Dreams at Silver Spires (3 page)

It took me a few seconds to spot Nicole and Antonia in a group with some Year Tens and an elderly couple. The woman was wearing the biggest smile and pointing up at the massive banner that the school had hung right across the width of the hall. In magnificent bright blue and silver lettering it said,
FIFTY YEARS ON: WELCOME, SILVER SPIRES OLD GIRLS
. And it was true, all the guests were being made very welcome.

I sighed as I swallowed the last bit of chocolate eclair and gulped down some orange juice. I really must make one last effort to talk to someone, or one of the teachers might come over and throw me out for only being there for the food.

Maybe I should do what Bryony did, and try to spot a lady with similar hair to mine. That was as good a way as any of picking someone to talk to. I looked round carefully and after a minute I was ready to give up, because
obviously
no one had a thick mass of wavy auburn hair tied back roughly into a hairband. But then I got a shock, because as a group of women moved towards one of the buffet tables, they left a bit of a gap in the room and I suddenly spotted a woman with auburn hair standing by the far window, staring outside. Her hair was miles neater and straighter than mine, but just the auburn colour was good enough for me. And even better, she seemed to be all on her own.

Once I've made up my mind to do something I always want to get on with it straight away, so I went zooming across that hall at a hundred miles an hour and nearly crashed into the poor lady when I reached the window.

“Hello, my name's Emily Dowd, I'm in Year Seven,” I gabbled, giving her my best smile as I held out my hand.

The lady's eyes really sparkled as she shook my hand, and I was surprised because I was expecting a gentle handshake and yet she'd got a really strong grip. It must have shown on my face that she'd squeezed a bit too hard, because the sparkle was suddenly replaced by a look of horror. “Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I'm always doing that!” she said, clapping her hand to her mouth. “My husband used to tell me I ought to cool it a bit or I'd make people faint! Anyway it's nice to see you again.”

I couldn't help laughing. The lady sounded practically like someone of my own age. But I was a bit confused. What did she mean when she said “again”?

“My name is Emily Peters,” she went on, then she glanced at my hair and nodded. “So that's
two
things we have in common.”

I felt my heart beating faster but I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just the coincidence. Or maybe it was because suddenly I didn't feel bored any more. I was actually enjoying the thought of finding out all about this other Emily. Only there was one problem – I wasn't sure if I should be calling her “Emily” or “Mrs. Peters”.

“My nickname is Ems,” I said, hoping that she might give me a clue about what I was supposed to call
her
.

But she didn't. She just smiled again and said, “Ems, that's nice.”

“Er…have we met before?”

She frowned as though she didn't know what I was talking about, but then she broke into a kind of knowing smile. “You're the girl I saw when I was driving in, aren't you?”

That gave me another surprise. Emily Peters was so observant. I couldn't believe that she'd recognized me, though I expect I might have recognized her too if I'd not had the sun in my eyes earlier. I suddenly wanted to find out what she thought about the silver spires, but she might have thought I was a bit weird if I came out with such a question straight away. So I asked her something a bit more normal instead. “Er…which year were you in fifty years ago?”

“I understand from Ms. Carmichael that it's called Year Nine,” she replied, her eyes flickering towards the window. “Only we didn't call it Year Nine back then. We called it Upper Fourth.”

I wondered if she was already a bit bored with me, because she seemed more interested in something outside. Yet when I looked out myself, there was nothing to see.

“Oh, sorry, Ems,” she suddenly said, leaning forwards and looking at me properly. “I'm so rude, aren't I?” Then she laughed. “Fancy having to apologize twice in such a short time. I was just looking at the grounds.” She sighed a sort of satisfied sigh. “I can't wait for the guided tour. There's something I particularly want to see.”

“Really? What's that?” She'd definitely got me curious now. “
I
could be your guide if you want,” I said impulsively.

Her eyes seemed to be boring into mine as though she was trying to work out whether I'd made a bad suggestion or a good one, but then she slowly shook her head.

“Don't worry. I ought to wait for the official tour, I suppose. It's just that I used to run a gardening club. That's probably the memory that stands out the most for me from my time here. And I badly want to see if the vegetable garden's still here.”

I gasped. “Oh! Wow!” She'd really given me a shock with those words. A lovely one. But a bit of a scary one too, because that made
three
things we had in common. I was just about to point that out when I suddenly realized how disappointed she was going to be when she actually went on the tour.

I had to warn her. “Oh dear,” I said quietly. “There isn't a vegetable garden here now.”

Her face seemed to cloud over. “Really? Well that's not good news.”

“Sorry…”

“No, don't be sorry.” She sighed again, but this time it was a sorrowful one. “It's probably better that you mentioned it. I'd hate to go round the back of the kitchens and find out for myself.”

My heart was racing because I hadn't thought of there being a garden behind the kitchens. “Well, I've never actually…been there.”

“Is it out of bounds?”

“I don't know. We just…never go round there. So that's where you had your gardening club?” I wanted to know as much as possible about what it had been like. “And what kind of things did you grow?”

I was expecting her to just mention a couple of vegetables, so it was a lovely surprise when she said, “Oh, all sorts. Potatoes, carrots, cucumbers, beans, lettuces, onions, turnips, leeks. The usual stuff.”

It was absolutely incredible. Fifty years ago Emily Peters had been in charge of a gardening club, and now here was I, the keenest gardener in the world, talking to her.

“How many people were in your club?” I asked, wanting to build up a picture of what it might have been like.

“About twenty of us. We took turns to look after the plants. But I loved it so much, I was out there every free moment I had, whether it was my turn or not.”

“And have you met anyone here today who was in your club back then?”

She shook her head. “Well…yes, a couple of people, but they seem to have forgotten how good it was… Or maybe I was under some massive illusion when I was in the Upper Fourth. Maybe I was the only one enjoying it and the others were all doing it under sufferance.” She suddenly laughed a dry little laugh. “Anyway, I know you young folk aren't into things like gardening, so I'll shut up about it and change the subject now.”

“No!” I said. But it must have come out a bit abruptly, because Emily's eyes widened and she took a step back.

“Sorry…I mean, please don't stop talking about it,” I quickly said. “It's one of my favourite subjects. My family's got a farm in Ireland, you see, and when I lived at home all the time I was in charge of our kitchen garden, so I'm used to growing my own vegetables.”

Her whole face seemed to light up when I said that. “Really?”

“Yes, and I so wish there was a vegetable garden at school. I've been wishing that ever since I've been here. You can ask my friends.”

She took another step back and I realized that I must have been a bit loud. “Sorry…”

She laughed. “I believe you, it's okay! And we really must stop apologizing to each other!” Then she leaned forwards and the sparkle was back in her eyes. “Tell you what, I think I'd like to take you up on that offer of yours. Let's go and explore behind the kitchens!”

I nodded, feeling excited, and glanced across the room to see where Bryony was. I spotted her almost immediately, sitting down with a man with a walking stick. She was listening intently to whatever he was saying so I decided to just go. After all, I'd be back in no time and she probably wouldn't even miss me.

It was as we were crossing the big reception hall, making our way to the front door that we both turned to see a man with a camera on his shoulder hurrying after us.

Juliet was right behind him. “Emily, what's up? Anything I can help with?” she asked, as though she was my best friend all of a sudden.

It made me cross, because she was darting in front of the camera as she spoke and it was obvious she only wanted to draw attention to herself. She didn't really care about what we were doing.

“We're fine, thanks,” I told her firmly.

She'd caught up with us in a flash, though, and was walking alongside Emily. “Hello,” she said, smiling away. “My name's Jet Playden-Smythe. I'm in Year Eight, so I might know my way around better than Emily.”

My blood boiled at that moment, and I wished Juliet would just go away and stop bugging me.

“I'm Emily Peters,” said Emily, and I knew it was horrible of me, but I really hoped she'd give Juliet one of those killer handshakes she'd given me. As it happened, though, she didn't shake her hand at all. Just kept right on walking, with me beside her.

“Er…it's the guided tour soon,” Juliet said, rushing ahead of us to open the front door.

“Yes, I'll be back for that,” said Emily, nodding firmly.

“See you,” I said casually to Juliet as we went out and left her holding the door open for the cameraman to follow us.

She gave me such an evil stare at that moment, and I knew she hated the fact that I hadn't told her where Emily and I were going, and that the camera was following us and not paying any attention to her.

“My goodness, this hedge has grown!” said Emily. She was walking quite quickly and I was feeling more and more excited with every step, because there was a chance that I might be about to set eyes on the most wonderful garden and then I could ask if I could help look after it, and my life at Silver Spires would be truly complete.

“Oh, this fence is new,” Emily went on. Her footsteps were quickening and her eyes were bright. “Right, through this gate here and…”

My heart pounded.

“…and then…we should find… Oh!”

She stopped abruptly, but I hadn't missed the horror in her voice. We were staring at a big piece of land, overgrown with tangled weeds and nettles and brambles and grasses, the rest of the earth bare and hard. There was a large brick building ahead of us, with air extractors in the windows. So this was what the back of the kitchens looked like. It was very quiet and peaceful. I couldn't even hear any kitchen-type noises, only birds singing and a few distant girls' voices drifting on the air.

I bent down and felt the earth, then turned to look at Emily. It was as though she was rooted to the spot.

“This is so sad,” she said quietly, shaking her head.

I felt sorry for Emily and didn't know what to say. If I asked her how the garden used to look, would it make her even sadder? I decided to risk it as I was dying to know, but I spoke quietly, because somehow that seemed a bit kinder.

“Er…was the garden ever bare, or did you have something growing all the year round?”

Emily kept staring straight ahead of her, and I guessed she was visualizing the garden as it used to be. “More or less, yes.” Then she did a little laugh. “We had the old school favourites, like swede and spinach and carrots. Not
our
favourites, mind you. No, us girls preferred peas and broad beans, even though we only got to eat them at the end of the summer term and the start of the autumn term.”

“I love broad beans,” I said, but I'm not sure if Emily heard me. Her face had suddenly come alive.

“There was always great excitement as Halloween drew near…”

“Oh, you grew pumpkins!” I said, clapping my hands together like a little girl.

Emily laughed. Her eyes were really dancing and I was so pleased she'd lost that sad look completely. “Well, not quite. We used to carve mangolds, which are like big swedes, back then. And we had competitions to see who could grow the biggest one. Do you know, I never won!”

I didn't want Emily to lose the twinkle in her eye, but already she seemed to be getting sad again, because she sighed deeply and slowly.

“And did you have a compost heap?” I quickly asked, then realized that could seem a bit of an odd question.

“Yes we did.”

“So you recycled all the peelings and everything? That's what we do at home, and it's how it ought to be everywhere, I think.”

Emily turned and looked at me carefully when I said that. “You really are a gardener, aren't you?”

A little glow of pride seemed to shine inside me and I bent down to feel the earth, to cover the pinkness that was spreading up my cheeks.

“It's good soil underneath,” said Emily.

I nodded as I straightened up. “I've been so wanting the chance to do some gardening and this plot would be the perfect place.”

Then I took a proper look around. There was a large house off to my left behind a wall. It was built of dark red brick, with ivy clinging to it. The green and the red looked beautiful together and I wished I had my camera with me so I could take a photo and send it to Mum. She loves things like that.

“That's the headmistress's house,” said Emily.

I gasped, then felt stupid because there was so much I didn't know about Silver Spires, and it seemed ridiculous that someone who was here fifty years before was having to tell me about the place. Then I had another surprise, because an old man was approaching us from a gap in the hedge that separated Ms. Carmichael's house from this plot of land. He looked as if he was in his sixties and for a second I thought he was one of the guests, but then I realized he couldn't be, not wearing overalls and big boots.