Wicked Whispers at St Bride's by Debbie Young

Author:Debbie Young [Young, Debbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

21

COLOURFUL THEORIES

There was an unwritten rule that no staff or girls could disturb Hairnet in her private apartment unless there was an emergency. Fortunately, as I dashed down the corridor from the staffroom to her quarters, I found her standing in the entrance hall, gazing out of the open front door. At the sound of my footsteps, she turned round to acknowledge me with a polite smile.

‘Miss Harnett, please may I speak to you in confidence? I have something that may be relevant to Veronica’s disappearance.’

‘Temporary absence,’ she corrected me.

After a final glance out into the darkness, she closed and bolted the door, then glanced at the wall clock.

‘Let us repair to my study.’

In silence we marched down the corridor, not speaking until she was seated at her desk. I emptied the envelope of IOUs down on the clear space between her diary and her in-tray.

‘Miss Harnett, I’m afraid I found these in Veronica’s pigeonhole immediately before supper, before I realised she had disappeared.’

As she flicked through the pile of notes in silence, I began to explain.

‘I think they’re Veronica’s winnings at poker. Presumably if the girls have had to resort to IOUs, she must already have cleaned them out of their pocket money.’

As Miss Harnett sifted through the notes, she pulled out a small, stamped envelope addressed in handwritten script to me. I slipped it into my pocket, not before noticing it bore a Cirencester postmark and was on Excelsior stationery. I must have scooped it up with the IOUs when I took them out of my pigeonhole earlier. I guessed it was a missive from Oliver, and if so, it meant he was still engaged in his local research. I’d assumed – hoped – he’d already returned to wherever it was he lived. London, according to his business card, unless he worked remotely from home elsewhere.

I determined to put Oliver out of my mind.

Hairnet patted the array of scrawled notes with a surprising show of satisfaction.

‘Once Veronica is safely returned, I must make this a topic of an assembly. She can help me explain that one should only ever gamble what one can afford to lose. A useful life lesson.’

I must have looked perplexed because she went on to elaborate.

‘You see, this term’s essential life skills programme is not only about learning the rules of games. Any fool who can read instructions can learn to play a game. No, there are deeper lessons to be learned here, social and behavioural experience to be gained. Veronica is teaching the others that in spades, ha ha!’

How could she joke when one of her precious charges was missing? Perhaps her laughter was a smokescreen for her anxiety.

‘But this one is no IOU letter,’ she added, looking back at the pile of papers.

She pulled out another envelope that I had not noticed as it was plain white, like the notes, and unstamped. ‘It is addressed to you, my dear.’

Handing it to me, she sat back expectantly. When she passed me the paperknife from her pencil pot, I realised she wanted me to open it and share it with her.

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