Ursula's Secret (27 page)

Lexy was tired and walked slowly. Could she really face Robert without squirming with embarrassment? She should apologise. She’d been an idiot, behaved badly. But then that seemed to be in keeping with this strange family she was now a part of, whether she liked it or not. And for all she was already shocked at what she’d learned of them so far, and had a strong feeling there was worse to come, she had to know.
Be careful what you wish for,
her mother would have said. Well, she’d wished, and here she was.

The schoolroom bungalow was in darkness, so she sat down on the step, leant her head back against the verandah post. She stretched her arms up above her and clasped the post behind, hearing her shoulders creak and crack as the tension was released. Dropping her hands back into her lap, she raised her eyes up to the clear sky, stars already bright, twinkling like sequins on a deep-blue velvet cape. A brilliant moon hung low in the sky, its shimmering light casting flickering shadows around her, as leaves swayed in the gentlest of evening breezes. Everything was serene, calm, quiet. The night was hers. She relished being alone in it.

Click.

Lexy spun round towards the door, expectantly.

“Robert?”

Had he been sitting in the dark? The door was slightly ajar now, a key in the lock spotlit by moonlight. She hadn’t checked, had assumed it would still be locked. The old boards of the verandah creaked as she stepped up to the door, pushed it open.

“Robert, are you there?”

Silence. Darkness, but as her eyes adjusted she could begin to pick out shapes from the moonlight filtering through the high windows running the length of the two long walls of the single-room structure. Neat rows of desks were divided into two blocks by a central aisle, with a larger desk sitting at the head of them like a general at the head of his army. She smiled. Old-fashioned these days. What would it have been like to teach in a school like this? She could see the blackboard, a shaft of moonlight picking out a dusty stripe across its surface, the faint shapes of letters long-erased just visible, ghosts of their former selves. There were posters on the walls, but it was too dark to make them out clearly, and a row of bookcases and cupboards lining the wall at the back of the room, again too dark for her to see their contents clearly. She pushed open the door with her left hand, searched the wall to her right for a light switch. Two switches. She clicked one. Nothing. She clicked the other and felt air start to move, the soft whirr of a ceiling fan stirring into life. It was cool in here, but she left it anyway, soothed by its quiet hum.

She stepped forward, slowly, feeling her way, trailing her fingers along the desks as she made her way to the top of the central aisle, perched on the edge of the teacher’s desk and looked out over the banks of empty spaces, filling them in her mind’s eye with pupils from the class she’d deserted so near to the end of term. Did they miss her? Did she miss them? Perhaps. A little. The children were never the problem. It was the system, the class sizes, the lack of support, of discipline. The parents. She sighed. She didn’t want to go back. David’s offer would mean she didn’t have to—

Click.

Pushing herself up from the desk, she spun round to the noise.

“Robert?” But there was no one, and the door was closed again now. Must have been the air from the fan, or the night breeze. The old boards outside creaked. She felt a flicker of fear, before she caught herself. She was getting jumpy, but it would just be a mouse, or a cat, perhaps. Or just the cooling wood giving up the last of the sun’s heat.

Her eyes had grown used to the gloom and she could now make out the posters on the walls, even carved initials on desktops. She walked down the aisle, giving her class instructions in her head.

Books out, children.
There’d be a clatter of desk lids and a burst of chatter as they hid behind them, using them as shields against the teacher.

Quiet now, please. Settle down.
And miracle of miracles, they would.

If only.

She crouched down to look at the books that had been left forgotten on the shelves at the back of the room, picked one out and sat cross-legged on the floor as she turned the pages, trying to make out the words, the images, in the half-light.

Click.

She snapped the book shut and turned her head, her view obscured by the desks.

Click.

She pushed herself inelegantly to her feet. The door was still shut. Had she imagined it? Probably just the branch of a tree creaking in the night breeze or more creaking from the floorboards. Even so. She’d wait outside.

She replaced the book on the shelf, yawned and rolled her shoulders, then walked slowly back through the ghostly class towards the door, saw a flicker of movement under the teacher’s desk in front of her. She stooped, peered into the darkness. A mouse? Or a rat? Nothing, except—

Lexy gasped, jumped back at movement in the shadows beneath the desk. She bent down but could see nothing. Imagination? She
was
tired. Over-tired.

The leg of the desk was moving, spreading over the floor, and a dark shadow was seeping towards her. Like a snake.

“Uh!” She breathed in sharply, stumbled back against a desk as the slim, sinuous body curved and slithered its way around the legs of the teacher’s chair. She froze. She knew very little about snakes, but enough to realise that being alone with one in a confined space probably wasn’t a good thing.

Get out. Now.
She started slowly forward, pressing herself against the pupils’ desks, not wanting to take her eyes off the creature, frightened of losing sight of it in the dark. If she could just get to the door then she could get out, get help, get someone to deal with it or at least shut it into the schoolroom. But it was moving out from under the desk now, slinking nearer the end of the aisle between the desks, occupying the space between Lexy and the door.

Windows. Could she get out a window? She looked up at the narrow panes running the length of one wall. Thin, and high. Very high. There’d be quite a drop on the other side even if she could manage to climb—

She jerked her gaze back to the floor as she heard a soft
puhushhh
sound and saw the reptile sweeping its way slowly, hypnotically under a desk just two rows ahead of where she stood. Then its head reappeared and it was flowing down the aisle. Towards her.

“No. Oh, God.” She pulled herself up onto the nearest desk, folded her knees into her chest, marooned herself like a castaway on a very small island, realising too late that she could no longer see the snake, had no way of knowing if it was still between her and the door. Where was Robert? Why wasn’t he here yet?

“No! Oh please no …” The snake had reappeared, reached her desk, was gliding beneath it, winding itself around the legs. What was it? A boomslang, puff adder? Did it even matter? She was breathing in short, sharp gasps, blood thundering in her ears as she pulled her legs in tighter, made herself as small as she could, saw the swaying tail disappear beneath her. She craned her neck to look behind her, to see if it emerged, but she was too scared to move in case she overbalanced, tipped the desk, ended up on the floor with the—

A broom. Just behind her. Leaning against the wall between the rows of desks. A weapon.

Goosebumps erupted along her arm as she reached out slowly, carefully, fingers trembling as they touched wood. She scrabbled for purchase and felt the handle move, slip towards her and—

It clattered away from her, hit the desk behind and was sliding out of her reach. Then it stopped, its head caught against one of the desk legs. She exhaled. At least it hadn’t slipped to the floor. She still had a chance. She reached again, further this time, felt the desk tilt beneath her but snatched the broom handle and pulled back before her weight tipped the desk over. She held the broom tightly to her, trying to slow her breathing, silence the roaring in her head, listen for the soft swish of the serpent’s tail. Where was it?

There. It slithered away towards the back of the room. This was her chance. Dropping down softly from the desk, she backed towards the door, eyes locked on the reptile, tears blurring her vision. She held the broom out in front of her with rigid arms ready to strike if the snake started towards her. How did snakes attack?
Would
it attack? She had absolutely no idea. She had to get the door open.

The snake disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the room, but she was at the door now. Still staring at the spot where she’d last seen the snake, she stretched out a hand behind her, feeling blindly for the handle, finally grasped the cool metal. She pushed it down, the squeak of the mechanism piercing against the soft hum of the ceiling fan. She pulled. Nothing. The handle didn’t move. She rattled the handle again, tugged it again. And again, and again.

“No, NO!” She was repeating under her breath as she dropped the broom and turned to the door, wrestling with the handle, grasping it with both hands as she pushed and pulled. But the door stayed fast.

“Help! Help me!”

She knew there was no one to hear her. The surrounding bungalows were either empty or used as storerooms – either way, there’d be no one. Unless Robert? Why wasn’t he here? He should be, he—

The snake – where was it?

She whirled round just in time to catch its tail disappearing under a desk in the block furthest from the door. Nearer, though. It was coming nearer. She had to stay calm. She slowed her breathing then crouched, eyes firmly fixed on the shadows beneath the desks as she reached out for the broom handle again. Her fingers grasped the worn wood and slowly, slowly she pulled it towards her as the pointed reptilian head appeared from under the teacher’s chair and leisurely swerved to the left and the right, each movement bringing it closer to her.

She was sobbing now. If it struck her, how long would she have before the venom entered her system? Long enough to make a run for it? To get to the hospital and get help?
Idiot.
What did that matter? She couldn’t get out of the room. She was trap—

The snake flicked out from the shadows, moving faster now, coming for her. Screeching like a banshee, she raised the broom high and crashed it down onto the shimmering head. It hissed and its tongue flicked out, narrowly missing Lexy’s ankle. She darted back and brought the broom down again as the creature slithered round to follow her.

‘No, no, no!” She was screaming the words again and again as she lashed out with the broom, ignoring the sickening crunch of bone, the squelch of flesh. It twisted at her feet in a flickering dance, until the writhing slowed and stopped. Lexy continued to beat at the mess on the floor, her arm like a metronome keeping time as her breathing slowed.

“Lexy!” She spun round. Robert was in the open doorway, a look of utter shock on his face. “What on earth— Oh my God.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back behind him as he took in the scene, the dead snake, the now upturned desks. “What … How did that get in here? Are you okay? Lexy? Lexy, speak to me!”

Lexy was shaking and sobbing, her gaze fixed blankly on the bloody mess at her feet.

“It’s all right, Lexy. It’s dead. You killed it. Here, give me that.” Gently, Robert took the broom from her and stood it against the wall behind them. He turned her to face him and ducked his head to look up into her eyes.

“Lexy, look at me. You’re safe. It’s dead. Lexy?” Her sobbing had slowed but she was still shaking as he pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. “Shh, now. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Shh.” He held her, crooning as if to a child until the shaking stopped, until her breathing came more evenly and the tension began to ebb from her taut frame.

He led her out of the schoolroom, cradling her in the crook of his arm, and pulled the door shut behind them.

“Here, sit down,” He drew her down beside him on to the steps of the porch. “Tell me what happened.”

She just shook her head wearily and looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.

“Lexy? What happened? Why are you here?” A tinge of annoyance shaded his questions as his arm fell from her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here on your own, you know, not at this time of night. Anything could have happened to you!”

Lexy looked up at him, surprised and hurt by the irritation in his voice.

“But the note …”

“What note? For goodness’ sake, Lexy! What were you doing? And what in God’s name possessed you to attack it? Didn’t anyone ever tell you discretion’s the better part of valour?”

Yes. Her mother. Frequently. Lexy’s breathing was returning to a more regular rhythm, her head clearing.

“Why didn’t you just get out? If you see a snake, back off. Anyone would think you had a death wish or—”

“It was locked.”

Robert stopped his tirade abruptly. “What was locked?”

“The door.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Someone locked me in.” Lexy saw doubt come into his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would anyone do that? But it wasn’t locked, anyway. Jammed, maybe, but it opened perfectly—”

“It was locked, Robert. I tried to get out. Of course I did! But it wouldn’t open.” She was shivering again. He rubbed her arm, then helped her to her feet and started to lead her back towards the hospital.

“Look, you were in a state of panic. It was probably just stuck and—”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem very likely, does it? And it certainly wasn’t locked when I got here.”

Lexy took a couple of steps down the path, hugging herself, shivering still despite the warm night.

“Lexy, think about it. Why would it be locked? Who would … That would mean …”

The cicadas chattered away in the pause that hung heavily in the air.

“That would mean someone deliberately shut me in the schoolroom. With a snake.” She turned and faced Robert. “And no one knew I was coming here. Except you.”

“What? I didn’t know you were … I was at the research lab and—”

“Read it.” She thrust the crumbled paper at him, watched him frown as he read the words.