The Secret Place полностью

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.

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.’