Shiverton Hall (23 page)

‘Everyone has that,’ George tried to reassure him, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Arthur shook his head sadly. ‘I changed my name. We thought maybe no one would notice. I did look very different in the photos in the papers. And then I got the scholarship here. If they knew about what happened they didn’t say anything. I thought it was a fresh start.’

‘What should we call you now?’ George said, after a moment. ‘Since you’re not really a Bannister, but you probably want to leave Davies behind too?’

‘I don’t know. Bannister was my stepdad’s – Rob’s dad’s – name. Mum and Rob still use it, even though he ran off when we were little, so I figured that would make the most sense. Davies was my mum’s maiden name. I don’t know. I guess I should take my real dad’s name, but there’s a problem with that.’

‘Why?’ Penny asked.

‘I don’t know what it is,’ Arthur said. ‘Mum never told me. She doesn’t like to talk about him.’

‘That’s OK,’ Penny said, putting her arm around him. ‘Whatever your surname, you’re still our friend Arthur.’

Chapter Twenty

Penny and George stood protectively either side of Arthur as they walked into the dining hall. The students’ deafening chatter died in an instant, as hundreds of heads turned to look. Dan’s newspaper had passed through dozens of hands, and the gossip had spread through the school like a virus. Arthur, who few people had paid much attention to before, was suddenly the most-talked-about person at Shiverton Hall. The students stared openly at him, searching his face for signs of the violence beneath the surface.

‘What are you looking at?’ George shouted.

There were a few sniggers from the back of the room. Dan and his brothers were sitting on a long table in the centre, identical smiles of smug satisfaction on their faces.

‘Let’s go,’ Arthur muttered to his friends, his face on fire.

‘Arthur! Arthur!’ someone called from a faraway table. It was Xanthe, and she was waving frantically. ‘Come here, I’ve saved you a spot.’

‘Come on,’ Penny whispered.

They picked their way through the silent hall, with everyone watching, to Xanthe’s table, and sat down.

‘Thank you, Xanthe,’ Arthur said gratefully.

‘No problem,’ Xanthe said loudly, throwing a withering look to a nearby group of gossiping girls. ‘Just ignore them. There’ll be something else to talk about by tomorrow.’

Sure enough, the interest in Arthur subsided once he’d sat down, and the noise of the chatter increased again. Arthur ate his dinner quietly, barely tasting it, while his friends tried to keep some small talk going.

On the way back to Garnons, George looked sideways at Arthur.

‘Xanthe’s right, you know,’ George said. ‘It will blow over.’

‘I guess.’

‘And look on the bright side – it might keep the Forges off your back now that they know you’re a badass.’

Arthur smiled weakly. ‘It’s not something I’m proud of, George.’

‘No, of course not.’

They walked along quietly for a while, hugging themselves against the cold.

‘Can I borrow your phone?’ Arthur asked as they arrived at their house, stamping their feet on the doormat.

Arthur shut his bedroom door behind him and dialled his home number. No one answered, so he left a short message for his mum, giving her George’s number. He tried to keep his voice light, but he thought he could hear his own misery in it. What would she say when he told her that everyone at Shiverton knew? She would try to take him away, he realised glumly. Maybe it was best that she did.

Arthur struggled to concentrate on his homework that evening. He could see his own breath in the freezing air, and no matter how many layers of clothing he put on he still couldn’t keep warm. His window rattled, delivering an icy blast every few minutes and scattering his papers everywhere.

Eventually Arthur gave up and got into bed to get some sleep, his teeth clattering together. Whenever he closed his eyes, however, his mind wandered out of his room and back to the Paradise Project. He tried to block out the unwelcome snatches of memory – the light filtering through the trees, the shock of the water, the blood underneath his fingernails – but it was useless.

When George tentatively knocked on his door before lights out, Arthur was still wide awake.

‘How are you feeling?’ George asked.

‘I’m all right,’ Arthur lied.

‘You’ll feel better in the morning.’

Arthur nodded. At just that moment he thought that he’d never feel better again.

George’s phone started ringing then. Arthur picked it up from his bedside table, expecting to see his home number, but it was a number he didn’t recognise. George didn’t know it either.

‘Pick it up,’ George urged.

‘Hello?’ Arthur asked.

‘Arthur?’ The voice on the other end of the line was crackly and distant. ‘Arthur?’

‘Who is this?’ Arthur asked.

‘Arthur, it’s Amber.’

‘Amber! Hi!’ Arthur couldn’t help but sound surprised.

George gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.

‘Arthur, I need you to help me!’ Amber said. Arthur noticed a trace of desperation in her voice – fear, even.

‘Where are you? What’s happened?’ Arthur asked.

‘You were right,’ she whispered. ‘You were right about everything. The imaginary friends – they’re here.’

‘Where are you?’ Arthur repeated.

‘I’m in the common room. I’m hiding. They’re after me. Arthur, please help me.’

‘Yes, I’m coming,’ he said, but the line had gone dead.

‘Is she all right? What’s happened?’ George asked.

‘It’s the friends,’ Arthur said. ‘They’ve got Amber.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ George said.

‘No. Toynbee will notice if we’re both gone. You need to cover for me.’

Before George could stop Arthur, he had slipped past him into the dark corridor.

It was only after Arthur had climbed out of the library window that he noticed he was still wearing only his pyjamas. He ran across the empty grounds towards the main building, where not a single light shone and, now shuddering with cold, he shimmied through an unlocked classroom window.

His footsteps echoed through the dark hall and he held out George’s phone ahead of him, using its weak blue light to guide him. He strained his ears, but the place was completely quiet. As he was making his way up the stairs, the silence was punctured by an ear-splitting scream. Arthur began to run, taking the stairs two at a time.

He kicked the common-room door open. The tinsel on the Christmas tree sparkled in the moonlight, but he could not see Amber.

‘Amber,’ he whispered, not daring to turn on the light. ‘Amber?’

There was a sudden, shrill sound, and it took Arthur a moment to identify it as the ringtone on George’s phone. He answered it hastily.

‘Arthur? Arthur?’ It was his mother.

‘Mum,’ Arthur whispered, ‘I’m going to call you back. Now is really not a good time.’

Arthur thought he heard a door slamming somewhere else in the building.

‘Arthur?’ his mother said. ‘I can’t hear you, petal. I was just answering your message and I remembered something. It’s probably no use to you now, but I remembered your imaginary friend.’

Arthur froze.

‘What?’ he said slowly.

‘Your imaginary friend – you asked me for that project. Well, I was going through some old photos the other day and I suddenly remembered. You did have an imaginary friend, just after Rob was born, but she only lasted a few weeks and I’d clean forgotten about her.’

Arthur felt his mouth go dry. ‘She?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘Yes. She. A girl called Amber.’

Arthur dropped the phone. There was the sound of footsteps in the hall behind him. He rushed to the student photo collage that Xanthe had made and desperately scanned it. With a lurch in his stomach he found what he was looking for: the name Amber Crighton. Above it was a photo of Amber; she was beautiful, with long, red hair and green eyes, and he had never seen her before in his life.

The door opened.

George anxiously paced around Arthur’s room, wondering whether he should go and find Toynbee. He had promised Arthur he wouldn’t, but it seemed crazy letting him go all by himself. He jumped when there was a knock at Arthur’s door, and stood guiltily in the middle of the room as his housemaster entered.

‘Grant!’ he said. ‘I thought I might find you here. I’ve just been on the telephone to your grandfather, who’s made a very interesting discovery.’

Toynbee peered behind George at Arthur’s empty bed.

‘Where’s Arthur?’ he asked, puzzled.

George cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘I don’t know, sir.’

‘Grant,’ Toynbee said gravely, ‘where is Arthur?’

‘Hello, Arthur,’ Amber said, a smile playing on her lips.

‘I know who you are!’ Arthur replied, backing further into the room.

Amber threw back her head and laughed, her sharp teeth glinting. ‘It took you long enough,’ she said.

As Amber walked slowly towards Arthur, the moonlight caught her face, and Arthur gasped. Her blonde hair was matted and covered in grey cobwebs, and her skin looked jaundiced and wasted, as though she had been locked away from daylight for years. Her clothes were no longer the striped Shiverton uniform, but a floral sundress, tattered and stained with something dark and putrid.

‘I knew you’d remember me, friend,’ she said, stroking his face with her long, gnarled fingernails.

Arthur flinched.

‘Oh,’ she pouted, ‘but I thought you loved me.’

‘Get away from me,’ Arthur said, looking frantically for some escape.

‘It’s not as easy as all that,’ Amber whispered, her breath foul on Arthur’s cheek. ‘You made me. You can’t run away from me. I’m in your head.’

‘Why me?’ Arthur whispered. ‘What have I done?’

Amber gazed at him with bloodshot eyes. ‘You know what you’ve done, Arthur,’ she said.

A flash of the forest, and Antony’s mangled face returned to Arthur. He gasped.

‘See?’ Amber said with a thin smile. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for someone like you to arrive here. You’re not like the others. I knew it the day you came. You have bad blood, Arthur. Bad, bad blood.’

‘I don’t,’ Arthur said.

‘Only you and I know what you’re really capable of, don’t we?’

Arthur shook his head. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘I had to show the students, Arthur. You must understand. They all hate you now. It’s better for them that they hate you.’

‘My friends don’t hate me.’

‘
I
am your only friend!’ Amber rushed towards him, her voice transforming into a throbbing, rasping roar. ‘They know your secrets now. They’re only pretending to like you. They fear you. I know, I can see it.’

Arthur felt black dread pour glutinously over him, suffocating him.

‘Don’t worry,’ Amber said, sweetness and sunlight suddenly in her voice. ‘I can make it all better.’

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, but when he opened them he saw her restored to her former beauty. She was luminous, her skin iridescent and her eyes glowing with love. He felt groggy, confused.

‘Come with me, Arthur.’ Her voice floated like music.

Arthur was aware, somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, that he should not be led by Amber. But her voice was hypnotic, stupefying, and he found himself taking her hand as she guided him to the window. He could see his reflection in the glass, and the quiet school grounds beyond it.

Amber stood beside him, leaning into his ear, her breath like violets. ‘Come with me.’

Amber was no longer with him, but down on the lawn below, the fountain glittering in the moonlight behind her. She beckoned to him.

Arthur let himself go, and then he wasn’t worried any more. Amber knew what was right for him. Amber loved him. Only Amber.