Shattered (11 page)

I speed up and let Finley and Madison drop behind. Giving them some alone time, I tell myself, or is it just that I can’t watch them any more? I push my legs and muscles and one by one overtake the others who are slowing as the path steepens. Before long I reach John at the front.

‘Slow down there,’ he says cheerfully. ‘I can’t let you disappear ahead, and I can’t speed up and let the others drop behind.’

‘How about if I go ahead, but stay in sight? I ask, itching to just see open path in front of me.

‘Go on then. But don’t get too far ahead,’ he says. ‘Wait every now and then for us to catch up.’

I head out front. The snow has slowed like the weather report said it would, and the sky is lightening: the view opens up ahead.

The open path at my feet calls me forwards; every step I feel I’m getting closer to something without knowing what. I force myself to wait now and then for the others to catch up as promised, then take off again. The cloud gradually lifts, and one by one the surrounding peaks reveal themselves. Something inside is letting go, untwisting bit by bit.
This is where I belong
.

I reach some rocks; the wind has swept the snow away from this exposed place, leaving the glimmer of ice behind. A short scramble up is needed. Stella’s right: I am part mountain goat. I climb the rocks easily and wait at the top for the others at John’s wave. Most get up without much difficulty, but Madison looks alarmed and it doesn’t look like an act designed to get Finley’s attention. I scramble back down again and help her up before he notices.

Across the first ridge, another scramble, and then I’m alone on top of the world. The lake stretches out below, Keswick beyond. The other way, higher fells and steeper climbs call out to me, and I promise myself: another day.

Up here you can believe anything; you can be anything
. Words whispered inside: Danny the Dreamer. I repeat them out loud.

Steps come up behind me; John stands next to me. Did he hear? ‘True. And these mountains and lakes have been here a long time, longer than people have. They’ll be here when we’re all gone.’

We say nothing else. The world below, and its Lorders and problems, seems remote, of no consequence.

The others catch up, and before long we must leave to make it down in daylight. Back to reality.

That evening at dinner Stella tells us that an inspector is coming for lunch tomorrow: a JCO. All must attend, no excuses, and be on best behaviour. She doesn’t say a name: is this my grandmother, the one Madison mentioned? The one whose photos are hidden away inside a box in a locked wardrobe? Glances are exchanged, nothing else said, but the mood is dampened down, as if she’d just thrown a bucket of cold water over the room.

Madison follows me to my room after dinner in a total black mood.

She flops down on my bed.

‘I
really
can’t believe this.’

‘What?’

‘That that witch has to pick this Sunday, my only one off in an entire month, to come for a stupid lunch. And
all must attend
. Some of us might have lives of our own. Things to do.’

‘Like what?’

She scowls furiously, but her face wars between that and the edge of a smile.

‘Finley?’

She nods. ‘Yep. He finally asked me out this afternoon; we were going to meet in town, go out for lunch, and whatever. And now—’

‘Whatever? What is
whatever
?’

‘What does it matter? I’ve tried to call but no one is answering. He’s going to think I’m coming up with an excuse to get out of it. He’ll never believe we’re not allowed to miss this stupid lunch. It’s this stupid house. None of the others are like this.’

‘Is it Stella’s mother coming for lunch? The Juvenile Control Officer for all of England that you told me about?’

She nods. ‘Every few months or so she comes. Stella never refers to her as “mother”, but that’s who it is: Astrid Connor, the smiling assassin.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.’ She sighs tragically. ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’

‘I told you so.’

‘What?’

‘That Finley really likes you.’

‘Maybe.’ She smiles then it falls away. ‘Not that it’ll matter after tomorrow.’

‘Call again tomorrow, tell him you’ll meet him later. It’ll be fine.’

‘Sure it will: I bet he’ll just go off with some other girl.’

‘I doubt it!’

‘What makes you so wise in the ways of guys, anyhow?’

I don’t answer.

‘Okay, I’ve told you mine; now tell me yours. Is there someone? There is, isn’t there. Tell me!’

I can feel the shadow cross my face. ‘There was.’

‘What happened? Did you stand him up and then he went off and—’

‘No.’ I fling a pillow at her. ‘No, because he really
cared
so he wouldn’t be so daft. Just like Finley really cares.’

‘So why aren’t you together then? If the path of true love is really all forgiving like that, where is he? Why did you leave him behind? Why didn’t he follow you to Keswick?’

‘He couldn’t, that’s all,’ I say, and refuse to say more. Eventually Madison sees I’m really upset, apologises and leaves.

I sigh and turn the lights off, get into bed and pull the blankets around me. If Ben really loved me…shouldn’t that survive everything? Shouldn’t he still feel the same way, deep down inside, even though Lorders have wiped all memory of me from his mind?

It is romantic nonsense to think so. A wave of sadness creeps over me, bit by bit, so deep that it feels as if heavy weights are holding me still, that I’m paralysed. Later I hear a light tap on my door: Stella? But my eyes stay shut when it opens, my body unmoving, breathing deep, unable to reach out or say anything. Moments later it shuts again and footsteps retreat.

Underlying the grief, an uneasy sense of disquiet remains. Tomorrow, I meet my
grandmother
.

What would she do if she knew I was here? Would she be happy to have her long lost granddaughter back, or is she Lorder through and through?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘There are a few new faces here today, I see.’ She smiles, and her eyes twinkle behind glasses that look a little like mine. ‘I’m Astrid Connor, and your lovely house mother here is my daughter. Bet she didn’t tell you.’ She looks at Stella and then smiles again. ‘Daughters!’ she says, and shakes her head. Like the last photo I saw of her, her hair is silvery grey, swept up. She wears ordinary clothes, nothing says
Lorder
in how she looks or acts, but there is something about her. The hackles are raised on the back of my neck. Every eye is drawn forwards. Some people you don’t want to turn your back on.

Stella clears her throat. ‘There are three new girls since your last visit.’ She quickly points to each of us, says our names, while Steph and another girl co-opted to help are bringing in serving dishes, putting them on the table: roast dinner. As Stella points to me and says
Riley Kain
, Astrid’s eyes fall on mine. A brief moment of something crosses her face – curiosity, that soon fades to disinterest? Then she is interrupted by Stella passing her a dish. The curious glance returns.

The usual chatter around the table is gone. Everyone eats silently, even Madison, while Astrid holds court. She talks with Stella about the running of the house; asks about window repairs. Every now and then her eyes fall on one of us, and she’ll ask a question: about work, or Keswick. All pleasant and chit-chatty. No order in it, not working her way around the table or any logic to it you can see.

Then she turns and her eyes fall on Madison: playing with her food, slumped in her seat, eyes lowered. ‘Madison, isn’t it?’ she says.

Madison looks up, nods: her eyes, visible now, are defiant. Something in my stomach twists.

Amusement crosses Astrid’s face. ‘Not hungry today, dear?’

‘Not really. Can I be excused?’

Stella’s sharp intake of breath is audible in a room too quiet.

‘On one condition. Tell me exactly what you are thinking, first.’

Doubt crosses Madison’s face; she shakes it off.
Please, Madison, don’t be an idiot
, I plead silently.

‘All right, then. It’s my one weekend off this month, and I had plans. But she insisted we all be here.’ Madison glares at Stella.

‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry you missed your
plans
.’ Astrid says. ‘What were they?’ A tinge of red crosses Madison’s cheeks. ‘A boy, I’m guessing? My, my. Really, Stella,’ she says, looking at her daughter now. ‘They don’t all have to be here today, not if they have
plans
. You know I really just come to see how you are. You know what it is like to be a
mother
, to worry about your
daughter
.’ There is a malicious twist to her words.

Stella’s lips are set in a thin line. ‘I think I know what is best for my girls.’

Madison clears her throat. ‘I told you what I was thinking, like you asked; can I go now?’

Astrid looks at her daughter, an eyebrow raised in a question.

‘Stay and finish your lunch,’ Stella says.

Madison scowls. ‘It’s not fair. None of the other houses are run like this. She treats us like prisoners!’

Too far
. All the girls look at her in horror. I plead with my eyes:
stop this; apologise now!

Astrid smiles. ‘I think, dear Madison, you would be able to tell the difference between this and a prison, if you ever found yourself in one. You may go now.’

Madison looks between her and Stella, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Stella nods faintly. ‘Go on,’ she says.

Madison puts her napkin on the table, pushes her chair out. Walks stiffly to the door and is gone.

Astrid laughs. ‘What a serious bunch you are! Doesn’t anyone have any stories to tell? Perhaps one of the new girls.’ Her eyes fall on me. ‘Kylie, was it?’

‘Riley,’ I answer, trying not to react to her saying my name so close to Kyla.

‘When did you arrive in Keswick?’

‘Earlier this week. I’m here for the CAS intake.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Chelmsford. But I love the mountains, and I want to work for National Parks.’ I start to rush out an explanation of what they do before she has even asked. My voice trails away.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘At last: a chatty one. And how did you—’

‘Oh drat. Sorry!’ Stella interrupts, springing up as a toppled jug spreads water across the table. Steph dashes for a cloth; Astrid gets up out of her seat before the water can run onto her lap. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Stella says again.

‘Stop fussing,’ Astrid snaps.

She and Stella leave the dining room.

The door swings shut, and as if we all had been holding our breath, we let it out in one collective gasp.

‘Is she always like that?’ I ask Ellie, sat next to me.

She nods. ‘She’s horrible to Stella, isn’t she? Can you believe what she said to her, about knowing what it is like to worry about your daughter, when Stella’s daughter is missing? Nasty.’

Then everyone starts talking in hushed tones about Madison, what she said, how long Stella will confine her to house as punishment, but I can’t get Astrid’s words out of my head. Like Ellie said, it was nasty, but not just the way Ellie meant. There was something
else
twisting behind her words that niggles and worries inside.

Feigning headache, I leave the others and wander out, thinking I’ll look for Madison. But when I start to cross the reception area, my feet pause. Stella’s office; the hidden door. Will they be in the same sitting room they used to go?

I shouldn’t. But it’ll be locked anyhow, won’t it? I look around; no one is here. I cross behind the desk to the office door, reach a hand to the knob. It turns and I push the door open. Too late, I realise my mistake: what if they are in here, instead? But the room is empty. Behind me I hear voices and footsteps heading this way. I step through into the office and pull the door shut behind me.

Trapped.

What if they come here now?

My eyes dart about the room, my ears strain for footsteps. All I can hear are some low voices beyond the door: not Stella or Astrid, but some of the girls. They’re not moving: they’re staying out there, probably in armchairs by the window, and not going anywhere any time soon.

My feet start the reluctant few steps to the curtains that cover the door, somehow feeling half frozen, each move an effort. I should have gone back to my room, or looked for Madison: anything but this.

Something on the wall catches my eye. A recent photo of Astrid that had been hidden in the box in my room hangs there. I pause, look around, and spot a few of the others.

So. When Astrid comes for a visit, Stella hangs her photos back up; when Astrid leaves, they are hidden in a box. I shake my head. What weird family am I part of?

Maybe it is time to find out. I pull the curtain out, step behind it. Push the door open and look through.

And it is just like my dream: a narrow hall.
I used to play hide and seek here
. It’s dusty and I put a finger under my nose, try not to sneeze. Not used any more?

When I step through and let the door shut behind me, I’m plunged into darkness.
A torch
: there used to be a torch hidden here, in the corner. I feel along the wall and reach down, but find nothing.

I walk, slow and silent, one hand touching the wall. The hall stretches past one room, then turns ninety degrees. There are a few slivers of light from ventilation panels near the floor. And voices.

I crouch down near a panel, and listen.

‘…but don’t do it, please don’t: I’m begging you.’ Stella.

‘Do what?’

‘You know.’

Astrid titters. ‘You should see your face. My, my: so fierce. It’s a shame you can’t put that energy to better use.’

‘I see no better purpose to my life. Isn’t serve and protect the young people of our country part of
your
official job mandate, as JCO?’

‘Oh, it is, and I take that
very
seriously. The bad apples must go to prevent rot in the barrel, as you well know. These girls, here – they aren’t your daughters. You know the consequences of error: that could be a
painful
mistake.’