All My Secrets (16 page)

‘I won’t,’ he says. ‘I promise.’

I give a swift nod, then let go of the side. I start to sink down into the water, but Josh’s arm keeps me up.

‘Kick with your feet,’ he urges. ‘Pull with your hands.’

I do as he says. Immediately, I rise in the water. Josh tightens his grip on me, then pushes off from the side. We swim shoulder to shoulder. Well, Josh does most of the actual swimming. With
one arm and both legs, he propels us across the cave pool, towards the light. I scrabble with my hands, desperately trying to keep my face above water.

‘You’re doing great,’ Josh pants. ‘Keep going, keep kicking.’

I move my feet like flippers, as fast as I can. I realise I’m holding my breath and take in a mouthful of air. Water splashes up my nose. I splutter it out, coughing madly.

‘Keep going,’ Josh gasps, ‘Nearly there.’

I look up. The light across the water still seems very far away. Too far.

‘Come on, Evie, you can do this.’

On we swim. The cold seeps into my bones; my arms and legs ache from the effort of pulling them through the water. And then, just as I’m thinking I can’t swim another stroke, I feel
the hard ground at my feet.

‘I can stand,’ I pant. ‘We can stand.’

We stop swimming, our toes resting on the bottom. The light is closer now. I can just make out the outline of trees against the dark grey sky outside.

‘It’s not far now,’ Josh urges. ‘Come on.’

We half wade, half swim the rest of the way. Josh keeps his arm around my waist the whole time, until the water is only at our knees. Then he lets go and we make our way to the narrow cave
opening, where the water finally peters out into a muddy puddle.

We stagger onto dry land. Well, dryish. The worst of the storm seems to be over, but it’s still drizzling and the wind is fierce. We’ve come out close to the start of the trees where
we were working before, just a few minutes from Lightsea House. The light has almost totally faded from the day. In a few minutes, it will be pitch-black. I shiver in the cold gusts of air. Josh
peers across the scrubland ahead of us. It’s strewn with branches that must have been torn from the trees beyond in the storm. ‘The house is that way,’ he points, his teeth now
chattering so fast he can barely speak.

Relief and gratitude fill me to my toes. I fling my arms round his neck.

‘Thank you,’ I breathe. ‘You saved my life.’ I hug him hard.

‘Steady.’ Josh laughs. ‘You saved your own life, I just helped.’

‘No you
did
.’ I kiss his cheek, then draw back. Our faces are so close, our eyes locked. Water drips from Josh’s hair, from his nose. His eyes gleam in the twilight as
he leans forward and brushes my lips with his.

It’s like electricity thrilling through me. I reach up to kiss him again, forgetting everything else.

‘Evie! Josh!’ Miss Bunnock’s distant shout cuts through the air.

Josh and I draw apart, our eyes still intent on each other. He smiles at me and something in my chest flips over and over as I smile back.

‘They’re looking for us,’ I say.

‘Yeah.’ Josh raises his eyebrows. His face is alive with fun. ‘Shall we let them find us?’

‘Race you there.’ And I turn and speed away, across the moorland towards the house. As I run, Josh flying beside me, an image of Kit flashes into my mind’s eye. Guilt settles
over me like a cloud.

You didn’t do anything,
I tell myself.
It was just a thank-you kiss, nothing more. You’re bound to feel emotional, a bit different than before – Josh saved your
life – it doesn’t change anything between you and Kit . . .

Night has well and truly settled and it’s hours past the normal Lightsea bedtime by the time Josh and I are showered and changed and sitting in the kitchen. Mrs Moncrieff
flaps around, offering us hot rolls and bowls of steaming chicken-noodle soup that we eat in about ten seconds flat, then Miss Bunnock ushers us, tight-lipped, into Mr Lomax’s office.

‘What on earth happened?’ he asks. ‘Where have you two been?’

Josh and I glance at each other, then we both start talking at once.

‘One at a time, please,’ Mr Lomax says. He looks tired and stressed, with dark shadows under his eyes. ‘Evie, you first.’

I take a deep breath and tell him everything: how I saw my ghost again, how I followed her through the trees, across the flat rock and along the stony beach to where she vanished.

Mr Lomax listens attentively, leaning forward over his desk, his fingertips pressed together.

‘Then it started raining and we sheltered in this cave and at the back of the cave were these stones that spelled out my real mum’s initials – IG.’ I hesitate. ‘And
DL which are
your
initials.’

Mr Lomax’s head jerks up. He stares at me for a second, then his gaze switches to Josh. ‘Did you see these stones too?’

Josh shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Er . . .’ He shoots an apologetic look at me.

‘He kicked them over because it was dark when he ran up and he didn’t see them,’ I explain.

‘Right, I see.’ Mr Lomax gives a weary sigh.

‘I think it was my mum’s ghost trying . . . trying to show a connection between you and her.’ I tail off, unable to accuse him of what I’m more and more certain is the
truth: that the carefully-spoken, middle-aged man in front of me killed my mother.

There’s an awkward silence. Josh stares at the floor. Mr Lomax wrinkles his brow. ‘Isn’t it more likely the stones just formulated themselves into shapes that
looked
like letters? After all, an “I” is basically just a straight line.’

‘No,’ I say.

Josh says nothing.

‘They were
definitely
letters, all four of them, and they can’t have been there very long,’ I argue. ‘The tide would have washed them away otherwise. It was
coming up fast when we were there; we found a gap . . . a tunnel . . . that took us inland.’

‘Yes, there are a lot of those on the island,’ Mr Lomax says.

‘The tunnel turned into this underground pool inside the cave,’ I explain. ‘We had to swim through it to get out.’

‘And there are a lot of pool caves too.’ Mr Lomax sighs. ‘I can see why you were soaked when you got back here.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m very disappointed in
you, Evie. You promised me you wouldn’t run off again and yet that is exactly what you appear to have done today, this time dragging Josh into danger as well as yourself.’

‘No one dragged me,’ Josh says, bristling. ‘I make my own decisions.’

‘Fine, then you’re both equally to blame. Not that blame is helpful here . . .’ Mr Lomax sits back and crosses his arms. ‘What I’m trying to say is that your lack
of responsibility has only led you into life-threatening danger. And for what? For
nothing
.’

I sit back. Clearly, Mr Lomax has no intention of admitting to any involvement in Irina’s time at Lightsea fifteen years ago, let alone her murder.

‘Josh, would you leave us?’ Mr Lomax asks.

Josh shoots me a sympathetic glance, then leaves the office.

Mr Lomax leans forward. I shiver. He may appear all reasonable and mild-mannered, but if he really did kill my mother he is a murderer. The thought chills me to the bone.

‘Evie, I’m very concerned about your behaviour today. I hoped that our programme here of structure and discipline, with regular chores and plenty of opportunity to talk through your
feelings, might help you come to terms with your recent discovery about your birth mother. But instead you seem to be becoming more obsessed than ever. This last incident is the most worrying yet
– getting trapped by the tide because you think you see a ghost, then hallucinating about a set of stones that—’

‘I
didn’t
hallucinate them,’ I protest, furious. ‘I
know
my mother was here on Lightsea and I think she died here.’ I stop, still wary of actually
accusing him of killing her.

‘And why on earth do you think that?’ Mr Lomax asks.

‘Well, for one thing there’s the photo I found
here
in your office,’ I blurt out.

‘
What?
’ Mr Lomax’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘There isn’t –
wasn’t
– a picture of your mother in this office.’

I look away, cursing myself for letting that detail slip.

Mr Lomax taps his fingers together. Once. Twice. Very slow and deliberate.

‘Show me, Evie,’ he says. ‘I’d like to see this photograph. Will you fetch it?’

I hesitate for a second. I hadn’t meant to challenge Lomax like that, but maybe it will prove to be a good thing. Perhaps once he sees proof that Irina was here on Lightsea he’ll
stop denying all knowledge of her.

‘It’s up in the girls’ bedroom.’ My heart thuds.

‘Very well.’ Mr Lomax calls Miss Bunnock in and asks her to escort me upstairs, where Pepper and Anna are asleep. Anna’s hair gleams in the light from outside the house while
Pepper is starfished across the top of her bed. She’s still dressed. I’m guessing she was trying to wait up for me, but couldn’t stay awake.

I scuttle over to my bed and reach under my pillow. I left the photo underneath Irina’s ballet shoes. My hands find the shoes straightaway, but nothing else. I lift up the pillow. Behind
me, Miss Bunnock sucks in her breath.

Because the photo is gone. And in its place is a knife.

Miss Bunnock orders me downstairs. Back in Mr Lomax’s office, she lays the knife from under my pillow on his desk.

‘What’s this?’ Mr Lomax asks.

‘The photo has disappeared,’ I say, my voice shaking.

‘I see,’ Mr Lomax says, in a voice that suggests he doesn’t believe it was ever real.

‘But we did find this under Evie’s pillow where she said the photo would be.’ Miss Bunnock points to the knife.

Lomax sighs. ‘Oh, Evie.’

‘I have no idea how that got there,’ I insist. My head spins. Who switched the photo with the knife? And why? Did Mr Lomax know the knife would be there? Is that why he sent me for
the photo?

Mr Lomax rubs his forehead. ‘Please, Evie, this puts everything in a very different light.’

I look up. What does that mean?

‘I agree.’ Miss Bunnock meets his eyes. ‘Clearly, a danger to herself or others . . .’

‘
What?
’ I glare at her. ‘I’m
not.
I already told you, I don’t know anything about the knife.’

‘There’s no history of violence,’ Mr Lomax muses, more to himself than to me or Miss Bunnock. ‘Evie, I need to ask you something very serious,’ he continues.
‘Did you take the knife because you’ve been . . . having thoughts about hurting yourself?’

‘No. I
didn’t
, I
don’t
. . .’ I suck in my breath.

‘I’m just asking about your feelings,’ Mr Lomax asks gently. ‘Are you sure this knife isn’t really a cry for help?’

‘No.’ I clutch the arm of my chair. Is it possible Lomax put the knife there himself to make it look like I’m going crazy?

Mr Lomax sighs again. ‘I think you should get a good night’s sleep, Evie, then we’ll talk again in the morning.’ He stands up. The silence in the room, the whole house,
presses down on me. I glance at the window. It’s stopped raining, but the earlier downpour has left tracks all along the dark glass.

‘I’m not lying!’ I insist. ‘Someone else put the knife there. And right now I’m thinking maybe it was you.’

Miss Bunnock tuts. Mr Lomax’s eyes widen with horror.

‘Of course it wasn’t me,’ he says. ‘Evie, I’m seriously concerned about you.’

‘Well, you don’t need to be.’ My knuckles are white on the chair arms. Clearly, Lomax isn’t going to admit to any wrongdoing. I turn to Miss Bunnock. ‘He’s
making it up about me wanting to hurt myself.’

Miss Bunnock averts her gaze.

Lomax taps his fingers together. ‘OK, Evie, off to bed. I’m going to permit you to lie in tomorrow morning. Miss Bunnock will make sure the other girls don’t wake you. Then
I’d like to talk with you again, once you’re rested.’

‘Oh.’ I think fast. After everything that’s happened this evening, there’s no way I’m going to get a chance to find my mobile and retrieve Gavin’s number
tonight – but maybe there’s another way to reach him. Mr Lomax is clearly trying to make out I’m mad to stop anyone taking what I’m saying seriously, so perhaps I should
play along a little, use the situation to my advantage.

‘Maybe in the morning you might let me call my uncle,’ I suggest. ‘I know it’s against the rules here, but I do feel . . . er, confused now . . . and Uncle Gavin has a
way of explaining things that might help me accept what you’re saying.’

Mr Lomax studies my face. I return his gaze, feeling my cheeks flush. I’m sure that if I can explain everything I’ve found out to Gavin I can get him to take me off this island
and
look into the circumstances of Irina’s death again.

Mr Lomax nods. ‘I think perhaps in your case we do need to speak with your family. As soon as the phones are working, you can make a call. The storm brought down our power lines so
we’re operating on backup electricity and have no way of contacting the mainland.’

‘You mean we’re cut off?’ A shiver snakes down my spine.

‘Well, the storm looks like it’s abating, which means Mr Bradley will be able to take our boat to the mainland tomorrow morning, bring back someone to do the necessary repairs.
I’ll . . .’ he smiles at me, ‘
. . .
we’ll
both
be able to talk to your uncle by tomorrow afternoon, I hope.’

‘Provided the storm goes away,’ I say.

‘Yes, I’m afraid if the storm comes back as forecast then there’s no way any boat will be able to get through.’

‘Thanks.’ I stand up.

A few minutes later, I’m back in the bedroom. At least – storm allowing – I’ll be able to talk to Uncle Gavin tomorrow. I lie down on my bed, pull the covers over my head
and hug Irina’s ballet shoes to me. Soon I should have answers. Soon.

The next thing I know it’s daylight. I sit bolt upright, forgetting for a moment where I am. Anna’s bed opposite is empty, the sheets folded and smoothed under the
pillow. Pepper’s bed is also deserted, and the covers drawn up, though far less neatly. I tuck Irina’s ballet shoes back under my pillow, shuddering as I remember the knife that was
left there last night.