Secrets of Drearcliff Grange School by Kim Newman

Author:Kim Newman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 2015-10-22T23:00:00+00:00

XIV: The Viola–Goneril War

JUST OUTSIDE THE Playhouse, Amy ran into Frecks’ triad. She started chattering about wanting to borrow something from Light Fingers and wondering where she was.

Frecks shrugged. Kali looked away. Beauty was blank.

Beeke and two other Black Skirts came out of the theatre. They looked around purposefully.

Had Amy been recognised?

She went on about the book she needed a lend of, trying to seem as if she’d been with Frecks and company for ages. She flapped her hands in an exaggerated ‘silly me’ manner and was breathless with jollity… rather than terror.

‘Sisters Dark,’ Beeke addressed the triad. ‘Did you see a foolish girl running just now? A Grey pest who’s shoved her snout where it’s not wanted?’

‘Running? No,’ said Frecks – not lying, since Amy had walked.

‘Keep an antenna out,’ said Beeke. ‘You know how things are.’

She went back into the theatre. The other Black Skirts stood by the doors. They unwound their ropes and began skipping slowly.

‘I say, pal-o-mino, you’ve gone scarlet,’ observed Frecks. ‘Been doing anything you shouldn’t haven’t oughtn’t to have been?’

‘Not I, sir.’

‘You don’t say so, sir.’

‘Say so sir, I do.’

‘Thought as much. Any notion what Nosey Beeke was on about?’

Amy shrugged.

‘Another of life’s mysteries,’ said Frecks.

Frecks, Kali and Rose had no sashes or badges. Amy hoped that kept them out of any inner circles of sinister Black Skirt intent. They hadn’t been at the meeting under the stage – though Desdemona was represented by Pelham, Inchfawn and other feckless Gone-Blacks.

Something was up among the ‘Sisters Dark’. Amy didn’t think it would be cheering to know what it was. It had to do with the Purple.

She wanted to confide her worries to her friend, but a voice in her head – very like Light Fingers’ – cautioned against it. She couldn’t tell whether Frecks had covered for her with Beeke or just not realised Amy was the pest the Black Skirts were after.

Not realising things was becoming a Frecks trait. It was unlike the old her. Last term, her keen perception fringed on the borders of Ability.

‘I’ll keep looking for Light Fingers,’ Amy said.

‘Please yourself,’ said Frecks.

Amy walked on. She happened to look back and saw Frecks’ triad ambling towards the theatre. Were they invited to the meeting after all? If so, they were late. Being late wasn’t a Black Skirt sort of thing. Rayne had spoken about being ‘neat, efficient and cheerful’. She was most likely always on time. Or early, in order to catch you out. It was impossible to tell whether she was cheerful or not. By her own strange standards, she might be. And being cheerful wasn’t the same as being happy.

Crossing the Quad, she saw Wychwood – blazer still streaked with black – and a few other Greys milling about in the cold. Black Skirts were suddenly in short supply. Usually, they were all over the show. They couldn’t all be under the stage, surely? There wasn’t room, even in the scenery vault. Like so much else lately, this struck Amy as ominous.

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