rel="nofollow" href="#litres_trial_promo">Chapter Thirty-one: Ivy
As new beginnings go, it was a good one.
The sun was making its first attempt at shining after the long dark winter. I had my twin by my side – Scarlet was lounging on the grass, pretending it was warmer than it really was. Tall trees towered over us, their fresh buds stretching towards the sky.
And, well, we were back at Rookwood School. That part wasn’t so good, but things were better than they were last term. Mrs Knight, the interim headmistress, welcomed us in the foyer with a big smile on her face. The school hadn’t had much luck with headmistresses and headmasters of late – Miss Fox was still on the run after being accused of embezzling money, not to mention hiding my sister in an asylum and pretending she was dead. And Mr Bartholomew had been no better. The cruel headmaster had finally been locked up for his involvement in the death of a pupil decades ago. Now the school was headless, so to speak, and Mrs Knight was left in charge.
We’d had our first day of lessons of the spring term, and there hadn’t been a caning in sight. All the teachers seemed happier. Even Violet seemed happier, and that was a feat in itself.
“Everything’s rather good, isn’t it?” I said to my twin with a happy sigh. I was a little chilly in my thin uniform, and the grass was damp, but the view down the long driveway of the school was beautiful now that everything was turning green again.
Scarlet looked up at me, unimpressed. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I wasn’t, but I was trying my hardest to be airy and cheerful. Of course, Scarlet had to bring me right back down to earth with a bang. Ariadne. Our best friend had been expelled before Christmas, after she was blamed for the fire that Mr Bartholomew had set to cover his tracks. Even after her name was cleared, her parents didn’t want her coming back to Rookwood.
It felt like there was an Ariadne-shaped hole beside us. Several times that day I’d gone to tell her something, or expected her to pipe up with a jolly comment, only to be met with silence.
“I’m sure she’s happy at home,” I said weakly.
Scarlet sat up, grass stuck all down the back of her dress. “Oh, come on,” she said, giving me a gentle shove. “Cheer up, Ivy, things are better. Let’s make a list.” She pulled out her pen and a tatty notebook, the one she’d been using in place of her old diary. “One: no headteachers are going to try to murder us. Two: no more nasty punishments. Three: everyone’s getting on. Penny has even stopped hating Violet.”
Penny Winchester and Violet Adams were former archenemies of Scarlet, and they’d had their own massive falling-out last term. It was true that they had finally made up, although that mostly involved not speaking to each other. “I’m not sure whether that should be on the list of good things,” I said. “Do we really want them teaming up again?”
My twin chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully. “Good point. All right, scratch that one. Now we need a new number three.”
“Well,” I said, “Christmas was nice.”
We’d been allowed to spend Christmas with our Aunt Phoebe, Father’s scatterbrained sister, after she’d found the courage to stand up to our meddling stepmother. I’d lived with our aunt for years before I came to Rookwood, when Scarlet was away at the school. Although I didn’t like to admit it, she’d always seemed to prefer the company of my twin, which was rather strange given how opposite they were.
“Three: Christmas,” Scarlet said aloud as she jotted it down. As an afterthought, she added, “excellent plum pudding.”
I smiled. It had been so strange for me, seeing Scarlet in the cottage where I’d lived when I believed her to be gone forever. Strange but wonderful. I hadn’t even minded when Aunt Phoebe burned the turkey, or when she’d given me the exact same knitted scarf that she got me last year. This time, Scarlet got one too.
“Four,” she said. “The weather is getting better.”
“Ha!” I exclaimed. “Not as much as I would like. My dress is getting damp. And look at those clouds!”
Scarlet pouted at me and put the notebook away in her pocket. “Ah, but this is different. This is a new year. The promise of spring is in the air!”
She stood up, spread her arms wide and took a deep, relaxing breath.
A raindrop landed on her nose.
We both laughed as we ran through the sudden downpour, back into the school and into our new beginning.
Life went on. And for the first time, school was simple. The weather was a little warmer and brighter. Scarlet and I were woken by the bell each day, went to lessons, ate a disappointing lunch, went to more lessons, and ate tasteless stew for dinner. Straight to bed with no night-time excursions.
I was happier, and I kept telling myself that. After all, there were no secret diary trails, no ghosts to hunt, no teachers waiting round the corner to give you a caning. That was better, wasn’t it?
One March morning, Scarlet sat down next to me in assembly and practically slammed her head on my shoulder. “Ivy,” she declared. “I am utterly bored.”
I let out a sigh, glad that I hadn’t been the one to have to say it. “Me too.”
“For goodness’ sake, let something interesting be announced this assembly,” she moaned.
“Like what?”
Nadia