The History Room Read Online Free PDF Page B

you over, you know you’re just an old bat in their eyes.’
    We reached the fence bordering the road, the boundary of the school grounds. I turned back. Seven minutes to drop the dog back home and change into something smarter. I started to jog, shouting
to Samson to keep up.
    I was almost at the stable block when I all but bumped into someone standing with their back to me, staring out across the flowerbeds. Emily Fleming.
    ‘Hi,’ I said.
    She turned. ‘I was just taking an early morning stroll.’ Her unusually light blue eyes moved from side to side. There was nothing banning staff from hanging around in this part of
the gardens, no signs saying it was private, but it was almost a given that this side of the house was for the family’s personal use. How could this young New Zealander know this if she
hadn’t been told? I didn’t blame her for wanting to spend precious minutes among the last asters and roses of the season. Winter would soon be here and the blooms would just be
memories. I felt nauseous, remembering the flowers at Mum’s funeral. Clara and I had bound sweet peas from the garden into a wreath. They’d been her favourite flowers, the
chocolatey-brown ones particularly. The day of the service had been warm and the scent had washed over us as we sat in the church. After that I’d let the sweet peas go to seed on their
trellis. Emily fixed her watery gaze on me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Probably my squashed hair.
    ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. Memories of the sweet peas must have twisted themselves over my face.
    ‘Fine.’ I looked at her more closely. She was very slim, with long hair and those interesting eyes. She ought to have been very pretty, but ‘striking’ was more the
adjective that came to mind. But even that was too strong a word to describe her. ‘Thank you. What about you, Emily? Settling in OK?’ Something about her presence had disturbed me. She
must be homesick. Or unsettled by the silliness yesterday afternoon. Poor kid.
    ‘I’m good, thanks.’ Her voice gave nothing away. She flicked her hair off her face. She was wearing the same silky cardigan I’d admired yesterday. For a gappy, Emily was
certainly well dressed. Usually they arrived at the start of the school year apparently straight from the beach and had to be gently advised on a working wardrobe.
    ‘Best time of the day,’ I said. ‘Everything so fresh.’
    She nodded very gravely. ‘I can see why it would be hard to leave this school.’ She was implying that I’d found it impossible to stay away from my childhood home. Perhaps she
was right.
    ‘I don’t know, there are other places in the world worth seeing.’ I sounded over-bright, forced. ‘I expect you’ll want to do some travelling while you’re over
here.’
    ‘Nowhere else could be like this.’ She fiddled with the petals of a purple aster. ‘No other school could be so beautiful.’
    I thought of all the other beautiful old schools in their acres of grounds. But I wasn’t going to argue with Emily if she thought that Letchford was the most blessed. It was only what I
believed myself.
    ‘You’ve just arrived,’ I told her. ‘You won’t have to say goodbye until July next year. Plenty of time to grow sick and tired of Letchford. And of us.’
    ‘Perhaps.’ She gave me her curious half-smile. It didn’t make her thin face look any more cheerful. ‘Better make a dash for assembly, I guess.’

 
Six
    ‘Utterly bizarre.’ My sister finished her decaffeinated coffee and signalled with a nod to her husband that it was time to go. Clara and Marcus were staying in the
spare room in Dad’s apartment in the main house. Marcus had just finished blowing up the air-bed in my own guest room for Sam. Rory was to sleep on the sofa-bed.
    ‘Your father knows there’s nothing really to worry about.’ Marcus still spoke in the breathless tones of one who’d expended litres of air blowing up a large inflatable