Birdy (16 page)

‘What?’ Bert said, looking at me. ‘What are you thinking?’

I realised I hadn’t said anything for a while – I’d been too busy thinking, the pieces slotting into place.

‘Oh, nothing …’ I said. ‘It’s nothing.’

I was deliberately making it sound like
not
nothing. I didn’t want to go blurting out accusations, and for Bert to think I was going off on some deranged ramble. It hadn’t been that long since I’d blamed Jac for all this, and you know what they say about crying wolf. I needed Bert to drag it out of me.

‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

I sighed, and pushed myself off the sink. I paced over to the opposite wall of the toilets and leant back against it, my hands behind my back. ‘OK,’ I said with another sigh. ‘But you’re going to have to hear me out. Right to the end.’

Bert frowned. ‘OK …’

‘Think about Pippa,’ I said.

‘Pippa? What do you mean?’

‘It makes sense. Think about it.’

Bert pulled a face. ‘What, you think …? No. That’s absurd.’

‘It’s not, Bert,’ I said gently. ‘Think about it. I mean, think about where all this started – with that graffiti on your locker. And when was that? A few days, maybe a week, after the whole Meadowrise thing. When you’d had the cheek to strop off in the middle of one of her big charity projects.’

‘But that –’ Bert began.

I cut her off. ‘Just hear me out,’ I said firmly.

She was quiet again.

‘Then what happens next? You get that note. And again, look at the timing. Right after you got offered the part of Dorothea. The part
Pippa
wanted.’

Bert looked down. ‘But I thought … I thought she took that rather well.’

‘Yes, but you don’t know what resentment was bubbling under the surface. That’s the thing with people like Pippa, Bert. They don’t explode. They don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. They brood. They play the long game.’

Bert’s brow was furrowed but she didn’t say anything.

I went on. ‘So then everything goes quiet for a while – you and Pippa buddy up during rehearsals, she wins you over. But then, it’s opening night. It’s your big moment, time to go on stage after all your preparation, but just before you make your entrance, that email goes around and makes quite sure that everyone’s more interested in your crush on Mr Allenby than your performance on stage.’

Bert sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. I could see she knew I was making sense. She had to admit it was a strong case.

‘But then today … the
photos … why?’

I thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I don’t know for sure. But I think there’s a good chance she’s just trying to shake you up. Make sure you’re a nervous wreck before tonight’s performance, not to mention the TV interview. And remember, she was right there, wasn’t she? It was her who appeared from nowhere and asked you for your notes, her who made you spill the whole pile of them right in front of everyone.’

Bert held a paper towel in her hand. She twisted it round and round, shredding it to pieces. ‘Oh God,’ she groaned, looking upwards. ‘This is all my fault. I’ve been such an idiot.’

I went back over to Bert’s side of the toilets. I put my arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze. ‘Of course it’s not your fault, silly. It’s her. All her.’

Bert shook her head. ‘No, I mean, I … I told her. About Richard.’

‘Richard?’ I said, turning to look Bert in the face. ‘What did you tell her? And when?’

‘Everything,’ Bert wailed. ‘I told her the whole lot. I can’t remember when exactly, one evening at her house. After rehearsals.’

‘So she knew before that email went round?’

Bert nodded forlornly.

I sighed. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘OK. Well I guess you don’t need me to tell you that you shouldn’t have trusted her but at least … well at least one thing’s clear. We’ve definitely got our culprit.’

‘I knew it,’ Bert said, shaking her head. ‘I
knew
I hadn’t been so drunk that I’d told people at the party. I would’ve remembered something like that.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you’d already told Pippa about Richard?’ I asked. ‘The day the email went round? It would’ve been obvious to me then that it was her. We could’ve ended this there and then.’

Bert just shrugged and stuck her chin out. ‘Don’t know,’ she said sulkily. ‘I just didn’t ever think it would’ve been her. I thought she was … decent.’ Bert looked away into the middle distance for a second but then she shook her head suddenly, like she was trying to snap herself out of her gloom. ‘OK, so. Now what? We should speak to Mr Hurst about our concerns. Or Mr Jeffrey? I really don’t want to get my parents involved though. They’d go mad if they knew I’d taken those photos. Do you think they’ll keep it, you know, just between us?’

I shook my head. ‘There’s no point getting any of that lot involved. Teachers, I mean. Pippa’s too … too clever. She knows how to play them. She’ll wheedle her way out of it.’

‘What, then?’ Bert said, looking at me. ‘What shall I do? Shall I confront her directly?’

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘You do nothing. Nothing at all. I want you to act like we don’t know anything. Go back up there, act like you’re feeling much better and ready to put the whole thing behind you. Be exactly the same with Pippa as before – be friendly as usual, make your normal plans. Leave her to me. I’ll sort this out.’

I was rather impressed with myself at this point, how capable and in control I sounded. There was no way Bert could’ve known I had no idea what I was going to do, not really. I was sure I could work something out though.

Bert looked like she was going to argue or at least ask questions, but just then a couple of girls from our year came into the toilets. One of them had a packet of cigarettes and I stared at them hoping they’d see they were interrupting and leave but they obviously weren’t the type to be easily put off. One of them just gave me a little sneer and they headed into a cubicle together. I decided it was time to get going.

‘Come on,’ I said to Bert. ‘Let’s get back. When we get there, Mrs Hart and everyone else are going to want to know if you’re OK, going to want to talk about it and all that, so just play it cool, OK? Shake them off. We need to do this my way.’

‘Do what your way?’ Bert said.

‘You’ll see,’ I said confidently.

When we got back to geography, Pippa made a big show of giving the photos back to Bert.

‘Here you go,’ she said, looking at her earnestly. ‘And don’t worry, I got the lot.’ She gave Bert a sympathetic smile as she handed them over.

Bert took them off her slightly hesitantly. I was worried she was going to crumble for a minute so I shot her a look that said, ‘Be normal,’ and she managed to break into a grateful smile and bury the naked pictures at the bottom of her bag.

Luckily, Mrs Hart is the impatient sort who doesn’t have much time for children and their silly teenage dramas so was keen to press on with the lesson without further ado, which meant Bert’s acting wasn’t tested any more. I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the normal act with Pippa for long though.

A plan was starting to form but I knew I needed to act quickly if it was going to work.

The operation began that evening. I insisted that we both went to Bert’s house after school. That was important – I needed to make sure that her parents saw me arrive.

‘What’s going on?’ she whined. ‘Why do we need to be at my house? Why are you being so mysterious?’

I just shook my head. I didn’t want Bert to get wind of anything and start flapping about and making a fuss, but I did need to make sure she understood her role.

‘I need you to stay up here, in the den,’ I told her. ‘If your parents come up, say I’m in the loo or something. Whatever happens, today, later – I’ve been here the whole time, with you, OK? You’ll know everything by the end of the day, I promise. You’re just going to have to trust me for a bit.’

‘Promise me you’re not going to do anything that could get us into trouble.’

‘Promise. I’m just going to talk to Pippa. That’s all.’ And I meant it.

‘Then let me come. We’ll have it out with her together.’

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘It’ll work better if it’s just me. She’s too … rehearsed with you.’

With Bert in position and her role understood, the next phase of my plan was to make my way to the school hall without anyone seeing me. This wasn’t exactly easy in full daylight, but it wasn’t impossible either. I pulled my hood up to cover my face – that way even if anyone did notice a figure creeping around the back of the hall and in the stage door no one would be able to say with any certainty it was me. As it happened though, there wasn’t anyone around as I got nearer school. As Bert had told me earlier, everyone involved in the play was having a ‘well-deserved down day’ ahead of the grand finale tomorrow.

I was a bit nervous as I pushed the stage door open. I’d carefully tracked conversations all morning and drilled Bert for all the details of people’s movements and as far as I could tell, if everyone stuck to their plans, Pippa should be up there, backstage on her own, clearing a space and setting up chairs ready for the big TV interview. I just hoped that nothing had changed, that Pippa hadn’t roped someone into helping her.

Pippa spun round when she heard the door open. I stepped onto the stage, taking a moment to check out my surroundings. Yes. Everything was as I’d hoped. We were alone.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Pippa said coolly, throwing me only a quick glance before she stood back and surveyed the furniture arrangement in front of her. ‘What do you want?’ Pippa might have turned on the charm for Bert but she was still as frosty as ever when we were on our own.

I didn’t reply straight away. I just watched Pippa as she busied about, tidying costumes and props out of the way. I didn’t have a script prepared. I was just going to have to play it by ear from here.

She picked up Bert’s Dorothea costume from the floor and hung it on a hanger on the costume rail.

‘It was a shame, wasn’t it,’ I said, perching on the arm of one of the lumpy old armchairs the old people sit on at the beginning of the play. ‘About that email coming out. You know, just before the show and everything. Distracted people a bit, didn’t it.’

Pippa hung her own costume on the rail – a long dress with daisies all over it, her orange wig hanging over one shoulder.

‘Yes,’ she said, her face grim. ‘
Such
a shame.’

‘And the photos too,’ I went on. ‘Shame about that too. No one wants the whole class to see them naked.’

Pippa turned around and to look at me. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘No they don’t.’

She was staring at me now. I stared back. This was already a battle.

I flopped down in the chair, my legs dangling over the arm. The seat was lower than I’d thought it would be and I felt silly – like a rag doll, all folded in on itself. I didn’t want to scramble back out though, and admit my mistake. That would look even sillier. I just had to style it out. I put my hands behind my head and leant back. That was better. The casual pose suited the conversation. Made me seem relaxed. In control.

‘Bert’s not like us, you know,’ I said after a while.

‘No. She’s not.’

‘She’s … naive sometimes. Too trusting, don’t you think?’ I jerked my head upright so I was looking directly at Pippa, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Pippa stayed glued to the spot, watching me warily. I could tell she was trying to work out where this was going.

‘What do you want?’ she said eventually. Then she laughed suddenly. ‘Seriously, Frances, you’re such a
strange
little person. Always creeping around, trailing behind Bert. What do you
want
?’

She laughed again, her little stubby teeth and acres of gum all showing. I hated her so much at that moment. It was all I could do to stop myself rushing over there and punching her in her stupid face. I’d had enough of the mind games, the trying to psyche each other out. It was time to get to the point.

‘Bert knows, Pippa. We know everything. We worked it out.’ It was my turn to laugh now. ‘You weren’t exactly subtle. Never consider life as a career criminal.’

Pippa stared at me, her face blank. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I said impatiently. I pushed myself out of my chair and stood up, facing her. ‘You do realise that that’s the exact line that every guilty person in history has come out with when they’ve been confronted? Couldn’t you think of something a bit more original?’

Pippa just frowned. She wasn’t really putting up a convincing defence so far. ‘What?’

I sighed. ‘Look, Pippa. We both know the truth now. There’s no one else here. Just us. So can we skip all the boring denial stuff and get to the bit where we strike a bargain? Then we can both get out of here and get on with our day.’

‘I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.’

I went around the back of the chairs where Pippa had left her bag – a light grey shoulder bag decorated with badges bearing various charitable slogans: ‘Save the rainforest’, ‘Make cakes not war’. I held the bag up.

‘That’s mine,’ Pippa said. ‘Leave it.’

I ignored her. Instead, I unzipped the top.

‘I said get off!’ she said, making a lunge for it.

But I was too fast for her. I whipped the bag away from her and stood up on the arm of the chair, the bag high above my head. ‘Oh I
bet
you don’t want me to look. But why? That’s the question. What have you got to hide?’

I didn’t wait for her to reply. I opened the bag, turned it upside down and let the contents tumble to the floor. Then I jumped down from the chair and we both stared at the pile of books, scraps of paper, lip gloss and other debris that had fallen out. Pippa’s face was pink, her eyes shining and her teeth gritted. I was careful to keep my expression cool. It wouldn’t do to look too ferocious, too wild.

‘Well, then,’ I said, crouching down. ‘What’ve we got here?’

I reached forward and picked up a little wodge of photos. There were about ten or twelve there I guessed, all bundled together with an elastic band.

‘Photos, I see,’ I said, holding them up. ‘Holiday snaps, is it?’ I flicked through. Exactly as I knew they would be, they were all of Bert. Bert in various states of undress. ‘Oh!’ I said, in mock surprise. ‘Blimey.
Not
holiday snaps. Why have you got these in your bag, Pippa?’

‘What?’ she said. ‘Give them here.’

I ignored her, still flicking through. There were a few of Bert with Richard there too, their faces pushed close together as they held the camera out in front of them.

‘Oh, you found some of the man himself this time, did you?’ I said. ‘Well done. That’ll help prove your point, won’t it? People will
have
to believe her
disgusting married-man affair once they see these.’

I tossed them down onto the pile and surveyed the scene again.

‘What else have we got?’ My eyes fell on an envelope. It wasn’t hard to miss – it was bright pink and decorated with little hearts, drawn on in Biro. ‘Mr Allenby’, it said on the front. I picked it up. It was soft, stuffed full with something. I lifted the flap and pulled out a pair of lacy knickers. Quite possibly the same pink ones that Bert had on in the photos. As I tugged at them a little note fell out with them. I recognised the paper at once – it was the same graph paper that Bert’s threatening note had been written on. And when I unfolded it, the little blocky handwriting was the same too. I read it out.

MR ALLENBY

KEEP THESE UNDER YOUR PILLOW,

LOVE ALBERTA

‘What’s this then, Pippa?’ I asked lightly. ‘Bert ask you to pass these on did she? Or was this the next step in your little plan? Your little scheme to ruin Bert’s life? What were you going to do with them? Leave them on Allenby’s desk?’

Pippa glared at me. ‘You put that there,’ she said, her teeth still bared like a little terrier ready for a fight. ‘All of it.’

I’d expected this line of defence. Pippa was too, too predictable.

‘OK,’ I said in a sing-song voice. ‘Let’s go with that line of reasoning for a minute shall we? Let’s say this is all just an elaborate set-up and you’re completely innocent. Let’s call Mr Jeffrey down here now. And Bert, let’s get her in too. That’s a good idea, because at the moment, she
sort of
thinks it was you, but she’s not convinced. She doesn’t
want
to believe that her dear friend Pippa has been going behind her back all this time. But if I bring her here, show her this, she won’t have any choice.’

Pippa didn’t say anything. I was still holding the knickers up but I felt silly waving them around like that so I tossed them back down on the pile. Pippa followed them with her eyes.

‘
Or
, we can make a bargain,’ I went on. ‘That’s why I came here, remember? To find you. To make a deal.’

‘What deal?’

I went over to the corner of the stage and collected a metal wastepaper bin. Then I gathered up the photos, the knickers, the bright pink envelope, the whole lot of it, and I dropped it all into the bin, pushing it down nice and tight.

‘In this bin is all the evidence of what you’ve been up to. I know what you’ve done and you know what you’ve done, but this is all the concrete proof. Sure, we can go through the long-winded process of calling Mr Jeffrey in here, getting Bert in, you denying it all, the formal investigation … blah blah blah. But how long will that take? Do you think they’re going to let you go ahead with your big TV debut with this hanging over you? Do you really think Bert’s going to cosy up to you now, when she knows what you’ve done?’ I laughed suddenly. ‘In fact, it’d be just like Bert to blurt the whole thing out on live TV.’

Pippa just looked at me. ‘Sorry, so what’s your point? I’m not really keeping up with this little charade. What exactly do you want, Frances?’

‘I want you out of the way. Off the scene. Out of the picture.’

Pippa frowned, then looked down, into the bucket filled with photos. ‘You want what?’

‘I want you to leave Bert alone. I want you to stop hassling her, stop spending time with her at all. You’re evil, Brookman. People like Bert are too good for people like you.’

Pippa rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘God, Frances, you’re so weird.’

I ignored her and neither of us spoke for a moment or two.

‘For God’s sake!’ Pippa said, suddenly throwing her hands up. ‘What will it take to make you – and all this,’ she waved her hands towards the bin, ‘just go away? To disappear and let me get on with things here?’

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘that’s easy. All I want is your word.’

‘My word?’ she repeated, one eyebrow raised. ‘What word is that exactly?’

‘I just want your word that you’ll back off. You’ll finish your little show tomorrow, and then you’ll leave Bert alone. No more hanging around her, no more hassle.’

Of course, the idea that Pippa’s word would ever mean anything to me – that I’d ever trust her to do what she’d said she would – was ridiculous, but that wasn’t the point. I didn’t care whether she promised to stay away from Bert or not. The important bit was the next bit. The bit where I took control.

‘If you give me your word, I’ll give you this,’ I said, holding the bin up. ‘And you can burn it. Burn it all. All the evidence – gone.’ I nodded towards a box of safety matches, sitting on top of the piano.

Pippa snorted. ‘I’m not going to burn it!’

Of course I hadn’t had long to put the plan together but as I’d been working through it, I’d assumed that Pippa would jump at the chance to destroy the evidence. It was all quite damning after all. My whole scheme rested on her taking me up on the offer and on her being caught in the act. I honestly hadn’t anticipated her arguing at this point. I had to think on my feet.

‘No?’ I said, lightly. ‘Well, well, well. What kind of friend does that make you? Here you are, with a whole pile of stuff that Bert would be horrified to know you have, and I’m offering you the chance to get rid of it, but you don’t want to. You want to hold onto it. I’ve got to wonder why, Pippa. Either you want to use it for your evil campaign of terror or otherwise … otherwise you just want it for yourself.’ I pulled my face into a disgusted grimace. ‘I don’t know which is worse.’

I reached over and took the matches from the piano. I held them out to her. ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Do the right thing, Pippa. For once.’

‘No!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m not going to set fire to anything, you lunatic! Get Bert down here if you want. This stuff isn’t proof of anything. There’s nothing to prove I took those photos from Bert, nothing to prove I wrote that note. You’ve got nothing, Frances. Frances
Frankenstein
.’

I’d had enough of her by this point. I lost my cool. ‘For God’s sake!’ I shouted. Then I roughly pulled the box of matches open and took one out. I struck it and it fizzed into life. I dropped it into the bin. It went out immediately.

Pippa laughed. ‘So much for your towering inferno.’

I glared at her, then I took a couple of sheets of newspaper that were lying on the floor, screwed them into a ball and tossed them into the bin too.

‘Hey!’ Pippa said. ‘That’s a prop!’

‘So buy another newspaper!’ I yelled. I didn’t care if I looked wild now. I felt wild.

I struck another match and dropped that one in. The newspaper caught straight away, and soon the photos were alight too, their edges curling, images of Bert and Richard warping into something quite hideous before our eyes.

‘Happy now?’ Pippa asked, one hand on her hip, the fire crackling next to us.

The fire seemed to catch whatever was in the bin and was burning away quite nicely. But it was then that I noticed Pippa’s costume. The fabric belt of her daisy dress was dangling in the bin and the flames had started to crawl up it, towards her dress, towards her wig. Towards the whole costume rail.

‘Oh yes,’ I laughed, nodding towards the burning dress. ‘Very happy.’

Pippa sprang into action. ‘Shit!’ she said, darting over to the other side of the stage and grabbing a blanket from a table. ‘The costumes! Quick, help me put it out! The whole lot’s going to go up!’ She tossed the blanket onto the fire, I suppose in an effort to smother the flames, but the blanket just ended up catching fire too.

At this point the gathering smoke must’ve reached the hall’s fire alarm because a piercingly shrill ringing noise surrounded us.

I laughed. ‘How’s that for a towering inferno?’ I shouted over the noise.

I turned and headed for the stage door. It was time to make my exit. I slipped outside assuming that Pippa wouldn’t be far behind – surely even saving the costumes for the stupid play wasn’t worth hanging around in a flame-filled room, even Pippa would see that.

It was just as I was closing the door behind me that I heard the noise. It wasn’t really a bang, more of a crack. Like a firework going off. I jumped.

And then I ran.