Celandine (19 page)

Mary Swann spoke up straight away. ‘Well, I wouldn’t be in your shoes, Howard, not if you paid me to wear them.’

‘Why not?’ said Celandine. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Haven’t you? Getting Jane Reiss into trouble wasn’t a very clever idea. Prickly lot, some of those Wyndham kids. Likely to give you a scragging, I should say.’

There were murmurs of agreement at this, and one or two dark mutterings.

‘Yes. Better watch your step.’

‘Especially in the heads.’

‘What are the heads?’ said Celandine.

‘Washrooms.’

‘Oh. Well, it wasn’t
my
fault – and anyway, it’s none of your business.’ Celandine walked over to her bed, feeling now that she hated this place and everyone in it. What was the matter with them all? She glowered at Nina Jessop, who was perched on the iron footrail of her own bed, staring at the floor as though distancing herself from all that was going on. The ninny. The nincompoop.

Mary Swann, and the fair-haired girl, Alicia Tremlett, seemed disinclined to let the matter drop. They moved in closer towards Celandine, and Alicia said, ‘You’ll soon learn, Howard, to be careful how you speak to us . . .’ But then the girl whose bed was nearest the door, and whose job it obviously was to act as lookout, hissed ‘’Ware Bulldog!’ and everyone immediately scuttled back to their places.

The dormitory had gone completely quiet, but there was no sound to be heard from the corridor, no warning footsteps to herald the arrival of the
house-mistress.
Miss Belvedere’s sudden appearance in the doorway was accompanied by the merest rustle of her long black gown. This she swept back so that she stood with her hands on her broad hips, rocking to and fro on the heels of her stout brogues.

She scanned the silent room, then gave the girl by the door a long and suspicious look. ‘I wonder you don’t join the Nature Scouts, Fletcher. You seem to have the necessary observation skills.’

‘Miss?’

‘No matter. Stand by your beds, please.’

Miss Belvedere walked to the centre of the room, and brandished a copy of the Rules and Regulations. ‘You should all know the drill by now – but I believe it’s as well to re-acquaint ourselves at the start of each term. That way there will be no misunderstandings.’

Her eye fell upon Celandine.

‘New girl,’ she said. ‘What is your name?’

‘Howard, miss.’

‘Howard. And have you been instructed in locker drill, Howard?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘And do you have the rules and regulations off by heart?’

‘No, miss. Not yet, miss.’

‘But you will by Monday morning – yes?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Yes indeed. In the meantime you shall read them aloud. This will instruct you, and it will serve to remind others. Take this copy, turn to page twelve and begin, please.’

Celandine took the offered booklet and fumbled her way through it, searching for page twelve.

‘
Rule number one
,’ Celandine read, ‘No
food or drink shall be kept in any locker at any time. This is strictly forbidden. Personal possessions of value, such as money or
 . . .’ She hesitated. But, the orange . . . and the sweets! They had told her to put those things there! She looked up at Miss Belvedere, decided against saying anything, and struggled to continue.

‘ . . .
such as money or jewellery are also forbidden
.’ The half-crown they had also persuaded her to put in the locker. There was nothing she could do about it.

‘
Two. Top drawer. The top drawer is for toiletries alone. Sponge-bag, hairbrush, toothbrush, tooth powder, soap-dish, facecloth and hand towel are required items. Plain hairclips are permitted
.’ But she had put all those things away in no particular order. It was obvious now, that Mary Swann’s intention had been to try to get her into as much trouble as possible.

‘
Three. The middle drawer. The middle drawer is for clean undergarments, stockings and nightclothes. House tie and sash must also be kept here
.’ Should she say something? No. Carry on.

‘
Four. Bottom drawer. The bottom drawer is for clean tunics, blouses, and school cardigan. Woollen gloves (navy blue) may also be kept here (Winter Term only)
.

N.B. Locker Drill will take place each Saturday evening at 7 p.m. but also at the House-mistress’s discretion
.’

Miss Belvedere held out her hand and Celandine stopped reading. She closed the booklet and passed it back.

‘We’ll start with you then, Fletcher.’ Miss Belvedere walked over to the girl who slept next to the door. ‘Let us see whether your locker drill is as smart as your lookout drill, shall we?’

The distance between the beds was narrow and Miss Belvedere had to turn sideways slightly in order to accommodate herself in the gap. From where Celandine was standing she could see little of what was going on – the bulky rear-view of the house-mistress obscured her line of vision – but she could hear the locker drawers being opened and closed. For a brief and wild moment she wondered if she could remove the forbidden articles from her own locker whilst Miss Belvedere’s back was turned, but quickly saw that it was hopeless. And anyway, her things were in such a jumble that there was no possibility of putting them right. She looked at Molly Fletcher, who stood very upright at the end of her bed, staring straight ahead of her. There was an expression of such apprehension on the girl’s face that Celandine felt her own heart sink even further.
Why
had she let herself be fooled in this way? She glanced furiously across at Mary Swann and the stupid Pigtail Twins, but they also stood rigidly staring ahead – though it was very obvious that they were smirking to themselves.

Miss Belvedere straightened up and shuffled back along the space between the first two beds. She glanced at the girl, Fletcher, and said, ‘Pass.’ Celandine saw Fletcher’s shoulders sag with relief as the house-mistress moved on to the next victim.

The following two lockers also passed muster, and
so
did the third, but then, as an afterthought, Miss Belvedere stepped back into the space that she had just occupied – not to re-examine the locker, but to inspect the bed. She lifted the pillow, paused for a moment, and then reached forward, a look of grim triumph on her large downy face.

‘And what might
this
be?’ She held aloft a small glass object that had some sort of bulbous attachment.

‘It’s a . . . a scent spray, miss.’ The girl whose pillow it had been did not look round. She continued to stare at the opposite wall, her face growing redder as Miss Belvedere slowly backed out from between the beds and positioned herself in front of the girl.

‘A scent spray?’ Miss Belvedere put the delicate object to her nose. She gently squeezed the bulb and sniffed. ‘
Very
pretty, dear. And is the top real
silver?
’ Her voice was horribly oily and calm.

‘Yes, miss.’ The girl was shaking, obviously terrified.

‘Very pretty.’ Miss Belvedere drew back slightly, and then struck. ‘
Con-fis-ca-ted!
’ Her face shot forward so quickly and her voice was such a sudden bellow that the whole room jumped, though they had all known it was coming. The girl’s head snapped back and she staggered against the footrail of her bed.

‘
Outside
the staffroom –
now!
Wait for me there! I’ll deal with
you
once I’ve inspected the Senior girls!
Now!
Scent spray indeed!’ The girl regained her balance and stumbled from the room, her face distorted with anguish.

Celandine felt herself beginning to quake. One
more
inspection – Nina Jessop was next in line – and then it would be her turn. Miss Belvedere savagely attacked Nina’s locker, yanking open the drawers and rummaging through the contents. Celandine could hear the bang and rattle of the process, but dared not turn to look. Her tongue was dry and her heart was thumping so much that it hurt.

‘Pass.’ The verdict was finally delivered and the terrible woman sounded almost disappointed. Nina had obviously done a good job on her own locker, Celandine thought bitterly, but had never offered
her
any help, even though Matron had asked her to.

She took a deep breath as Miss Belvedere bristled past her and made her way between the beds. Even now Celandine wanted to blurt out the truth – it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it was
them
. But she held her tongue instead, and waited for the sky to fall in.

Bang
– the first drawer was open and Celandine drew her shoulders up, tensing herself against the inevitable storm. More bangs and rattles from behind her, and the rustling and bustling of impatient hands, delving through her possessions. Then a pause. No movement, just a long and aching silence. The opposite wall began to shimmer alarmingly and the heavy door seemed to ripple as though it were a curtain.

A final squeak of a drawer, and then; ‘Pass.’

Celandine felt her knees buckle and she had to steady herself against the bedrail. Pass? She pressed her calves and her fingertips to the cool metal, desperately trying to stay upright.
Pass?

‘Stand up
straight
, girl! What on earth’s the matter with you?’ Miss Belvedere drew level with her and barked in her face before turning her attention to the next bed.

Celandine continued to struggle through the fog of confusion that filled her head. How could this be? She risked a dazed backward glance at her locker, as though that stolid little object might be able to explain itself to her. The drawers were closed, of course, and whatever secrets it held were invisible to her. Well,
somebody
must have . . . what? . . . removed the forbidden objects? Rearranged the contents properly? Who?

Miss Belvedere had moved on several times before Celandine eventually turned to look wonderingly at Nina. Of course. It could only have been Nina. And yet Nina stared determinedly ahead and gave no flicker of acknowledgement to her questioning glances. It
must
have been her, though. When they were all at supper perhaps? Had she stayed behind then? But why? And where would she have hidden the . . .

‘So!’

Here was more trouble. Miss Belvedere was standing by the locker of one of the twins, Chloe, or perhaps it was Daphne, and once again there was a note of triumph in her voice. She held up a crumpled little paper bag. To most of the girls the contents of that bag would have been a mystery, but Celandine quickly realized what was in there – barley twist. The expression on the face of the girl, Daphne, or perhaps
it
was Chloe, was one of absolute shock. She couldn’t have looked more surprised and horrified if Miss Belvedere had hauled a dead cat from her locker.

‘But please, miss, I—’

‘
Si-lence!
How long have you been at this school, Willis?’

‘Please, miss, two years, miss, but I—’

‘
Si-leeeeence!
Two
years
? Two years, and you
still
haven’t grasped the rules?
Outside
the staffroom
now
!’

The girl had certainly been at the school long enough to realize that it was both useless and dangerous to argue with Miss Belvedere, and with a final pitiful wail of ‘But miii-iisss . . .’ she ran from the room.

As Miss Belvedere approached the next locker, Celandine felt a sense of inevitability as to what would happen next. She watched in fear and awe as the Bulldog sniffed out the half-eaten chocolate bar that had lately been in her own drawer, and displayed it for all to see. The second twin’s thinking processes were no quicker than the first, and she in turn looked aghast at the discovery – and made the same mistake of protesting her absolute innocence. Like her sister before her, she had been taken completely by surprise.

But Mary Swann, at least, had begun to understand what was happening.

As Chloe, or perhaps it was Daphne, was also despatched in tears to wait outside the staffroom, Mary Swann fixed Celandine with a look of hatred. Mary showed no surprise as her own locker was inspected and discovery was made of the last piece
of
contraband, the orange. Whilst Miss Belvedere held the orange aloft, a bright bauble in her pudgy hand, Mary Swann continued to stare at Celandine.

Celandine met her gaze and saw it shift slightly – saw a shadow of puzzlement in the dark scowl, and then a flicker of realization. Before Miss Belvedere had even come to the end of her final tirade, Mary Swann was already moving towards the exit. She was resigned to her fate, but she knew who had brought this about. Yes, she knew. In passing, her vengeful glare was directed not at Celandine, but at Nina Jessop.

Miss Belvedere waited until Mary Swann had left the room. ‘A poor start,’ she said, and there was a long moment of grim silence as she studied each girl in turn. ‘A
very
poor start. I wonder how many more of you I shall need to interview before lights-out.’ She glanced at the clock on the end wall and frowned. ‘Wilson, is your locker properly packed?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘And yours, Wyatt?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘No stray bottles of lavender water? No mysterious quantities of coconut ice waiting to be discovered?’

‘No, miss.’

‘No, miss.’

‘Very well. I must take your word for it – there have been far too many delays already. You will change into your nightclothes, all of you, in
silence
. You will go to the washroom in
silence
. And you will return here and wait for lights-out in
silence
. I shall be back once I have
dealt
with the unhappy band of smugglers downstairs, and have inspected the Senior girls – and if I hear a
peep
out of any of you in the meantime, then there will be trouble. And I
mean
trouble. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, miss.’ A faint and dismal chorus.

‘Oh, and Fletcher,’ Miss Belvedere paused by the door, ‘if I see your ugly little head poking out into the corridor when I return, then its next public appearance is likely to be on a spike above the school gates. Do we understand one another?’