Dreams at Silver Spires (12 page)

“Hey, you two! How did the clothes sale go? Did you make enough money for the ‘worthy cause'?”

The sarcasm in her voice made the worst kind of prickles come out all over me and before I knew it, I'd marched right up to her.

“'Fraid you're a bit late for the party, Emily,” she said mockingly.

I ignored that. “What's in the bag?”

She seemed to flinch for a second as though I'd hit her or something, but then she recovered instantly and I noticed her eyes turn nasty. “Well, let's take a look, shall we!” And with that she tipped the bin liner up so its contents spilled out all over the ground.

I looked with disgust at the mass of plastic beakers rolling and bobbing around, paper plates scattered amongst them.

“You weren't even going to bother recycling those, were you?” I said through clenched teeth. “You couldn't even be bothered to do that.”

She laughed then, only it wasn't a proper laugh, more like a dry little snort. “Oh, just listen to her! Doesn't she get on your nerves?” She turned to her friends and a few of them sniggered, but I didn't think they sounded very comfortable. “You're welcome to recycle the lot if you're so keen,” Juliet went on, snatching the other bag off Mel and shaking it out dramatically. A mass of crumpled wrapping paper fell out amongst the cups and plates, before Juliet dropped the bin liners themselves and marched back inside. Her friends followed, but one or two of them looked back to where I was standing like a statue in the middle of the mess, and I noticed no one was laughing any more.

The moment the Oakley back door shut, I bent down and began stuffing the plates and wrapping paper into one bin liner, and the beakers into another, feeling my fingers getting sticky with dark chocolate icing and cake crumbs and pale globs of filling, and sweet fizzy drops of something that smelled of mint. It flashed through my mind that the paper plates might be okay to be torn up and used in the wormery, but then I remembered with a stab of sadness that of course we weren't
getting
a wormery any more.

“You ought to go back to Forest Ash,” I said to Bryony when she tried to help me. “This won't take me a minute, honestly.” I was determined not to appear anything except completely calm and matter-of-fact, just in case anyone was watching from a window, waiting to taunt me if I showed even a shred of self-pity.

“It's okay. I'll help you,” Bryony said firmly.

But I wanted at least one of us to get back to the sale. “I'm fine, honestly. You go and explain to the others.”

Bryony frowned, but I could tell she knew I wanted to be left alone. “Okay,” she said, simply.

“I'll be there just as soon as I've done this.”

So off she went and I carried on working, but it was taking me longer than I'd thought, because there was quite a bit of wind and the plastic cups kept rolling off. As I chased after one of them, I suddenly realized that someone had stopped it with their foot. I looked up to see one of the cameramen – the same one who I'd crashed into in the dining hall that time.

“Oh dear, had a bit of a spill?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Hang on a sec. Let me put this down and I'll give you a hand.”

“It's all right, I've done most of it.”

“Well, if you're sure.”

I didn't say anything, and he kept filming.

“Someone had a party?”

“Uh-huh.” I didn't feel like talking.

“Oh, right. And what are you doing with the rubbish?”

“Taking it to be recycled…” But then I realized I ought to clean all the globs of filling and icing off the plates first. “…When I've cleaned the plates.”

I was stuffing the last few plates and cups into the bin liners when the man said, “So how come
you're
the only one doing the work?”

I shrugged and just said, “Dunno,” but then I felt as though I was being a bit rude, so I tried to add a bit more, only it came out all stumbly and stupid. “I think it's…quite important…you know…to recycle stuff.”

He didn't answer, but I noticed the camera never left me as I walked off with the bin liners banging against my legs. They weren't at all heavy, just awkward.

Five minutes later I walked into Forest Ash and got a shock, because the reception hall was teeming with people. Still lugging my bin liners, I wove a path through the middle of everyone and zoomed upstairs to the kitchen. I'd have to clean the plates up later. I just dumped the bags quickly, then went back down and along the corridor to the break-out room, where I found even more people. A quick glance at the tables told me that masses of stuff had been sold and all my friends were hard at work taking money and giving change.

“Wow! This is good!” I said, as I slotted in between Bryony and Sasha. “Where has everyone suddenly appeared from?”

Bryony grinned at me. “Jet's party, I guess!”

After that we stopped talking because there was too much work to do, and about twenty minutes later we'd sold everything except two tops and a bracelet, and although we hadn't counted the money, it looked like we'd made loads.

“Well done, girls!” said Miss Stevenson. “Mrs. Pridham will be proud of you.”

I wasn't so sure that Mrs. Pridham would be proud of me personally, but at least she might be a little less cross with me now.

I'd decided to go and look for Stan at lunchtime on Monday, because of not being able to see him after school as I had to do detention. So the moment I finished my lunch I rushed straight over to the back of the kitchens, and as I drew near I heard the sound of an electric hedge-cutter, and felt so happy and relieved that he must be there, working in Ms. Carmichael's garden.

I hurried through the gate and across the old vegetable garden towards the gap in the hedge, but then I froze because the hedge-cutter had stopped and I could hear voices. It was impossible to tell what was being said, but one thing was for sure – the two people talking were Stan and Ms. Carmichael. I wasn't supposed to be round here any more now my gardening club had been taken away from me, and the last thing I wanted was to get into even more trouble. So I sneaked off, feeling more miserable than ever. What if Stan went to the garden to look for me after school and I wasn't there? He'd think I'd forgotten about him.

As fast as my legs would take me, I rushed off to find Bryony to ask her if she could go and explain to Stan after school about the stupid detention keeping me away, and find out if he'd be there the next day.

But Bryony was supposed to be going to another meeting about the Outward Bound course after classes and she'd forgotten to complete the form she had to fill in. She was planning to rush back to Forest Ash to get it, which would already be making her a bit late. She said she'd go as fast as she could, but she wasn't certain she'd have time to go to the garden. I could have asked one of the others, but they're not as brave and daring as Bryony and they might have felt as though they were trespassing after we'd been told that the gardening club was no more. I didn't want them to feel bad about saying no to me, so I just kept quiet and crossed my fingers like mad that Bryony might manage to fit it in after all.

It was so depressing going along to the library to do detention for Mrs. Egerton. I had to sit at the detention table, which was really embarrassing, because quite a few girls stared at me as if to say,
I wonder what she's done
. One of the Year Eleven students was supervising and Mrs. Egerton had given her the work that I was supposed to do, which was copying out all that I'd missed in the lesson plus three other paragraphs about democracy.

At first it was impossible to concentrate, because my mind kept on picturing Stan appearing from the gap in the hedge and looking round for me and not finding me there. It broke my heart that he might think I'd forgotten. I don't know how I managed to copy out any of the stupid history – I just felt useless and utterly helpless.

Every so often the Year Eleven girl came over to my table to check that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, and once or twice her friends came in and they had a quick chat in whispers. Maybe they were just trying to make it less boring for her. I had to admit it seemed rather unfair that a student had to stay behind to supervise my detention – almost as bad as doing the detention yourself.

But then someone else came to talk to her, and this time I could tell it wasn't just a friend. A girl was giving her a message that was something to do with me, because they both looked in my direction, and I got a bad feeling about the grave expressions they were wearing.

The girl supervising came over and bobbed down beside me. “You've got to go and see Ms. Carmichael.”

I gulped.

“Just give me your work. It doesn't matter that it's not finished. I'll explain to Mrs. Egerton.”

I stood up on shaky legs and felt the colour draining from my face.

“Do you know where to go?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“You go to the main building and knock on the door marked
School Office
. Ms. Carmichael's private secretary will show you from there.”

As I walked out of the library and along the corridor to go outside, I felt sick. Ms. Carmichael must have somehow seen me in the garden at lunchtime through the hedge. What if she expelled me? What would Mum and Dad say? If only, if only, if only I could rewind the whole week and start all over again.

My footsteps in the hall of the main building sounded so loud and so did my knock on the door of the office.

“I've come to see Ms. Carmichael,” I said in a thin wobbly voice when someone opened the door.

“Ah, yes. Follow me, please.” She wasn't smiling. “Are you the girl Ms. Carmichael's expecting?”

“Yes,” I managed to croak.

“So you are…?”

“Emily Dowd.”

We went down a corridor I'd never been down before and she tapped lightly on a door which said
Ms. Carmichael, Headmistress
. Then she leaned her head against the door as though she had to strain to hear the reply.

“Right, in you go,” she said a moment later. Then she pushed open the door and said, “Emily Dowd to see you, Ms. Carmichael.”

“Come in please, Emily.”

I don't know how my shaky legs managed to follow that simple instruction and I kept my eyes on Ms. Carmichael's face right up until she told me to sit down at the other side of her table. I was searching for clues about just how cross she was, but I couldn't tell at all.

“Now, Emily…” She paused and I felt my heart turn over, because it was as though she couldn't think what on earth to say to someone who'd done as many bad things as I had. “Miss Gerard came to see me today. I understand you approached her about the school changing its catering policy?”

Her eyes were like magnets. I tried to look away but I couldn't, so I nodded dumbly and felt my cheeks draining of colour as I prayed that she'd get straight to the telling-off, so then I could find out if I'd been expelled or not.

“And Miss Gerard told you that the school had no plans for such a change?”

She was getting nearer. In fact I could even hear the next words coming:
And yet you still went ahead and made gardening an excuse for missing lessons…

I didn't even nod this time, just waited for the worst.

“Well, I've seen what you've done in the old kitchen garden…”

I swallowed. “Sorry.”

“…And I must say I'm quite impressed. It was Stan who first told me about your interest in the garden, and as Miss Gerard and the governors and I had been only recently in discussion about what to do with the land, it seemed like quite a coincidence that one of the students was showing such an interest.”

Ms. Carmichael was talking away and I felt numb. I didn't get what she was saying. Why hadn't she got round to the part where I got expelled?

“I've been keeping an eye on the footage from the production company's filming, and that prompted me to talk to Mrs. Pridham…”

Did she mean the filming of me gardening?

“I know you've been in trouble recently, Emily, but Mrs. Pridham is convinced that it's all because you're so passionate about gardening and wanting to help the environment. Would that be a fair comment?”

I couldn't take everything in. I didn't know what to say. My mind was spinning.

Would it be a fair comment? What had Mrs. Pridham said? That I'm
passionate about gardening and wanting to help the environment
. Somehow I managed to latch on to that bit and hold it in my mind. Yes, yes I
was
passionate. Still I didn't trust myself to speak though, so I just nodded.

“Don't look so worried, Emily. I'm not a monster.” She broke into a smile. “Just try and tell me what you think. Miss Gerard said you were very sure of yourself. She was really bowled over by the way you expressed your feelings, but you caught her at a time when she was very busy with other things. Miss Gerard is a very thorough person, however, and later that day she went back over what you'd said, in her mind, and really saw the potential in it. She told me she truly thinks that with a strong committee of students and teachers dedicated to the cause, we can change things around and go back to buying in much less fresh produce and growing much more of it ourselves.”