By Midnight Page 9

  ‘Didn’t you know? Her name was Isabelle Davis, she was a student here a few years ago. A friend of mine at the Royal Opera House knew her quite well, lovely skin, great hair - such a waste, don’t you think?’

  April couldn’t reply. Somehow knowing the girl’s name made the whole thing seem all the more real.

  ‘You okay, A?’ asked Caro, touching her arm.

  ‘Oh no, I haven’t made things worse, have I?’ said Davina. ‘Do you want some Evian? Why don’t you come and sit with us while you calm down? I think Chessy’s got some of her mum’s Valium.’

  ‘Why don’t you just leave her alone?’ snapped Caro. ‘She was fine until you got here.’

  ‘No, please, I’ll be okay, I just need some air,’ said April, getting to her feet. Both Caro and Davina moved to help her, but she brushed them off and headed for the door. ‘Thanks, but I need to … I need to be alone for a while,’ she said as she left.

  April pushed through the refectory’s double doors, aware that every eye in the room was watching her, and burst out into the corridor. I will not cry, I will not cry, she said to herself over and over again. She ran blindly down the halls, turning corners at random, finally coming to a stop next to a mercifully abandoned cloakroom where she sat down on a bench. ‘Breathe,’ she whispered to herself, pulling in air through her nose and letting it out through her mouth. She tried to remember what you were supposed to think of to calm yourself down - cool wet grass, was it? She was finding it hard to think of anything except those dark eyes.

  ‘ash, Ravenwood’s latest bad girl,’ said a voice. ‘I was wondering when our paths would cross.’

  April looked up. Benjamin Osbourne looked down at her through his mop of blond hair and gave her a sardonic smile.

  ‘Sorry, I have terrible manners,’ he said, offering April a slight bow. ‘We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Benjamin. I believe you know my sister, Davina?’

  April could only nod. Without taking his blue eyes from her, Benjamin tilted his head slightly to the left. ‘And this is my friend Marcus Brent.’ April saw another tall boy behind him, this one with dark brown hair and pronounced eyebrows that gave his eyes a rather hooded look. She had seen him staring at her earlier in the refectory - in fact ‘glaring’ would be a more accurate description. Clearly Marcus was one of the students who thought the new girl was bringing Ravenwood into disrepute.

  ‘Come on, Ben,’ said Marcus impatiently. ‘We’re already late.’

  ‘Don’t mind him.’ Benjamin smiled. ‘Beautiful girls unnerve Marcus.’ He allowed Marcus to pull him away, calling over his shoulder as they went, ‘See you soon.’

  April sat there in shock. Had the sexiest boy in school just called her beautiful? Or was he like that with everyone? Probably. That sort of good-looking wealthy boy thought they could charm the pants off any girl they liked. Well, he wasn’t going to have that effect on her. No way. She stood up, then sat down again with a thump, her knees having turned to jelly.

  ‘Whoa …’ she said, rubbing her temples. Maybe Benjamin’s charm had worked after all. She walked into the Ladies and looked at herself in the mirror; her cheeks were distinctly flushed. Nothing to do with Benjamin, she assured herself, nothing at all. Although, he was really good-looking. But she wasn’t about to go gooey over a boy, not after Neil. No way.

  That’ll teach me to go out on cold, damp nights, she scolded herself as the bell rang and she walked to her next lesson. I must be coming down with something.

  Chapter Eight

  April had spent the rest of the week just trying to keep her head above water. By Friday, she was surprised to find that she was actually enjoying coming to school for the lessons rather than the social life. At her old school, she’d liked a few subjects, but she had never been able to see the point of half of them. Chemistry? It was so dull. Geography? I mean, who cared about oxbow lakes? Lessons had felt like unavoidable pauses between spending time with Fee and her other friends. But at Ravenwood it was different; the lessons here were interesting, even stimulating, and she found that she was actually reading the course books before the lessons. To begin with her father had teased her about it, but when he saw how engaged she was he had simply smiled and said, ‘A chip off the old block.’

  The truth was that reading the books in advance was the only way April had a hope in hell of keeping up with the other students. They used words like ‘moreover’ and ‘emphatically’ and seemed to already know as much as, if not more than, their teachers about any given subject. More shocking, the adults actually seemed to respect their students’ opinions. Now that was definitely a first. This morning in History, for example, the tutor Miss Holden didn’t seem interested in teaching them names and dates; she was more focused on promoting a discussion that pushed their notions of what history was - not a fusty list of births, battles and deaths, but a fluid, organic entity whose whole interpretation could be changed by a speech, a book or even something as nebulous as the fashions of the day. Even so, April found her mind wandering during the lesson. She was haunted by the feeling of unease that the walk down Swain’s Lane had left her with. Images of Gabriel, glaring eyes, shivering foxes, even the disbelieving faces of the police officers who had interviewed her were all whirling around, jumbled up in her head. She gazed down at her open book, intending to make copious notes, but instead she found she’d been doodling pictures of weird creatures and strange abstract shapes in the margin. What was going on in the village? And why was her dad researching the Highgate Vampire? Her father had kept her up to date on the police investigation, but they seemed to be floundering for lack of proper evidence. There was a question mark over exactly how Isabelle Davis had been killed and whether or not her death was linked to the Alix Graves murder. ‘The police are releasing very little information,’ said William, ‘which usually means it’s either something pretty unpleasant and they don’t want to trigger any copycats, or the circumstances are sensitive and they don’t want to scare off witnesses.’

  Caro, predictably, had seen conspiracy written all over it. ‘They’re not releasing details because they don’t want to rock the boat,’ she had said confidently. ‘It must implicate some prominent businessman or celebrity, maybe even someone in the police, so they’re closing ranks. It’s got bloody fingerprints all over it, you mark my words.’

  April had no theories of her own, but she did find the whole episode disquieting, especially as she was no wiser regarding Gabriel’s involvement. For some reason, she simply couldn’t get him out of her mind. Sure, he was sexy, but it was more than that; April couldn’t say why, but she felt there was some sort of connection between them. When she had looked into his eyes, there had been almost … she shivered and shook the thought away. She knew nothing about him and she really had no idea how he was mixed up in the murder. Had he called the police? What was he doing there anyway? For about three seconds, April had entertained the idea that Gabriel might have had something to do with Isabelle’s death, but just as quickly dismissed it as too far-fetched. After all, she had been there by accident, there was no reason why he couldn’t have just been passing too. Either way, Gabriel hadn’t been in school for the rest of the week and when she had wandered around Highgate Village after school, half-hoping to bump into him, half-hoping she wouldn’t, she hadn’t seen so much as a shadow of him, and the longer it went on, the longer her imagination was left to run riot.

  ‘April?’

  She looked up sharply. She had been lost in her thoughts, wondering if Gabriel had in fact been protecting her from some unseen killer, when she became aware that everyone was looking at her. Again.

  ‘April?’ prompted Miss Holden. ‘The Renaissance?’

  ‘Oh, uh, yes? What about it?’

  A twitter of giggles went around the class and Miss Holden’s expression changed to one of undisguised annoyance.

  ‘Miss Dunne, if you’re not up to taking the lesson, please excuse yourself and visit the nurse before we begin. Uni
nterested pupils may well be the norm at whatever school you previously attended, but at Ravenwood we take education very seriously.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t sleep very well—’

  ‘I am not at all interested in your nocturnal activities,’ snapped Miss Holden, to more titters. ‘What I am interested in is the concept of the Renaissance as a rewrite of history.’ She turned away, dismissing April, and addressed a lanky boy to April’s left. ‘Now, Mr Frazer, perhaps you can tell us …’

  After that April followed the lesson much more closely, taking notes diligently, but also sparing a moment or two to plan a few horrific acts of revenge on Miss Holden for humiliating her in front of the entire class. Now not only would she be seen as a freak and an outsider, she would be seen as a bad student, too - something she had a feeling was a greater crime in a school for the academically brilliant than out-and-out delinquency would be.

  ‘April, stay behind, please.’

  The end-of-lesson bell had rung and her classmates were all filing out, chattering and laughing, when Miss Holden stepped forward and stopped April. She closed the door behind the last pupil and motioned for April to sit as she perched on the front of her desk, her lips pursed. She was in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length red hair in tight ringlets, smartly dressed, but with a boho feel—wooden beads around her neck, a floral-print blouse and Roman sandals - but the soft lines did nothing to take the edge off her severe stare.

  If she doesn’t stop frowning like that, April thought, she’s going to need a bucketload of Botox.

  ‘I can sympathise that you might be feeling a little lost here, April. A move and a new school would upset anyone.’

  April nodded gratefully. ‘Yes, I—’ she began, but Miss Holden cut her off.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean you can bring your emotions into my lessons. I can’t allow disruption.’ She waited until April was looking at her and said, ‘I’ll say it again, because this is important. Ravenwood is not like your old school, April. Not in any way.’

  April frowned. There was something about Miss Holden’s emphasis on that last line that seemed significant. ‘Not in any way.’ She searched the woman’s face, but she was already speaking again.

  ‘What we teach here is very important. Very important. Some might say it’s a matter of life or death.’

  Oh please, thought April. It’s only history.

  Miss Holden caught April’s sceptical expression. ‘I know this may look like a school packed with over-privileged nouveau riche snobs and, yes, there is an element of that here, it’s the nature of the beast - when Mummy and Daddy pay for the best education for their little darlings, they get what they’ve paid for - but let me tell you, there are still a lot of pupils who have worked exceptionally hard to get here and they continue to work damned hard to stay here. For them, getting into a top university, Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, is their sole focus and if they don’t make it, then … well, let’s just say there will be consequences.’

  ‘Consequences?’

  ‘Yes, consequences,’ said the teacher, a brief flare of anger in her eyes. Miss Holden sighed and folded her arms. ‘Look, April, I know your background. At this moment you might only be interested in music and boys, but the facts remain that you’re intelligent, pretty, grounded, you’re an all-rounder and I’m sure if you apply yourself you’ll do just fine.’

  April looked down at her hands, embarrassed.

  ‘But there are kids here who simply can’t do anything else. Maths, physics, science, these students are brilliant in their fields, but they are specialists. Put the biology student in an English class and they are average at best, so imagine what life’s going to be like for them if they don’t get where they’re supposed to be. And think of the bigger picture - if that happens we might be denying society a cure for cancer, or the ability to breathe on the moon.’

  She regarded April for a moment, seemed to be weighing up something in her mind. ‘And, more importantly, we need to make sure they don’t fall under the wrong influences.’

  ‘The Russians?’

  Miss Holden burst out laughing. ‘No, April, not the Russians,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘The Soviet threat is well and truly over, dear.’

  April could feel her face go bright red as Miss Holden turned serious again.

  ‘But you can appreciate that students with such incredible potential are very vulnerable. We need to keep you all from being corrupted too early - it’s part of our job.’

  April thought she might be joking, but she looked completely straight-faced. Why do adults always spend so much time worrying about our morals? she wondered, eyeing the teacher’s beads and sandals. Like you’ve never rolled a joint in your life, you hypocrite.

  ‘And speaking of corrupting influences, it’s also an unofficial part of our jobs to keep an eye on you and the people you’re spending time with.’

  April looked up, suddenly feeling angry. Had she been spying on her? ‘I think you know who I’m talking about.’

  ‘Caro?’

  ‘No, not Caro,’ said Miss Holden impatiently. ‘Caroline Jackson may have discipline issues and a unique way of looking at the world, but she’s fairly harmless. I’m talking about the so-called “Faces” and their self-appointed leader in particular, Davina Osbourne.’

  April could barely believe her ears. How dare a teacher tell her who she could and could not hang out with?

  ‘I thought your jurisdiction ended at the school gates, Miss Holden,’ said April defiantly.

  ‘No, April, it goes a lot further than that. And I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know or sense: Davina Osbourne is bad news. I’m merely pointing out the obvious - that if you continue to spend time with her and her friends, you’re going to find yourself in trouble. And trouble seems to be following you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ said April. ‘It’s just bad luck. I can’t help it if something happens right in front of me, can I?’

  ‘Can’t you?’

  April started. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘We make our own luck, April, both good and bad, and you have to be aware of your own power to influence events.’

  ‘What, you mean I should have done something different? What? What was I supposed to do?’

  April felt a bubbling anger towards the teacher. How dare she? Was she saying that April should have run back into the cemetery and fought a mad killer with her bare hands? It was ridiculous! She was only a sixteen-year-old girl, not some superhero.

  ‘Are you saying that if I’d done something differently,’ asked April, barely controlling her voice, ‘that girl Isabelle wouldn’t be dead?’

  Miss Holden didn’t speak. The teacher shook her head slightly and stood up, smoothing her skirt down. ‘Just be careful, April, that’s all I ask. As you mature into an adult, you’ll have choices to make. Some of them will be very important, more important than they may seem at the time.’

  Condescending cow, thought April. But she knew that arguing with a teacher would only land her in yet more unasked-for trouble, so instead she stood up and forced a smile.

  ‘Thanks for the advice, Miss Holden,’ she said, trying her best not to let sarcasm drift into her words. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve said.’

  Miss Holden touched her arm. ‘Do,’ she said. ‘Please.’

  Note to self, thought April as she closed the classroom behind her. Never daydream in class again. She walked down the corridor and out through the main entrance, feeling the bite of the cold air in her lungs.

  ‘Hey, sweetie,’ said a voice. April almost jumped out of her skin.

  She turned to see Davina right behind her. It was almost uncanny, given that Miss Holden had just been warning her to stay away from her. Well, she wasn’t about to let that cow tell her what to do. April was so mad with the teacher, if she’d told her not to play in traffic she would have run across a motorway.

  ‘Davina,’ she breathed. ‘I di
dn’t hear you.’

  ‘I get that a lot,’ said Davina, smiling. Standing next to her was a Chinese girl with shoulder-length hair and glasses.

  ‘This is Ling Po,’ said Davina. ‘She’s a new girl too, aren’t you, Ling? I thought I’d introduce you two as you’re both in the same boat.’

  The girl smiled awkwardly, casting her eyes down.

  ‘She’s shy,’ said Davina, ‘but we’ll soon cure that, won’t we, Ling? Anyway …’ Davina linked her arm through April’s and led her towards the gate. ‘What kept you? I was waiting for you after History. We were worried, weren’t we, Ling?’

  ‘Oh, Miss Holden wanted a chat,’ said April.

  Davina paused a beat. ‘More questions?’

  ‘No, something about how I’m holding everyone back because I’m not hanging on her every word.’

  Davina laughed. ‘That’s typical of that witch. She’s always sticking her nose in where it’s not wanted. Don’t let her get to you, she’s just jealous of us.’