Sophie Cleverly - The Curse in the Candlelight

Father had looked at Edith with a sort of blank, distracted happiness when she’d handed him his dinner. I wondered if he even saw her at all. Sometimes I imagined that his mind had painted the memory of our mother over Edith, and he never quite noticed that it didn’t fit.

As soon as dinner was over, Scarlet and I headed up the stairs, brushed our teeth and went to bed early. “This birthday can’t be over soon enough,” Scarlet said.

I agreed.

Tomorrow would be the first of September. A new year at Rookwood. As I lay under the dusty sheets and stared up at the dappled ceiling, I tried to forget about everything that had just happened and imagined what it would be like being a third year. New lessons, new teachers, new students to make friends with. We’d had so many new starts, but maybe this would be the one that went right …

I smiled up into the dark, and my eyes slipped shut.

We avoided saying goodbye to Edith the next morning. (She had disappeared. I didn’t know where to, but Scarlet was sure she was up to something.) Father was going to be the one driving us back to Rookwood. The boys were playing football in the garden. I tried waving goodbye to them, only to be met with jeers.

“ Boys ,” Scarlet said simply, rolling her eyes.

We climbed into the back of Father’s motor car with our bags, breathing in that familiar smell of leather and petrol.

I watched sadly as the cottage faded from view. It had been our home once, after all. But Edith had made it very clear that we were no longer welcome there.

“Bye, house,” Scarlet called out of the window. “It was nice knowing you.”

“You’ll be back soon enough,” Father said, his hands loose on the wheel.

I shared a look with my twin. “I’m not so sure,” I said warily.

He tapped his fingers. “It’s only school, girls. They let you out sometimes.” He sighed as he stared out at the village. “Thirteen years old, eh? Where does the time go?”

“We’re fourteen, Father,” Scarlet said.

He just blinked. “Fourteen, really? Hmm.”

My twin rolled her eyes. I didn’t blame her. Father seemed to be paying less attention to our lives than ever. We were lucky, I supposed – lucky to have Rookwood to go to; who’d have thought I’d be saying that? It wasn’t as though we had a choice anyway – our stepmother didn’t want us there, and she didn’t want us living with our aunts either (not that they really had the room). I just had to hope that we could stay out of trouble for as long as possible. If Rookwood found any reason to expel us, well … where would we go?

The journey passed in a blur of silver skies, green leaves and grey tarmac. The route was familiar to me now, but I still remembered how strange it felt that first time, with Miss Fox and her driver. The thought made me take Scarlet’s hand and squeeze it tight.

She was writing in her diary again – a new paper journal with a green jacket that she’d found at school. Her initials, SG, were written proudly on the cover. She also seemed to have acquired a new fountain pen, which was unusual since we normally used pens you had to dip in ink. I decided it was better not to ask where she had got it from.

“Don’t jog me,” she teased, poking me in the leg. “It’s hard enough to write in this bumpy old thing as it is.”

“It’s always good to see you writing in there,” I said.

“Well,” my twin replied. “You never know when a diary might come in handy …”

ather’s motor car pulled up on the gravel drive of Rookwood in the shadow of the enormous building, behind a queue of others and a bus. Everywhere girls were leaping out, lugging suitcases, waving to their parents. There were first years crying, clinging to mothers. But most of the older girls seemed eager to get going.

As we climbed out with our bags, I saw a familiar car arriving behind us. It came so close to ours that it almost hit the bumper, and then a familiar man who looked like a bespectacled owl got out. “Sorry!” he said.

I dropped my bag on the floor and ran over to the car, just as the door swung open and our best friend appeared behind the man. “ARIADNE!” I yelled, and jumped on her.

“Oof!” she said. “Steady on, Scarlet.”

I stepped back and grinned. “Never!”

Ivy came up beside me and gave Ariadne a hug. “We missed you so much.”

“Good morning, Sally and Irene,” Ariadne’s father said, tipping his hat at us.

“Morning, Mr Flitworth,” I replied. There was no point in correcting him now. It was what he’d always called us. We’d have to be Sally and Irene forever.

We said goodbye to Father, while Ariadne said goodbye to hers. I could hear him giving her a long lecture about safety and the importance of staying away from windows and potentially poisoned food. I half wished our father cared so much. Instead he’d just said, “Off you go then, see you soon,” and waved us towards the front entrance.

Ivy and I picked up some of Ariadne’s suitcases (she had a little convoy of them, as usual) and together we headed inside for the first day of our new year at Rookwood.

Mrs Knight was waiting in the foyer, greeting everyone. She was the head of our house – Richmond – and as of last year had become the headmistress as well, sort of by default. She was thankfully a lot less murderous than previous occupants of the position, and had a tendency towards being annoyingly cheerful.

“Welcome, welcome!” she was saying. “Everyone head to the hall, please! Carry your bags with you!”

I looked around the foyer, taking in the faces: there were some familiar ones – Nadia and Meena standing beside their very expensive luggage, even … ugh , our worst enemy, Penny, was there, chatting to some of her gang. But there were plenty of unfamiliar ones too. New girls. Mostly they looked like first years, with pristine uniforms. But there were some older girls among them, as well. Mrs Knight’s efforts to restore the school’s reputation had clearly had an effect.

We headed for the hall where the noise was deafening. Everyone was talking at once, greeting friends who they hadn’t seen all summer. We managed to find a seat, just.

“I got you these!” Ariadne said. She pulled one of her suitcases open a crack and took out two envelopes, then handed one to each of us. I tore mine open eagerly.

It was a birthday card showing a girl striding happily along while she held hands with a cat, a dog and a bird. It said, May you have a string of smiles for your birthday . I laughed. “Thanks, Ariadne.”

Ivy grinned, and waved hers at me. It was completely identical.

I tucked mine away in my bag. At least our stepmother couldn’t take these from us.

When everyone had filtered into the hall, the sound of chatter was broken by an ear-splitting whistle from the stage. The talking died away as all of the girls stared up at the swimming instructor and games teacher, Miss Bowler. She had the loudest voice in probably the entire world; she also seemed to have been given the job of ordering everyone about. “SIT DOWN, ALL OF YOU!” she boomed.

When we had all done as she said, she stepped aside, leaving Mrs Knight in full view.

“Welcome, girls!” she said, her expression as bright and cheery as ever. “Welcome to a brand-new year at Rookwood! We will be having a completely fresh start. I’m sure if we all work together, this will be the best year yet.”