Sophie Hannah - A Game for All the Family

“That was a lie, to placate us. She’s frightened. Can’t you tell? I think she believes the threat—to her, George, us, whoever—will be greater if she acknowledges it. By staying away from school, she’d be signaling that she knows how serious the problem is. She’s trying to . . . appease the danger by pretending to be unaware of it. She’s gone in today intent on acting normal.”

Alex sips his drink. “That sounds vague and woolly to me. I mean, you could be right, but . . .” He shrugs. “By the way, how old do you reckon Lesley Griffiths is?”

“Why?”

“Ellen asked me. I didn’t know the answer.”

“When?”

“Just now, on the way to school.”

“I’ve always assumed late fifties. What else did Ellen ask you?”

“Nothing. Oh, wait, no, she did. She asked about some family photos in Lesley’s office. I didn’t know what she meant. I’ve only been in her office twice, and I didn’t notice any photographs.”

“There’s a framed collage—Lesley and her husband and kids at their house in France, messing around by the swimming pool.”

“Apparently so. Ellen saw it when she was in the office sticking up for George.”

“Why? Why would she care how old Lesley is?” I’m asking myself more than Alex. I don’t believe Ellen suddenly, randomly, wondered about her head teacher’s age.

My phone starts to ring in my pocket. I grab it quickly, in case something terrible has happened to Ellen at school since Alex left her there.

If you think that’s likely, she shouldn’t be there.

But if she’s terrified of what might happen if she stays away . . .

“Hello?”

“You’re still there, in the house. You’re not going to make this easy for either of us, are you?”

“Hello, crazy stranger. Alex, it’s that crazy stranger I was telling you about. She’s got my mobile number now too—isn’t that fantastic?”

“Three empty graves,” says the unidentified voice. “One smaller than the other two.”

“I beg your pardon?” My heart thuds like a bullet hitting bone.

“Two for a mummy and a daddy, one for a child.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. Swallow hard.

“Three graves to fill, and all because you’re too stubborn to see sense and go back to London. Is it worth it? Does winning mean that much to you?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s very mature, isn’t it?” says the lisper. “That’s going to solve everything.”

“You just threatened me with murder if I’m not mistaken. How mature is that?”

Alex is gesturing to me that I should pass the phone to him. No. This enemy is mine.

“Who are you?” I ask her.

No answer.

I don’t know why I say what I say next. I know there’s a reason, but it’s not one I can put into words. “Is your name Olwen?”

Alex mouths, “Who?”

“Olwen? Is that you?”

I hear a click. She’s gone.

Chapter 5

Homeschooling

As soon as they heard the details of the changes that were about to rock their lives, the three Ingrey sisters burst into tears all over again.

“From now on, no more school,” said their mother brightly. “You will be home-educated. I will teach you everything creative and interesting—fun, arty things like dressing up and putting on improvised plays—and your father will take care of all the boring stuffy-shirt subjects like maths, physics, history, big yawns all around.”

“No, I will teach you the important things,” Bascom contradicted her. “Important things, which are also interesting. I’m afraid your mother’s knowledge of history consists of little more than remembering that she used to find Mick Jagger of Rolling Stones fame more attractive than either John or Paul from the Beatles.”

“Only a stuffy-shirt would use the expression ‘of Rolling Stones fame,’ ” said Sorrel.

“The expression is stuffed shirt,” Bascom corrected her stuffily. She laughed at him.

Lisette, Allisande and Perrine were unable to feel pleased that their parents were once again disagreeing in a loving and jovial manner. They did not want to be homeschooled. They were aghast at the prospect of losing this important dimension of their lives. It wasn’t about the education, it was about seeing their friends, and the gossip that they couldn’t live without. (No human being should be expected to live without gossip—that is an indisputable fact.) For example, Mr. Coote had recently told off Henrietta Sennitt-Sasse for spraying her floral deodorant spray all over the school bus, but he had not done this during school hours, or even on school grounds—oh, no. Shockingly, Mr. Coote had bumped into Henrietta in the park one weekend and started reprimanding her most severely when he wasn’t even in loco parentis. Every idiot knows that a teacher can’t harangue a pupil for a school-related offense once the school day is over. Henrietta had told Allisande that the “ Pas devant les enfants ” her mother had spluttered to her father on this occasion had been positively vicious, and she was sure her parents were going to do all they could to have Mr. Coote fired. Henrietta was determined that he should be sacked, and if her parents didn’t make this happen, she planned to catch him out in another way. Mr. Coote had a habit of ruffling children’s hair and slapping them on the back, and Henrietta thought this behavior could easily be presented as violent pupil battering.

It was because of ongoing sagas like this that Allisande and Lisette Ingrey did not want to give up going to school, and they said so to their parents. They begged and pleaded, to no avail. Perrine, surprisingly, felt the same way as her sisters. Everyone was rather shocked to hear this. “But Perrine, last time you went to school, someone tried to hang you from a tree,” Allisande pointed out.

“Yes, but that could have happened anywhere,” said Perrine. “There’s no way of knowing that the person who tried to kill me was someone from school. Anyway, I’m not scared. I was off my guard, but not anymore. If anyone else tries to kill me, I guarantee I’ll choke the life out of them first.” Perrine giggled, then let her eyes roll back in her head. She poked her tongue out of the side of her mouth and mimed pulling up a rope behind her head. She made a noise that sounded like gargling and the snapping of a neck all at the same time. Then she giggled some more.

Lisette and Allisande exchanged a look. Some of the time they were able to pretend to themselves that Perrine was normal-ish, but then something like this would happen and it became obvious that she really wasn’t.

“Wait a minute,” said Lisette. “Mum, Dad . . . no one has tried to kill me or Allisande, have they? Why can’t we go to school as normal, and just Perrine can stay home?”

Sorrel shook her head sadly. “I wish I could say yes to that, I really do. But I’m afraid Perrine needs company.”

“No, I don’t,” said Perrine. “I’m fine on my own.”

“No, you’re not,” said Bascom. “Listen to your parents who know what’s best for you. Families must always stick together, no matter what. Very close together.”

“It’s not only about keeping Perrine company,” Sorrel explained. “It’s also a safety measure. Your father and I are determined to keep Perrine confined to this house so that no one can get to her. We will succeed, because when we join forces, we always triumph.”

“Indeed,” Bascom agreed. “That’s the secret of our happy marriage.”

“So, everyone who hates Perrine and wants her dead will be frustrated,” Sorrel went on. “How long before they think to themselves, ‘Okay, then, if we can’t kill her, we’ll make do with one of her sisters’?”