Say Her Name (20 page)

Mary didn’t say anything, her lips didn’t even part, but Bobbie knew in her heart that the other girl was thankful. Turning away, a faint smile on her lips, Mary walked out of the mausoleum and into the sun.

Chapter 29

Piper’s Hall reopened the following Monday. How could it not? Dr Price was running the biggest PR campaign of her career. It had finally stopped raining and the pale blue face of winter emerged behind the clouds. Silver frost stiffened the front lawns as BMWs and Mercedes dropped pupils off, their breath hanging like speech bubbles as they said their goodbyes.

A collective whinge filled the halls. When the headlines hit everyone had been expecting the school to shut for at least a week or two, but Dr Price and the governors were adamant that it was very much business as usual, and that the grim discovery at St Paul’s Church had
nothing
to do with them.

Bobbie who, of course, had never left, sat in the Accy Area with Naya. Thankfully her ankles were sprained, not broken. She was wrapped up like a mummy and the pain wasn’t too bad, but she still had a crutch leaned against the arm of the sofa.

In the end, despite her promise to Mary, they’d changed their story. They’d had to. Initially Bobbie told the full truth, but however she’d said it, in a police station with a group of very tired and irritable police officers glaring at her, it had just sounded insane. It
was
insane.

In the end, it had gone something like this: Sadie had run away through the secret passage, got trapped in the mausoleum and then Caine and Naya had inadvertently got locked in while trying to rescue her until Bobbie had freed them. No one bought that story either, but at least that version didn’t feature a dead girl who climbs out of Hell via a mirror.

The real investigation now focused on the other bodies. The current thinking was some serial killer had preyed on Piper’s Hall Ladies for decades, using the crypt to hide his victims.

History would now say that Mary Worthington was the first victim of a serial killer. Not true, but at least her story now had a final chapter.

Likewise, Taylor Keane’s mother had been on the national news. She’d seemed
happy
, happy that she finally had some answers about her daughter’s disappearance. The Keanes had something to bury.

Dr Price was denying everything – even knowledge of the tunnel. Perhaps she wasn’t lying. It was possible her dad had ensured the tunnel became a truly ‘secret passage’ during his time as Head. Price would lie through her teeth regardless. Bobbie watched her Cheshire-cat grin as she shook rich parents’ hands, assuring them that there was nothing at all to worry about. But while Bobbie
had
told the police about Kenton Millar, her father’s involvement wasn’t public knowledge. Yet. As far as Bobbie knew he’d be a suspect for all the bodies. Bobbie quite liked having that trick up her sleeve for when she needed it most – like if there was ever any fallout regarding Caine or the struggle in her office. While journalists were circling the school like vultures, Bobbie felt she had some power over the Head.

‘Hey hey hey.’ Kellie Huang rushed over to where they sat, tossing her Birkin to one side as if it were worthless. ‘How’s Sadie? Everyone’s saying it’s you two that saved her.’

A few other girls gathered around to hear the latest. ‘She’s gonna be fine,’ Naya said, loving the celebrity. ‘Severe dehydration, but she’s all hooked up with her very own drip and she’ll be back probably by the end of the week.’

‘Oh thank God!’ Kellie clutched her chest. ‘What was she even doing down there in the graveyard? She’s lucky to be alive. If it weren’t for you two being like detectives or something…’

Behind the little congregation, Grace and Caitlin sauntered past, rolling their eyes.

Bobbie had had three long days to prepare for the inevitable barrage of questions. She’d come up with about fifty possible cover stories, all of them vaguely plausible (she was a writer, after all). She thought about saying it really
was
a secret lesbian lover in the village; it was a hoax to freak them out after the dare; she was trying to score some pot. They’d all work, but it was urban legends that had got them into the mess in the first place, so Bobbie just said, ‘I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Sadie when she’s better.’

A lofty voice cut in. ‘You’re so full of crap.’ It was Grace, looking far from pleased at being on the outside. ‘There was totally something weird going on. Nosebleeds, sneaking around, boys in your dorm. You should have seen Bobbie on Thursday morning. She was totally having a bad trip outside the bathroom and we had to put her in the Isolation Room. She must have like drawn all over her face in red pen too. What a freak.’

‘Oh shut up,’ Naya scowled.

‘Excuse me, I’m the Head Girl, you can’t tell me to shut up. It’s
so
obvious this is about drugs or something.’

Quite rationally, Bobbie took her crutch and rose from the sofa. She paused to smooth down the custom sweatshirt Caine had given her yesterday. No longer intimidated, she walked directly into Grace’s personal space, took her arm and twisted her around. ‘Ow! What are you doing?’ the taller girl squealed.

They were now both facing the mirror she and Naya had taken out of their room on Wednesday night. The reflection held them both. A whisper ran through the crowd. The girls nearest edged away and Bobbie wondered just how accurate the gossip mill was on this occasion.

If she’s called, she has to come.

Bobbie thought about it for a second. Perhaps Mary owed her one. Instead she said, ‘Take a look at yourself, Grace. What do you see?’ Her voice was steady and calm.

‘What? Get off me, you freak of nature.’

‘Do you know what I see? A needy little princess who knows her reign is coming to an end. Final year, Grace, and then what? Outside of Piper’s Hall, you’re
nothing
.’ Bobbie emphasised the last word. ‘Once you leave here, you’re nothing but an averagely intelligent, pretty-ish blonde girl with nice legs but no sense of humour. Good luck. Let me know how that works out for you.’

Roughly speaking the crowd reacted with laughter, poorly concealed glee or plain shock.
‘Oh my God, did you just hear that? That’s hilarious! She must have a death wish,’
etc.

Grace Brewer-Fay was speechless. Her cheeks burned scarlet and she yanked her arm out of Bobbie’s grasp. But Bobbie wasn’t done. ‘In fact, I think I’ll take that.’ Bobbie reached for Grace’s lapel and removed the Head Girl pin. ‘I have a sneaking suspicion Dr Price will fully support my coup. No more
Elites
. Ever.’

‘Amen to that!’ Naya whooped and applauded. Kellie Huang took up the cheer and a few other girls joined in too.

Bobbie Rowe, the new Head Girl of Piper’s Hall, attached the pin to her boyfriend’s jumper and, with an arched brow, dared Grace to challenge her.

Later that night, Bobbie crept out to visit Caine. ‘Crept out’ possibly wasn’t the right phrase to use given that she’d hobbled out of the main exit right under Dr Price’s nose. She was hardly going to stop her, was she?

Caine lived in the most normal house in the world and Bobbie loved it. It was a semi-detached house on one of those new sandstone estates with identical dream-homes all in a row. There was an oval patch of green in the middle for the owners to take the dog out, scoop its poo and head straight back inside. Pretty much every home had a Mini Cooper or, like Caine, a VW on the drive. A lot of zippy convertibles too – hairdresser cars.

That night Caine’s mum was back on the nightshift at the hospital, so it was just the two of them. Tomorrow morning her mum would arrive in London from New York – spending a whole week in Hampstead with Bobbie before flying back for opening night – so she wasn’t sure when she’d see Caine again after tonight and therefore intended to soak up every drop. Caine had carried his duvet down into the lounge and they were about to attempt all of the
Avengers
films in the correct order, starting with
The Hulk
. Bobbie predicted they wouldn’t get much past
Iron Man
before nodding off or making out.

The microwave pinged and Caine shook the popcorn into a bowl, cursing as he burned his fingers. There was a slight smoky smell drifting through from the kitchen – he’d obviously nuked it for too long. He carried it through sheepishly. ‘Right, here’s the popcorn. You okay for Diet Coke?’

‘Yep.’

‘Do you need anything else?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Bobbie frowned.

Caine joined her and pulled the duvet over his lap and hers. ‘So what’s up? You seem quiet.’

There was something up. All day, she’d had the weirdest sensation. A feeling that she’d forgotten to do something, an overwhelming tip-of-the-tongue sensation that she couldn’t shake. All she could think was that it was the lingering, niggling worry that Kenton Millar would somehow ‘get away with it’. ‘I’m probably just tired,’ she eventually said.

He saw through that in a second. ‘Or … ?’

Bobbie was worried putting her thoughts into words might make them true, but she was driving herself a little crazy. Last night she’d hardly slept a wink. ‘Oh I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about Bridget and Judy.’

Caine frowned. ‘What about them? Did you speak to Bridget?’

‘No. The person I spoke to on the phone said she’d taken a turn for the worse … ’

‘Oh. Is that what’s bothering you?’

Bobbie fiddled with the edge of the blanket. ‘Can you remember what Bridget said about not letting Mary out of the cage?’

‘Yeah … ’

‘And there was what Judy said about Mary being different … even before she died there was something strange about her, all those rumours. Then there was the letter … ’

‘What letter?’

Bobbie sat up straighter. ‘In Price’s office there was a letter from a parent about how, since Mary had started at Piper’s, her room-mate couldn’t sleep for having terrible nightmares.’ Her throat tightened up. ‘What if we didn’t
set Mary free
, what if we
let her out
?’ He looked at her sceptically so she went on. ‘You said it yourself at the hospital – we only show people what we want them to see. We only saw what Mary wanted us to see.’

The words hung between them and, just for a second, she saw the panic in his eyes. He shook it off and leaned in for a kiss. His lips brushed hers. ‘Bobbie, it’s all over now. People aren’t just “evil”, that doesn’t make any sense. It’s all over,’ he repeated.

Bobbie relaxed back into his embrace and tried to focus on the movie. He was right, of course he was. He had to be.

‘I’m gonna get some more Coke.’ He sprang off the sofa.

Bobbie cautiously swung her bandaged ankles onto the coffee table, knocking the local paper to the floor. It was open on a page displaying an all-too-familiar image. The tomb. ‘Are we in the paper?’ she called.

‘Yeah, well, the story is,’ he replied from the kitchen. ‘Sorry – I meant to bin it.’

‘No. I wanna see.’ Bobbie turned the paper over in her hand. The main image was one of the mausoleum decorated in police tape, forensics officers in white onesies ducking in and out. The inset image was a close-up of Mary’s message, the one she’d carved into the sides of her coffin:

no one BeLiEvED me i just wanted people to LIKE ME

Bobbie raised an eyebrow. There was something about the frenzied, jumbled-up letters. It seemed odd somehow, even for the state that the poor girl had been in. In the crypt, Bobbie could only imagine Mary’s
fear
, but, seeing the words again, it was the writing of someone who was really, really
angry
. And who had more reason to be angry than Mary Worthington?

That was when Bobbie froze. She stared at the photograph. She recalled the letter from Radley about Mary’s exceptional attainment. Not the sort of girl to badly punctuate.

We only show people what they want to see.

She remembered the faint smile on Mary’s lips.

Tears pricked Bobbie’s eyes. Not tears of pity – scared tears.
What have I done?
Only certain letters were capitalised and they spelled out a new sentence.

BLEED LIKE ME

Say Her Name
marks a new chapter in my writing career, one for which I’m very grateful indeed. Thank you to Jo Williamson and everyone at Antony Harwood Ltd for managing me so well these last four years. Doesn’t time fly!

Obviously a big, BIG thank you to Emma Matthewson and everyone at Hot Key Books for making me feel so welcome. Your enthusiasm for Mary is contagious and coming into Hot Key HQ is always a treat. Big thank you to Jet Purdie for the cover – if I hadn’t written it, I’d buy it!

I also need to thank Simon Savidge for challenging me to write the scariest contemporary YA horror ever (what do you reckon, Simon? Did I do it?) and also Tanya Byrne and Kim Curran for their early feedback. Special thanks also to Aprilynne Pike for her kind words. More thanks to my critical readers Kerry Turner and especially Sam Powick who read
Say Her Name
despite her mortal fear of a) ghosts and b) horror stories – you had to read it because if it didn’t scare you it was dead in the water!

UKYA Massiv – love you.

Finally a big thank you to YOU, the reader. Whether this is the first of my books you’ve read or my THIRD (where does time go?), thank you for choosing me. I hope you weren’t TOO scared. Just FYI though…I still haven’t dared to say her name five times. I always stop at four. Mary’s out now. Just something to dwell on. Sweet dreams.

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