She holds up a folder. ‘I need to give this to Adam.’ She’s the only one of our students who would dare use his first name to a member of staff—but maybe, like Carolyn, she only considers me the wardrobe mistress. ‘Except I didn’t want to disturb you,’ she adds, and I wonder how she can load so much meaning into so few words.
I move away from the door. ‘Go on, then.’
She peels herself from the wall. ‘Which scarf is he wearing today?’ Her question could be innocent; students often ask me what color he’s wearing before they go in to see him. They all pray for yellow, especially if they’re about to be disciplined. But there’s a snide insinuation in her tone that I don’t like one little bit.
‘I don’t know, I didn’t notice,’ I say, walking away before I do something I’ll regret.
There’s still fifteen minutes left of the lunchtime break, so with Imogen heavy on my mind, I head for the inner courtyard. I spy Bel sitting on the stone bench with Ruby and Sadie and when she sees me, she jumps up and comes running over, her long dark hair flying behind her.
‘Hi, Mum,’ she says, planting a kiss on my cheek. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve just seen Imogen and she looks a bit down. Maybe you could invite her to Costa for a milkshake after class to cheer her up.’
‘What—today?’
‘Yes.’
She pulls a face. ‘Aw, Mum, do I have to?’
‘No, you don’t have to. It would be a nice thing to do, though. I can pick you up at five thirty, so it would only be for an hour.’
She thinks for a moment. ‘Can I invite the others along? I don’t mind if they’re there. It’s just that I don’t really know Imogen.’
‘Then it’ll give you a chance to get to know her better. Adam did say that he wanted you to include her in your group,’ I remind her.
‘We try, but it’s not easy. She’s a bit weird, Mum.’
Anyone would be weird if their father was dying, but I can’t tell Bel that. ‘It must be difficult joining a new school in the final year of your studies,’ I say instead.
‘True.’
‘Is that a yes, then?’
‘If the others can come. I’ll go and ask them now.’
‘Thanks, Bel,’ I say gratefully. ‘You do know you’re the best daughter in the world, don’t you?’
‘And you’re the best mother!’ she shouts, already on the way back to her friends. I can’t help smiling. People are often amazed when I tell them that there are never any arguments between us and the children, but that’s because they never ask us anything they know we won’t agree to. And if we need them to do something, as with Bel just now, we always present it in a way that makes them think they have a choice about whether to do it or not. When actually, they don’t.
I stand for a moment, watching the students milling around the courtyard, thinking about Lucas and Jon, Bel’s elder brothers, who are both at university. I know they’re not angels when they’re away from home. I’m sure they’ve got drunk on quite a few occasions and I’ve found lighters in their pockets when I’m doing their washing, so I know they smoke. The point is, they respect us enough not to do it at home. They don’t even ask if they can smoke in the house, because they wouldn’t want to put us in the position where we’d have to say no. The one thing I hope is that they’re not doing drugs, that the conversations Carl and I have had with them about the dangers of addiction have been enough to deter them. Communication is key in our family; we talk about everything, and despite what Carolyn thinks, I’m not a prude. When Lucas and Jon bring their girlfriends home for the weekend, I don’t make them sleep in separate rooms, as she once asked me if I did. As long as the boys have genuine feelings for the girls they’re with, and vice versa, I’m fine with them sleeping together under our roof. And when the time comes, it’ll be the same for Bel.
The courtyard doesn’t get a lot of sun at this time of year, and since I feel a little chilly, I move over to where it’s warming the walls in the far corner, enjoying the calls of ‘Hello, Mrs. Richardson!’ as I pass by. It’s easy to feel invisible when you work in the background, as I do, so it’s nice to be acknowledged. I know more about each student than they would probably like, not because I have access to private information about them, but from observing them in the dressing room before and after rehearsals, when they’re being their normal selves. I overhear a lot of things too, which the students trust me not to repeat and I never would, not unless it was a matter of life or death. Life or death. Now I’m back to worrying about Ruby, wondering if she really did push Imogen down the stairs. And what was Elise thinking, serving them alcohol? I’m surprised Bel didn’t tell me; she usually tells me everything. Although she has been a bit cagey lately. Like the other day, when she was telling me that she and Sadie had been paired up to sing a duet together.
‘Is Sadie all right?’ I asked, remembering the dark circles I’d seen under her eyes. ‘She’s looking tired lately.’
‘Yes, she’s fine,’ Bel said quickly—a little too quickly. I waited, because I could see her debating whether or not to share something further with me. ‘I think she’s feeling a bit under pressure.’
‘In what way?’ I asked. Bel seemed reluctant to say any more. ‘Is she studying too hard?’
She seized on this. ‘Probably.’
I knew then that she wasn’t going to say more, not at that moment in time. But I didn’t push it. If Bel wants to tell me, she will. Or maybe she wants to tell me but has been sworn to secrecy by Sadie, just as I’ve been by Imogen.
It could be that Bel didn’t tell me about the alcohol at the sleepover because she was worried I wouldn’t let her stay over at Sadie’s again. I wonder if she actually drank any, if she succumbed to peer pressure or if she hung on to what we’ve told her about underage drinking. Wait until I tell Carl that Elise introduced our daughter to alcohol. I can’t imagine what he’ll say!
And suddenly, I know exactly what he’ll say. Bronnie, it was cider, not tequila. Maybe Bel drank some, maybe she didn’t. Don’t make this more than it is. Have a word with Elise if you like, but that’s all.
I immediately feel better. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll pop round to Elise’s on Monday, have a word without being too critical. Yes, that’s definitely the way forward.
I’ve moved away from the sunny spot by the wall, ready to leave the courtyard, when I see Imogen coming out of the building. She looks around for a moment and then runs over to the bench where the three girls are sitting and throws her arms around them. Sadie pulls away, so Imogen lets go of Bel but keeps her arms around Ruby. After what she just told me, her behavior seems a bit extreme. Or maybe she’s just keeping her enemy closer. Then Jess-with-the-poison-tongue arrives and the five of them chat together for a while, occasionally bumping each other with their shoulders as they mess around. Suddenly, Imogen is no longer next to Ruby, she’s now standing opposite her, next to Sadie, although I’m not sure how she got there. I was watching the whole time, and didn’t see her move. Weird. I fix her with my eyes, daring her to suddenly appear next to someone else. But after a moment, she whispers something to Sadie and the two of them move away and stand huddled in conversation together. What is that all about, I wonder? Is Imogen telling Sadie what she just told me, about Ruby pushing her down the stairs? She can’t be, not when she told me not to tell anyone.
The bell rings for the start of the afternoon classes and, feeling strangely unsettled, I make my way to the dressing room, where I spend a couple of hours sorting through the costumes for the next big rehearsal. Carolyn is the only one hoping Adam will choose My Fair Lady for the end-of-term show at Christmas, and that’s because she’s confident Jess will get the starring role. And with just two main characters, only her daughter will get to shine. The majority of students will have to content themselves with a role backstage, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s important they realize that being a star isn’t the be-all and end-all of musical theater, that they c
an still be a part of that world if they don’t make it as an actor. Sadie, for example, is so wonderfully calm and organized that she’d make a brilliant director. Jess will be a star, I’m convinced of it, which is a shame, as she’ll be doing it more for her mother than for herself. Ruby will more often than not be the understudy, allowed to shine from time to time but not quite good enough to always carry the principal role. As for Bel, she could be a star, and if that’s what she wants, I’m going to do everything in my power to help her get there.
Once I’ve checked the costumes and sorted out the ones that need mending, I head to the stockroom to check on paint supplies. It’s not really my job but Bob, the stage manager, doesn’t keep tabs as well as he should, and the students often run out of one color or another when they’re painting the backdrops, which causes all sorts of delays. It’s just as well I decided to take a look, because it seems we’ll soon be out of black. I make a note to pass on discreetly to one of the stage crew lads. It wouldn’t do to give it to Bob directly; we get on well but I wouldn’t like him to know I was rummaging around in the storage cupboard.
Mindful of not imposing on Bel’s goodwill for too long, I walk quickly to Costa and get there fifteen minutes early. The girls are deep in conversation and don’t see me come in. Not wanting to break the mood, I slide into a bench behind them and take a book from my bag to read while I wait. It’s not my intention to listen to what they’re saying, and I wouldn’t be able to hear anything if Imogen wasn’t talking so loudly. But it’s clear she’s enjoying being the center of attention, and I can’t help feeling pleased that my plan to cheer her up has worked.
‘Dad’s taking me to see Hamilton soon,’ she says, and my ears prick up because after what she told me about him being seriously ill, I know it can’t be true.
‘Wow, that’s so cool,’ Bel says. ‘I’d love to go but tickets are like gold dust. Your dad must have got them ages ago. When are you going?’
‘I’m not sure, sometime next month,’ Imogen says vaguely, and then I understand. She isn’t going to see Hamilton—her dad hasn’t got tickets, she just needs to be able to pretend, if only for a while, that her life is the same as everyone else’s.
‘I saw it last year; it was BRI—LI—ANT!’ Jess says.
‘We went to see Mamma Mia at the weekend. It was really good.’ Bel again.
‘Not as good as Hamilton, though.’ Jess pauses, just like Carolyn does before she’s going to say something cutting. ‘Is it true that your mum keeps tickets and programs from every performance you go to?’
‘That’s right,’ Bel says cheerfully.
‘But it’s not like you’re ever going to look at them again.’
‘We might, when Mum and Dad get really old or if they get Alzheimer’s or something. I’d hate for them to forget all the lovely times we had, so I’d use the programs to jog their memories.’
‘Okay, you win,’ Jess says. ‘But only because you’re a really nice person.’ She actually sounds as if she means it.
‘You’re lucky,’ Sadie says. ‘If my mum gets Alzheimer’s, I wouldn’t have anything to jog her memory with. Except maybe a balance sheet.’ She sounds so sad I want to give her a hug.
I wait for Ruby to chip in, because she’s been silent up to now. But there’s only the sound of slurping, so I ease out of the bench and walk around to where they’re sitting as if I’ve only just arrived.
Bel looks up. ‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hello, girls.’ I look around the table. ‘Where’s Ruby?’ I say, noticing that she’s missing.
Bel and Sadie shift uncomfortably on their seats.
‘Not here,’ Jess drawls, sounding bored. It’s breathtaking how much like her mother she is.
‘Bel?’
‘We left a bit before her,’ she admits.
‘How long before?’
‘About half an hour.’
‘If you left at four thirty, she must have left at five. So why isn’t she here?’
‘Oh dear, she must still be waiting for us,’ Jess smirks, which makes me want to smack her, especially when Imogen starts smirking along with her.
‘Where?’ I ask.
‘On the bench in the inner courtyard.’ Sadie looks at me, a faint flush on her cheeks, and once again, I’m aware of the dark circles under her eyes. ‘I guess we thought she’d know to come here.’
‘Right, up everyone,’ I say firmly. ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘Where?’ Jess asks.
‘To find Ruby.’
‘What!’
‘That’s right.’ I ignore the daggers Imogen is throwing me and look sternly at the four of them. ‘What you did isn’t right. You can’t leave Ruby out like that.’
‘Why not? She left me out enough last year,’ Jess says petulantly.
‘I know, and that was wrong, too. But two wrongs don’t make a right. Come on, get your stuff together.’
‘I haven’t finished my milkshake.’ Jess scowls.
I look pointedly at her empty glass and she leans back against the seat and crosses her arms in front of her in an I’m-staying-here gesture.
‘I’m staying here,’ Imogen says, cottoning on quickly.
‘Fine. But Jess, Bel, and Sadie, are coming with me.’ Jess opens her mouth to protest but I hold her gaze, daring her to defy me. As I head to the counter to pay for their drinks, I hear her and Imogen muttering and feel a pang of pity for Bel.
‘Thank you for treating us,’ Sadie says, when I come back.
‘Yes, thank you,’ chorus Imogen and Jess, who seem to have had a change of heart and are on their feet.
Bel has to run to keep up with me as I head back to the Academy, but I hate the thought of Ruby waiting in vain for the others turn up. I feel bad for Kendall, too; if she finds out that Ruby was left out on purpose, she’ll feel awful. I know Ruby did the same to Jess last year, and that Imogen has accused Ruby of pushing her down the stairs, but I hate bullying of any kind, regardless of at whom it’s directed.
‘So how come Ruby got left out?’ I ask Bel, cross about the whole thing.
‘It was Imogen. She didn’t want her there; she said that if Ruby came to Costa, she wouldn’t, and that we needed to choose between the two of them. Jess chose Imogen, and you said I had to be nice to Imogen so I chose her, too. And Sadie did, because she didn’t have much choice.’ She hesitates a moment. ‘I did feel bad for Ruby, but none of us really know what to think anymore. It’s really hard for me and Sadie being stuck in the middle of it all. We don’t want to take sides but sometimes—well, we have to.’
We’ve arrived in front of the courtyard so I slow my pace to give the others a chance to catch up. It’s the ideal moment, I realize, to try to find out what’s going on with Sadie.
‘I know it must be difficult,’ I say sympathetically. ‘Is that what’s troubling Sadie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She just seems a little listless at the moment, not her usual bright self.’
‘Maybe she’s not getting enough sleep,’ Bel says vaguely. ‘You know what her parents are like. They never check what time she goes to bed, so she’s probably up all night watching series.’
‘That’s not good,’ I frown. I’m about to ask her if she thinks I should have a word with Elise when the sound of loud sobbing reaches our ears.
‘Who’s that?’ Bel asks, a look of alarm on her face.
‘What the fuck?’ Jess says, coming up behind me.
I peer into the courtyard and see a forlorn figure standing by the bench in floods of tears. ‘Oh dear,’ I mutter. ‘Come on, you lot.’
We hurry over to Ruby and I put my arm round her shaking shoulders. ‘It’s just a misunderstanding,’ I tell her.
‘Yes, we looked for you and couldn’t find you,’ Bel says. ‘Did you go to the toilet or something?’ Ruby shakes her head violently. ‘Well, we couldn’t find you,’ Bel repeats, ‘so we went to Costa thinking that you’d gone on ahead. And then we kept exp
ecting you to turn up.’
Ruby can’t stop shaking her head, so I try to make her sit down on the bench. But she twists away as if I’ve asked her to sit on a bed of red ants.
‘L-look,’ she says, pointing with a finger that’s shaking as much as her head.
So I look. And there, artfully sprayed onto the bench in black metallic paint, are the words Here lies Ruby Donovan.
There’s a gasp from Bel and Sadie and a breathless Fuck! from Jess. I turn my head toward Imogen and see a look that I can only describe as pure malevolence on her face. Sensing my gaze on her, her eyes quickly become round with shock. A hand raised in front of her mouth, her dirty fingernails in full view, completes the look of surprise she’s engineered for my benefit. Something jolts in my brain; I look again at the graffiti on the bench, then again at Imogen’s fingernails, then back to the bench.
I offload Ruby, still sobbing with distress, into Bel’s arms, because I need to think. They crowd around her—It’s okay, Rubes, we’re going to find out who did this. Is it possible that Imogen—? I cut myself off in mid-question—no, of course it isn’t possible, not unless she’s capable of being in two places at once, because if anyone were to ask, I’d have to tell them that the graffiti definitely wasn’t on the bench when I came through the courtyard on my way to Costa. I glance over at Imogen and she meets my gaze full-on, her pale eyes never wavering. I don’t know what it is, but there’s definitely something weird about Imogen. Weird people get blamed for all sorts of things, whether they’re guilty or not.
I remember how I suddenly found her standing in front of me backstage the other day, and the way she materialized ahead of me earlier, slipping into the toilets from an empty corridor—and then appeared next to Sadie without seeming to move—and an icy shiver creeps its way down my spine.
3
On the Trail for Truth
Clare Mackintosh
ELISE
The Understudy Page 6