Sophie Cleverly - Scarlet and Ivy – The Lost Twin

Then – wait – I could feel something. There was a peculiar lump in the mattress. It was something hard and pointy. I shuffled my weight around, hoping that I wasn’t imagining it. No, there was definitely something there.

I jumped up, ran to the door and checked the corridor for teachers. It was silent, empty. I prayed that Miss Fox wouldn’t return any time soon.

Certain that no one was coming, I pulled off the grey blankets and bed sheets, throwing them into a heap on the floor. I ran my hand over the bare mattress, and I could still feel the lump. But there was no way to get to it. Or was there?

I got down on the floor and lay on my back, pulling myself right under the bed until I could see through the metal slats. It was dusty, and I had to resist a strong urge to sneeze.

And then I saw the hole. It was a long narrow slit cut into the material, maybe with a knife. The perfect size for a diary .

I pushed my hand into the mattress. Feathers and pieces of cotton stuffing scattered around my head and tickled my eyes as the coiled springs scraped against my skin. Then I could feel something else! It was hard and worn, maybe leather, and the tips of my fingers were just touching it.

My hand sunk in further, and I ignored the dust, the scraping, until …

There it was. I wrenched it out by the corner, and I clutched the little book to my chest, my heart pounding beneath it.

Scarlet’s diary .

They hadn’t found it. There was a piece of my sister waiting for me after all.

I wriggled my way out from under the bed and hastily tried in vain to brush myself off. Then I sat up, leaning against the cold frame, and stared at the book in my hands. It was brown and shiny, and the letters ‘SG’ had been carefully scored into the cover.

It looked as though half the pages had been torn out, but some of it was still intact. Hardly daring to breathe, I undid the leather strap, and turned to the first page that remained:

Ivy, I pray that it’s you reading this.

And if you are, well, I suppose you’re the new me …

ou must keep this a secret from everyone. Especially Miss Fox. She cannot hear about this, understand? I’ve had to split up the pages. She would do anything to destroy the evidence.

You will be fine, as long as you remember me. It’s just acting, like we always said we would do. Only you’ll be playing my part.

Don’t pay too much attention in class. Don’t wear your uniform too neatly. Stay away from Penny. Don’t get on the wrong side of the Fox … you don’t know what she’s capable of. Don’t be as wet as you usually are – just look in the mirror, remember you’re trying to be me.

And Ivy, I give you full permission to read my diary – in fact, you MUST!

I stuffed the diary into my pillowcase, my heart racing. This was madness.

How could Scarlet possibly have known this would happen? She’d said I had to go along with the deception, and it seemed I had no choice but to do as she said. I shuddered at the thought of disobeying Miss Fox, too.

I couldn’t believe the web of lies I’d found myself in. All to escape shame for the school, to stop the other pupils from panicking about the ‘unfortunate circumstances’.

Who could I turn to?

Aunt Phoebe .

Of course! I ran to my bag and pulled out a pen, paper and ink. I flattened out the sheet on the dressing table and hastily scrawled:

Dear Aunt Phoebe,

Help! This has all been a huge mistake. I don’t know what’s going on here but they want me to pretend to be Scarlet. This can’t be right. I’ve found her diary, and somehow she knew this would happen. Something terrible is going on here.

Could you come and get me? Or tell Father? Please, this is important!

Ivy

I folded the letter into an envelope and wrote Aunt Phoebe’s address and URGENT in big letters.

But then, almost immediately, my excitement began to fade. How exactly was I going to send a letter? I didn’t have a stamp, nor did I know where to find a post office. If pupils needed to send letters from the school, they probably had to give them to a teacher. And if Miss Fox got hold of it, well …

That was a chance I couldn’t take. I had to trust Scarlet’s words. They were all I had left.

I forced myself to change into her uniform. The fabric was scratchy and didn’t smell like her at all. I looked in the mirror, but something was wrong … I loosened the tie, tugged on the hem of the dress and pulled the stockings up unevenly – there, not too neat.

Once I was dressed, I unpacked my few possessions before remaking Scarlet’s – my – bed, and finally collapsed on it, exhausted. But as my eyelids began to drift shut, I noticed a shadow fall across the room.

“Hello,” said the shadow.

I looked up. The girl barely filled the doorway. She was small and so mousy that she looked like she might beg for cheese at any moment.

I was about to offer an equally timid “hello” in reply, but then I remembered. I had to be Scarlet now …

“Hello!” I said, jumping up from the bed and forcing a cheery smile on to my face.

The mousy girl took a small step backwards. “Um, good afternoon. MynameisAriadneI’mnew.”

“Sorry?”

The girl inhaled a long, deep breath. “My name is Ariadne. Ariadne Elizabeth Gwendolyn Flitworth.”

“Oh … um, sorry,” I said, wincing.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it,” Ariadne sighed. She held out a small hand, nails bitten to extinction.

I looked at it for a second, and then shook it with nervous enthusiasm. “My name is Iv— Scarlet. Nice to meet you.” Oh dear , I thought, as I unhooked my hand from hers. I’m not very good at this.

Ariadne stooped to pick up her luggage, a little convoy of suitcases trailing after her. I watched her pick up each one and gingerly lift it over to her side of the room. I didn’t think to offer any help. It seemed like some kind of strange ritual.

“Are you new as well?” Ariadne suddenly asked.

“Me? Oh no,” I replied, my mind racing. “I was here last year.”

Ariadne looked around the bare room curiously, so I babbled on.

“Well, I was quite ill for a while. Some kind of flu, they said. Had to take all my things back home. They, erm, didn’t want everyone else to catch it.”

“Oh, of course,” said Ariadne, tucking strands of mousy hair behind her ears as she shuffled back and forth. “My father decided to send me here, because he had to go away on important business.” She didn’t say this in a proud or boastful way – more like repeating something she had heard many times. She finished laying out her suitcases and turned to face me, blowing a stray hair out of her face. “Um, I don’t suppose you could show me where the lavatories are?”