that he was actually responsible for nibbling Absinthe’s ear.

  I was opening Indie’s bed drawer when Star cried out, ‘Brian!’ and her tears of despair turned to tears of joy. But as I went over to cuddle her – Star that is, not Brian – all was not as well as I’d hoped. Brian was coiled around another rabbit, which he was in the process of swallowing.

  I screamed in horror, and at that moment Honey came running in, followed by Miss Bibsmore. We grappled with Brian and what turned out to be Tobias, Georgina’s teddy bear and lifelong companion. And before you think to yourself ‘Oh well, he’s just a toy,’ remember, as far as Georgina’s concerned, he’s her soul mate, with opinions on a wide variety of subjects. Oh, and let’s also not forget that Georgina’s father pays twenty-four thousand pounds a year in school fees so that Tobias can attend classes.

  As we struggled to free Georgina’s beloved bear from the jaws of death, Tobias’s insides burst, and there, concealed in a muddle of fluff, was Georgina’s Tiffany flask. Or rather her mother’s Tiffany flask, which I suspected contained a stash of vodka.

  TWENTY-THREE:

  One Teddy Bear, Caught Red-Handed …

  Miss Bibsmore grabbed the flask, opened it up and sniffed the contents. Star was totally oblivious to anything as she rapturously cuddled and stroked her snake. Honey stood behind her nemesis, giggling.

  Miss Bibsmore turned to her. ‘You think this is funny, do you, madam?’

  Honey didn’t stop laughing as Miss Bibsmore waved the flask in her face. ‘I presume by your inappropriate laughter that this item is yours then, madam!’

  Honey sneered so hard the uneven bubble of collagen in her upper lip looked like a giant blister about to burst. ‘Don’t be insane. Why would it be mine? This isn’t even my room!’

  ‘I may not have all the whys and wherefores yet, missy, but mark my words, I’m on to you, Miss O’Hare.’

  ‘And my daddy’s lawyers are on to you, so I’d be very careful about defaming my reputation if I were you, Miss Bibsmore.’

  ‘If you were me? If you were me?’ Miss Bibsmore squealed and then cackled mirthlessly in a mad-ish sort of way. ‘If you were me, you’d know what it is like looking after ungrateful, spoilt girls like yourself, Miss O’Hare. You wouldn’t last a day on my legs.’

  Honey, her hands on her hips, rolled her yes and replied, ‘Oh, go back to your squalid nineteen-fifties-decorated flat, you mad old witch.’

  Miss Bibsmore ignored her as she took another sniff of the flask and then stuck one of her stumpy fingers inside, tipped it up and licked her finger loudly. She looked around at us, taking in each girl in turn with a piercing look that seemed to reach right down to our very souls – well, that’s how it felt to me. Honey merely flopped idly on Indie’s bed and started shuffling through the stuff in her bedside drawer. Star ignored her too, as she was still stroking Brian. And as for Tobias, well, he was lying lifelessly on the floor with his inside fluff spewing out, so his soul was bared for all to see anyway.

  ‘Well, is anyone going to own up to this?’ Miss Bibsmore demanded, holding the flask in the air. ‘Because it didn’t get ‘ere by magic!’

  Honey looked up innocently. ‘How do we know it’s not yours, Miss Bibsmore?’

  ‘Don’t you cheek me, Missy; I’ll have your guts for garters, I will an’ all.’

  Honey looked the picture of blonde-haired blue-eyed innocence. ‘I’m not cheeking you, Miss Bibsmore. I’m being deadly serious. How do we know you’re not a secret drunk? Or perhaps you planted it? People like you are always planting things because you’re bored and envious. I know it must be hard for you, being surrounded by beautiful teenage girls day and night, but really, Miss Bibsmore, turning to drink is never a solution.’ Honey said all this casually, without even looking up as she searched more deeply in Indie’s bedside cabinet.

  Miss Bibsmore shuffled over towards her. ‘The only thing I’ll be planting, Miss O’Hare, is a mountain of blues on top of you.’

  Honey remained unfazed. ‘Well, given that the flask was found on Tobias, common sense would seem to dictate it is his. After all, he’s always been a bit out there, hasn’t he, darling?’ She directed this comment to Star, who predictably enough ignored her.

  ‘I suppose you think that’s funny, Miss O’Hare?’

  Honey ignored her. ‘Oh, look, Indie uses a vibrator,’ she declared as she pulled a pair of hair-straightening tongs out of Indie’s drawer.

  Miss Bibsmore raised her voice. ‘I’ll ask again. Who is responsible for this,’ she yelled menacingly, holding out the flask.

  ‘Sorry, are you offering us a drink, Miss?’ Honey asked blinking innocently. ‘Because I wouldn’t want to have to report you, Miss Bibsmore.’

  Star and I said nothing. I was hoping that if we stayed quiet for long enough, Miss Bibsmore would grow tired of standing there holding up the flask and shuffle off. Deep down I knew that wasn’t likely, but Honey had turned on the straightening tongs and was using them on her hair, which created this weird sense that everything was actually completely normal. Just another day in dorm-hell with Honey that would eventually pass just like all the others had.

  ‘Lost the power of speech ‘ave we, girls? Well perhaps you can tell me who owns the bear, then?’

  I looked at poor Tobias and wondered how Georgina was going to take it, seeing him splattered on the floor like roadkill. But I reminded myself that she must have opened him up and concealed the flask inside him in the first place, and then Star announced, ‘It’s my bear, Miss Bibsmore.’

  ‘Yours?’ Miss Bibsmore repeated, as if not quite accepting the fact.

  ‘Yes. Mine, Miss.’

  ‘Pass me the bear,’ Miss Bibsmore insisted.

  Honey bent down, grabbed the ripped Tobias with all his insides coming out and flung him at her. Miss Bibsmore caught him adroitly and examined him carefully. ‘Well, I can’t see a name tag so at the very least whoever owns the item’ll be receiving two blue tickets, one for ‘aving a personal item untagged and another for having a pet in the dorm,’ she said, pointing to Brian. ‘As for this’ – she held up the flask again – ‘we’ll have to see what Sister Constance has to say. You can come with me,’ she said, pointing to Star. ‘As can you, madam,’ she added, pointing a gnarled finger at Honey.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you, Miss O’Hare. Now hurry along; you can carry the bear and the flask, and no funny business neither.’

  ‘Why me? This isn’t even my room, that’s not my bear and I haven’t got a pet in the dorm.’

  Miss Bibsmore pressed her face close to Honey’s. ‘Because, Miss O’Hare, I don’t like the cut of your jib.’

&nb
sp; ‘I’ll come too,’ I blurted.

  Miss Bibsmore looked at me beadily. ‘If you wish. But I don’t advise it, Miss Kelly.’

  Star shook her head at me, a gesture that caught Miss Bibsmore’s eye.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I smell a rat.’

  For a moment I thought she meant Hilda, but then I realised the seriousness of the matter and began to contemplate the consequences of what could happen. A sinking feeling fell upon me as I followed Star and Brian, who were following Honey with Tobias and the flask. Behind us was the sinister tap, tap, tapping of Miss Bibsmore’s stick as we made our way to Sister Constance’s office.

  As we filed down the corridors lined with a century’s worth of photographs of illustrious old girls, shelves of trophies, plaques and other evidence of their achievements, I felt humbled and unworthy. I’d never really imagined a plaque to Calypso Kelly, but the realisation that I might never have one made me feel like I was squandering my life.

  I know that probably sounds quite melodramatic for a fourteen- (and nine-and-a-half-months) year-old, but then Sarah doesn’t call me Queen of the Doomsday Prophesies for nothing.

  TWENTY-FOUR:

  If You Ask Me, It Was Her Brain That Needed Botox!

  Sister Constance sat at her desk serenely as Miss Bibsmore explained the events of the last ten minutes. Sister didn’t interrupt or ask any questions; she merely made a sort of steeple with her fingers and nodded as each of the items – Tobias, the Tiffany flask, and the issue of Brian – were laid one by one on her desk.

  Sister Constance’s ominous silence, combined with the sombre and detailed way in which Miss Bibsmore explained the case, lent a courtroom-like atmosphere to Sister’s office.

  Eventually Sister said, ‘Thank you, Miss Bibsmore, you can leave this with me. I know how busy your schedule is.’

  ‘Right you are, Sister,’ Miss Bibsmore agreed. Clearly she would have preferred to stay. Nonetheless, she backed out the door reverentially but stopped short of leaving. ‘With all due respect, if you want my opinion, Sister, Miss O’Hare is the most likely culprit. I’ve had my suspicions about her since I first laid eyes on her, I have.’

  Sister Constance nodded as if taking this on board. ‘Thank you, Miss Bibsmore. I’ll take it from here.’

  So for the next hour (probably around five minutes but it felt like an hour) we all sat gathered around the desk, gazing and contemplating the evidence in total silence. Sister Constance appeared to be thinking, or at least praying very hard. I looked up at the giant crucifix on the wall above her and began to wonder about Absinthe and whether I should interrupt Sister’s thought/prayer process and tell Honey that her rabbit had been attacked by Star’s snake. But just at that moment, Honey pulled a Chanel compact from her pocket and started looking at herself.

  ‘Miss O’Hare,’ Sister Constance spoke in a warning tone.

  Star and I simultaneously took our lip-gloss from our pockets and began to apply.

  ‘Do you think I need more Botox, Sister? I mean, obviously I don’t have any lines like you, but it does give your eyes a bit of a lift,’ she enquired chattily, demonstrating how she’d look with higher brows by stretching the skin on her forehead.

  Sister Constance sighed wearily. ‘You are a very silly girl, Miss O’Hare, and rather than looking to a mirror for guidance, you should pray to our Blessed Virgin Mother.’

  Honey rolled her eyes at me. I pretended not to notice.

  ‘Let’s discuss the evidence here, shall we?’ Sister continued. ‘A snake.’ She gestured to Brian, whom Star was still stroking. ‘And a flask of what appears to be vodka, according to Miss Bibsmore.’

  ‘Can I just interrupt for a moment, Sister?’ asked Honey, continuing without waiting for an answer. ‘I frequently smell alcohol on Miss Bibsmore’s breath.’

  ‘No, Honey, you may not utter a word unless I ask you a specific question. Then of course there is Georgina’s bear, Tobias,’ she added as she gently patted the remains, which were strewn forlornly across her desk.

  ‘No, Sister, like I told Miss Bibsmore, the bear is mine,’ Star cut in.

  ‘Yes, I’ve grasped the ludicrousness of your claim, thank you, Star,’ she said gently. ‘But Tobias has been a fee-paying student of this school as long as Miss Castle Orpington has, and I place my reputation on recognising all my pupils and their family associations.’

  Star blushed and looked strangely stuck for words.

  ‘Perhaps the first thing we need to do is place Brian back in the pet shed so that you can focus on the seriousness of the matter at hand. You might also ask Georgina to come and see me.’

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ Star agreed, and backed out of the room with Brian, leaving just Honey and me.

  Honey snapped her compact shut and stood up angrily. ‘Well, as it wasn’t even my room the flask was found in, I don’t see why I should be kept from my next class,’ she complained. ‘Daddy would be furious!’ She looked like she was about to explode with exasperation, and even though she’s the nastiest girl that god ever breathed life into, I felt it was time to step in.

  ‘Actually, Sister, Honey’s rabbit’s been injured and the vet’s been called. Georgina’s at the pet shed now waiting for him to arrive.’

  ‘What?’ cried Honey with a look of genuine despair on her face. I felt really, really terrible for a moment, before realising the fallout that would ensue when she discovered that her rabbit’s attacker was probably Star’s snake.

  ‘How did this happen?’ Sister Constance asked calmly, looking directly at me.

  I did a little cough. ‘Well, see, the thing is, Sister. Well. That is, we can’t be sure but we think, maybe, only maybe though, when Brian escaped he might have taken a bit of a nibble …’ I trailed off, unable to bring myself to directly accuse Brian of anything that would have him banned from the pet shed, because that would destroy Star. ‘But we’re not really sure, and he’s always been such a kind snake, so it would seem very unlikely …’

  ‘That bitch!’ screeched Honey. ‘I knew something like this would happen,’ she spat. ‘It’s ridiculous that you allow a snake in the pet shed, Sister,’ she railed. Which is a bit rich given that Star’s father had paid for a centrally heated pet shed for all the pets and a separate glass aquarium area for Brian and Hilda to be housed in.

  Without waiting for permission to leave, Honey stormed out of the room, and that was that. Sister Constance and I were now alone. We sat for the next few minutes in silence, breathing in the aromas of frankincense, old books and an open box of butterscotch, which was beside a statue of Mary on her desk. Finally the bell went, at which time she told me I could go to class and return with the others after supper.

  TWENTY-FIVE:

  Daddy’s Plastic Girls

  Honey’s righteous fury over Brian’s attack on Absinthe should have been short-lived but for the fact that Honey adores being right and furious more than cats enjoy stalking mice and licking cream. Enjoying the combination of both emotions together was too delicious for her.

  Even I felt ashamed for having blamed Brian when what had really gone wrong was all Honey’s fault. Poor Absinthe had caught her paw in one of the enormous hoops Honey had pierced her ears with and had torn her own ear when she tried to move.

  ‘You’re too tragic to even speak to,’ Star told Honey when she came into our room before supper.

  ‘I don’t want to believe that people like you even exist,’ added Indie as she trailed in after her.

  There wasn’t much I could add to that. Also I was in the bed next to Honey’s and had my mattress to consider.

  Portia put down her magazine and smiled in her regal way at Star and Indie, who smiled back, and then we all huddled on the floor for a confab on Georgina’s fate. Honey was looking at herself in the mirror at the time and didn’t deign to respond, let alone grace the floor with her presence.

  ‘So no one’s seen Georgina since she was left to wait for the vet earlier in the day?
’ Indie asked.

  ‘You don’t think they’ve expelled her?’ Portia asked in a low whisper as the vet was ushered in by Miss Bibsmore.

  This vet was really fit looking for a grown-up, although his dress sense was tragically retro. He was so adorable though, the way he delivered his diagnosis on Absinthe in the gentlest, kindest voice you can imagine. He looked as genuinely saddened by the whole affair as we were, apart from Honey. She was furious.

  ‘You mean you expect me to pay you for disfiguring my pet?’ she shrieked, her head spinning around on her neck – well, not really, but it looked like it was about to. ‘How dare you treat my rabbit without the permission of myself or my guardian!’ she screamed. ‘What am I meant to do with a rabbit with half an ear?’

  ‘Well, I was called to the school, so I just presumed …’

  ‘Ugh!’ she grunted. ‘That’s the trouble with people like you and your sorry red brick university degrees! You presume too much. If I’d been consulted I would have told you to put her out of my misery.’

  Portia, Star, myself and even Indie were used to Honeyisms such as this. All in a day’s Honey. But as we looked up at the poor vet with his angelic tousled locks in an attempt to convey our solidarity with him, I could tell he didn’t have a clue what he was up against.

  ‘You mean her misery,’ he corrected. The poor, sad, deluded sod. He really had no idea. He sat down on Honey’s bed as if he wanted to comfort her. ‘Sorry, Honey, isn’t it? Perhaps I haven’t explained myself clearly,’ he persevered. ‘Absinthe will be just fine. She’ll make a full recovery. She’s only torn part of her ear, but it will heal, and the main thing is she’s retained full hearing capability. I’ll drop by in a few days to remove the stitches and she’ll be right as rain, I promise you.’ He gave her shoulder a comforting little pat.

  I caught Miss Bibsmore popping her head around the door and listening in on the scene as it played out, but Honey didn’t.