The Secrets of Drearcliff Grange School (30 page)

The Black Skirts’ arms shot up in the antenna salute. Hands waved and fingers flapped like agitated antennae.

Amy felt more ashamed than aggrieved, but Light Fingers was sullen. She expected no better from the Ordinaries.

‘Mute defiance, eh?’ said Fossil. ‘Not a seemly attitude, girls. I trust you’ll improve your conduct in your new form. You’re to report to the Remove.’

B
EING
‘
REMOVED
’
DIDN
’
T
just mean hiking to Temporary Classroom Two for lessons. Now Houseless persons, the lowest form of living ghost, Amy and Light Fingers were booted out of their Desdemona digs.

If Amy
could
have gone Black, she would have done – to keep her cosy place in Frecks’ cell, to stay well in with friends who now pretended not to know her or solicit the approval of teachers who’d gone cold on all Greys. She’d have skipped and antenna-waved and marched with the other ants… if the option were open to a fluke like her. She’d have turned on others, too, happy to march in step with the Black Skirt majority and scorn the pale dregs of the Greys.

Realising she was no better than Inchfawn made her tears hotter.

Mother would take the news with an exasperated sigh and sham pity. She was used to Amy humiliating her. A favourite expression was ‘what your poor father would have said I don’t know’, which truly meant she knew
exactly
what Father would have said and that it would have been withering. Amy had her own ideas about what Father would or would not have said. She resolved not to write home about her removal.

What happened at Drearcliff could stay here.

To put the old tin lid on it, Fossil had characterised them as grasshoppers.
Caelifera
! As a science teacher, Miss Borrodale should know
Aesop’s Fables
was an unreliable entomology text. Grasshoppers were as active and ferocious as ants. In battle, flight-capable, voracious grasshoppers would prevail over nest-building, cowering ants.
Locusts
were grasshoppers, and they numbered among the Plagues of Egypt. The Lord God didn’t bother visiting
ants
upon Pharaoh.

Removal was supervised by Digger Downs, who was more pro Black Skirt even than Fossil. An insect badge crawled up and down her jacket. A giant ant, over an inch long (
Dinoponera australis
?). One of its legs was tethered to a black thread pinned to her lapel. The living brooch strayed as far as the ruffle of Downs’ blouse but couldn’t reach the skin of her neck. The insect must want to give the teacher a nasty nip.

Ranks of Black Skirts gathered to watch Amy and Light Fingers laid low, antenna-arms raised and stiff. The skipping rhyme and the repetitive crunch of stomping feet came from the Quad. Those sounds were heard everywhere these days.

The disgrace meant she wasn’t permitted to fetch her own things from the cell. She had to make a list of her possessions and give it to Bryant. It wasn’t easy to remember everything off the top of her head. Some items she didn’t want on record. She had trophies of her night-time exploits, including a conspirator’s hood retrieved from the broken tower and broken-off pieces of tile and chimney pot collected while floating. Her Kentish Glory togs were in with the rest of her kit.

Bryant went up to Amy’s former cell to collect everything on her list. Amy supposed Frecks or Kali would hand over anything she happened to forget – or just chuck it out of the window.

The condemned girls waited outside in the cold. Fulwood came out of the dorm to take away their enamel Desdemona badges. Amy hadn’t remembered to wear the thing half the time, but giving it up was like having her head shaved in the market square. Light Fingers was required to unwind and hand over a House scarf. She made a point of shivering. At least, they didn’t have epaulettes to be ripped off or swords to break. If anyone tried to snap a hockey stick over their knee they’d do themselves an injury.

Bryant’s triad came out of the dorms with Amy’s trunk held up over their heads, as if demonstrating the proverbial ant knack of carrying many times its own weight. Another triad, with Pulsipher on point, followed with Light Fingers’ trunk – a family heirloom plastered with stickers from theatres where her parents had performed. Her rocking chair was left behind, classified as furniture rather than a personal possession.

Amy looked up and saw Frecks’ face at a window.

She stuck her hand up to wave at her friend. Frecks exhaled, misting the glass to opacity.

Another arrow to the heart.

Light Fingers was almost smug. Having her worst fears proved warmed her a little.

Frozen slush was cleared from gravel paths. Green grass showed through the thinning snow. In other circumstances, Amy would have delighted in the approaching thaw. Now, she felt as if she were at a hasty funeral for a double suicide.

Downs tooted a whistle. Amy trudged along after the removal girls.

‘My old man said “foller the van” and don’t dilly-dally on the way,’ said Light Fingers. At Drearcliff, doing a midnight flit was less of a disgrace than being removed. Anyone could be short of funds. It took effort to fall short of expectations.

Kindly, Light Fingers took Amy’s hand and squeezed.

As they passed, the Black Skirts chittered and waved their arms in agitation. That was new.

The Black Skirts were becoming less like girls, more like bugs.

The exorcism of Mauve Mary had sped the process along.

‘Ignore them, Amy,’ said Light Fingers. ‘Ignore them and they’ll go away.’

‘We’re the ones who’re going away, Emma.’

Some Black Skirts had specks crawling on their faces and hands. Ants crept out from collars and cuffs. Into eyes and mouths.

This was wrong. Ants weren’t like that… lice or mites lived on the human body, but were mostly too small to see. Even Professor Rayne didn’t go so far as to say ants could colonise
people
. Had Rayne
fille
brought these ants back from the Purple? The Flute was open and the Purple was exhaling through it… breathing out bugs,
ants in pants
.

‘Courage,’ said Light Fingers, helping her along.

Purple or Purple-ish things were all around these days… wood-wolves, dust-golems, insects unknown to science. Not yet in the open, but in thinning shadows, gaining confidence. The ants weren’t in pants any more… they were everywhere. School was turned into a giant anthill.

Rayne didn’t show up to witness their removal. Did the Queen Ant even knew who they were… or who anyone was? She had divided School into Black Skirts and Ghosts. In Rayne’s world, there were no individuals. Even queens were replaceable.

Amy and Light Fingers followed their luggage across the grounds. Black Skirts on all sides waved and shrilled. Unremoved Greys made themselves scarce, for fear of being further lumped in with
flukes
. Amy bitterly regretted not speaking up when others were being kicked.

The Auxiliary Dorm, known as Remittance Man’s Rest, was a former stables. Even Dauntless wouldn’t put up with it. The horse shared a cottage with Joxer.

Devlin met the new arrivals with something like a welcome. She stuck out her paw, knobbly wrist extending six inches from her sleeve. As they shook hands, Amy felt Stretch’s pliable bones shift.

The Remove wasn’t a House, so it didn’t have a House Captain. Devlin was stuck with the responsibilities but benefited from none of the privileges.

Incidentally, who’d be Desdemona Third Captain now Light Fingers was gone? Probably – uck! – Inchfawn.

‘Welcome to the Fluke Show,’ said Stretch, not unkindly. ‘Sorry, but you’ve to put up where we can fit you and there’s only one cell with two free berths. Far end on the right. Thought you’d rather bunk together than be prised apart. Your chests have been dumped already, just outside your cabin. Do what you can to get stowed away. We’re short on shelves and wardrobes. Not much on home comforts at all.’

Amy and Light Fingers, still holding hands, passed under the lintel.

Inside, the dorm still smelled strongly of horse. Duckboards were laid over a beaten earth floor. Ill-fitting doors let in draughts. Each pen had four cots shoved into it. There was no electric, but oil lamps hung from posts.

Palgraive stood under a light, smiling as ever. Little flames danced in her eyes, as if her maggot were fascinated by fire. Frost sat on a stool in the corner. She looked up at the newcomers eagerly… then slumped, disappointed. Who had she expected to come and rescue her?

Lamarcroft – who knew
she
was an Unusual? – stood by a music stand and practised scales on a miniature bugle. Lungs wore her untidy black hair clipped short and had a Grecian fringe. She was –
had been
– Goneril’s archery champ. She paid no attention to the newcomers.

Like orphans abandoned in a wood, Amy and Light Fingers ventured cautiously down to where their trunks were dumped. Amy’s was open. Her belongings were jumbled. Books dumped on clothes. Brushes in with pens and pencils. Roly Pontoons’ floppy feet stuck up from the mess.

They looked into their assigned cell. It had dusty windows at horseneck-height.

Two small girls sat in the gloom, playing Old Maid. Harper and Dyall.

Amy and Light Fingers looked at each other and – through strength of will – didn’t burst into tears.

‘Hullo, new chums,’ squeaked Harper. ‘Come in and make yourselves at home. We won’t bite.’

T
EMPORARY
C
LASSROOM
T
WO
was a former greenhouse, converted from horticultural use by painting thickly over the panes – except for a few left clear so they could pretend to be windows. Previous convicts had scratched hieroglyphics into the glass walls. Sunshine beamed through the arcane signs, so mystic lights crept across the floor like an alchemist’s clock. TC2 was heated – if not well – by a smoky stove. Mismatched furniture was salvaged from all over School. The chairs had wonky legs and skirt-piercing splinters. The desks were nailed shut and inscribed with the names of long-gone girls. The blackboard was new, but the room so damp chalks crumbled before much could be written up on it.

Amy and Light Fingers found places near the front of the class. Amy’s too-high chair jammed her knees up under her too-low desk. After a night in the same room as Poppet and Shrimp, she was exhausted
and
befuddled… Was this what one of Mother’s ‘heads’ was like? She hoped that curse was not hereditary.

Harper was bright and sparkling this morning.

Light Fingers had taken Amy aside and said they had to get out of the leech’s cell or else they’d be skeletons by the end of the week while the sharp-toothed Shrimp would be plump, pink and blooming. At least, Amy thought she remembered Light Fingers saying something like that. With Dyall around, she couldn’t be sure.

She had either not slept or suffered night terrors. She couldn’t have had
both
conditions, but this morning her memories of the night were vague and ill-formed. She had aches from the lumpy cot and the impression of a hungry, ballooning face looming over her.

The rest of the Remove were too concerned with their own woes to be sympathetic. Why didn’t Poppet and Shrimp cancel each other out? Would their peculiar Abilities affect Palgraive? She might not have a mind left to cloud.

Lamarcroft, a Sixth, had been a whip. Her piping was unpicked when she was removed. She still tried to wield authority and came over to tithe the new girls. She said it was customary to pay rent on desks in TC2. Arrant extortion, but there were no real whips here to stop such piracy.

Unfortunately, Amy came impoverished to the Remove. She had no tribute to yield. She pulled out empty pockets.

The Amazon Archer glared and cracked her knuckles.

‘I shall make an example of you.’

‘To whom?’ put in Light Fingers.

‘It speaks,’ said Lamarcroft.

‘It speaks, and it spits!’

Light Fingers pressed her lips together but did not spit. Lamarcroft backed away, though.

‘Made you flinch.’

Light Fingers passed her hands in front of the Sixth’s face very fast, making her cringe again. In the Remove, there was little point in keeping Abilities secret…

‘We shall resume this discussion later,’ said Lamarcroft, striding back to her desk.

A cracked bell sounded. Miss Kaye came into the room, carrying a stuffed briefcase and the register. A small potted plant stood on the teacher’s desk. A winter-flowering polyanthus.

‘Thank you, Paquignet,’ she said.

Green Fingers stretched out her skirt in a seated curtsey. She seemed to thrive in the Remove. Amy supposed she’d been ill at ease in Ariel, most toffee-nosed of Houses. And TC2 retained enough of its former atmosphere to suit the gardening girl.

Amy would not thrive. Plants were hardier than moths.

‘We have new girls today,’ said Miss Kaye, examining the register. ‘There has been an influx lately. I can’t think why.’

At least the Remove was taught by someone who’d never wear a black ribbon or an ant brooch. Amy always thought Miss Kaye the fairest and most humorous of the Staff.

‘If you please, would you introduce yourselves to the Remove. Naisbee and, ah, Thompson.’

‘Close enough,’ said Know-It-All Knowles dryly, from the back of the room.

Miss Kaye frowned. She knew she’d mistaken the names, but couldn’t call the proper ones to mind. She’d known who Amy was last term. They’d had long conversations.

Front and centre in class sat that menace Poppet Dyall.

Miss Kaye was uncharacteristically distracted. Her hair-band was awry and she had chalk marks on her blouse. She was thinner, paler and more fluttery than Amy remembered. Removal affected teachers too.

Amy stood and announced, ‘Thomsett, Amanda,’ then stopped herself before she proudly added ‘Desdemona’. ‘Third Year,’ she concluded weakly. She sat.

‘Nais-
bitt
,’ said Light Fingers, without standing.

‘Bless you,’ said Knowles. She paused for titters, which didn’t come. Miss Kaye didn’t upbraid her, either. Know-It-All slumped, unsatisfied.