Chapter Eight
April had spent the
rest of the week just trying to keep her head above water. By
Friday, she was surprised to find that she was actually enjoying
coming to school for the lessons rather than the social life. At
her old school, she’d liked a few subjects, but she had never been
able to see the point of half of them. Chemistry? It was so dull.
Geography? I mean, who cared about oxbow lakes? Lessons had felt
like unavoidable pauses between spending time with Fee and her
other friends. But at Ravenwood it was different; the lessons here
were interesting, even stimulating, and she found that she was
actually reading the course books before the lessons. To begin with her father had
teased her about it, but when he saw how engaged she was he had
simply smiled and said, ‘A chip off the old block.’
The truth was that
reading the books in advance was the only way April had a hope in
hell of keeping up with the other students. They used words like
‘moreover’ and ‘emphatically’ and seemed to already know as much
as, if not more than, their teachers about any given subject. More
shocking, the adults actually seemed to respect their students’
opinions. Now that was definitely a
first. This morning in History, for example, the tutor Miss Holden
didn’t seem interested in teaching them names and dates; she was
more focused on promoting a discussion that pushed their notions of
what history was - not a fusty list of births, battles and deaths,
but a fluid, organic entity whose whole interpretation could be
changed by a speech, a book or even something as nebulous as the
fashions of the day. Even so, April found her mind wandering during
the lesson. She was haunted by the feeling of unease that the walk
down Swain’s Lane had left her with. Images of Gabriel, glaring
eyes, shivering foxes, even the disbelieving faces of the police
officers who had interviewed her were all whirling around, jumbled
up in her head. She gazed down at her open book, intending to make
copious notes, but instead she found she’d been doodling pictures
of weird creatures and strange abstract shapes in the margin. What
was going on in the village? And why
was her dad researching the Highgate Vampire? Her father had kept
her up to date on the police investigation, but they seemed to be
floundering for lack of proper evidence. There was a question mark
over exactly how Isabelle Davis had been killed and whether or not
her death was linked to the Alix Graves murder. ‘The police are
releasing very little information,’ said William, ‘which usually
means it’s either something pretty unpleasant and they don’t want
to trigger any copycats, or the circumstances are sensitive and
they don’t want to scare off witnesses.’
Caro, predictably,
had seen conspiracy written all over it. ‘They’re not releasing
details because they don’t want to rock the boat,’ she had said
confidently. ‘It must implicate some prominent businessman or
celebrity, maybe even someone in the police, so they’re closing
ranks. It’s got bloody fingerprints all over it, you mark my
words.’
April had no theories
of her own, but she did find the whole episode disquieting,
especially as she was no wiser regarding Gabriel’s involvement. For
some reason, she simply couldn’t get him out of her mind. Sure, he
was sexy, but it was more than that; April couldn’t say why, but
she felt there was some sort of connection between them. When she
had looked into his eyes, there had been almost … she shivered and
shook the thought away. She knew nothing about him and she really
had no idea how he was mixed up in the murder. Had he called the
police? What was he doing there anyway? For about three seconds,
April had entertained the idea that Gabriel might have had
something to do with Isabelle’s death, but just as quickly
dismissed it as too far-fetched. After all, she had been there by
accident, there was no reason why he couldn’t have just been
passing too. Either way, Gabriel hadn’t been in school for the rest
of the week and when she had wandered around Highgate Village after
school, half-hoping to bump into him, half-hoping she wouldn’t, she
hadn’t seen so much as a shadow of him, and the longer it went on,
the longer her imagination was left to run riot.
‘April?’
She looked up
sharply. She had been lost in her thoughts, wondering if Gabriel
had in fact been protecting her from some unseen killer, when she
became aware that everyone was looking at her. Again.
‘April?’ prompted
Miss Holden. ‘The Renaissance?’
‘Oh, uh, yes? What
about it?’
A twitter of giggles
went around the class and Miss Holden’s expression changed to one
of undisguised annoyance.
‘Miss Dunne, if
you’re not up to taking the lesson, please excuse yourself and
visit the nurse before we begin.
Uninterested pupils may well be the norm at whatever school you
previously attended, but at Ravenwood we take education very
seriously.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t
sleep very well—’
‘I am not at all
interested in your nocturnal activities,’ snapped Miss Holden, to
more titters. ‘What I am interested in
is the concept of the Renaissance as a rewrite of history.’ She
turned away, dismissing April, and addressed a lanky boy to April’s
left. ‘Now, Mr Frazer, perhaps you can
tell us …’
After that April
followed the lesson much more closely, taking notes diligently, but
also sparing a moment or two to plan a few horrific acts of revenge
on Miss Holden for humiliating her in front of the entire class.
Now not only would she be seen as a freak and an outsider, she
would be seen as a bad student, too - something she had a feeling
was a greater crime in a school for the academically brilliant than
out-and-out delinquency would be.
‘April, stay behind,
please.’
The end-of-lesson
bell had rung and her classmates were all filing out, chattering
and laughing, when Miss Holden stepped forward and stopped April.
She closed the door behind the last pupil and motioned for April to
sit as she perched on the front of her desk, her lips pursed. She
was in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length red hair in tight
ringlets, smartly dressed, but with a boho feel—wooden beads around
her neck, a floral-print blouse and Roman sandals - but the soft
lines did nothing to take the edge off her severe
stare.
If she doesn’t stop frowning like that, April
thought, she’s going to need a bucketload of
Botox.
‘I can sympathise
that you might be feeling a little lost here, April. A move and a
new school would upset anyone.’
April nodded
gratefully. ‘Yes, I—’ she began, but Miss Holden cut her
off.
‘But that doesn’t
mean you can bring your emotions into my lessons. I can’t allow
disruption.’ She waited until April was looking at her and said,
‘I’ll say it again, because this is important. Ravenwood is not
like your old school, April. Not in any way.’
April frowned. There
was something about Miss Holden’s emphasis on that last line that
seemed significant. ‘Not in any way.’
She searched the woman’s face, but she was already speaking
again.
‘What we teach here
is very important. Very important. Some
might say it’s a matter of life or death.’
Oh please, thought April. It’s
only history.
Miss Holden caught
April’s sceptical expression. ‘I know this may look like a school
packed with over-privileged nouveau riche snobs and, yes, there is
an element of that here, it’s the nature of the beast - when Mummy
and Daddy pay for the best education for their little darlings,
they get what they’ve paid for - but let me tell you, there are
still a lot of pupils who have worked exceptionally hard to get
here and they continue to work damned hard to stay here. For them,
getting into a top university, Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, is their
sole focus and if they don’t make it, then … well, let’s just say
there will be consequences.’
‘Consequences?’
‘Yes, consequences,’
said the teacher, a brief flare of anger in her eyes. Miss Holden
sighed and folded her arms. ‘Look, April, I know your background.
At this moment you might only be interested in music and boys, but
the facts remain that you’re intelligent, pretty, grounded, you’re
an all-rounder and I’m sure if you apply yourself you’ll do just
fine.’
April looked down at
her hands, embarrassed.
‘But there are kids
here who simply can’t do anything else. Maths, physics, science,
these students are brilliant in their fields, but they are
specialists. Put the biology student in an English class and they
are average at best, so imagine what life’s going to be like for
them if they don’t get where they’re supposed to be. And think of
the bigger picture - if that happens we might be denying society a
cure for cancer, or the ability to breathe on the
moon.’
She regarded April
for a moment, seemed to be weighing up something in her mind. ‘And,
more importantly, we need to make sure they don’t fall under the
wrong influences.’
‘The
Russians?’
Miss Holden burst out
laughing. ‘No, April, not the Russians,’ she said with a wry smile.
‘The Soviet threat is well and truly over, dear.’
April could feel her
face go bright red as Miss Holden turned serious
again.
‘But you can
appreciate that students with such incredible potential are very
vulnerable. We need to keep you all from being corrupted too early
- it’s part of our job.’
April thought she
might be joking, but she looked completely straight-faced.
Why do adults always spend so much time
worrying about our morals? she wondered, eyeing the
teacher’s beads and sandals. Like you’ve never
rolled a joint in your life, you
hypocrite.
‘And speaking of
corrupting influences, it’s also an unofficial part of our jobs to
keep an eye on you and the people you’re spending time
with.’
April looked up,
suddenly feeling angry. Had she been spying on her? ‘I think you
know who I’m talking about.’
‘Caro?’
‘No, not Caro,’ said
Miss Holden impatiently. ‘Caroline Jackson may have discipline
issues and a unique way of looking at the world, but she’s fairly
harmless. I’m talking about the so-called “Faces” and their
self-appointed leader in particular, Davina Osbourne.’
April could barely
believe her ears. How dare a teacher tell her who she could and
could not hang out with?
‘I thought your
jurisdiction ended at the school gates, Miss Holden,’ said April
defiantly.
‘No, April, it goes a
lot further than that. And I know I’m not telling you anything you
don’t already know or sense: Davina Osbourne is bad news. I’m
merely pointing out the obvious - that if you continue to spend
time with her and her friends, you’re going to find yourself in
trouble. And trouble seems to be following you, doesn’t
it?’
‘That’s not fair,’
said April. ‘It’s just bad luck. I can’t help it if something
happens right in front of me, can I?’
‘Can’t
you?’
April started.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘We make our own
luck, April, both good and bad, and you have to be aware of your
own power to influence events.’
‘What, you mean I
should have done something different? What? What was I supposed to
do?’
April felt a bubbling
anger towards the teacher. How dare she? Was she saying that April
should have run back into the cemetery and fought a mad killer with
her bare hands? It was ridiculous! She was only a sixteen-year-old
girl, not some superhero.
‘Are you saying that
if I’d done something differently,’ asked April, barely controlling
her voice, ‘that girl Isabelle wouldn’t be dead?’
Miss Holden didn’t
speak. The teacher shook her head slightly and stood up, smoothing
her skirt down. ‘Just be careful, April, that’s all I ask. As you
mature into an adult, you’ll have choices to make. Some of them
will be very important, more important than they may seem at the
time.’
Condescending cow, thought April. But she knew that
arguing with a teacher would only land her in yet more unasked-for
trouble, so instead she stood up and forced a smile.
‘Thanks for the
advice, Miss Holden,’ she said, trying her best not to let sarcasm
drift into her words. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve
said.’
Miss Holden touched
her arm. ‘Do,’ she said. ‘Please.’
Note to self, thought April as she closed the
classroom behind her. Never daydream in class
again. She walked down the corridor and out through the main
entrance, feeling the bite of the cold air in her
lungs.
‘Hey, sweetie,’ said
a voice. April almost jumped out of her skin.
She turned to see
Davina right behind her. It was almost uncanny, given that Miss
Holden had just been warning her to stay away from her. Well, she
wasn’t about to let that cow tell her what to do. April was so mad
with the teacher, if she’d told her not to play in traffic she
would have run across a motorway.
‘Davina,’ she
breathed. ‘I didn’t hear you.’
‘I get that a lot,’
said Davina, smiling. Standing next to her was a Chinese girl with
shoulder-length hair and glasses.
‘This is Ling Po,’
said Davina. ‘She’s a new girl too, aren’t you, Ling? I thought I’d
introduce you two as you’re both in the same boat.’
The girl smiled
awkwardly, casting her eyes down.
‘She’s shy,’ said
Davina, ‘but we’ll soon cure that, won’t we, Ling? Anyway …’ Davina
linked her arm through April’s and led her towards the gate. ‘What
kept you? I was waiting for you after History. We were worried,
weren’t we, Ling?’
‘Oh, Miss Holden
wanted a chat,’ said April.
Davina paused a beat.
‘More questions?’
‘No, something about
how I’m holding everyone back because I’m not hanging on her every
word.’
Davina laughed.
‘That’s typical of that witch. She’s always sticking her nose in
where it’s not wanted. Don’t let her get to you, she’s just jealous
of us.’
‘Jealous? Of
us?’
‘Clever, pretty girls
like you and me, April. And Ling, of course,’ she added, with a
glance back at the girl trailing along behind them. ‘I mean, have
you seen what she wears? Like some old hippy throwback, and not in
a good way. She’s old before her time and she hates to see fabulous
young people having fun.’
‘I suppose …’ said
April, not exactly surprised that the dislike between them was
mutual.
‘I’m telling you. Old
and bitter. Anyway, talking of beautiful people having fun, that’s
why I was waiting for you. Milo’s parents are away this weekend so
we’re throwing a Halloween party on Sunday.’
‘Sunday?’ said April,
knowing what her parents would say about going out the night before
a school day, but Davina wasn’t listening. Clearly that sort of
thing wasn’t important in her rarefied world.
‘It’s going to be so
amazing I can’t even begin,’ continued Davina. ‘Only the best
people will be there and everyone’s going to look stunning - dress
code black, of course. Say you’ll come?’
April nodded. ‘Of
course, I’d love to if I can. Why don’t you text me the details, my
number—’
Davina held up a
sleek black phone. ‘Already got it!’ she sang.
April smiled to
herself. How could Miss Holden have thought these girls were
dangerous? Davina was an airhead, yes. A little smug too, and she
certainly didn’t have any problems with her self-esteem: Davina
clearly thought she was just about perfect. April hadn’t seen her
in any classes, but there must be a brain underneath the socialite
act, otherwise she would never have qualified for Ravenwood, no
matter how rich Daddy was. Or maybe her speciality was gossip and
social networking? Either way, to suggest that the Faces could be a
malign influence was crazy. They just weren’t that
clever.
‘I can’t decide what
to wear,’ gushed Davina, as if to prove April’s point. ‘I’m
thinking about a gorgeous chiffon Dolce minidress I saw in Harvey
Nicks, but maybe I should go for something more grand like vintage
Dior or even a McQueen ball gown. What do you think? And then
there’s shoes and bags and I’m going to force Mummy to lend me her
Cartier earrings for the night. Oh, it’s going to be such
fun!’
‘I can’t wait,’ said
April, and was surprised to find that she was telling the
truth.
‘She said I was
harmless?’
‘Fairly harmless,’ corrected April.
She suppressed a
smirk as Caro spluttered with indignation. They were sitting in the
Americano Coffee Bar on Highgate High Street and April had just
related the story of her encounters with Miss Holden and Davina
earlier in the day.
‘Fairly harmless?
That’s worse than plain ordinary harmless! ’ she shouted. ‘Like I’m
even mediocre at being harmful! What do I have to do to be seen as
disruptive?’
April laughed. ‘I
suspect you’re going to have to rethink your plan of
anarchy.’
Caro shook her head
in disbelief. ‘It’s just not fair. You find a dead
body—’
‘A dead fox,’ said
April.
‘Whatever,’ continued
Caro, ‘and just like that you’re edgy and cool. I’ve been
cultivating this image of the school rebel for years, then you come
along, fall asleep in a lesson and all of a sudden you’re Che
Guevara. There’s no justice.’
‘You could always
fall asleep in more lessons, or
stink-bomb the staff room,’ suggested April.
‘Don’t you think I’ve
thought of that?’ She sighed. ‘If I thought it would look good on
my Oxford entrance papers, I would.’ She stared morosely into her
coffee. ‘So, on the subject of disruption, any plans for the big
night?’
‘What big
night?’
‘Halloween,’ Caro
said, lowering her voice an octave.
April shook her head.
‘Oh, I don’t think I’m going to go.’
‘What? You have to
go!’
April frowned. ‘I
thought you were going to forbid me to mix with all those fakes and
give me a lecture about going over to the dark side.’
‘No, no, don’t you
see? You have to go over to the dark
side. It’s the only way we’ll ever find out what’s going
on!’
April laughed. ‘Not
you too,’ she said.
‘What do you
mean?’
‘Miss Holden. She
seems to think the Faces are some sort of dangerous paramilitary
organisation hell-bent on world destruction.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t
underestimate their desire to crush everything before them,’ said
Caro. ‘But mainly through withering put-downs rather than
out-and-out violence.’
‘So you don’t think
they’re dangerous?’
‘No, but their
friends and relatives are. The party is at Milo Asprey’s house and
his father is hot stuff in the energy industry. He’s also
super-tight with Davina and Ben’s daddy, Nicholas Osbourne, who
heads up Agropharm International, no less.’
‘Agropharm?’ April
whistled. ‘Even I’ve heard of them. They make aspirin, don’t
they?’
‘Aspirin, paint,
plastics, explosives, chemical weapons …’
April’s mouth dropped
open.
‘But don’t get Mr
Osbourne wrong - he’s not all bad, he does a lot of work for
charity. He’s the chairman of Airlift, the big charity for refugees
and war-zone relief. He gives with one hand and takes away with the
other, just like all good politicians.’
‘How do you know all
this?’
‘I have my
sources.’
‘Is this part of your
conspiracy thing?’
Caro shrugged. ‘I
said it before, there are no records of who runs the educational
trust behind Ravenwood, but Mr Asprey is very active in
fund-raising for the school and best of friends with all the
governors, who seem to be in awe of him.’
‘That doesn’t
necessarily make him Mr Big, though, does it?’
‘No, but it does make
him a great place to start.’ Caro grinned. ‘Which is why we need to
get you spruced up for your big night out.’