The Grey Girl (4 page)

‘Suzy! Phone for you!'

I jolted from my dreams to hear Aunt Meredith banging on my bedroom door. ‘Suzy! Frankie's on the phone.'

Bright light streamed through the window. I knew I'd closed the curtains last night. Once again someone must have come into my room and opened them before I woke up. If I wanted to be woken up by offensive daylight blinding me then I'd be sleeping with the curtains open. But I don't. So I had them closed. I'd have to have a word with Aunt Meredith about respecting my private space.

‘Suzy!' she shouted again.

‘I'm asleep!' I croaked back. ‘Tell Frankie I'll call her later.'

I could hear Aunt Meredith murmur down the phone at my friend, then she knocked on my door again and said loudly, ‘She says you don't have her number.'

‘Well, then ask her for it please.'

Frankie was my best friend but I didn't want to speak to her. Everything I'd been through at school – being haunted by the Blue Lady – Frankie had been through too. I knew that the sound of her voice would just take me back there again, and I didn't need that. Even hearing her name made me think of the dark times we'd shared together. I pulled the duvet over my head and tried in vain to fall back asleep. But the thought of Frankie and the life we had back at school had woken me up like a cold shower.

An hour later I was washed and sitting at the breakfast table with Toby. Once again I was trying to force down a cup of instant coffee. I swear it tasted even worse than it did the day before.

‘So how are you this morning, Toby?' I asked, trying to sound cheery.

‘I feel discombobulated,' Toby said with certainty, not looking up from his book.

‘That's a good word,' I congratulated him. ‘Where did you learn it?'

‘Dr Who,' he replied. ‘It means that I feel confused.'

My lips curled into a smile. ‘And what do you have to feel confused about?'

‘I'm trying to work out who the murderer is this weekend. Mum won't tell me, she says I have to work it out for myself.'

‘So how was the rest of the party last night?' I asked him.

‘It was fun,' he said, half chewing a piece of toast and half flicking through his book. Once again he was wearing his Sherlock Holmes costume, but his cape was thrown over the back of his chair and the plastic pipe that he'd had glued to his lips all evening rested on the table. ‘Mum made me go to bed before they got their first proper clue, though.'

‘And how did they get that then?' I asked. ‘My Oscar-worthy performance not enough to convince them that someone was murdered?'

‘Nell sat down with her crystal ball and told them all that the murderer was in their midst.'

‘Ah, I see.' The very same crystal ball that Nate had brought round on his motorbike, I bet. ‘And when do they get their second clue?' I asked, leaning in and widening my eyes playfully.

‘They had it over breakfast this morning. A letter arrived saying that Dr Fletcher is a bigamist. Mum said that means he's married more than one lady.'

I nodded. ‘So where are they all now? I haven't seen any of them since I woke up.'

‘You can't go into the library, the billiards room, the music room or the dining room, or the apple grove – that's where they'll all be, trying to work out who did it.'

‘And when will they find out who has “done it”?' I asked.

‘We'll all find out at dinner tonight,' he said, still looking at his book.

‘But I'm dead, Toby. I won't be at dinner tonight. If you find out who the murderer is before then you have to tell me. It's only fair – I was the one who died after all.'

Toby just nodded at me without looking up.

‘What're you reading?' I asked. ‘Is it
Hamlet
? Did you go and pinch a copy from the library?'

Toby shook his head and held up the cover of his book so I could see.
007 – Fact or Fiction?
‘I thought I could pick up some spy tips and spy on the guests. Then I can work out who's acting suspiciously and who might be the murderer.'

‘Good idea, but I'm surprised you're in here reading and not outside playing with that young girl who's here for the weekend.' He looked at me blankly. ‘One of the guests.'

‘Children aren't allowed at the parties,' Toby said, looking even more discombobulated than he did before. ‘Apart from me,' he added, sitting up a little straighter.

‘I saw her last night,' I said with certainty. ‘From my bedroom window. Maybe she's here with the guests but just didn't come down to dinner.'

‘Children aren't allowed at the parties,' Toby repeated, getting bored by the conversation and looking back down at his book.

I shrugged. ‘Well, I guess one just slipped through the net. So, 007 … you like secret agents, huh?'

‘I'm going to be a spy when I grow up,' he said. ‘Either that or a detective. Or a pilot. I haven't decided yet.'

‘Why don't you be a spy who solves mysteries and flies planes?' I grinned.

Toby lifted his chin and looked at me, considering what I'd said. Then he nodded and looked back down at his book. ‘That's what I'll probably be.'

Two voices came towards the kitchen, and I turned around to see Aunt Meredith and Nell deep in conversation about something as they walked in, both still wearing their costumes from the night before. ‘The kettle's just boiled,' I told them.

‘Ah, if it isn't the flame-haired teen.' Nell grinned at me. I really hate it when adults try to be funny. ‘How's the writing going?'

‘Fine,' I replied curtly.

Aunt Meredith walked over to the complicated coffee machine and switched it on. ‘Can you make me a cup please?' I asked, wide-eyed.

‘I thought you preferred instant?' Nell winked at me.

I gave her my best glare and shot her my best comeback: ‘
Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative
.'

‘And
I am so clever that sometimes I do not understand a single word of what I am saying.
' She smirked at me. ‘I can quote Oscar Wilde too, you know.'

I turned my back on Nell in contempt as Aunt Meredith passed me a cup of steaming coffee fresh from the machine. To my annoyance it smelt just as revolting as the instant stuff. Still, I brought it to my lips and began to sip.

‘Were you all right last night?' Aunt Meredith asked loudly so both Toby and Nell looked up from what they were doing and stared at me.

‘I'm fine,' I said quickly.

‘You just seemed to disappear after playing dead – which you did brilliantly by the way – I just, you know, wanted to check you're okay.'

‘I'm fine,' I repeated, feeling my cheeks begin to burn slightly.

Aunt Meredith bent down and spoke quietly, so that only I could hear. ‘You know if you need to talk to anyone about anything, I'm here. I don't want you to feel like you're alone, Suzy.'

‘How could I be alone?' I tried to smile at her. ‘The house is full of people.' I swallowed another rank mouthful of coffee and said, ‘Aunt Meredith, what made you bend the rules about having children here for the party?'

Aunt Meredith reached for the sugar and stirred some into her own cup of coffee. ‘We only allow Toby to come along because he lives here. And he's not allowed to stay up past his bedtime.'

‘But what about the girl who's here this weekend?' I asked.

Aunt Meredith frowned as she put the sugar spoon in the sink. ‘There're no children here this weekend. It's a fortieth birthday party.'

I tried to ignore the unease that tightened my throat. This was exactly how it had all begun before, at school. I saw things that other people didn't. It couldn't happen again. I refused to let it happen to me again. I wasn't going mad. She had been real, not a trick of the moonlight or my overactive imagination. I know what I saw. And then I remembered the boat she was running towards,
The Lady of Shalott
. ‘How many boats do you have here?' I asked.

‘None at all,' Nell replied.

I shot her a dagger look. I wasn't speaking to her. ‘That's not true; I saw a boat in the boathouse yesterday.'

‘
The Lady of Shalott
? That old thing?' Nell laughed. ‘That's been there for decades – since the building was used as a school, I imagine. It's certainly not river-worthy. No, there are no boats at Dudley Hall.'

‘But I saw …' I stopped myself quickly. I'd spent weeks and weeks convincing people I wasn't crazy. And somehow, at last, I'd succeeded. I'd left Warren House, I was finally free to live my life once again. The last thing I needed was to ruin all my hard work by admitting I'd seen some kind of ghostly child running towards a boat that's been in ruins for decades.

‘You all right, Suzy?' Nell looked at me. ‘You look like someone's just walked over your grave.'

‘I don't like that expression,' I said without thinking, pushing away the images it conjured up in my head. Those words reminded me of everything I'd lived through at school – walking over the shallow grave in the woods, again and again. I tried to ignore the familiar knot in my stomach and the sensation of ice cracking through my veins as I stood up from my seat at the kitchen table, all eyes on me. ‘Please don't say things like that around me.' I put my coffee cup down on the counter with a loud clang, suddenly aware that I needed to get out of the room as soon as possible. I remembered what the doctors at Warren House had told me about removing myself from trigger situations, and about learning to think before I speak. When I say the first thing that comes into my head other people think I'm rude, or hostile or just plain crazy. Right then I couldn't have given a monkey's hind legs what Nell or anyone else in the room thought of me. I just couldn't bear talk of graves and walking over them, not after what had happened at school. ‘It's this stupid costume,' I said feebly, pulling at the tight collar around my neck. A pathetic excuse, but it was all I had. ‘It's too hot and heavy. I need to change.'

Aunt Meredith's eyes filled with concern. ‘If you need to, of course. But if you're going to wear your own clothes then I need to ask you to stay out of the way of the guests please.' I nodded at her and ran out of the kitchen. I heard Aunt Meredith mutter something to Toby along the lines of, ‘Suzy's not well.' Hearing that just annoyed me further. Aunt Meredith might pretend to care about me, but she seemed to care more about what clothes I'm wearing in front of the guests than anything else.

I slammed my bedroom door behind me, closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath. I pulled at the buttons on my stupid Victorian costume until it quickly pooled around me on the wooden floorboards. I threw on my blue, sequinned sundress I'd been wearing the night before and picked up my notepad and pen. I must have sat on my bed trying to write for hours. I tried in vain to return to the characters I'd been trying to create on a page – the girls living in a draughty old boarding school. But no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, the words I was searching for just wouldn't come. It was as though the story I was reaching for was crafted from smoke, and it disappeared every time I tried to touch it.

I stared at my bedside cabinet drawer and thought of the blue pills the doctor had given me, the pills I hadn't taken since leaving Warren House. Deep down I knew I wasn't crazy. I didn't need pills or shrinks. But I did need an explanation for what I'd seen from my bedroom window the night before, and if I wasn't going to get one then I needed to distract myself from the memory.

Putting down my paper and pen, I reached for my make-up bag and started to paint my face like a canvas. I wasn't a natural artist, not like my best friend Frankie who could draw anything she put her mind to. But I was creative. Using my black eyeliner I drew a small key in the corner of my eye, coming down onto my cheek. I painted my eyelids a bright orange colour and coated my lips in a deep purple. Using a silver eyeliner I drew a row of dots above my arched eyebrows. I found a large, colourful butterfly clip and slid it into my bright red hair. I sat back and looked in the mirror to admire my creativity and smiled. It felt good to dress up like me again after so long in Warren House trying desperately to conform. But a look that enigmatic needed to be showcased. I decided a trip into the village would be another good distraction from Dudley Hall.

I crept through the house, careful not to be seen by any of the murder mystery guests. I could hear their animated voices from behind the library door as I walked past it. I could hear them laughing and chatting away without a care in the world. At least someone in this house was happy, I thought to myself. Soon I was out the front door and onto the gravel driveway. I plugged my earphones in and blasted rock music into my ears, singing along loudly and not caring who might hear. As my feet scrunched down on the gravel, leading me away from Dudley Hall, and the spring breeze moved through my bright red hair I began to feel lighter than I had done in days.

The walk into the village only lasted about twenty minutes; all I had to do was follow the narrow country road away from the house, retracing the route Aunt Meredith had driven me along a few days before. With every step further away from the house I was beginning to feel better. By the time the cobbled houses and small market square came into view I was feeling like the old Suzy. Confident, charismatic and carefree.

The first shop I came to in Dudley-on-Water was a small newsagent. With music still blaring into my ears, I opened the door and marched in. I made my way to the shelves of chocolate and took my time picking out something I could sit and munch my way through whilst I walked around the village. I put the chocolate bar down on the counter and pulled my headphones out of my ears before reaching for my purse.

As I put my money down on the counter and reached for my earphones again I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. ‘Hello,' came a voice that nearly made me jump out of my skin. ‘What are you doing out here then?'