A Royal Match (41 page)

For a moment I thought she meant Hilda, but then I realised the seriousness of the matter and began to contemplate the consequences of what could happen. A sinking feeling fell upon me as I followed Star and Brian, who were following Honey with Tobias and the flask. Behind us was the sinister
tap, tap, tapping
of Miss Bibsmore’s stick as we made our way to Sister Constance’s office.

As we filed down the corridors lined with a century’s worth of photographs of illustrious old girls, shelves of trophies, plaques and other evidence of their achievements,
I felt humbled and unworthy. I’d never really imagined a plaque to Calypso Kelly, but the realisation that I might
never
have one made me feel like I was squandering my life.

I know that probably sounds quite melodramatic for a fourteen- (and nine-and-a-half-months) year-old, but then Sarah doesn’t call me Queen of the Doomsday Prophesies for nothing.

Sister Constance sat at her desk serenely as Miss Bibsmore explained the events of the last ten minutes. Sister didn’t interrupt or ask any questions; she merely made a sort of steeple with her fingers and nodded as each of the items – Tobias, the Tiffany flask, and the issue of Brian – were laid one by one on her desk.

Sister Constance’s ominous silence, combined with the sombre and detailed way in which Miss Bibsmore explained the case, lent a courtroom-like atmosphere to Sister’s office.

Eventually Sister said, ‘Thank you, Miss Bibsmore, you can leave this with me. I know how busy your schedule is.’

‘Right you are, Sister,’ Miss Bibsmore agreed. Clearly she would have preferred to stay. Nonetheless, she backed
out the door reverentially but stopped short of leaving. ‘With all due respect, if you want my opinion, Sister, Miss O’Hare is the most likely culprit. I’ve had my suspicions about her since I first laid eyes on her, I have.’

Sister Constance nodded as if taking this on board. ‘Thank you, Miss Bibsmore. I’ll take it from here.’

So for the next hour (probably around five minutes but it felt like an hour) we all sat gathered around the desk, gazing and contemplating the evidence in total silence. Sister Constance appeared to be thinking, or at least praying very hard. I looked up at the giant crucifix on the wall above her and began to wonder about Absinthe and whether I should interrupt Sister’s thought/prayer process and tell Honey that her rabbit had been attacked by Star’s snake. But just at that moment, Honey pulled a Chanel compact from her pocket and started looking at herself.

‘Miss O’Hare,’ Sister Constance spoke in a warning tone.

Star and I simultaneously took our lip-gloss from our pockets and began to apply.

‘Do you think I need more Botox, Sister? I mean, obviously I don’t have any lines like you, but it does give your eyes a bit of a lift,’ she enquired chattily, demonstrating how she’d look with higher brows by stretching the skin on her forehead.

Sister Constance sighed wearily. ‘You are a very silly girl, Miss O’Hare, and rather than looking to a mirror
for guidance, you should pray to our Blessed Virgin Mother.’

Honey rolled her eyes at me. I pretended not to notice.

‘Let’s discuss the evidence here, shall we?’ Sister continued. ‘A snake.’ She gestured to Brian, whom Star was still stroking. ‘And a flask of what appears to be vodka, according to Miss Bibsmore.’

‘Can I just interrupt for a moment, Sister?’ asked Honey, continuing without waiting for an answer. ‘I frequently smell alcohol on Miss Bibsmore’s breath.’

‘No, Honey, you may not utter a word unless I ask you a specific question. Then of course there is Georgina’s bear, Tobias,’ she added as she gently patted the remains, which were strewn forlornly across her desk.

‘No, Sister, like I told Miss Bibsmore, the bear is mine,’ Star cut in.

‘Yes, I’ve grasped the ludicrousness of your claim, thank you, Star,’ she said gently. ‘But Tobias has been a fee-paying student of this school as long as Miss Castle Orpington has, and I place my reputation on recognising
all
my pupils and their family associations.’

Star blushed and looked strangely stuck for words.

‘Perhaps the first thing we need to do is place Brian back in the pet shed so that you can focus on the seriousness of the matter at hand. You might also ask Georgina to come and see me.’

‘Yes, Sister,’ Star agreed, and backed out of the room with Brian, leaving just Honey and me.

Honey snapped her compact shut and stood up angrily. ‘Well, as it wasn’t even my room the flask was found in, I don’t see why I should be kept from my next class,’ she complained. ‘Daddy would be furious!’ She looked like she was about to explode with exasperation, and even though she’s the nastiest girl that god ever breathed life into, I felt it was time to step in.

‘Actually, Sister, Honey’s rabbit’s been injured and the vet’s been called. Georgina’s at the pet shed now waiting for him to arrive.’

‘What?’ cried Honey with a look of genuine despair on her face. I felt really, really terrible for a moment, before realising the fallout that would ensue when she discovered that her rabbit’s attacker was probably Star’s snake.

‘How did this happen?’ Sister Constance asked calmly, looking directly at me.

I did a little cough. ‘Well, see, the thing is, Sister. Well. That is, we can’t be sure but we think, maybe, only maybe though, when Brian escaped he might have taken a bit of a nibble …’ I trailed off, unable to bring myself to directly accuse Brian of anything that would have him banned from the pet shed, because that would destroy Star. ‘But we’re not really sure, and he’s always been such a kind snake, so it would seem very unlikely …’

‘That bitch!’ screeched Honey. ‘I knew something like this would happen,’ she spat. ‘It’s ridiculous that you allow a snake in the pet shed, Sister,’ she railed. Which is a bit rich given that Star’s father had paid for a centrally heated
pet shed for all the pets and a separate glass aquarium area for Brian and Hilda to be housed in.

Without waiting for permission to leave, Honey stormed out of the room, and that was that. Sister Constance and I were now alone. We sat for the next few minutes in silence, breathing in the aromas of frankincense, old books and an open box of butterscotch, which was beside a statue of Mary on her desk. Finally the bell went, at which time she told me I could go to class and return with the others after supper.

Honey’s righteous fury over Brian’s attack on Absinthe should have been short-lived but for the fact that Honey adores being right and furious more than cats enjoy stalking mice and licking cream. Enjoying the combination of both emotions together was too delicious for her.

Even I felt ashamed for having blamed Brian when what had really gone wrong was all Honey’s fault. Poor Absinthe had caught her paw in one of the enormous hoops Honey had pierced her ears with and had torn her own ear when she tried to move.

‘You’re too tragic to even speak to,’ Star told Honey when she came into our room before supper.

‘I don’t want to believe that people like you even exist,’ added Indie as she trailed in after her.

There wasn’t much I could add to that. Also I was in the bed next to Honey’s and had my mattress to consider.

Portia put down her magazine and smiled in her regal way at Star and Indie, who smiled back, and then we all
huddled on the floor for a confab on Georgina’s fate. Honey was looking at herself in the mirror at the time and didn’t deign to respond, let alone grace the floor with her presence.

‘So no one’s seen Georgina since she was left to wait for the vet earlier in the day?’ Indie asked.

‘You don’t think they’ve expelled her?’ Portia asked in a low whisper as the vet was ushered in by Miss Bibsmore.

This vet was really fit looking for a grown-up, although his dress sense was tragically retro. He was so adorable though, the way he delivered his diagnosis on Absinthe in the gentlest, kindest voice you can imagine. He looked as genuinely saddened by the whole affair as we were, apart from Honey. She was furious.

‘You mean you expect
me
to pay
you
for disfiguring my pet?’ she shrieked, her head spinning around on her neck – well, not really, but it looked like it was about to. ‘How dare you treat my rabbit without the permission of myself or my guardian!’ she screamed. ‘What am I meant to do with a rabbit with half an ear?’

‘Well, I was called to the school, so I just presumed …’

‘Ugh!’ she grunted. ‘That’s the trouble with people like
you
and your sorry red brick university degrees! You presume too much. If
I’d
been consulted I would have told you to put her out of my misery.’

Portia, Star, myself and even Indie were used to Honeyisms such as this. All in a day’s Honey. But as we looked up at the poor vet with his angelic tousled locks in an attempt
to convey our solidarity with him, I could tell he didn’t have a clue what he was up against.

‘You mean
her
misery,’ he corrected. The poor, sad, deluded sod. He really had no idea. He sat down on Honey’s bed as if he wanted to comfort her. ‘Sorry, Honey, isn’t it? Perhaps I haven’t explained myself clearly,’ he persevered. ‘Absinthe will be just fine. She’ll make a full recovery. She’s only torn part of her ear, but it will heal, and the main thing is she’s retained full hearing capability. I’ll drop by in a few days to remove the stitches and she’ll be right as rain, I promise you.’ He gave her shoulder a comforting little pat.

I caught Miss Bibsmore popping her head around the door and listening in on the scene as it played out, but Honey didn’t.

Honey turned to him, her eyes flashing like machine gun fire. ‘And I’m meant to take precisely
what
comfort from the news that I now have a disfigured pet? Are you suggesting that I throw good money after bad to keep a hideous half-eared rabbit alive? I could be spending your vet bill on a pair of rabbit-trimmed Gucci stilettos! You monstrous, money-grabbing pleb. Now get off my bed, you pervert.’

At the accusation of being a pervert, the vet dived off the bed and looked around at all of us. His plan of breaking the good news to a sweet teenage girl that her pet was going to be okay had crashed against the barriers of Honey’s unspeakable nastiness.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Honey cut over the top of him. ‘Well, hop to it!’ She clapped her hands. ‘Down to the pet shed, and put the wretched thing out of my misery.’

But the vet didn’t look like he was going to ‘hop’ anywhere. His whole demeanour changed before our eyes from fit, kindly, older man to a dangerous force of authority. I swear a cool, chilling breeze was blowing around him as he said: ‘Miss O’Hare, the only misery I know of is the lamentable attitude you and your friends have towards your pets. People like
you,’
he began, but I think he was too angry to go on because he started spluttering.

I felt sorry for him. Apart from Honey, I think we all were, so as he turned to leave, I began to blurt, ‘Can I just say, that, erm, well, it was super of you to come and help Absinthe and, erm … well, seriously, actually I think. Yes, that’s it, personally, and I think an enormous amount of people would agree, you’ve got a really cool and original dress sense for an old, I mean a grown-up. Yes, those retro corduroys are, well, well, they’re on trend this season, aren’t they? So that’s really cool, isn’t it?’

I wasn’t exactly waiting for applause, but when my blurt stopped, the entire room was silent. Everyone was looking at me blankly as if I was mental. I mean, his dress sense was seriously horrendous but it
was
original in a retro sad sort of way.

He had already put his hand on the door handle at
that point, but he turned back to face not Honey but me.

I knew my speech wasn’t as polished as it could have been, but I was shocked by the venomous look on his face. ‘That’s all you spoilt girls care about, isn’t it?’ he asked me directly. ‘Cool clothes and accessories, Daddy’s plastic and Mummy’s contacts. Well, none of that will help you once I’ve filed my report.’