A Royal Match (40 page)

My voice was weak with horror as I chased after her. ‘A bit missing off
what
?’

Star was running along purposefully, pausing to peer into hedges and shrubs as she replied casually, ‘Only her ear. I suppose it’s mostly blood, but can we stop discussing Absinthe? The main thing is finding Brian.’

We dashed a little farther along the net ball court, checking along the longer grass that ran along the fencing for Brian. Coming out of the chapel, we were stopped by a group of seven elderly nuns who were holding hands. They were all really small and old but ever so friendly.

‘Hello, girls!’ they called out in their thin little nun voices. ‘Isn’t it a lovely day for a stroll?’

‘Yes, sisters,’ I agreed, joining Star as she fell to the ground to run her hands through a patch of long grass.

‘Enjoying the fresh air, are we?’ one of them enquired sweetly.

‘No, I’ve lost my snake,’ Star explained, desperately.

‘Oh heavens, I do hope he’s not lost,’ one of them said. The others all agreed fervently. Some of the elderly nuns are a bit potty.

‘I just told you he
is
lost,’ Star insisted, trying not to get cross with them. Looking up at their little soft faces creased with years of prayer and concern, it was hard to be cross.

‘Heavens, Star, not dear little Brian!’ they exclaimed in
one voice. They looked as stricken by her loss as she was as they clutched their rosary beads.

‘In that case we must all go back into the chapel immediately and say a prayer to Saint Anthony for your snake,’ said Sister Joseph firmly.

‘What a good idea, Sister,’ another nun said.

The others all nodded.

‘Yes, Sister Michael, remember he found your glasses this morning before we’d even got down on our knees, didn’t he?’

‘Did he?’ Sister Michael looked a little vacant.

‘Yes, Sister, he always does the trick, does Saint Anthony.’

We left them chatting about the marvels of Saint Anthony as we legged it to the next patch of shrubbery.

‘Poor Absinthe,’ I muttered. ‘You don’t think it could have been Brian that … ?’ I asked, because she hadn’t made that bit clear.

She was scouring a large shrub outside the main building as she replied, ‘Don’t be absurd, Brian wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not that I’d blame him – if he did eat the ear, that is. Absinthe makes the most hateful faces at him when there’s no one around to supervise.’

Now she was going too far. As much as I’d love to hate Honey’s rabbit, she was a sweet little thing, much nicer than last season’s rabbit, Claudine, who was always biting. Absinthe might be ridiculously mauve, but she didn’t have a mean bone in her body as far as I knew. ‘That’s not true,
Star, she’s just a little rabbit, and how’s Honey going to feel when she finds out?’

‘Honey?’ She coughed and pretended to fall over. ‘Honey,
feel
? Ha! You of all people know what she’s like.’

There was nothing I could say to that, so after helping her scour all the shrubbery around the main building, we legged it up the narrow stairwell towards our dorm rooms.

‘He’s so incredibly intelligent, Calypso; you’re always saying so yourself.’

It’s true. I do always agree with Star that her snake is intelligent, sensitive and even cuddly, but I only say those things because I love Star so much. Truth is, I’m a bit afraid of Brian and his beady eyes and flicking tongue. I know he’s not poisonous or anything, but if looks could kill, all the pets in the shed would be dead.

‘So that’s why I’ve been teaching him this special skill,’ she announced.

‘What sort of skill?’

‘Well, I wanted to be sure that he knows his way around the school so he can come and find me if he’s upset or something.’

‘Brian’s a snake, Star, not a homing pigeon.’

‘He’s always showing Daddy around our manor when he gets lost.’

Given that Star’s father is perpetually stoned and spends most of his time lying unconscious on the floor, I wasn’t madly impressed by this skill, but I kept my doubts to myself.

‘That’s why I leave his cage open. So he’ll come and find me if something’s wrong. Hilda’s taken Brian’s disappearance very badly, by the way.’

‘Hilda?’ I repeated, before I could stop myself. I swear, Star’s rat, Hilda, thinks of nothing but escaping Brian. She’s always running dementedly around in her little rat wheel. I couldn’t accept that she wouldn’t be throwing her little rat paws in the air at Brian’s disappearance.

But as I trotted along the corridor after my friend, I made what sympathetic noises I could. I know it sounds bad, but a part of me was actually pleased that I was the one Star had come to find in her hour of need. It was just like old times.

‘This is the main route I’ve been teaching him, see. I wanted him to know how to find me in the night. He’s nocturnal and pines for me. You know at home he always sleeps with me.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, remembering our exeat weekend. Whenever I stay with Star I’m always afraid that I’ll wake up with Brian around my neck.

As we dashed into Star’s room she began to cry hopelessly. ‘I can’t bear thinking about him being lost, frightened, dazed and confused. What if he gets run over?’

I put my arms around her. ‘He’s got a good head on his shoulders,’ I told her, as if Brian was some madly sensible being (with shoulders), which I promise you he’s not. I mean, for a snake he’s bright enough I guess, but …

We started to strip-search the room. I helped her check in all the cupboards and drawers, tearing all her bedding apart because Star was convinced he liked to cuddle up to her
smell
.

We’d already missed lunch, which was bad enough because we would have to have a talk from Sister Dumpster about the dangers of anorexia. If we didn’t find Brian in the next few minutes we were going to have to tell Sister Constance that she had a six-foot reticulated python on the loose.

I repeated this realisation to Star, who started to cry even harder. ‘We
can’t
do that, Calypso. Sister will totally overreact and ban him from the pet shed.’

‘We’ll have to, Star, otherwise, well, he could …’ I trailed off, not wanting to accuse Brian of anything – especially as Star wasn’t even convinced that he was actually responsible for nibbling Absinthe’s ear.

I was opening Indie’s bed drawer when Star cried out, ‘Brian!’ and her tears of despair turned to tears of joy. But as I went over to cuddle her – Star that is, not Brian – all was not as well as I’d hoped. Brian was coiled around another rabbit, which he was in the process of swallowing.

I screamed in horror, and at that moment Honey came running in, followed by Miss Bibsmore. We grappled with Brian and what turned out to be Tobias, Georgina’s teddy bear and lifelong companion. And before you think to yourself ‘Oh well, he’s just a
toy
,’ remember, as far as
Georgina’s concerned, he’s her soul mate, with opinions on a wide variety of subjects. Oh, and let’s also not forget that Georgina’s father pays twenty-four thousand pounds a year in school fees so that Tobias can attend classes.

As we struggled to free Georgina’s beloved bear from the jaws of death, Tobias’s insides burst, and there, concealed in a muddle of fluff, was Georgina’s Tiffany flask. Or rather her mother’s Tiffany flask, which I suspected contained a stash of vodka.

Miss Bibsmore grabbed the flask, opened it up and sniffed the contents. Star was totally oblivious to anything as she rapturously cuddled and stroked her snake. Honey stood behind her nemesis, giggling.

Miss Bibsmore turned to her. ‘You think this is funny, do you, madam?’

Honey didn’t stop laughing as Miss Bibsmore waved the flask in her face. ‘I presume by your inappropriate laughter that this item is yours then, madam!’

Honey sneered so hard the uneven bubble of collagen in her upper lip looked like a giant blister about to burst. ‘Don’t be insane. Why would it be mine? This isn’t even my room!’

‘I may not have all the whys and wherefores yet, missy, but mark my words, I’m on to you, Miss O’Hare.’

‘And my daddy’s lawyers are on to you, so I’d be very
careful about defaming my reputation if I were
you
, Miss Bibsmore.’

‘If you were
me
? If you were
me
?’ Miss Bibsmore squealed and then cackled mirthlessly in a mad-ish sort of way. ‘If you were me, you’d know what it is like looking after ungrateful, spoilt girls like yourself, Miss O’Hare. You wouldn’t last a day on my legs.’

Honey, her hands on her hips, rolled her yes and replied, ‘Oh, go back to your squalid nineteen-fifties-decorated flat, you mad old witch.’

Miss Bibsmore ignored her as she took another sniff of the flask and then stuck one of her stumpy fingers inside, tipped it up and licked her finger loudly. She looked around at us, taking in each girl in turn with a piercing look that seemed to reach right down to our very souls – well, that’s how it felt to me. Honey merely flopped idly on Indie’s bed and started shuffling through the stuff in her bedside drawer. Star ignored her too, as she was still stroking Brian. And as for Tobias, well, he was lying lifelessly on the floor with his inside fluff spewing out, so his soul was bared for all to see anyway.

‘Well, is anyone going to own up to this?’ Miss Bibsmore demanded, holding the flask in the air. ‘Because it didn’t get ‘ere by magic!’

Honey looked up innocently. ‘How do we know it’s not yours, Miss Bibsmore?’

‘Don’t you cheek me, Missy; I’ll have your guts for garters, I will an’ all.’

Honey looked the picture of blonde-haired blue-eyed innocence. ‘I’m not cheeking you, Miss Bibsmore. I’m being deadly serious. How do we know you’re not a secret drunk? Or perhaps you planted it? People like you are always planting things because you’re bored and envious. I know it must be hard for you, being surrounded by beautiful teenage girls day and night, but really, Miss Bibsmore, turning to drink is
never
a solution.’ Honey said all this casually, without even looking up as she searched more deeply in Indie’s bedside cabinet.

Miss Bibsmore shuffled over towards her. ‘The only thing I’ll be planting, Miss O’Hare, is a mountain of blues on top of you.’

Honey remained unfazed. ‘Well, given that the flask was found on Tobias, common sense would seem to dictate it is his. After all, he’s always been a bit out there, hasn’t he, darling?’ She directed this comment to Star, who predictably enough ignored her.

‘I suppose you think that’s funny, Miss O’Hare?’

Honey ignored her. ‘Oh, look, Indie uses a vibrator,’ she declared as she pulled a pair of hair-straightening tongs out of Indie’s drawer.

Miss Bibsmore raised her voice. ‘I’ll ask again. Who is responsible for
this
,’ she yelled menacingly, holding out the flask.

‘Sorry, are you offering us a drink, Miss?’ Honey asked blinking innocently. ‘Because I wouldn’t want to have to report you, Miss Bibsmore.’

Star and I said nothing. I was hoping that if we stayed quiet for long enough, Miss Bibsmore would grow tired of standing there holding up the flask and shuffle off. Deep down I knew that wasn’t likely, but Honey had turned on the straightening tongs and was using them on her hair, which created this weird sense that everything was actually completely normal. Just another day in dorm-hell with Honey that would eventually pass just like all the others had.

‘Lost the power of speech ‘ave we, girls? Well perhaps you can tell me who owns the bear, then?’

I looked at poor Tobias and wondered how Georgina was going to take it, seeing him splattered on the floor like roadkill. But I reminded myself that she must have opened him up and concealed the flask inside him in the first place, and then Star announced, ‘It’s my bear, Miss Bibsmore.’

‘Yours?’ Miss Bibsmore repeated, as if not quite accepting the fact.

‘Yes. Mine, Miss.’

‘Pass me the bear,’ Miss Bibsmore insisted.

Honey bent down, grabbed the ripped Tobias with all his insides coming out and flung him at her. Miss Bibsmore caught him adroitly and examined him carefully. ‘Well, I can’t see a name tag so at the very least whoever owns the item’ll be receiving two blue tickets, one for ‘aving a personal item untagged and another for having a pet in the dorm,’ she said, pointing to Brian. ‘As for this’ –
she held up the flask again – ‘we’ll have to see what Sister Constance has to say. You can come with me,’ she said, pointing to Star. ‘As can you, madam,’ she added, pointing a gnarled finger at Honey.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you, Miss O’Hare. Now hurry along; you can carry the bear and the flask, and no funny business neither.’

‘Why me? This isn’t even my room, that’s not my bear and I haven’t got a pet in the dorm.’

Miss Bibsmore pressed her face close to Honey’s. ‘Because, Miss O’Hare, I don’t like the cut of your jib.’

‘I’ll come too,’ I blurted.

Miss Bibsmore looked at me beadily. ‘If you wish. But I don’t advise it, Miss Kelly.’

Star shook her head at me, a gesture that caught Miss Bibsmore’s eye.

‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I smell a rat.’