Monster. C.J. Skuse
calls home most nights just so I can sit in that study with Saul-Hudson and go through the diary while she sits there on her yogically tightened arse, picking lip hairs and drinking Tesco Finest cocoa while I’m stuck drinking that … value crud she gets for the rest of us!’
‘Whoa, it’s all coming out now,’ Maggie laughed.
‘Sorry,’ I said, breathing deeply, my head falling into my hands. ‘Just can’t believe I’ve fallen at the last sodding fence.’
‘You let it out. It’s good for you,’ said Maggie. ‘‘Bout time you gnashed your teeth a bit. Listen, you don’t know Pffaf’s been given Head Girl, do you?’
‘It’s a pretty safe bet. She called for Dianna to talk to the police with her. Not me. She said I’ve “got enough to deal with”. If that isn’t a massive hint as to who she trusts the most at this school, I don’t know what is.’
‘But you practically run this school, Nash. Saul-Hudson would be lost without you. If she’d rather put that chucklehead in charge of running the place, then let her. She doesn’t deserve your respect. What other headmistress would keep me here as long as she has, eh?’
‘True,’ I said, forcing a small laugh. ‘I’ve failed her big time this week though. She was relying on me.’
‘Why do you want to be Head Girl anyway? All that extra responsibility. All it involves is doing the diary and sorting out pissy little tea rotas and wiping Saul-Hudson’s arse. Let the Golden Snitch deal with all that if that’s what she really wants. I bet your brother doesn’t give a crap.’
I laughed. This much was true.
‘Seb would want you to enjoy yourself, wouldn’t he? You can’t enjoy yourself if you’re constantly trying to impress other people. All that is for when you’re grown up. Now is the time to kick back—at least until you’re eighteen. Then you can start thinking about job prospects and contraception and hatchbacks.’
I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Maggie.’
She blew out a thick cloud of smoke. ‘For what?’
‘For never sticking up for you.’
‘You’ve turned a few blind ones to me, I know you have. So come on, chin up, tits out and let’s go get our God on.’ She gestured towards the open Wendy House window. A line of students had already begun the trek up the path towards the Chapel on the opposite side of the valley.
‘Do you mind if I sit next to you in Prayers?’ I asked her as we stepped out of the Wendy House.
‘Yeah. If I can share your hymn book.’
‘Why where’s yours?’
‘Kinda flame grilled it yesterday. Don’t ask.’
There was a tremendous creak of the pews and everyone stood up to greet Mrs Saul-Hudson, who took her position at her bronze eagle lectern as the organ ceased its hum. I stayed seated throughout.
‘Good morning, girls,’ she boomed, removing a small hair from the lapel of her red suit jacket.
‘Good morning, Mrs Saul-Hudson,’ the assembled pupils all droned back at her, apart from Maggie who preferred ‘Good morning, Mrs Stool-Softener.’ She threw me a look and I smiled, despite myself.
‘That woman literally has no neck,’ Maggie whispered into my ear, at which I burst out laughing.
Mrs Saul-Hudson threw me a look, full to the brim with disappointment.
I sucked my swollen lip again, spotting Regan Matsumoto staring at me from the choir pews at the front. Why was she always staring at me? I could see no evidence of Clarice Hoon or her vile apostles though and Matron hadn’t pitched up either. I figured they were all in Sickbay. Clarice wailing on and on about how I attacked her and pinned her down. The other girls just crying in harmony.
It was as though Maggie had read my mind. She leaned in to me again. ‘I see the Hoon Patrol haven’t rocked up. Probably in Sickbay getting her face reassembled.’
I looked down at the prayer cushion beneath my feet and tried to decipher which Bible story was knitted into the fabric today. Maggie had Noah and the Ark. On the other side of me, Carrie McKernan had Jonah and the Whale. Mine showed a monster. Maybe it wasn’t a monster. Maybe it was the Devil.
‘Girls, before I begin our last assembly of term, there are a couple of grave matters which I must discuss this morning,’ said Mrs Saul-Hudson. Everyone sat to attention, eager to know the fate that had befallen Bathory in the night.
Maggie leaned into me. ‘Bet her husband’s been caught dogging again.’
‘What?’ I said, snapping my head to look at her. ‘He was night-fishing,’ I whispered back.
‘Sure he was.’
Saul-Hudson continued. ‘First of all, I’m sure you have all heard by now that a man very sadly died in the village a few nights ago. There have been some rumours flying about the school regarding the cause of his death. I want you all to be assured that he died as the result of a burglary that went wrong and the perpetrators have been caught, so you are quite safe.’
She smiled. Nobody smiled back.
‘So he didn’t have his guts ripped out by some wild animal and die in agony on his doorstep then?’ said Maggie, leaning into me.
‘Apparently not.’
Saul-Hudson continued. ‘The second matter I must bring to your attention concerns last night’s staff Christmas party. A person, or persons, broke into the kitchens and laced the party food with a toxic substance …’
Maggie leaned in again. ‘Staff toilets take a bit of punishment, did they?’
‘Sssssshhhh!’ I said, bubbles of laughter and fear mingling in my belly.
‘I do not consider this act to be even remotely amusing.’ She scanned us all, daring us with her eyes to laugh or even breathe wrong. ‘I suggest the culprit come and see me after Prayers in my office and tell me privately—’
Maggie’s hand shot up.
Saul-Hudson honed in on her, thinning her frosty eyes. ‘You.’
‘Yes, me,’ Maggie sighed. ‘It was only laxatives though, Mrs Saul-Hudson. Guess you’ll be throwing me out of school now, won’t you?’ She held up her wrists as though a pair of invisible handcuffs were to clamp down on them. But they didn’t. All Mrs Saul-Hudson did was clear her throat and say, ‘See me after Prayers, please. Now, let us pray.’
There was a shuffling and creaking again as every teacher and all the school’s three hundred and four girls arranged their cushions and knelt down to pray for trespassers and daily Hovis.
I clasped my hands and closed my eyes, inhaling the strong atticky smell of the Chapel and the musty old hymn book just beneath my nose. There was a snigger to the right of me.
I opened my eyes and nudged Maggie. ‘You still hell-bent on getting chucked out?’
She nodded.
‘But why?’
Maggie looked at me. ‘Je suis have mes raisons.’
‘… and give us this day our daily bread … I don’t think they’ll expel you for putting Ex-Lax in the cocoa. They didn’t for spray-painting the pony or putting the custard in the minibus.’
‘More’s the pity,’ she said.
‘… the power and the glory … She could put you in the Chiller again.’
‘… forever and ever … Maybe I want to go to the Chiller again.’
Please, please, let Seb be all right. ‘Amen.’
The Chiller was supposed