Storm and Stone Page 12

  ‘I’m talking about Raven Stone,’ said Joe.

  ‘Oh?’ Mrs Bain’s expression darkened. ‘What has she done now?’

  ‘Not what she’s done but what’s been done to her. She was the victim of a serious bullying incident. She was taken from her room in the early hours of the morning by masked students, tied up, put under the showers in the old cricket pavilion, soaked to the skin for a prolonged period of time, then left all day to freeze.’

  ‘Hardly to freeze. It has been exceptionally warm this weekend.’ Mrs Bain picked up the files, moved to her desk and looked down at her computer screen. ‘Twenty-four degrees on average.’

  ‘Mrs Bain, we are reporting the water torture of a fellow pupil and you only comment on the weather?’

  Putting the folders away in her top drawer, Mrs Bain walked out from behind her desk and gestured to the two boys to take a seat on the sofa at the far side of the room. Remaining standing, she was exercising basic psychology, taking the dominant position; both Joe and Kieran had been trained to recognize it.

  ‘Mr Masters, you are from the States, yes?’

  Joe nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘You may think I sound harsh but you probably aren’t familiar with the traditions of public schools in this country. There is a certain—how do you say?—allowance for rough justice, regrettable though that is. Miss Stone was caught stealing from the pupil body but my respect for her grandfather meant I did not expel her as I would any other student. This may have struck her victims as unfair and they meted out their own punishment. On the plus side, I think this will have lanced the boil. Miss Stone will have learnt a hard lesson but it should mean that the school returns to business as usual tomorrow, with accounts being settled.’

  The woman had the compassion of a Lucretia Borgia.

  ‘You describe the people who tormented her as victims; surely the truth is Raven was theirs?’ Joe said reasonably. ‘You’ve proved nothing against Raven, but this attack is a flagrant breach of your own rules. Are you not going to punish them for what they did?’

  ‘But you said they were masked. I will, of course, talk to Miss Stone about it and see if she can identify them. I will also have a word with the whole school making clear that such behaviour is not condoned by me. What more can I do?’

  Launch an inquiry. Question the most likely suspects who had been vocal in their dislike of Raven. Stand up for the one who had been hurt, not make feeble excuses for the bullies. With difficulty, Kieran held his tongue. Joe was right: it was what she was not doing or saying that was interesting. This school was one twisted institution.

  ‘Aren’t you curious to hear how Raven is?’ Joe asked, keeping his tone even, though Kieran could see he was riled by her answers.

  ‘I assume she’s fine or you would’ve said so.’ Mrs Bain moved towards the door.

  ‘We took her to our room and warmed her up, thank you for asking. If we hadn’t found her when we did, we would’ve been taking her to ER.’

  Mrs Bain stopped trying to usher them out and folded her arms. ‘Is she still there?’

  ‘Yes. May seem weird to you but once she was OK, we didn’t immediately kick her out to go back to a room where she was terrorized last night.’

  ‘Well, we can’t have that. Girls are not allowed in the boys’ dormitories.’ Mrs Bain pressed a button on her desk phone. ‘Gillian, can you go to the medical room please. We’ve a case for you.’

  ‘She’s staying where she is.’ Kieran spoke up for the first time.

  ‘She most certainly is not, Mr Storm. She’ll be looked after in the medical room. Mrs Jones will see to her. Please ensure that Miss Stone gets there—or do I have to send someone to fetch her?’

  ‘But … !’ Kieran stopped his protest when Joe tapped his foot against his.

  ‘OK, will do.’ Joe’s wide smile held no warmth. ‘Thanks. This has been most illuminating.’

  ‘And thank you for coming to report it.’ Her tone was equally icy; both of them were saying the opposite of the surface message. ‘My door is always open to students.’

  Except to Raven, thought Kieran. It was bizarre. The head teacher was complicit in the attempt to make Raven the school pariah.

  Joe motioned to him to say nothing as they walked away but Kieran was ready to explode.

  ‘Vile woman!’

  ‘Kieran,’ Joe warned.

  He tugged Joe in to an empty classroom, unable to wait to vent his feelings. ‘She knew.’

  ‘That’s what the smart money is on.’

  ‘She’s not only allowing it; she’s probably behind it!’

  ‘I agree, but that makes no sense, does it? If she really wanted to hurt Raven, she would’ve expelled her when she had the chance.’

  ‘Whatever made her decide to keep her here, it won’t be out of the kindness of her heart. She doesn’t have one.’ He pictured a shrivelled up lump of jerky in the place of what had once been a living organ.

  ‘Do you think she really believes Raven stole those things?’

  ‘Not really relevant, is it? The head teacher is supposed to protect her pupils, even the ones she doesn’t like, not throw them to the wolves.’

  ‘But do you? We know Raven’s innocent; does she?’

  Kieran’s rage was beginning to pass, allowing his mind to clear. ‘It would be very curious if she did.’ He rubbed his chin, searching his memory for matches for this kind of behaviour. ‘There’s a long tradition of societies finding a scapegoat. It’s not about the faults of the individual but about the dynamics of those using them. I’m guessing that, as the closest to Gina, Raven became a very handy target when they decided to recruit her friend, a plausible way of explaining away Gina’s problem with stealing—they may even have given Raven the scholarship thinking a day would come when they could make use of her like that. Keep piling the stuff on the scapegoat that no one cares about and then get rid of her when you’re ready, leaving everyone else with a clean record.’

  ‘You think they’d go that far?’

  ‘It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility. I’m beginning to see there must be some exchange between the parents and the trustees: something along the lines of “you clear my little darling of all accusations and I’ll owe you”. Raven is being blamed for Gina’s crimes. And maybe not just her: I think we should start to be a bit more worried for the ones that haven’t come back.’

  Joe dug his hands in his pockets. ‘What’ve we let ourselves in for? And how are we going to keep Raven out of harm’s way?’

  Kieran struggled to remain rational. No one had been harmed yet as far as they knew; maybe they were overreacting? Still, the school definitely did not feel safe for any of them. ‘Ousting into the cold would be seriously bad news. Raven and her grandfather have nowhere else to go.’

  ‘So in your theory they’re prepping her as some kind of fall guy?’

  ‘Yes. And if she wasn’t here, I think they’d pick on someone else. As far as that goes, it isn’t personal.’

  ‘So are we taking her to sick bay or not?’

  ‘I think we have to.’ Kieran didn’t like that idea at all.

  ‘You know what, Key, you’re not looking too good yourself.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think you might be coming down with stomach pains, grumbling appendix.’

  ‘And I need someone to monitor me overnight?’

  ‘You’re catching on, bro.’

  Raven had a fuzzy recollection of being woken out of a deep sleep. She didn’t want to move: the bed had smelt like Kieran and being under his duvet was almost as good as having him next to her. Yawning, she was bundled in to a dressing gown, hustled to the medical room and handed over to the matron who put her between cold sheets. Waking up properly thanks to that, she felt a spike of alarm to be back on this wing of the castle—that was until she realized Kieran was staying with her, having taken over the bed next to hers. He handed the nurse a care sheet of symptoms to watch for in case his sus
pected appendicitis flared up in the night. He sat propped up on the pillows, consulting a medical dictionary, with an ‘I-will-not-be-moved’ expression on his face.

  ‘I want my temperature taken every four hours,’ he instructed Mrs Jones. ‘You will also note down my description of my abdominal pain. It’s very important to construct a history if I need to take this to hospital.’

  The nurse walked away to fetch some painkillers, muttering something about hypochondria. When her back was turned, Raven stretched a hand out to him. ‘Oh, Kieran, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were ill—and you carried me all that way. Did that set it off?’

  ‘Set what off?’ He touched his fingers to hers, giving them a light caress that sent a shiver down her arm.

  ‘Your appendicitis.’

  ‘I don’t have an appendix. It was taken out two years ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m your guard. You can go to sleep without worrying about any repeats of last night’s attack.’

  Raven was about to protest that she didn’t need babysitting but changed her mind. She tucked her hand back under the covers as the nurse returned. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘There you are, Kieran.’ Mrs Jones placed a little cup with two pills in front of him. ‘Take these and try to sleep.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to check on Raven?’ he asked, palming the unwanted pills so she would think he had swallowed them.

  ‘Miss Stone, how do you feel?’ Mrs Jones had the bedside manner of an anaconda.

  ‘OK now, thanks.’ Raven pulled up the blankets and lay on her side peeking across at Kieran. He winked at her.

  ‘I’ll be in my office.’ The nurse had a bed there where she could sleep in-between rounds. ‘Just press the buzzer on your table, Kieran, if you need anything or the pain gets worse. I should warn you we have CCTV in here so I can monitor my patients. No shenanigans from either of you.’

  ‘Marvellous.’ Kieran smiled at her innocently, ignoring the implication that they both better stay in their own beds. ‘No one dare disturb Raven again if there is a digital witness.’

  Mrs Jones walked off without a comment.

  ‘I think I’m going to sue this school,’ murmured Raven. ‘Neglect.’

  Kieran punched his pillow to make it more comfortable. ‘Spoken like a true American.’

  ‘You don’t approve?’

  ‘Oh, I approve one hundred per cent.’

  ‘Shame I don’t have the money for legal representation.’

  ‘Or proof.’

  ‘Or proof.’ Yeah, there was that. She’d only thought that one of the girls sounded a bit like Gina but now she recalled the incident she had begun to doubt even that—it was all a jumble. But why waste time thinking about such creatures when she had Kieran’s company for the night, with him lying only a few feet away so she could hear his breathing and take comfort that he was keeping vigil? His presence next to her was like the warm glow of fire on a winter day, thawing out the hurt of the last twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t let anyone harm her—a promise she could take to the bank.

  ‘Goodnight, Raven.’ He lay down on his side to face her.

  ‘Goodnight, Kieran. And thank you.’ She fell asleep with his green eyes watching her across the gap between the beds.

  The morning after the night in the medical room Raven moved out to her grandfather’s cottage, refusing to stay on her own under the castle roof. Granddad fully supported her decision, staring down Mrs Bain when she had protested that he was breaking the rules on the use of school property. Raven unpacked her stuff in his second bedroom and decorated the plain white walls with the posters Kieran had thought to bring back for her from his weekend away. They were a great selection from old dance movies—West Side Story, Singin’ in the Rain, and Billy Elliot. He had handed them over casually, saying he’d just come across them but she wondered—and speculated—and wondered some more. They were a very thoughtful gift from a guy who was just a friend.

  On Thursday morning, as she had an early breakfast with her grandfather, Raven broached the subject that had been on her mind. ‘I’ve been thinking about September.’

  He poured himself a cup of strong black tea. ‘I’m a year off retirement, sweetheart, so the chances of finding another position aren’t good.’

  ‘That’s OK, Granddad. You stick it out here. But when I’ve done my exams, I’m going to transfer to the local sixth form college. I’ve got the forms if you will help me fill them in.’

  ‘Of course I will, but are you sure? Graduating from Westron usually guarantees you a place at a good university—sets you up for life. The network of past pupils gives you a huge advantage in the wider world. And there’s your scholarship—that’s a lot of money you’re turning your back on.’

  Raven stirred the milk in her cereal bowl, oat flakes drowning in the white. ‘I hate it here.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. I’m not too keen on this place myself.’ Her grandfather had complained vociferously to Mrs Bain about the attack but no action had been taken. Both had been depressed and further disillusioned by the outcome. ‘And I think you are right to pursue other options.’

  ‘I think I’d do better with ordinary kids—ones who don’t automatically look down on me. I want just, you know, to fit in. I now get why some of the other scholarship students threw in the towel—we’re not really welcome here.’ She’d work out a way of carrying on seeing Kieran if she could—and if he was interested.

  ‘I see. In that case, I’ll see if I can persuade them to let you continue to live with me here.’

  ‘Is that going to be a problem?’

  ‘Technically I’m not supposed to have anyone else here. Mrs Bain only allowed you to move in when I said it was the only way we would both stay on at Westron, notice period be damned.’

  ‘Aw, thanks, Granddad.’

  ‘And I can’t see what harm it would do. There’s a spare bedroom and I’m your only family. The thing is they are very determined to keep Westron for Westron students and staff only; you’d be seen as an intruder if you’re no longer a pupil here.’

  ‘Afraid I’ll spill their dark secrets?’ The school was getting weirder by the day, a strange atmosphere among the students, a fierce silent battle of who was in and who was out.

  ‘They’re somewhat paranoid. I think it’s because so many of the youngsters are from celebrity backgrounds. The prospectus does promise complete confidentiality.’

  ‘Tell them not to worry about me—I couldn’t be less interested in them.’ Raven got up and took her dance kit off the dryer hanging over the Aga.

  ‘We’ll see. So, what’ve you got today?’

  ‘Final rehearsal for our performance piece. Kieran promised he’d have learnt it by now.’

  As her granddad got up, his knees clicked. ‘Leaving it a little late, isn’t he? The assessment is tomorrow.’ He put his hand to the small of his back, rubbing the base of his spine. Raven swallowed her remark about taking it easy; he couldn’t afford the luxury of putting his feet up if he wanted to keep his job.

  She kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re telling me. See you later.’

  Hugging her bag to her chest, Raven crossed the lawn from the cottage to the main building, sneakers getting wet with dew. Though she passed several groups heading for their lessons, no one said hello to her. She had got used to being ignored by the other students; in fact she told herself she preferred it that way. She tried not to think about the old days, when Gina and she had been a team. Could you be a team of one? If so, that was her now. Even the teachers, with the honourable exception of her dance tutor, paid her the minimal notice. Her work wasn’t being marked when she handed it in, and if the students ever had to divide into groups she was always mysteriously left out and no one did anything about it, unless she happened to be in class with Joe or Kieran. Kieran had told her to treat it as a chance for sociological observation, a learning experience of crowd behaviour.

  Yeah right.

  She dec
ided to treat it as a chance to separate herself from the school emotionally and imagine her life beyond its walls. Every time they acted like jerks she waved a mental two fingers at them, keeping her real thoughts hidden behind a bland expression. She couldn’t wait to leave. But the worst part—the thing she hadn’t shared with anyone—was that it felt like she was reliving the bleak months after her father’s death. Whispers behind her back; cruel comments in the corridors; the feeling of having nowhere safe to go; enemies around every corner; being made to believe she was worthless. The scars that had begun to heal over the last few years had split open again and grief for her parents seeped out. None of this would have happened if they hadn’t died. The fact that Westron was making her feel this way only added to her fury.

  Kieran was already in the practice room they had booked. He had put it under his name because whenever she put hers down she got bumped by one of the other groups. She hovered outside looking in through the glass panel. He was standing in a shaft of light, doing some stretches and shoulder rolls. The dark mood lifted a little. Now that was something to cheer a girl up when nothing else could. He could move like a dream, but he was missing the most important aspect of dance: you had to perform and not just go through the motions. She still hadn’t managed to get through to him on that.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ she called brightly, coming in and throwing her bag in a corner.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ He smiled at her as she took off her trackies and sweat shirt. ‘You?’

  ‘OK. But I’ll be as happy as a clam if you learnt it all the way through.’

  ‘Are clams happy?’

  ‘They are in America. So did you?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You mean we’re actually going to put this together and not just run through the various moves?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You’ve got spotting sorted?’ They’d had quite a few sessions together trying to get that right.

  ‘Sorted.’

  ‘You mean Kieran Storm is going to dance?’