Silence, again. Under the body spray, I thought I caught a whiff of hyacinths.
‘What now?’ I asked.
‘Now we wait for Sophie to get us Chris’s phone records. I’m not talking to anyone else till I see what he was at last spring. Meanwhile, we do a proper search in here.’
In the corner of my eye: a flutter of darkness, behind the door-crack.
I had the door flung open before I knew I was moving. Alison squealed and leaped back, hands flapping wildly. In the background, McKenna took a protective pace forward.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked. My heart was going harder than it should have been. Conway eased away from the wall on the other side of the doorway – I hadn’t even seen her go for it. Even with no clue what I was at, she’d been straight in there, ready to back me up.
Alison stared. Said, like someone had taught her the line, ‘I need to get my books to do my homework please.’
‘No problem,’ I said. I felt like an eejit. ‘In you come.’
She sidled in like we might hit her, started pulling stuff out of her bag – her hands looked frail as water spiders, skittering over the books. McKenna stood in the doorway, being massive. Not liking us one little bit.
‘How’s the arm?’ I asked.
Alison shifted it away from me. ‘It’s OK. Thanks.’
‘Let’s see,’ Conway said.
Alison shot a glance at McKenna: she’d been told not to show it. McKenna nodded, reluctantly.
Alison pulled up her sleeve. The blisters were gone, but the skin where they’d been still had a bumpy look to it. The handprint had faded to pink. Alison had her head turned away.
‘Nasty,’ I said sympathetically. ‘My sister used to get allergies. Up her face and all, once. Turned out it was the washing powder our mammy was using. Did you figure out what did that, no?’
‘The cleaners must have switched to a new brand of hand soap.’ Another glance at McKenna. Another line learned off by heart.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Must’ve done.’ Shared a look with Conway, let Alison catch it.
Alison tugged down her sleeve and started scooping up her books. Glanced once round the room, big-eyed, like we’d turned it into somewhere strange and untrustworthy, before she scuttled out.
McKenna said, ‘If you should wish to speak to me, Detectives – or to any more of the fourth-years – you will find us in the common room.’
Meaning the nun had ratted us out. McKenna was taking over the fourth-years, damage control or no, and we were getting no more interviews without an appropriate adult.
‘Miss McKenna,’ I said. Held out a hand to keep her back, while Alison straggled down the corridor towards the common room. Even on her own, the kid walked like she was trailing after someone. ‘We’ll need to speak to some of the girls without a teacher present. There are elements of this case that they wouldn’t be comfortable discussing in front of school staff. It’s only background to the investigation, but we need them to speak freely.’
McKenna was opening her mouth on Absolutely not. I said, ‘If unsupervised interviews are a problem, obviously, we can have the girls’ parents come in.’
And start last year’s flap again, parents outraged, panicking, threatening to pull their daughters out of Kilda’s. McKenna swallowed the No. I added, for good measure, ‘It would mean we’d have to wait till the parents can get here, but it might be a good compromise solution. The girls would probably be more comfortable discussing breaches of school rules in front of their parents than in front of a teacher.’
McKenna shot me a look that said You don’t fool me, you little bastard. Said, salvaging, ‘Very well. I will allow unsupervised interviews, within reason. If any girl becomes distressed, however, or if you receive any information that affects the school in any way, I expect to be informed immediately.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Thanks very much.’ As she turned away, I heard the surge of voices from the common room, hammering around Alison.
‘That arm’s gone down some more,’ Conway said. She tapped Joanne’s bedside locker. ‘Fake tan in there.’
I said, ‘Joanne didn’t have any reason to create a diversion to get us out of the common room. She thought Orla had ditched the key a year ago.’
It had only hit me when I looked at the arm again. ‘Huh,’ Conway said. Thought that over. ‘Coincidence and imagination, after all.’ She didn’t look as pleased as she should’ve been. Neither was I.
It does that to you, being a detective. You look at blank space and see gears turning, motives and cunning; nothing looks innocent any more. Most times, when you prove away the gears, the blank space looks lovely; peaceful. But that arm: innocent, it looked just as dangerous.
Chapter 16
By the time Julia and Finn get to the back of the grounds, the music seeping out of the dance is long gone behind them. The moon catches flashes of light and snippets of colour strewn through the bushes, like a crop of sweets in a witch’s garden. Finn pulls out the nearest one and holds it up to the light: a Lucozade bottle, full of something dark amber. He uncaps it and sniffs.
‘Rum. I think. That OK for you?’
There are always rumours about some guy who put some drug in some booze some year and raped some girl. Julia figures she’ll take the chance. ‘My favourite,’ she says.
‘Where’ll we go? There’s going to be a lot more people headed here, if they can get out.’
No way is Julia bringing him to the glade. There’s a little rise among cherry trees, tucked away at the side of the grounds; the cherry blossom is out, which turns the place more romantic than Julia had in mind, but it has plenty of cover and a perfect view of the back lawn. ‘This way,’ she says.
No one else has got there first. The rise is still. When a breeze flits through, cherry blossom falls like a shake of snow on the pale grass.
‘Ta-da,’ Julia says, sweeping a hand out. ‘Will this do?’
‘Works for me,’ Finn says. He looks around, the bottle swinging from one hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his navy hoodie – it’s cold, but there’s almost no wind, so it’s a mellow, clean cold that they can ignore. ‘I never even knew this was here. It’s beautiful.’
‘It’s probably covered in bird crap,’ Julia says, dampeningly. He doesn’t sound like he’s just playing Mr Sensitive to up his odds of getting into her bra, but you never know.
‘The element of risk. I like it.’ Finn points to a patch of clear grass among the cherry trees. ‘Over here?’
Julia lets him sit down first, so she can get the distance right. He uncaps the bottle and passes it to her. ‘Cheers,’ he says.
She takes a mouthful and discovers she hates rum as well as whiskey. She has no idea how the human race found out you could actually drink this stuff. She hopes she doesn’t just hate booze in general. Julia figures she’s ruled out enough vices already; this is one she was planning to enjoy.
‘Good stuff,’ she says, giving it back.
Finn takes a swig and manages to avoid making a face. ‘Better than the punch, anyway.’
‘True. Not saying much, but true.’
There’s a silence, question-marked, but not uncomfortable. The ringing in Julia’s ears is starting to fade. Bats are on the hunt overhead; far away, maybe in the grove, an owl calls.
Finn lies back on the grass, pulling up his hood so he won’t get dew or bird crap in his hair. ‘I heard the grounds are haunted,’ he says.
Julia is not about to snuggle up for protection. ‘Yeah? I heard your mum is haunted.’
He grins. ‘Seriously. You never heard that?’
‘Course I did,’ Julia says. ‘The ghost nun. Is that why you invited me out here? To look after you while you got your booze?’
‘I used to be petrified of her. The older guys made sure we all were, back in first year.’
‘Us too. Sadistic bitches.’
Finn hands her the bottle. ‘They’d come into our dorm last thing before lights-out, right, and tell us the stories? The idea was, if they scared us enough, some poor kid wouldn’t have the guts to go to the jacks and he’d end up wetting his bed.’
‘Ever get you?’
‘No!’ But he’s grinning too. ‘They got plenty, though.’
‘Seriously? What’d they tell you? She came after guys with garden shears?’
‘Nah. They said she . . .’ Finn glances sideways at Julia. ‘I mean, the way I heard it, she was kind of a slut.’
The word comes out practically radioactive with self-consciousness. Julia enquires, ‘Are you trying to see if I’ll get all shocked because you said “slut”?’