Killing Rachel (17 page)

‘There’s a tiny room at the back.’

Rose would have been surprised or shocked had she not already spoken to Tim Baker. Amanda looked stern.

‘Molly was shocked when Rachel told her what they got up to. I think she probably exaggerated to show how grown-up she thought she was.’

‘I spoke to Tim Baker yesterday. He didn’t have a good thing to say about Rachel. Then I saw him this morning, waiting in his BMW outside the school gates and the next minute Tania Miller came out and got in beside him!’

‘I knew that. I saw Tania with him in Holt last Saturday.’

‘Rachel can’t hold on to people. They get to know what she’s really like . . .’

‘You liked her once,’ interrupted Amanda. ‘There must have been something about her . . .’

‘Yes, at first. On the surface. But underneath she was a mess.’

‘Molly probably saw it as a challenge. She likes helping people. And with Rachel being on her own . . .’

‘Like me. I was on my own, then Rachel came along.’

‘People tried to make friends with you, Rose, but you were too offish. You always walked around school as though you didn’t need anyone. Then, once you had Rachel, you hardly spoke to anyone else. You and she spent far too much time together.’

Rose bristled. It was the second time in two days that Amanda had ticked her off.

‘Sorry, I’m just being truthful.’

Molly was coming back across the refectory.

‘Here you are!’ she said breathlessly, giving Amanda her phone.

Molly sat down. She had cheered up and was talking to Amanda about some girls they knew and Rose looked at the rest of her sandwich and decided she didn’t want it. She said goodbye and headed upstairs to Eliot House and back to her old room.

Once inside she sat on the bed. She was feeling chastened by the conversation. And she had to admit that Amanda was right. In those last months she and Rachel had spent far too much time together.

After Rachel fell out with Tania, Rose and Rachel became much closer. Rose remembered the weeks when Rachel had cold-shouldered her. She hadn’t wanted it to be like that again. She treasured the affection that Rachel gave her and after their horrible falling-out she was determined to make things different.

When she returned to school after the Christmas holidays she virtually picked Rachel up and spun her round, she was so pleased to see her.

But it didn’t last. The old problems surfaced.

Schoolwork was hard; weekly tests and extra revision assignments. Rose did it all, her room becoming a kind of huge filing cabinet for the twelve different subjects she was taking at GCSE. Rachel fell behind, her room looking wrecked, with A4 paper everywhere and books strewn about. Rose didn’t comment or nag. This time she was going to leave Rachel to do what she wanted.

In February Rachel had to go home for a week because her mother was ill. When she came back she was depressed and moody. A couple of times, after Rose had finished revising for the evening, she knocked on Rachel’s door and there was no answer. She lay awake till gone eleven and heard Rachel coming back, opening her door quietly. No doubt she’d been in some cubbyhole lighting up, a window open nearby to let the smoke out.

Rose didn’t pry but she did ask her about the trip home.

‘Mum and Robert are going to get married,’ Rachel said miserably. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to have him living in the house all the time!’

‘Why don’t you tell someone about it?’

‘I can’t. It would upset Mum! Anyway, I don’t really want to talk about it. Why don’t I do your nails?’

‘Go on then,’ Rose said. ‘Do the light pearl colour. No one will notice it.’

Rachel took her time, filing each nail carefully. They sat on the floor face to face, Rose’s back to the bed. Rachel was outwardly concentrating on the nails but Rose felt sure her friend was thinking of something else. She could almost
feel
the weight on Rachel’s shoulders.

‘Did something happen?’ Rose said. ‘Last week, when you were at home?’

Rachel was looking down at her nails. She shook her head firmly but did not speak. Rose pulled her hand away and forced Rachel to look at her.

‘Something happened, didn’t it? What happened?’

Rachel’s eyes were glistening with tears. She turned away from Rose and grabbed the box of tissues and blew her nose.

‘What happened, Rachel?’

‘Robert came into my room.’

Rose tensed.

‘I can’t keep my door locked all the time. I just can’t. My mum will work out that something’s wrong! Anyway, my mum had already gone to bed and I left Robert watching a movie on telly and I got into bed and turned the light off and I must have dozed off because I felt this weight on one side of my bed. I opened my eyes and he was sitting there. It was dark. The whole house was dark and he was sitting there looking at me.’

‘Oh.’

‘I said,
What are you doing
! Like in a loud whisper and he was just staring at me.’

Rose felt her neck tighten.

‘He put his hand out and touched my face and he said,
You’re so beautiful
. That’s what he said.
You’re so beautiful!
’

‘What did you do?’

‘I pulled away, I sat up. I put my light on and I pulled the duvet up to my neck. Then he got up and walked away, back to my mum’s room. The next morning when my mum was in the kitchen and I was in the living room he came in and put his mouth right up to my ear and he whispered,
I won’t forget last night
. And then he went to work.’

Rose put her hand out and grabbed Rachel’s arm. Her skin felt clammy.

‘It’s creeping me out. I locked my door after that but if him and Mum get married I don’t know what I’m going to do!’

‘Can’t you talk to your dad about it?’

‘I can but what will happen? My dad’ll go and knock him out and then my mum will know. I just don’t know what to do!’

Rachel wasn’t crying but she looked lost. Rose swivelled round and sat beside her and hugged her. She felt a rush of affection for this troubled girl. She had her own problems but Rachel’s seemed more urgent. If something wasn’t done she would have to live under the same roof as this man.

‘Can’t you write your mum a letter or something? Your mum would be horrified if she knew what was going on. You don’t want her to marry a creep like that, do you? You’d be doing her a huge favour.’

‘You’re right. You’re right. I will. I’ll write to her. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll show you the letter.’

Rose smiled. Maybe there really was an easy way out of this situation for her friend. The next day she waited to see the letter but it didn’t come.
What about the letter?
Rose said.
I’m doing it tonight,
Rachel said but still it didn’t come. A week later Rose found Rachel in tears, in the refectory. She’d just had a ticking off for not keeping her History work up to date and she was looking rough, her hair unwashed and pulled back into a tie. Her eyelids looked slightly swollen as if she’d been crying.

‘What’s the matter?’ Rose said, fearful. ‘Is it something to do with Robert?’

‘He’s taking Mum and me to Paris at Easter. Just the three of us. I don’t want to go but how can I say no?’

‘You need to tell someone about this!’ Rose said, a hint of anger in her voice.

‘I spoke to him on the phone. Mum said,
Speak to Rachel, tell her about the trip!
He came on the phone and it sounded as though Mum had gone off somewhere because he said,
I’ve bought you some pretty underwear
.’

Rose stared at her. Rachel was looking forlorn, hopeless. Someone had to put a stop to it. This man could not wheedle his way into Rachel’s life. Someone had to inform the authorities. Rachel was too scared to do it.

It was up to Rose. She had to do something.

Now Rose packed her stuff. After she finished she pulled the bedding off the bed and dumped it in the corner.

She left her room and paused at Rachel’s door. It was unlocked so she pushed it open. She stepped inside and went over to the window. She looked at the boathouse. She thought of what Amanda had said and pictured Tim Baker and Rachel sneaking into the building late at night. Tim Baker with his cocksure attitude. When she’d known Rachel neither of them had even
kissed
a boy. How she had changed in a few short months? Or was it, as Molly had said, that she had fallen
in love
?

Maybe that was the answer. Rachel had given herself to Tim Baker and then he dropped her. All the stuff about Juliet Baker’s ghost was just another one of her stories.

She had a broken heart. She drank a lot of alcohol and fell in the lake.

An accident.

Not Rose’s responsibility. She so wanted to believe that.

She left the room and went downstairs to the reception area, put her rucksack in the corner and reluctantly went to Mrs Abbott’s room to meet Rachel’s parents.

SEVENTEEN

Rose sat in the corrridor. She could hear voices from the head teacher’s room. One voice was closer to the door than the others. It was Martha Harewood. She, of course, would be part of any group of staff that would speak to the family. She was Rachel’s housemistress, possibly the member of staff who had come closest to Rachel for the period of time that she had been in Eliot House.

She was the member of staff who knew most about Rachel’s family background. That was why, when Rose had decided to tell someone about the possible abuse that Rachel was facing from her mother’s new boyfriend, she went to Martha Harewood.

Rose went to see the housemistress straight after her last class when she knew that Rachel had gone back to her room to get changed.

‘Come in, Rose. What can I do for you?’

‘I wanted to tell you something and it’s pretty difficult because I’m betraying a confidence but if I didn’t think it was the right thing to do, if it wasn’t better for the person concerned, I wouldn’t be telling you.’

Rose stopped. She felt as though all the words in her mouth were in a jumble.

‘You know that anything you tell me will be confidential.’

‘But if a crime was being committed? It wouldn’t be confidential then?’

‘Ah, no. Then I could not hold a confidence. But if something criminal is involved then maybe you should tell.’

Rose hesitated.

‘What is it, Rose? It’s obviously upsetting you and I’m guessing it concerns your friend Rachel Bliss?’

Rose nodded. Martha waited. Eventually Rose spoke.

‘It’s about her mother’s boyfriend. I think he’s abusing her. Or at least he intends to abuse her. She’s really upset about it and doesn’t want to hurt her mum. His name’s Robert and they’re thinking of getting married and up to now Rachel has only had to put up with him for the odd weekend and part of the holidays but if they get married then he’ll be a part of her life and she can’t stand the thought of it . . .’

‘Slow down. Slow down. Tell me slowly, all of it and be clear about what you’re saying.’

Rose started again. Martha listened. She explained all the things that Rachel had told her. She described how Rachel had to lock her door. She said how over the last few months it had got worse. Finally she told Martha about the visit home when her mother was ill and how Robert had come into her bedroom and then how he had told her he had bought her some new underwear. Martha kept her eyes on Rose and a kind of sadness seemed to register in her expression.

‘Oh, Rose,’ Martha said, and reached out to pat her hand.

‘What will you do?’ Rose said, suddenly fearful of what she’d said.

Martha got up and went to a filing cabinet. She opened the top drawer and Rose could see that it said
Year Eleven
on it. She sorted through the files for a moment before taking one out. Then she pulled the chair she had been sitting on a bit closer to Rose. She had Rachel’s file in front of her. She was looking at it in a troubled way.

‘Rose,’ she said, ‘I’m going to show you this. I’m actually not supposed to share the information with anyone but I think it’s important that you see what is here.’

Rose frowned. Had this sort of thing happened to Rachel before? Had she been a victim of some kind of abuse in the past? Was Martha showing it to her so that she didn’t have to feel bad about breaking a confidence?

Martha undid a plastic tag and removed the top sheet from Rachel’s file. She handed it to Rose. Rose looked down at what was written there. She saw Rachel’s name and address and then underneath the names of Margaret Bliss and Anthony Bliss. Beside them it said
Maternal Grandparents
.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

There was nothing else on the sheet.