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
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
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