The Glass Bird Girl (9 page)

A Surprise Visit

‘
I
don't understand where we're going.'

Charles Rodriquez smiled coldly as he put his foot on the accelerator. ‘You, young man, are going wherever I take you. Your mother had no business dumping you on me for the day and I have no intention of changing my schedule.'

‘Got the message,' Lyle said glumly. ‘But you could still tell me where your schedule is taking us.'

‘I could,' Charles agreed.

Just then the telephone rang through the car speaker and Lyle sat back, impressed, while his cousin conducted something he called ‘business' with a man called Stolly.

Charles: ‘Are you in the country? I had no idea.'

Stolly: ‘I'm in the South of France. Filthy weather, filthy temper. I spoke to Anastasia again this morning
and she was distraught.'

‘What about?'

‘She wouldn't say. I could hear that she was crying, but she insisted nothing was wrong. She's obviously in trouble of some sort and frightened of telling me – so I rang the dragon and she claimed Ansti was making things up about the other girls.'

Charles: ‘That doesn't sound like Ansti.'

Stolly: ‘Too right it doesn't. And the Ansti I spoke to didn't sound like Ansti either. My impression is that the trouble's got worse since your girl pitched up. Have you heard from her?'

Charles: ‘She appears to have been parted from her mobile.'

Stolly: ‘I could have told you that would happen. The school's run by maniacs.'

Charles: ‘I hoped my girl would break the rules.'

Stolly: ‘I hoped mine would settle in.'

Charles: ‘I'm actually on my way there now. I think our little spy might need a bit of gentle encouragement. I'm afraid she's taken her eye off the job.'

Stolly: ‘Get a result, Charles. I don't like not knowing what's going on.' This was followed by the sound of an engine revving, and the conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun.

‘Who on earth was that?' asked Lyle.

‘A prince,' said Charles. ‘Out of your league.'

‘What league?' asked the boy.

‘Any league you might ever care to join,' his cousin replied.

‘Are we going to see Edie?' Lyle asked slyly.

‘I am,' Charles replied. ‘You can stay in the car.'

‘Come off it, coz. You sent me out to buy her chocolates – why can't I give them to her in person?'

‘What a surprising boy you are. I never expected for a minute you would spend my money as I instructed. I assumed you'd blow it all on cigarettes.'

‘I blew the change,' said the fox-like boy, with a wolfish grin.

‘Why were you so horrid to her, out of interest?'

Lyle shrugged. ‘It was a game. I was testing her.'

‘You made her run away.'

‘Girls,' Lyle said gloomily. ‘They take everything so seriously. I mean, that prince geezer just now. Who was he talking about?'

‘None of your business.'

‘Well, I'm not stupid. He was talking about some girls being horrid to another girl. I mean, like, hello, Prince, grow up. Anyway, what's Edie got to do with whatever he was talking about?'

Charles threw him a sideways glance, as if weighing something up. ‘She might tell you one day. Until then I suggest you keep out of it,' he replied.

‘Boring,' Lyle murmured, making a face.

Miss Fotheringay was reading Edie's class a passage from
The Merchant of Venice
when they were interrupted by Miss Mannering.

‘Please sit down,' the deputy said, catching Edie's eye as the class rose automatically to its feet. Edie watched,
curious, as Miss Mannering walked over to Miss Fotheringay's desk. The headmistress's expression made clear that she did not welcome the interruption. But what Edie heard next made her heart quicken:

‘I'm very sorry, Headmistress, but I have Edith's guardian, Mr Rodriguez, in reception to see her,' Miss Mannering explained in a hushed voice, just audible from Edie's desk in the front row.

Edie's first thought was that he had come to take her away. ‘
If you're not up to it, I'll send you back to Devon
.' That's what he had said. And she realised with a jolt that it was no longer just a question of not wanting to go back to Folly Farm. She
wanted
to stay at Knight's Haddon. Her new life of bells and lessons that had seemed so strange two weeks ago had become safe and familiar to her now, and as if in an act of unconscious protest, she clenched her hand round the rim of her chair and clung to it tightly.

‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to remind him of the rules,' Miss Fotheringay replied, turning back to her text.

‘You might have more luck. But I'm afraid he was rather insistent. Says he's going abroad next week and this is the last chance he has to see her for some considerable time.'

Miss Fotheringay sighed, and slapped her book on the desk. ‘Very well,' she said, addressing the class. ‘Miss Mannering, perhaps you could continue with Act One. The others will tell you where we've got to. Edith, come with me.

Edie followed Miss Fotheringay from the room. She wondered if she dare confide in her, and beg her to send Cousin Charles away, but Miss Fotheringay's expression was vexed. Neither spoke as they walked to the hall.

Cousin Charles was standing twirling his hat. He barely looked at Edie – it was to Miss Fotheringay that he flashed his cursory smile. ‘I hope I haven't called at an inconvenient time. I didn't realise I would be interrupting a Shakespeare class.'

‘By arriving unannounced you might have guessed you would be interrupting something. I'm sorry, Mr Rodriguez, but we have designated
exeat
weekends – we do not encourage family members to turn up as and when they please.
However
,' she went on, as Cousin Charles opened his mouth to protest, ‘in the light of your travel arrangements we will make an exception today. Tea is at half past four. Perhaps you would like to take your guardian on a little tour, Edith, for the intervening half-hour.'

Edie nodded reluctantly, her eyes following Miss Fotheringay as she walked away. ‘I didn't know you were going abroad,' she said, mildly curious.

‘I am not, Edith. It was a lie. And it paid off,' Charles added smugly, ‘because it got me what I wanted – an audience with you. Now, where are you going to take me?' Something in his voice made Edie nervous. She wondered where to go. There was nothing about her school life she wanted to share with Cousin Charles, not least because she knew that everything about it would make him sneer.

‘We could look at the art room,' she said, thinking she could show him a vase she had made in pottery. But as soon as they were in the room he closed the door behind them and turned on her with smouldering eyes.

‘You have been here nearly two weeks, Edith, and you've hardly been in touch. One letter! You're not here on holiday. Prince Stolonov wants results, and he's worried that Anastasia's in more trouble since you arrived.'

Edie was alarmed. She dared not tell him how little she had found out.

‘It – it –
could
be that Phoebe's the one to blame.'

‘Phoebe? Who's Phoebe?' Cousin Charles asked sharply.

‘She's another girl in our dormitory, and she hates Anastasia and she might have tried to hit her on purpose during lacrosse but we can't prove it,' Edie explained, warming to her theme. ‘That's the trouble. We can't actually prove anything. You see, Anastasia noticed her torch and a few other things missing from her bedside table on Tuesday evening . . . well, either she got in a muddle and forgot where she'd put them – which is what's happened before, like with her glass bird which she thought had been stolen from her desk . . . or someone must have taken them while we were at the play rehearsal. And Phoebe's only got a small part in the play – the gaoler – so she wasn't needed at the rehearsal on Tuesday, so that's why I think—'

‘The glass bird? Did you say it had gone missing?'

‘It
did
. But then she found it again, so I think that was
her being careless.'

‘Careless of her father to give it to her in the first place,' Charles muttered. ‘Has anything else gone walk-about?'

‘Yes,' Edie volunteered. ‘There was another rehearsal yesterday, and when we got back to the dormitory Anastasia couldn't find her English homework. She'd had to redo it because she can't spell for toffee and she
says
she left it on her bed, but—'

‘
For toffee!
' Cousin Charles scoffed. ‘I see you've picked up the boarding-school lingo quickly enough. But I've had about as much as I can stomach of this schoolgirl nonsense. I want it cleared up. You'll need to keep a watch on the dormitory during these rehearsals if that's when things are happening – which means you'll have to pull out of the play.'

‘Pull out? But . . . I can't do that!'

‘Don't argue with me, Edith. I've got a lot on. I don't want to waste any more of my time on eleven-year-olds who can't find their torches. Either Anastasia is being hysterical, or she's being victimized. It's one or the other and if you can't solve it I'll replace you with someone who can. When she loses something again search every wretched drawer until you find it.'

Replace me?
Edie thought. She imagined her replacement taking the part of Nerissa in the first-year play, and sleeping in her bed, and sitting on Miss Fotheringay's sofa, learning Latin and eating marbled cake; and she clenched her fists. Cousin Charles had the power to take her away from Knight's Haddon.
I
hate him
, she screamed silently, and the thought calmed her.

‘Come back to the car with me,' Charles said in a warmer tone, opening the art-room door. ‘I've got a surprise for you.'

‘But I'll be late for tea,' Edie protested, as her cousin laid his arm around her shoulders, and propelled her back to the hall.

Charles had parked out of sight of the main entrance, round the first twist of the drive. ‘In case I needed to make off with you,' he said playfully, tightening his grip.

‘But . . . I'll be in trouble,' Edie said, seeing the chestnut Bentley looming in the dusk.

‘Don't run off just yet,' Charles said, gripping her arm, ‘I have something for you. Your favourite cousin—'

The word was barely out of his mouth before Edie uttered a scream as she caught sight of Lyle's face against the car window, pressed into a ghastly leer. The car door opened, and Lyle sprang out.

‘How's it been, coz?' he said. ‘Folly's not the same without you and Tilly.'

Edie stared at him balefully, but did not speak.

Charles regarded them with amusement, then he took the small package that Lyle was holding, and tucked it into the pocket of Edie's coat. ‘Something for when you feel hungry in the dark reaches of the night. Now off you go, back to your other master.'

Edie needed no second bidding. As soon as Charles
released her from his grip she shot like an arrow from its bow, back up the drive and into the uncertain shelter of Knight's Haddon.

Lost for Words

E
die sat silently through supper that evening, haunted by Cousin Charles's threats. ‘
Prince Stolonov wants results . . . You'll have to pull out of the play, Edith . . .
' But she was enjoying the play more than anything else at Knight's Haddon – during rehearsals she could forget that she was different from the other girls, and although she knew she would never be as good an actress as Anastasia, she felt her confidence was growing. She and Anastasia shared most of their scenes, and always ran through their lines together between rehearsals. Edie remembered what Cousin Charles had said, and secretly laughed to think that playing Anastasia's servant should have brought them closer.

Why should she pull out of the play just because Cousin Charles said so? The next rehearsal was on
Tuesday.
And if I go
, Edie thought,
I needn't tell him
.

The next day was Saturday. The encounter still weighed heavily on Edie's mind, making her distracted in class, and when she was asked to stay behind after history, Edie expected a reprimand. But for once the Man did not look cross. She stood behind her desk, peering at Edie over her spectacles.

‘In the light of your good homework, I have decided to repeal my ban on your going to the village,' she said in a voice that was almost friendly. ‘Do you know what repeal means, Edith?'

‘It means I can go with the others?'

‘That is the short of it,' Miss Mannering replied. ‘
However
—' she added, seeing Edie's delighted smile, ‘you will bear in mind that next time I am unlikely to be so lenient.'

‘Funny definition of lenient,' Edie said to Anastasia when she told her the good news.

‘Come with me and we can have tea at the Blue Kettle,' Anastasia said delightedly. ‘They do the best doughnuts there.'

Edie resolved to waste no more time worrying about Cousin Charles. After lunch she hurried to collect her pocket money from Miss Winifred. The rules were clear: all pocket money had to be handed in at the beginning of term, and each girl could draw out a maximum of five pounds a week.

‘Aren't you taking anything out?' she asked Anastasia, who had been waiting for her outside.

‘I don't need any,' Anastasia said, patting her pocket slyly.

It was a pleasant walk to the village, across the park and then down a winding country lane. The village was quite large with several shops and a post office, and three tea rooms serving the tourists who came to see the famous Norman church. Edie bought some biscuits from the grocer, then they went to the Blue Kettle. Anastasia had tried out all the tea rooms, and this was her favourite. It was small and homely, with checked tablecloths and fogged windows. There was a group of fourth-years sitting at the central table who pointedly ignored the two first-years when they walked in, but it was the person in the corner who caught Edie's eye:

‘
Anastasia, look!
' she hissed. She gestured with a nudge towards a single table beside the till, where Miss Winifred was sitting on her own, her head bent over a book.

Anastasia shrugged carelessly. ‘I've seen her in here before,' she said, guiding Edie to a table on the other side of the room. ‘I've even seen Fothy once – eating buns with the Man! It's the best tea room by far, so I suppose it's hardly surprising they come here too. I'd come every day if I could,' she went on dreamily, scouring the menu.

Edie murmured agreement. She had never been out to tea before with someone her own age and liked the feeling of independence; Anastasia ordered for them both as though she were quite used to it. ‘You never see the lower school in here,' she said. ‘We're allowed so little
pocket money, and most of them think it's a waste spending it on tea.'

‘With one exception,' Edie said, nodding to the door.

Anastasia turned to see Phoebe appear. ‘What's
she
doing here?' she whispered, keeping her head bowed as Phoebe walked past them and sat down on her own at a table in the opposite corner to Miss Winifred, tucked behind the coat stand.

‘Having tea, like us, I suppose,' said Edie. ‘But where's Irene? I saw them leaving school together.'

Anastasia shrugged. ‘She must have given her the slip – wouldn't you? But Phoebe will be for it if Miss Winifred sees her on her own. She'll probably make her join up with us!'

Edie glanced round anxiously – she didn't want Phoebe spoiling their treat. But Miss Winifred had not looked up from her book.

‘Anyway, I don't get it,' Anastasia said sourly. ‘Phoebe knows I like to come here, so if she hates me so much why can't she choose a different tea room?' Anastasia shuffled her chair round so that she couldn't see Phoebe any more, and cheered up when they had ordered some hot chocolate and eclairs. ‘I can't believe my godfather is your guardian,' she said suddenly. ‘You must have such fun with him.'

Now it was Edie who looked unsettled. Cousin Charles had warned her that he was going to tell Anastasia of their connection. ‘
She'll find out soon enough
,' he had said. But Edie had been too awkward to mention it herself. She couldn't tell Anastasia the whole truth, so to
mention it at all seemed like a lie.

‘When Papa and I meet him in London we always go for tea at the Ritz,' Anastasia went on chattily. ‘Papa likes the piano-player there. I bet Charles takes you for tea at the Ritz
all the time
.'

Edie shook her head. She and Babka had walked past the Ritz once, and peered inside. She remembered it being very pink, and full of tall pot plants and tinkling music. Having tea there with Cousin Charles was an unimaginable thought. ‘I – I haven't really known him long enough,' she said.

‘But I thought he was your guardian.'

‘Not exactly – I mean, he's . . . he's only one of them,' Edie replied, confused, then quickly changed the subject by telling Anastasia about her other life with Aunt Sophia and Uncle Tony and her three cousins in Devon.

‘Do you like them – the boys?' Anastasia asked.

Edie hesitated. She had noticed that the girls at Knight's Haddon always portrayed their home lives in a glowing light. No one seemed to have any relations they didn't like. It seemed to be an unspoken rule at school, this culture of brave pretence. But Edie sensed that Anastasia did not subscribe to it. She was different from the others; she would understand.

‘I don't like the eldest one much,' she admitted. ‘And then there are the twins. One of them's less horrid than the other, but when their older brother's around they're both pretty awful. He sort of eggs them on.'

Anastasia cocked her head enquiringly. There was something sympathetic in her expression, and Edie
found herself telling Anastasia about the goldfish and about Lyle's visit to the school the day before. As she spoke of it she had a vision of Lyle's face at the car window, and felt her skin crawl.

‘It was funny really, but seeing him made me realise how much I dread going back at the end of term,' Edie said, reflecting that this was probably Cousin Charles's intention. ‘‘There's just – oh, I don't know,' she said hurriedly, ‘it's not only Lyle . . . it's Folly Farm, I just hate it there.'

‘Your cousins sound
horrible
,' Anastasia said in a lowered voice. ‘What about your aunt? Doesn't
she
take your side?'

Edie grimaced. ‘She's
their
mother.'

‘Oh, Edie,' Anastasia said, putting one of her small white hands over hers, ‘it must be awful not having anyone who's really, you know – yours.'

‘Oh, but I have. I've got a grandmother,' Edie said hastily, and she told Anastasia about Babka, and how they'd lived together before she went blind. ‘She's in a nursing home near here now. I'd like to take you to see her one day.'

‘I'd love to come,' Anastasia said eagerly. ‘I wish I could take you home with me but it's a bit difficult with my father being abroad all the time and my mother not being well.'

‘Not well?' Edie asked. Cousin Charles had told her that Anastasia's mother was ‘difficult', but he hadn't mentioned her being ill.

‘It's nothing really. She just gets tired sometimes and
she—' Anastasia took a sip of her hot chocolate, then stirred it slowly with her spoon. Edie waited. She sensed Anastasia was weighing up how much to tell her. ‘She just gets a bit upset about things,' Anastasia said finally. ‘About me, and being safe. If she'd had her way I wouldn't be allowed into the village without a police guard! And she gets stressed about other things too.'

‘What sort of things?' Edie asked gently.

‘Odd stuff. It's hard to explain really, but—' Anastasia looked at Edie cautiously, as if trying to weigh up the chances that she'd understand. ‘She sort of thinks everyone's against her, oh, I don't know,' she broke off suddenly. ‘She just worries a lot. Most of all she worries about my stepfather. He doesn't really like visitors.'

‘Why not?' Edie asked curiously. Anastasia had shown her a photograph of her stepfather's house in Yorkshire, and it was huge.

Anastasia shrugged. ‘He's just difficult, I suppose.' She did not volunteer anything else. Then: ‘What about your parents, Edie?' she asked shyly. ‘Did they—'

‘They were journalists. They were killed by a bomb in Moscow when I was a baby.'

‘In Moscow?' Anastasia said in surprise. ‘That's where my father lives. Some of the time, anyway.'

Edie nodded. ‘And my father's still there – I mean, not really of course, but . . .'

‘What?' Anastasia asked, her eyes wide.

‘Well, his body was never found. My mother's body was brought home, and buried here. But my father . . .'

‘How awful for you,' Anastasia whispered.

‘It was a long time ago,' Edie said hastily. ‘I don't miss them, because I never knew them. I don't even know any of their friends. Babka never kept in touch with anyone.'

Anastasia looked sad and Edie was relieved when the waitress come to clear their plates. ‘Have something else, Edie, I'll pay,' Anastasia urged. ‘We might as well.'

As she spoke Anastasia sneaked a look over her shoulder to the corner table, where Miss Winifred had been sitting, and saw that the mistress had stood up and was putting on her coat, ready to go. The girls ducked their heads over their hot chocolate, giggling in conspiracy as Miss Winifred walked by. When the lower-school mistress had left the tea room Anastasia lowered her voice guiltily: ‘
Papa sent me a fifty-pound note last week!
'

Edie was astonished. ‘Fifty pounds! Why did he give you so much?'

‘Oh, I don't know,' Anastasia sighed. ‘It's just what he's like. He says you're always safer with money. I did tell him we were only allowed five pounds pocket money a week but he thought it was silly.'

‘Aren't you going to hand it in?'

‘I can't hand it in; it would be too embarrassing. You can imagine what Fothy would say. Anyway, it's more fun to spend it here.'

Edie agreed. It felt very grand being taken out to tea on a smuggled fifty-pound note, and they ordered two more cakes to mark the occasion. They were still tucking in when Phoebe brushed past their table on her way out. Edie looked up and mumbled hello, but Phoebe
looked straight ahead, as if she hadn't seen them.

‘Good riddance,' Anastasia said mischievously, watching the door close behind her. A few minutes later she went to fetch her purse from her coat, which she had hung in the corner. But when she opened it her mouth fell. ‘It – it's gone,' she stammered. ‘I know I put it in here, the fifty-pound note, I know I did – but . . .'

‘Are you
sure
you couldn't have left it somewhere else?'

‘Positive. I remember opening the letter on my bed, and the money falling out from inside.
Don't lose it
, Papa wrote, and I swore to myself I wouldn't. I put it straight into my purse.'

Edie looked at her friend carefully. She had never really believed that Anastasia had been orchestrating all the unpleasant things that had been happening to her – her hurt had always seemed too genuine. And seeing her expression now, Edie was quite certain of her innocence. The waitress came back, but even when they put all their coins together they didn't have enough to pay and the manageress was called. Anastasia was one of her regulars, and she was very nice about it. ‘That's all right, dear, you can pay us back next time,' she said; but Edie noticed all the fourth-years had turned to look at them.

She was glad at least that Miss Winifred was not there to witness Anastasia's latest humiliation. As they walked out of the tea room Edie saw the mistress a little further down the lane, talking to a tall and slightly stooped-looking man. Edie could not see his face, but was struck by his height, and his shock of jet-black hair.