Killing Rachel (7 page)

Rachel Bliss dead! How could it be so?

It was gone nine in the evening. She’d spent some time earlier with Anna, who had given her the news about Rachel Bliss as though she was telling her about the death of a close relative. Her grandmother had been very sympathetic and concerned and had asked Rose to tell her about her friendship with Rachel. Rose had summed it up in a few sentences.

She came into our House halfway through term. She didn’t have any friends so Martha Harewood asked me and another couple of girls to look after her.

She had the next bedroom to me so I saw a lot of her.

We weren’t very friendly at first but then after a while we spent time together.

We fell out last Easter. We weren’t friends any more then.

Anna had made a plate of toast for Rose. She spoke quietly and reverently as if Rose was in mourning. She wasn’t, though. Far from it. She was simply shocked to the core that Rachel was dead. Anna, who was due to go out for the evening, hovered by the door looking uncertain.

I could stay in, if you want?

I don’t have to go. I don’t mind keeping you company . . .

I’ll cancel my weekend away. I don’t want you to be on your own at a time like this . . .

Rose assured her she should go.

Now she was alone, pretending to work on a college assignment. She stretched her legs out and stood up. She stepped across and sat on the sofa, holding her back straight.

Rachel Bliss dead.

It was hard to believe.

How long had they been friends? A year? More?

There were times, during that year, when Rose wondered if their relationship could be called a
friendship
at all.

Some weeks before Easter, in Year Ten, Martha Harewood sent a note for Rose to come and see her. When she arrived there were two other girls there whom she knew, Amanda Larkin and Molly Wallace. This depressed her immediately. Amanda and Molly were
nice
girls who helped the teachers out, who got clubs going, who were always befriending people who were homesick or in trouble. She hoped that Martha was not trying to draw her into some sort of friendship group with them.

The two girls were sitting on Martha’s sofa. Rose sat on the floral armchair, hearing the legs creak as they usually did. Martha Harewood pointed to the jug of squash on the coffee table but Rose shook her head.

It was usually a treat to be in Martha’s rooms. In the early days, when she first came to the boarding school, Martha had made a fuss of her. It was January, the winter term and her mother had been gone for two and half months. In those days, being a Year Seven, she had had to share her bedroom with two other girls but she hadn’t minded. Martha invited her every week to make sure she was all right. She let her sit in the floral armchair and talked to her about things that were happening in the school. She often started with
I shouldn’t tell you this but
. . . It made Rose feel special as if she was a friend of Martha’s. One day Martha surprised her by pointing out the photo of a young girl of about five that sat on a sideboard.
This was my daughter
, she said.
She died of cancer
.
So I do know how you feel. I do know what it’s like to lose someone
. It had been a startling moment and Rose had realised that she wasn’t the only person who carried a huge sorrow around with her.

It made her feel close to Martha and she didn’t mind, as the months went by, that the visits became less often. She found her feet and began to feel comfortable around the old school building and wandering the grounds. She made friends; not close, but people to spend time with.

By Year Ten she was an ‘old’ girl, someone who kept herself to herself but who had a number of girls who she spent time with. She no longer needed a shoulder to cry on. That was why she was surprised when the Housemistress asked her to come and see her.

Martha sat and poured herself a glass of squash.

‘Girls, I’ve asked you here in the hope that you will help me out. We have a new girl joining Eliot House. Her name is Rachel Bliss. She’s been in Brontë House since last September and was a friend of poor Juliet Baker. She hasn’t really settled since the tragedy so it’s been decided that she should move House and join our little family.’

Martha looked at each of them in turn. Rose didn’t recognise the name Rachel Bliss. She wasn’t in any of her GCSE groups.

‘What I’m hoping is that you three girls could just look out for Rachel. Show her where everything is, make sure she knows about meal sittings, rules for bathing, prep times and so on. You could introduce her to your friendship groups.’

Amanda and Molly were smiling widely.

‘I’ve put her in Bluebell room.’

Rose looked up. Bluebell was the room next to hers. It had been used for a while by a Chinese girl who had gone back home just before Christmas.

‘Are you OK with this?’

‘Yes,’ Molly said. ‘That’s no problem. We’ll look after her, won’t we, Amanda?’

Amanda nodded happily.

‘Rose?’

She didn’t answer straight away. She hated this kind of situation. She remembered when she’d first started at Mary Linton there were a couple of girls who had clearly been asked to look after her. They always seemed to be around, in the classroom, in the corridor, in the common room, in the queue for food. They were nice girls but Rose didn’t connect with them in any way. She was glad when they finally left her alone.

‘Rose?’

But Martha was Rose’s friend and she had asked for a favour.

‘Sure, I’ll look out for her.’

‘Good. Excellent,’ Martha said.

Rachel Bliss arrived late that evening. Rose had left the common room with a headache and had lain down on her bed to read. She heard noises from the room next door just after ten. The door opened and shut several times and she could hear Martha’s voice, muffled. There was quiet after a while and Rose listened at the wall. She could hear the sound of music playing softly. It was allowed until eleven. After that people were encouraged to go to bed but earphones could still be used. Rose had occasionally fallen asleep with the sound of her favourite band playing in her ears.

The next morning she came out of her room, Daisy, at exactly the moment that Rachel Bliss came out of Bluebell.

‘Hi!’ Rose said. ‘I’m Rose Smith. Do ask me if there’s anything you want to know.’

Rachel Bliss looked sleepy. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and pale skin. Her eyes looked a bit puffy as though she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep.

‘Right, thanks,’ Rachel said.

Just then Amanda and Molly appeared at the end of the corridor. Molly let out a squeal and rushed up to Rachel. Rose walked off, glad to be out of the way. After that she saw Rachel Bliss in classes and at mealtimes. She was invariably with Amanda or Molly or some of their friends.

One evening, a couple of weeks after Rachel had arrived, there was a knock on her door. She opened it and found Rachel standing there.

‘OK if I come in for five minutes?’

Rose frowned. No one came into her room. It was her private place where she could get away from the constant hum of chatter. She held the door tight.

‘Not really, it’s a bit messy . . .’

‘I wouldn’t ask but it’s really important.’

Rose pulled the door back and Rachel walked into her room.

‘It’s not messy at all. You should see mine! Oh my God! You play violin! That’s hard. I tried the guitar once but it gave me blisters.’

Rose didn’t answer. Her laptop was open on the desk and showed her Facebook page.

‘I got so fed up with Facebook!’ Rachel said. ‘I had over four hundred friends and it was driving me nuts.’

‘What do you want?’ Rose said, feeling uneasy, not liking her being there.

‘Wait,’ Rachel said, her finger in the air. ‘All will be explained.’

Just then, there was the sound of footsteps in the corridor and voices talking quickly. Rose recognised them as Molly’s and Amanda’s. They stopped as they got closer. Rose heard a knock on the next room door. She was puzzled. She looked at Rachel but Rachel had her index finger over her lips.

‘Rachel?’ Amanda called out, knocking again.

‘The door’s open, look!’ Molly said.

‘Rachel, are you all right?’

‘She definitely said to come at seven.’

‘Rachel?’

‘Push the door open,’ Molly said.

Rose went to speak. She didn’t like being a party to this stupid situation but Rachel shook her head decisively.

‘There’s no one here,’ Amanda said.

‘No.’

There was silence for a minute.

‘Should we wait? She did say she had something important to tell us.’

‘No, let’s go. Maybe she’s in the common room.’

‘Yeah, let’s try there.’

Footsteps sounded, moving away up the corridor. The girls’ voices receded. When it was completely quiet Rose turned to Rachel.

‘What was all that about?’

‘Those two, they’re really sweet and kind but they’re driving me insane.’

‘You should tell them.’

‘I’ve tried . . . but you know they’re so . . .’

‘Incorrigible?’

‘Relentless, I was going to say. They’re like puppy dogs. Lovely, nice but OH! I just want them to leave me alone.’

Rachel reached for the door handle. Then she seemed to notice something. She stepped across Rose’s room and picked up a book.

‘I loved this book. Have you read her others? I love vampire stories. Isn’t it a brilliant idea? That you could stay the same age for ever? I’ve got some more in this series. Would you like to borrow them?’

Rose gave an uncertain smile.

‘Oh, wait! I’m being an annoying puppy dog, aren’t I?’

‘No, don’t be silly.’

‘I’ll leave you. Now that I’ve got some peace.’

‘Sure . . .’ Rose said.

‘Great, I’ll catch you later.’

The next day Rose sat opposite Rachel in breakfast. Later they walked to their respective classes. That night Rachel showed Rose her books, dozens of them in piles on her floor. Rose smiled at the mess and then sat down cross-legged on the carpet to sort through them in case there were some that she hadn’t read.

That was the beginning.

The studio was quiet and Rose looked at her sketch pad to see a blank page. She remembered Rachel Bliss standing in her room saying
I love vampire stories
. Her hair was a gold colour and her eyes the lightest blue. A vampire. That was Rachel. She sucked people dry.

EIGHT

‘That’s so weird,’ Joshua said. ‘She
drowned
in the school boating lake.’

‘Your school had a boating lake?’ Skeggsie said, breaking into a cough.

Rose frowned at Skeggsie. Was that all he could say?

She was standing in Joshua’s study, next door to his bedroom. It was a big room with lots of computer equipment. One of the tables had been cleared, though, and on it was
The Butterfly Project
. Alongside it were lined pages of notes as if someone had read it for an essay. Rose saw some pages printed out from websites: Code Crackers, Morsification, Cipher Plus, Bletchley Code Breakers. On the other half of the table lay one of the notebooks Joshua had taken from Frank Richards. It was open at the photograph of the Russian man.

‘How did you find out? How come you didn’t email me?’ Joshua said.

‘A boating lake!’

Rose stared at Skeggsie with mounting annoyance.

It was 5.30 and she had called in to see them on her way home from college. Although she’d known about Rachel for twenty-four hours she hadn’t communicated it to Joshua. They’d left things on an uneven note the previous day with all his talk about
special
feelings and
second sight
. It had felt awkward and it didn’t seem the right thing to do to unload further upset on him. Now, looking around his study at the paraphernalia to do with their missing parents, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it at all.

‘Tell us everything. Sit down.’

There were two chairs in the room and both were covered with the equipment that had been cleared off the table. Neither of them seemed to notice so she remained standing and launched into what had happened, explaining to Skeggsie about the letters and phone calls she’d received from Rachel Bliss. Then she described the things that Rachel had written. When she talked about her seeing the ghost of Juliet Baker she looked away from Joshua, aware that it was an uncomfortable area between them. Finally she reported what Anna had told her.