The Glass Bird Girl (13 page)

When Anastasia came hurrying back to the classroom just in time for the first afternoon lesson, her flushed face told Edie that the picnic had gone very well. This time she did not even try to hide her pleasure.

‘Oh, Edie, it was wonderful! You should see the tower – it's quite tall, three storeys, with a little gallery at the top – and it's so pretty, the brick's sort of pink. And if you look out of the gallery window you can see the top of the school over the trees. Helen says that if you look through her telescope you can see into Miss Fotheringay's bedroom window!'

‘Did you?' Edie asked.

‘Of course not,' Anastasia giggled. ‘We were too busy rehearsing. But she showed me around. There are bunk beds and a little sink with running water, and a cupboard full of food – tins of cake and things. Helen even keeps a change of clothes in a trunk upstairs. She lets the other prefects use it too – they sometimes camp there in the summer. But she's the only prefect with a key.'

Anastasia's face was glowing; Edie felt very left out.

‘Oh, Edie, the tower feels so remote and peaceful. I couldn't help wishing . . .' Anastasia hesitated, seeming to think better of it. ‘I do like Helen. She's not like the other sixth-formers. She talked to me as though we were friends.' She looked wistful. ‘Helen's home does sound fun. They live in a farmhouse on the other side of Oxford and ride all the time. Have you ever jumped cross-country fences, like out on an English hunt?'

‘No. And I would
never
hunt,' Edie said passionately.

Anastasia shrugged. ‘It's illegal now anyway. But I'd love to go drag-hunting – that's when you follow a pretend trail. I nearly did once, in Yorkshire, but then Papa got wind, and said just because it wasn't cruel it was still dangerous and he forbade it. But Helen wants to take me home for Sunday lunch one day – she says her father would like to meet me – so maybe at least I'll get a ride.'

‘Is her father a farmer?' Edie asked.

‘I don't know,' Anastasia said. ‘But he owns a lot of land. Her mother's a doctor in Oxford – a psy . . . psy – you know,' she said, smiling, ‘like one of those people Miss Winifred wanted me to go and see.'

‘A psychiatrist,' Edie said, struck by how cheerfully Anastasia now dismissed the matter.

‘That's right, and I'll tell you something interesting, Edie,' she went on, lowering her voice conspiratorially. ‘
Helen's parents are friends of Fothy's!
Fothy's been to stay with them in the holidays!'

Edie tried to look pleased, but the idea of Helen and Anastasia and Miss Fotheringay all having links outside school and meeting in the holidays made her feel even more excluded. It was a world she would never belong to. And she didn't belong to Babka either, not any more.
She felt like a tree pulled up by a storm, with nowhere to replant its roots.

‘
Self-pity corrodes the soul, Editha
,' her grandmother used to say, whenever Edie showed signs of feeling any.
Perhaps my soul is corroded already
, she reflected gloomily, on her way to sleep. She determined to stop minding about Anastasia and Helen. As if it mattered, anyway. But her indifference was tested the next morning, when her friend came dancing up to her before assembly:

‘Edie, would you like to come with me to the tower?' she whispered. ‘Helen's given me the key and she's asked me to run over there after lunch and fetch her copy of
The Merchant of Venice
– she left it behind yesterday and she hasn't got time to go herself.' Anastasia was clearly delighted to be able to offer Edie a share in this privilege. ‘
Please
say you'll come,' she urged. ‘Helen says I've got to go with someone else – you know we're not allowed beyond the woods on our own.'

Edie scowled. Helen hadn't suggested Anastasia take her; she was just being used as a walking partner. ‘Actually I'm busy,' she said, hating herself.

Anastasia looked hurt. ‘That's a shame. Oh well, don't worry, I'll find someone else.'

But at the end of the lunch hour, as the bell was ringing to summon everyone back to class, Edie saw a breathless Anastasia running back into school on her own.

‘Did you go alone?' Edie whispered.

Anastasia looked furtive.

‘You are an idiot,' Edie said, grudgingly admiring of her friend's daring. ‘If the Man finds out you've been in the woods on your own you'll be gated for a month!'

‘Well, she won't, will she?' Anastasia smiled.

Edie noted the way Anastasia carried Helen's copy of the play around all afternoon as if it were a rare manuscript, until proudly returning it to her after their last lesson. But her happiness was short-lived.

‘Look!' Sally shrieked, bursting into the common room after tea, and flying to the window. ‘Helen's tower's on fire! Look – you can see it from here!'

Alice, Phoebe and Edie all sprang from their beds, but Anastasia remained standing by her chest of drawers, as if frozen. And when Edie looked from the window she felt a throb of fear. Across the park, on the crest of the low, wooded hill, there was black smoke belching from the trees, billowing up into the still, moonlit skyline, and through it she could see the tip of Helen's tower, lit by a thin dance of flame. An excited crowd of pupils had gathered outside, pointing excitedly as the flashing lights of a fire engine appeared at the bottom of the drive.

‘It was Belinda and Rose who spotted it,' Sally said dramatically. ‘They'd gone to look for a jersey Rose had left behind on the lacrosse pitch and Rose saw the smoke so they ran back and raised the alarm. Helen hasn't been to the tower today so she doesn't know how it could have started. But they reckon the most likely is that some idiot tried to light a fire to warm the place up a bit – it's freezing in there, there's no electricity – but the chimney was blocked, so that's how it started. And I suppose the culprit was too frightened to tell anyone.'

‘How do you know all this?' Edie asked, with deep foreboding.

‘Belinda told me,' Sally said importantly. Belinda had a sister in the sixth form which made her a good source of information. ‘Whoever it was had quite a nerve. Imagine trespassing in Helen's tower!'

‘But – but how did they get in?' Anastasia stammered. ‘Helen always keeps the door locked.'

‘That's just it,' Sally said. ‘They let themselves in! Helen lent the key to someone this morning, and asked them to do an errand for her – and now this! Well, Helen obviously knows who she gave the key to, but she's not saying – she's not like the other prefects, she doesn't enjoy getting people into trouble.'

Edie saw Anastasia's face drain of colour.

‘Well, I wouldn't mind getting them into trouble if I were her,' Phoebe said. ‘What a stupid thing to do!' Edie looked at her avidly, searching her expression for the slightest flicker of guilt. But she could see none. Phoebe seemed as rapt by the drama as everyone else.

‘But who would
want
to do something like that?' Alice asked, mystified. ‘It's just so—'

‘I know; it's weird, isn't it,' Sally agreed, suddenly looking apprehensive. ‘And to Helen, of all people. If you ask me, it must have been someone pretty mad.'

A Chronic Case of Schoolgirl Crush

T
he fire was soon put out, but the smoke lingered. ‘Who started it?' was the question on everyone's lips. Instead of the usual chattering and clattering of plates at supper there was a choked hush, with everyone talking in whispers and stealing furtive glances around the room.

Edie's eyes kept returning to Miss Mannering, who was sitting at the head of her table, serving the food with brisk precision. She did not speak, and though her face gave little away, Edie sensed something agitated in her manner. She wished she could talk to Anastasia, but she was at a table on the other side of the room. When Edie swivelled round she could see her, sitting silent and ashen-faced.

Edie was in no doubt of her friend's innocence. Whoever lit the fire in Helen's tower had been trying to frame her. But why?

She waited for Anastasia after supper, but as they were walking back to the dormitory Helen caught up with them. ‘Anastasia, can I have a word?' she asked sweetly, leading her away.

Anastasia was gone for ages. Edie eventually found her in a music room, playing one of her mournful Russian piano pieces accompanied by low, shuddering sobs. When Edie drew up a chair Anastasia turned and looked at her wildly, then carried on.

‘Oh, Anastasia, tell me what happened,' Edie asked. ‘Did Helen really think . . . ?'

Anastasia gave no sign of having heard her. She went on until she had finished her piece, then gently closed the piano lid. ‘She wanted me to confess that I had lit the fire,' she said in a low voice. ‘As I hadn't, I wouldn't. But of course I was tempted. Because if I had . . . you know, Edie, this is how you send people mad. It's what they used to do, in Russia. And probably, in the end, I
shall
go mad. People do.'

Edie was frightened. Anastasia's voice was unnaturally calm.

‘Of course, by the time I
am
mad everyone else will have been writing me off as mad for ages. No one will tell the difference.'

‘Nonsense,' Edie said earnestly, but she could hear how thin her protest sounded. ‘Listen, Anastasia, let
me
talk to Helen.
I'll
tell her you didn't do it!'

But Anastasia shook her head fiercely. ‘It will only make it worse. You can see how it looks, Edie. I had the key all day – who else could have done it?'

Miss Mannering
, Edie thought. Somehow she felt certain the deputy headmistress must have been involved. But without proof how would she make Anastasia believe her?

‘Oh, Edie, it's so
embarrassing
,' Anastasia said with sudden disgust. ‘It's not only the fire – it would be bad enough if she thought I had just tried to burn the place down but it's even worse than that. She thinks I went and made myself at home there, sitting in her chair and trying on her clothes . . . as if – as if I was pretending to
be
her. But I wasn't, Edie, I wasn't!'

‘Was Helen very angry?'

‘No!' Anastasia said bitterly, launching into a tearful imitation of the prefect's serene, smiling voice: “
It's all right, Anastasia . . . I know how difficult things have been for you . . . I want to help . . . everybody will understand
. . .” She talked to me as though I were one of her mother's patients.'

‘Her mother's patients?'

‘I told you before. Her mother is a psychiatrist. Giving pills to people like my mother when she has one of her fits.
Fits
,' Anastasia repeated bitterly. ‘That's what my stepfather calls them,
fits
. Oh God, Edie, I thought I'd be able to get away from all that stuff by coming here – but now they think I need to see a doctor too!' She started crying again and Edie put a hand on her arm, trying to soothe her.

‘Is Helen going to tell Miss Fotheringay?'

‘I'm sure she knows already,' Anastasia hiccoughed. ‘I thought Miss Fotheringay might have believed me about the tricks, but she doesn't, Edie – she's been talking to Papa.'

‘When?' Edie asked sharply.

‘After I went to see her, I spoke to him on the phone the next day and his voice was different from how it normally is. He said that I was to get on with my work and concentrate on the play and
stop worrying about things
. Fothy must have spoken to him, and told him I was making stuff up. So now I can't even talk to him. I'm all alone.'

‘But you're seeing your mother at the weekend,' Edie said.

‘Well, I'm certainly not going to talk about all this to her!' Anastasia said furiously. ‘Whatever I tell her she repeats to my stepfather, and whenever he interferes he makes everything worse. She told him once that my dog was chasing sheep and he – he . . .'

‘What?' Edie asked gently.

‘He had him shot!' Anastasia said grimly. ‘I'm terrified of my mother taking me back to Yorkshire. Oh, Edie, I know you think,
“Huh! At least she's
got
a family!
” But one day you'll meet my mother and stepfather and then you'll understand that it's not . . . not—'

‘Not what?'

Anastasia turned her head, and ran her fingers silently along the piano. ‘It doesn't matter what it's not. I mean, it does matter but I – I can't explain. I can't explain
anything any more, Edie. I think, perhaps, that I
am
making things up, but then I can't admit that I am . . . so confusion becomes sort of . . . a choice . . .' She trailed into silence. ‘Am I making sense?' she said eventually, throwing Edie a pleading look.

‘No,' said Edie firmly. ‘Be specific, Anastasia. What, exactly, do you think you've made up?'

Anastasia bowed her head. ‘It's not what I think. But I know it's what other people think – and perhaps they're right.'

Edie felt afraid for Anastasia, and out of her depth. But she could not give up, not yet. ‘Listen, Anastasia. Did you or did you not have anything to do with the fire in Helen's tower? Did you at any time light a match or do anything, leave a magnifying glass glinting in the sunlight,
anything
, that could be used as evidence against you?'

The sudden fierceness in Edie's tone appeared to calm Anastasia. ‘No,' she replied, shaking her head. ‘I just went in, collected the play and went out again. And then I locked the door behind me. I didn't touch anything else, and I gave the key back to Helen when I gave her the script.'

‘So, you didn't start the fire, but what about the other stuff?' Edie demanded. ‘The glass bird, the fifty pounds? Done
to
you or done
by
you? It's one or the other.'

Anastasia did not flinch. ‘Not done by me,' she said, with another shake of her head. ‘Oh, Edie, you make everything so clear. I'm sorry for not being like you. It's just that I'm afraid.'

‘What are you afraid of?'

‘I sometimes feel that I have to agree to other people's versions of what's going on, in order to be left alone.'

‘Whose versions?' Edie asked, frustrated. ‘You talk in such riddles sometimes, I want to follow you, Anastasia, I really do, but sometimes I can't.'

Anastasia looked away. ‘I know. I'm sorry. It's not complicated really. All I want, you see, is for the horrible things to stop happening. I want to be able to stay here –
and feel safe
.'

‘You will, but first you've got to help me,' Edie said. ‘Now listen, Anastasia, who knew you went to the tower today – did you tell anyone, other than me?'

‘I – well, yes, when you said you couldn't come I asked Alice; but she couldn't come either because she had lacrosse practice . . . then I didn't ask anyone else. I just went on my own.'

‘And you're sure no one saw you?'

‘I don't think so,' Anastasia said. ‘The only person I saw outside was Miss Mannering – Helen says she often goes out at lunchtime to look for sixth-formers smoking in the woods – but she can't have seen me because if she had she'd have asked what I was doing.'

Edie tensed. ‘Anastasia, is there any way the Man could have known that Helen took you to the tower yesterday for a picnic?'

‘She definitely knew,' Anastasia said, surprised. ‘I had to ask her permission to have lunch with Helen. I was worried she'd say no, but she was fine about it. She . . . Oh, Edie, you don't really think?'

‘Does the Man have a key to the tower?'

‘Yes. Helen said Miss Mannering had a spare key and—'

‘Then it
was
her!' Edie cried, jumping from her chair.

‘But . . . but what about Phoebe—?'

‘Yes, yes, I know, that's what I thought,' Edie replied impatiently, ‘but don't you see? It couldn't have been her! I was in the same classes as her all day, and I know she didn't go anywhere during the lunch hour, I was watching her – so there's no way she'd have had time to get to the tower. But Miss Mannering – oh, Anastasia, you must believe me, everything fits! Now listen,' she went on, before Anastasia had a chance to protest. ‘From now on I want you to make a note of everything that happens, anything you lose, however small, and anything odd that the Man says, and if you
ever
see her snooping—'

‘But, Edie, I have been!' Anastasia groaned. ‘When the trouble first started Papa told me to do just that so I've been writing everything down in my diary. He told me to keep the record-keeping a secret, so I didn't even tell
you
. And now it's gone.'

‘
Gone?
'

‘Yes. I thought I lost it once before, near the beginning of term, but then it turned up under my pillow and I've kept it there ever since. But I found it had gone missing again just after Sally came in and told us about the fire.' Anastasia turned very red. ‘Oh, Edie, I'll
die
if anyone reads it. I'd tucked all my poems and things inside it – there . . . there was even a poem about Helen!'

‘It must have been the Man who took it,' Edie said darkly. ‘The Man's our suspect now, not Phoebe, and if I can only prove she's the one who's taken your book then we'll know for sure. I'm going to sneak down to the staff cloakroom tonight and look in her confiscations box, and if I don't find it there I'll search her office!'

Anastasia looked hesitant. They both knew there would be serious trouble if Edie was caught. ‘Edie, you will watch out?' she whispered.

‘It's the Man who had better watch out,' Edie said boldly.

It was as the school clock struck ten that Edie crept to the end of the pitch-black corridor and fumbled blindly for the handle of the door. It was only when she was inside the cloakroom that she dared to turn on her torch. She flashed it around the walls and saw Miss Mannering's famous box on a shelf perched high up above a rail of oilskin coats.

She hurriedly pulled up a chair, and when she stood on it on tiptoe, she found her arms could just reach. But as she started to pull the box towards her a light came on in the corridor, then Edie heard voices that made her rigid. It was Miss Fotheringay and Miss Mannering.

‘Can we be
sure
that it was Anastasia who started the fire?' Miss Fotheringay asked.

‘I don't see who else it could be,' Miss Mannering replied. ‘Helen gave her the key to the tower this morning and asked her to run up there at lunchtime and fetch something for her—'

‘Anastasia went
on her own
?' Miss Fotheringay asked sharply.

‘Yes, Caroline, on her own. Strictly against the regulations, I know, but it's her behaviour on reaching the tower that concerns me.'

‘The fire was an accident.' Miss Fotheringay sounded firm. ‘Anastasia couldn't have known that the chimney was blocked. She would have had no idea of the damage she'd cause.'

‘That may be, but it was mighty odd of her to light the fire in the first place. She had no right to loiter there. Helen went to inspect the damage, and she says that whoever it was had been trying on her clothes! I'm afraid, Caroline, we have a chronic case of schoolgirl crush.'

‘It looks like that, I agree. I'm beginning to think Winifred's suggestion Anastasia should see a doctor might not be such a bad idea,' Miss Fotheringay said cautiously.

‘A
doctor
?'

‘A head doctor, Diana. A shrink. There's someone in Oxford who's been recommended to her. Winifred thinks the child is mentally disturbed.'

‘Have you spoken to her parents?' Miss Mannering asked.

‘The prince called a few days ago and I downplayed everything. Anastasia, of course, had told him she was being set up. She's convinced that someone in the school is trying to discredit her.'

Miss Mannering gave one of her unmistakeable snorts. ‘I see. And is there any evidence?'

Edie was so gripped by the conversation she forgot the danger she was in. Miss Mannering's trenchant tone struck her as highly suspicious. Anastasia was clearly being framed.