why.’
The wardrobe shook slightly. Naya pretended to trip over thin air to bump into it – and it wasn’t nearly as casual as Bobbie would have liked. Craddock didn’t look convinced. Poor Caine – what was going on inside that cupboard? What could he see, his face centimetres from the mirror?
There was one last thing she had to do before they could get him out, however. Bobbie reclined back on her bed with a sigh. ‘Is everything all right, Roberta?’
‘I feel awful … I’ve had really bad diarrhoea.’ Bobbie had learned at a very young age that
no one
questions diarrhoea – like who’s gonna check the toilet after you’ve been? It was the ultimate skiving sickness. ‘It must be something I ate.’
Mrs Craddock had dealt with more than her share of vomit and diarrhoea and didn’t seem fazed. ‘Oh dear. Have you been more than once?’
Bobbie knew how to play it. ‘Yeah. I went and then had to go again like right away.’
‘And have you been sick?’
‘No. But I
feel
sick.’ She was careful not to be too hammy.
‘Poor dear, must be a tummy bug. Drink plenty of water. Naya – keep an eye on her and come and fetch me if she gets worse.’
‘Yes, Miss.’ The housemistress turned to leave. ‘Obviously if you need the toilet, go, but otherwise – stay inside from now on, please.’
‘Yes, Miss.’
As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, the wardrobe burst open and Caine tripped over his feet in his haste to get out. ‘Shh!’ Naya caught him.
‘Are you okay?’ Bobbie sprung off her bed.
‘I could see her. Right behind me in the wardrobe.’ His eyes were wild and beads of sweat gleamed on his dark skin.
‘It’s not real,’ Bobbie said, although she was far from convinced. ‘It’s only a reflection.’
He looked to the floor, as if ashamed of his fear. ‘It looked real.’ Caine grabbed his hoodie, gripping it tighter than he should. His lips were pasty. ‘She’s coming for us.’
They waited ten minutes or so to ensure that Mrs Craddock had finished her rounds before smuggling Caine out of their room. Bobbie walked him back to the secret passage while Naya kept a lookout. Luckily, it seemed either the warning from Price or the threat of an escaped axe-wielding psychopath had kept all the Piper’s Ladies securely in their rooms, and no one interrupted their stealthy prowl back to the hatch on the staircase.
Caine pulled the passageway door open and turned back to her. ‘If this weren’t so messed up, it’d be pretty cool.’
‘What? The passages?’
‘Yeah. We ain’t got these at Radley!’
Bobbie whispered. ‘There’s one in the theatre too – so the servants could carry drinks in and out when it used to be a ballroom. There’s meant to be priests’ holes too.’
Caine frowned. ‘What’s a priest’s hole? Sounds kinky.’
‘Don’t they teach History at Radley?’ Bobbie smiled.
‘I’m a Geography kinda guy.’
‘Back in the day it was illegal to be Catholic. The original owners of the house were sympathisers so built little hidey-holes for priests on the run. Or so they say. I’ve yet to see evidence of this.’ She shrugged.
‘Man, your school is so much cooler than mine.’
Creamy moonlight flooded the landing, catching Caine’s cheekbone and lips. All of a sudden, Bloody Mary was purged from Bobbie’s mind. ‘Okay.’ She pulled her dressing-gown belt tighter. ‘You sure you’ll find your way out?’
‘I wedged the kitchen door open with a rock.’
‘They teach you that in Croydon?’ Bobbie couldn’t resist and Caine beamed back.
‘Oi! Don’t be talking smack about the Croydon massiv’!’ he grinned. ‘Nah. It’s a dump. Better off out here in the sticks.’
There was a long silence. It probably wasn’t
that
long, but it felt like an eternity. Bobbie knew that moments like these, goodbyes, needed filling. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. If this were one of her stories, her main character –
The wardrobe shook slightly. Naya pretended to trip over thin air to bump into it – and it wasn’t nearly as casual as Bobbie would have liked. Craddock didn’t look convinced. Poor Caine – what was going on inside that cupboard? What could he see, his face centimetres from the mirror?
There was one last thing she had to do before they could get him out, however. Bobbie reclined back on her bed with a sigh. ‘Is everything all right, Roberta?’
‘I feel awful … I’ve had really bad diarrhoea.’ Bobbie had learned at a very young age that
no one
questions diarrhoea – like who’s gonna check the toilet after you’ve been? It was the ultimate skiving sickness. ‘It must be something I ate.’
Mrs Craddock had dealt with more than her share of vomit and diarrhoea and didn’t seem fazed. ‘Oh dear. Have you been more than once?’
Bobbie knew how to play it. ‘Yeah. I went and then had to go again like right away.’
‘And have you been sick?’
‘No. But I
feel
sick.’ She was careful not to be too hammy.
‘Poor dear, must be a tummy bug. Drink plenty of water. Naya – keep an eye on her and come and fetch me if she gets worse.’
‘Yes, Miss.’ The housemistress turned to leave. ‘Obviously if you need the toilet, go, but otherwise – stay inside from now on, please.’
‘Yes, Miss.’
As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, the wardrobe burst open and Caine tripped over his feet in his haste to get out. ‘Shh!’ Naya caught him.
‘Are you okay?’ Bobbie sprung off her bed.
‘I could see her. Right behind me in the wardrobe.’ His eyes were wild and beads of sweat gleamed on his dark skin.
‘It’s not real,’ Bobbie said, although she was far from convinced. ‘It’s only a reflection.’
He looked to the floor, as if ashamed of his fear. ‘It looked real.’ Caine grabbed his hoodie, gripping it tighter than he should. His lips were pasty. ‘She’s coming for us.’
They waited ten minutes or so to ensure that Mrs Craddock had finished her rounds before smuggling Caine out of their room. Bobbie walked him back to the secret passage while Naya kept a lookout. Luckily, it seemed either the warning from Price or the threat of an escaped axe-wielding psychopath had kept all the Piper’s Ladies securely in their rooms, and no one interrupted their stealthy prowl back to the hatch on the staircase.
Caine pulled the passageway door open and turned back to her. ‘If this weren’t so messed up, it’d be pretty cool.’
‘What? The passages?’
‘Yeah. We ain’t got these at Radley!’
Bobbie whispered. ‘There’s one in the theatre too – so the servants could carry drinks in and out when it used to be a ballroom. There’s meant to be priests’ holes too.’
Caine frowned. ‘What’s a priest’s hole? Sounds kinky.’
‘Don’t they teach History at Radley?’ Bobbie smiled.
‘I’m a Geography kinda guy.’
‘Back in the day it was illegal to be Catholic. The original owners of the house were sympathisers so built little hidey-holes for priests on the run. Or so they say. I’ve yet to see evidence of this.’ She shrugged.
‘Man, your school is so much cooler than mine.’
Creamy moonlight flooded the landing, catching Caine’s cheekbone and lips. All of a sudden, Bloody Mary was purged from Bobbie’s mind. ‘Okay.’ She pulled her dressing-gown belt tighter. ‘You sure you’ll find your way out?’
‘I wedged the kitchen door open with a rock.’
‘They teach you that in Croydon?’ Bobbie couldn’t resist and Caine beamed back.
‘Oi! Don’t be talking smack about the Croydon massiv’!’ he grinned. ‘Nah. It’s a dump. Better off out here in the sticks.’
There was a long silence. It probably wasn’t
that
long, but it felt like an eternity. Bobbie knew that moments like these, goodbyes, needed filling. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. If this were one of her stories, her main character –
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