Wakestone Hall Read online

  Miss McCragg grunted something and progressed into the dormitory. She passed so close that Stella could have reached out and touched her skirt. Miss McCragg’s apron crackled. Had she noticed the empty beds? She reached the open window, and the girls heard her mutter in an annoyed manner. Then they heard a squeak as she pushed the open window down to exactly two inches. She turned and clumped back out of the room.

  Her footsteps receded.

  Agapanthus whispered, ‘Wait,’ and she climbed out of bed, tiptoed to the door and looked out into the corridor. She came back, poked her head under the bed and whispered, ‘She’s gone.’

  They crawled out and stood up.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Stella.

  ‘What are you doing with that cat?’ asked Agapanthus.

  ‘He came in the window,’ said Stella.

  ‘Poor cat.’ Agapanthus patted him. The cat miaowed loudly.

  ‘I think he’s hungry,’ whispered Ottilie.

  ‘We’re taking him downstairs, to let him out,’ said Stella.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Agapanthus.

  ‘If we get caught, we’ll be in so much trouble,’ whispered Stella.

  ‘Of course. So we won’t get caught.’ Agapanthus sounded impatient. She quickly pushed her pillow under her blanket and gave it a pat. ‘Come on,’ she said.

  They tiptoed to the door again and peered out at the dark passageway, listening.

  After a moment, Stella whispered, ‘Let’s go.’

  They slipped out of the dormitory and crept along in single file, keeping close to the wall. Stella led the way, carrying the cat, followed by Ottilie and then Agapanthus. They reached the end of the passageway and started down the staircase. The stairs creaked. They crept down slowly, step by step.

  On the floor below, they tiptoed past another row of dark doorways.

  Clumping sounds approached. Candlelight flickered.

  ‘It’s her again. Quick!’ whispered Stella.

  They dashed into a dormitory and flattened themselves against the wall behind the open door. The cat mewed again and butted his head against Stella’s ear in a friendly manner.

  ‘Shhh,’ whispered Stella. She felt for his face in the darkness and put her hand over his mouth.

  Miss McCragg’s footsteps came closer and stopped. They could hear her breathing and smell her, a strong scent of coal-tar soap, cod-liver oil and brimstone.

  She muttered something under her breath, and then her footsteps clumped away along the passageway. After a few seconds, Agapanthus looked around the door and whispered, ‘She’s gone.’

  They tiptoed to the stairs and made their way down, passing the mistresses’ bedrooms and the classrooms. They went on until they reached the passageway that led past the Headmistress’s parlour. They stopped and peered around the corner. Dim light filtered in from a window, making shadows on the floor.

  Ottilie hesitated.

  ‘Come on,’ whispered Agapanthus.

  The cat mewed.

  ‘Shhh,’ whispered Stella.

  Silently, they crept along the passageway and slipped, one by one, past the door of Miss Garnet’s parlour. They came to the top of an imposing, tiled staircase. Below, in the middle of the entrance hall, was a table holding a large, dusty aspidistra in an enormous brass pot. Light shone in from the gas lamp in the street outside, making the coloured glass in the window above the front door glow and sparkle.

  ‘Not this way,’ whispered Ottilie, clutching Stella’s arm.

  ‘No,’ agreed Stella.

  No Girl Shall Traverse the Main Staircase under Any Circumstances.

  This was the first rule Stella had learned at Wakestone Hall. She had broken it within ten minutes of arriving, and she had spent her first evening at school writing it out fifty times as neatly as she could while trying not to cry.

  The girls turned and went along the winding passageway that led to the back stairs.

  The cat mewed again.

  ‘He’s hungry,’ whispered Ottilie. ‘Perhaps we can find him something to eat.’

  ‘We might find something in the kitchen,’ said Stella, as they made their way down the back stairs. ‘There might be leftovers from dinner. There was that fish pie. And that jam pudding.’

  ‘That fish pie was utterly horrible,’ whispered Agapanthus crossly. ‘It was full of spiky bones, and it tasted like mouldy socks. We can’t give that to the poor cat. Of course not. And that jam pudding looked just like the flabby leg of a dead man. I hid my piece in my pocket, and I threw it out of the window. It’s probably still lying right there in the flowerbed. I bet even rats wouldn’t eat it. The food here is utterly revolting.’

  Stella and Ottilie giggled.

  Agapanthus pushed open the door to the dining room, and they threaded their way between the long tables. ‘This school is utterly dreadful. I’d like to put slugs in the mistresses’ stockings. I put a toad in my governess’s bed once. You should have heard her scream. The kitchen must be through here.’

  She pulled open the green baize door, and they followed her along a tiled passageway, down a short flight of stairs, around a corner, and found themselves in a cavernous, shadowy room that smelled of grease and old boiled cabbage. A large table was covered with pots and pans and piles of plates and bowls. There was an enormous range, and high up on one wall was a row of small windows. One of them was open, and the rain was coming in.

  Ottilie opened several drawers and cupboards and peered inside. ‘There’s nothing to eat here,’ she whispered.

  Agapanthus lifted the lid of one of the giant saucepans on the range. ‘Empty,’ she said. ‘Where’s the larder?’

  Stella spied a door, close to where they had come in. It had a latch and a padlock. ‘Here, I think.’ She rattled the padlock. ‘But it’s locked.’

  The cat gave a hungry mew.

  ‘Poor cat, there’s nothing for you here,’ said Stella, stroking him.

  Ottilie touched the padlock with her finger, and then she held it between her hands. There was a tiny click from inside, and she pulled it open and unlatched the door.

  ‘How did you do that?’ asked Stella, surprised.

  Ottilie hesitated. ‘It wasn’t locked,’ she said.

  The larder was a dark, narrow room, lined with shelves and full of sacks and barrels and boxes. Agapanthus searched along the shelves, cautiously poking her fingers into things. ‘Lard,’ she said. ‘Flour. Oatmeal.’

  Ottilie lifted the cover from a bowl and smelled the contents. ‘Prunes, I think.’ She picked up a plate and had a sniff. ‘Oh, I think these are Miss Garnet’s sausages.’

  Miss Garnet often had sausages with fried bread for breakfast, or a haddock sometimes, or mutton chops, or devilled kidneys. She always had something that smelled delicious. Her grim, elderly maid carried her meals through the dining room and up to the parlour on a special silver tray.

  Agapanthus prodded the sausages. ‘There’s a whole string of them. Do you think she’d notice if one was gone?’

  ‘I bet she would,’ said Stella.

  The cat made a sudden happy growling sound. He wriggled out of Stella’s grasp and leaped at the sausages.

  Ottilie squeaked, stepped backwards, tripped and dropped the plate. It shattered on the tiled floor with a crash that sounded like a thunderclap.

  ‘Oh no!’ she gasped.

  The cat pounced on the string of sausages and pulled them into a corner behind a big sack of onions. Stella knelt down and groped around behind the sack, trying to reach the sausages. The cat hissed and took a swipe at her. She jumped back. The sack toppled, and the onions bounced and rolled across the floor.

  The cat shot out from his hiding place. Stella tried to grab him, but she stepped on an onion, lost her balance and collided with Agapanthus. The cat clambered up to the highest shelf of the larder, taking the sausages with him. A large tin toppled down.

  ‘Ouch!’ squeaked Ottilie, who was crawling around underfoot, picking up bits of brok
en plate and scattered onions.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ whispered Stella. She climbed up the shelves and felt along the top for the cat. ‘Puss, puss,’ she crooned. He hissed at her again and darted away along the shelf, dragging the sausages. Another tin fell down with a clang.

  ‘Shhh. Someone’s coming,’ whispered Agapanthus.

  Stella gasped.

  Ottilie gave a little shriek.

  There was no time to escape. Agapanthus tried to pull the larder door shut, but it would not close properly.

  Voices and clumping footsteps were approaching.

  ‘Quick!’ whispered Stella.

  They scrambled to the back of the larder and crouched there together, behind a big sack of potatoes.

  Candlelight gleamed around the edges of the larder door.

  They were trapped.

  Three

  The footsteps came closer and the larder door was flung open.

  Miss McCragg stood in the doorway. She held a candle in one hand and brandished her stick in the other. Two nervous-looking maids peered around from behind her.

  At the back of the larder, behind the sack of potatoes, Stella felt Agapanthus flinch. Ottilie was shaking.

  ‘Who’s hiding in there?’ Miss McCragg waved her stick above her head. ‘Come out at once!’ She advanced into the larder.

  Stella felt for Ottilie’s hand in the darkness and gripped it tightly.

  If Miss McCragg took one more step, she would see them.

  At that moment, Miss McCragg stepped on an onion. She screeched and waved her arms around, dropping the candle. It sputtered and went out. She staggered backwards, out of the larder, knocking a pile of bowls from the table. They hit the floor with a smash.

  The maids shrieked.

  The cat yowled. He shot down from the shelf and out of the larder with his tail like a bottlebrush, trailing the sausages behind him. Miss McCragg flailed around in the darkness, trying to hit the cat with her stick. She missed him, but knocked over another pile of crockery.

  The maids squealed.

  The cat bounded up on the table and leaped onto Miss McCragg’s head. She screeched again, swinging wildly with her stick, bashing into things. Several saucepans fell down, clanging. Miss McCragg tripped over a saucepan and thumped into the maids. They all fell over.

  The cat sprang up onto a high shelf, and from there up onto the windowsill. He shot out of the open window, disappearing into the night, along with all of Miss Garnet’s sausages.

  Stella nudged Agapanthus and Ottilie and whispered, ‘Come on. Quick.’

  They crept out of the larder.

  They tiptoed around Miss McCragg and the maids, as they untangled themselves and struggled to get to their feet.

  Miss McCragg saw them and shouted, ‘Who is that? Stop there!’

  They did not stop. They sprinted out of the kitchen as fast as they could go, down the passageway, up the stairs and through the dining room towards the back stairs.

  Ahead, candlelight flickered.

  Stella halted so abruptly that Agapanthus collided with her and nearly knocked her over. ‘Someone’s coming down!’ she gasped. They spun around and sped back the way they had come.

  As they ran back past the door of the dining room, another crash echoed from the kitchen. Miss McCragg shouted. Ottilie squeaked in terror. They dashed towards the entrance hall.

  A figure was coming down the main staircase carrying a lamp. Just in time, they flung themselves behind the brass pot that held the aspidistra. The Senior Mistress, Miss Feldspar, stalked past them. She wore a dressing gown and a lace nightcap. If she had turned her head, she would have seen them hiding, but fortunately, she did not.

  They waited for a second, glanced at one another, and then crept from their hiding place and bolted up the main staircase, taking two stairs at a time. They sprinted along the passageway past Miss Garnet’s parlour, around the corner and up the stairs. As they ran past the mistresses’ bedrooms, a door handle rattled.

  ‘No!’ gasped Agapanthus.

  The door opened and Miss Mangan’s head poked out. She looked very peculiar, with a knitted nightcap covering her hair, cold cream covering her face, and without her spectacles or her teeth.

  Ottilie shrieked, tripped and fell over. Stella and Agapanthus grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet.

  Miss Mangan peered out at the dark passageway, blinking short-sightedly. ‘Who’s there?’ she asked.

  Stella and Agapanthus dragged Ottilie around the corner and up the stairs. They sprinted along the passageway, climbed the final, winding staircase and tiptoed along the narrow passageway to the First Form dormitory.

  It was quiet on the top floor of the school. Rain pattered on the roof. Far below, they could hear faint voices and distant thumps and bangs. There were murmurs in the other beds. Someone turned over and went back to sleep. Nobody had followed them. Nobody woke up.

  Stella took a gasping breath as she climbed into her bed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. ‘We made it,’ she whispered.

  ‘I think Miss McCragg saw us,’ said Ottilie. ‘Or Miss M-Mangan. I think Miss Mangan saw us.’

  ‘I’m sure they didn’t,’ said Agapanthus. ‘It was too dark. And we were too fast. And Miss Mangan didn’t have her spectacles on, anyway.’

  After a moment, Ottilie whispered, ‘I hope the poor cat got away.’

  ‘He did. I saw him jump out the window,’ said Stella.

  ‘He’s belting down the road right now, with all of Miss Garnet’s sausages,’ whispered Agapanthus, and she gave a sudden snorting laugh.

  When the rising bell clanged early the next morning, Stella felt as if she had been asleep for only a few minutes. Her dreams had been confusing and frightening, and her head felt thick and heavy. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Dim morning light filtered in from the window. It was still raining, and it was very cold.

  The dormitory maid, a cheerful girl, hurried into the room with a pile of folded towels. She whispered, ‘Get up, she’s coming,’ pulled a face and added over her shoulder, ‘And she’s in a right old bate this morning, so she is.’

  Stella clambered out of bed, shivering. She yawned again.

  ‘Up, up,’ said Miss McCragg, clumping into the dormitory. She was leaning heavily on her stick. There was a nasty-looking scratch on the side of her face. ‘Get up, there.’ She banged her stick against the ends of the beds. ‘Inspection today.’ She stamped over to the first bed, pulled open the drawers of the dressing table and poked her stick inside.

  ‘She’s looking for sausages, I bet,’ whispered Agapanthus.

  Stella’s heart gave a lurch. Hidden in the bottom drawer of her dressing table was a little musical box. It had once been her mother’s. She had brought it to school because she could not bear to leave it behind with the Aunts at the Hotel Majestic. She had tucked it right at the back of the drawer, behind her summer vests and stockings, but it was a poor hiding place, and if Miss McCragg found it, she would confiscate it.

  Keepsakes and Ornaments are Vulgar and Sentimental and Strictly Forbidden.

  The matron was coming closer, moving briskly through the dormitory, searching every bed and dressing table. She poked a mattress and a pillow, then upended a drawer, spilling hair ribbons and stockings onto the floor. She stirred them around with the end of her stick, snapped, ‘Tidy that up,’ and moved on to the next bed.

  As soon as Miss McCragg’s back was turned, Stella knelt down, pulled open her bottom drawer and snatched out the musical box. She clutched it to her chest.

  ‘Where can I hide this?’ she asked in a desperate whisper.

  ‘Up the leg of your drawers,’ suggested Agapanthus.

  ‘It’s too big.’

  ‘Under your pillow?’

  At that moment, Miss McCragg flung a pillow across the room. Stella gasped.

  Ottilie whispered, ‘P-put it in your washbag. I know somewhere. I’ll show you.’

  Miss McCragg had reached Agapanthus’s
bed and was prodding the mattress in a suspicious manner. Stella snatched her washbag off its hook and crammed the musical box inside, along with her sponge and her hairbrush. She drew the string closed. The bag looked rather lumpy. She bundled her towel over her arm and hoped Miss McCragg would not notice.

  She was just in time. Miss McCragg clumped over and yanked open the drawers of Stella’s dressing table. She stirred the contents around, frowning. She poked under the pillow, prodded the mattress, and then moved along to Ottilie’s bed. Stella let out the breath she had been holding.

  They hurried along to the washroom. The older girls were looking nervous.

  ‘Someone was out of bed. In the kitchen. In the night.’

  ‘It’s against the rules. There’ll be trouble.’

  ‘Shhh,’ hissed one of the girls, looking anxiously over her shoulder. ‘No talking.’

  Stella, Agapanthus and Ottilie exchanged a look.

  ‘They didn’t see us,’ said Agapanthus under her breath, as they washed their hands and faces in the icy water. ‘Of course not. Nobody saw us.’

  Ottilie looked around to make sure none of the big girls were watching them, and then she nudged Stella and beckoned her into the lavatory stall at the end of the row. ‘Quick,’ she breathed.

  Stella slipped into the stall, and Ottilie shut the door and ducked down behind the lavatory, peeled back the linoleum, poked her fingers into a knot hole and lifted up a floorboard. Underneath was a small cavity, where the pipe from the lavatory went down under the floor. It was a perfect hiding place. It already contained a little toy rabbit, made of felt and embroidered with coloured silk.

  ‘See,’ whispered Ottilie, pointing into the cavity. ‘I found it. It’s safe, I think. You can share it, if you want. There’s room.’

  ‘Thank you,’ whispered Stella. She took the musical box out of her washbag and placed it in the cavity, beside the rabbit.

  Ottilie stroked the rabbit with the tip of her finger. ‘My m-mother made him for me when I was little,’ she said. ‘It reminds me of her —’

  The dressing bell clanged, making them both jump. Ottilie pushed the floorboard down and flattened the linoleum back into place. They rushed back to the dormitory. Stella took off her nightgown and pulled on clean drawers, chemise, stays, stockings and petticoat, twisting around to do up the buttons and tie the tapes. She pulled the dress on over her head and buttoned it up as quickly as she could. The collar and cuffs were attached with hooks and tiny bone buttons, and they were all very fiddly, and her fingers were numb with cold. She managed to do them up at last, and then she brushed her hair and plaited it and tied the ends of the plaits with ribbon. She pushed her feet into her house shoes and tied the laces.