anyone’s following her.’
‘She looks very furtive,’ I whispered.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Secretive. Like she’s doing something she shouldn’t. Maybe she is.’
‘Oh, she
so
is,’ said Maggie, her eyebrows going into suggestiveness overdrive. Dianna looked around again and disappeared into the trees.
‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘This is Dianna Pfaff we’re talking about.’
‘Yeah, I know. The Kate Middleton of Bathory School. Wouldn’t swear if her fanny hair caught fire. But what’s it about then? And what’s in that bag?’
I shrugged. ‘Candles for the procession or something? The route goes that way.’
‘The route’s already marked,’ said Maggie. ‘I watched Amy Sudbury and Helena Freemantle doing it this morning with white paint and gaffer tape.’
‘Okay well—’
‘Look, there she is again,’ said Maggie as Dianna’s blonde head appeared in the gap between the trees and the path from the Birdcage up to the Temple. She still had the bag. Then we lost her. ‘Damn.’
‘What is she doing up there?’ I said aloud.
‘I’ve got to know,’ said Maggie. ‘I’m gonna go and catch her red-handed.’
‘No, wait,’ I said, holding her arm. ‘Wait until she comes back down and then go and ask her.’
Maggie was just about persuaded. I went back to scrubbing the roof while she watched and waited for signs of movement in the gardens. Pretty soon, the gorgeous sugary smell of roasting chestnuts and the sweet notes of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ came floating up to greet us from the scene below.
‘That bleeding caterwauling,’ Maggie muttered. ‘Seriously, I’ve heard better noises coming out of abattoirs.’
‘How many abattoirs have you visited then?’ I said, swilling off the last white remnants into the guttering.
‘Nash, Nash, she’s coming back, look!’
I put down the bucket and raced back over to the Observatory turret roof again, hiding behind Maggie as we watched Dianna coming back down the hill. She disappeared into the trees. When she reappeared, we saw that the white bag she had been carrying had gone.
I looked at Maggie. ‘Where’s the bag?’
‘Oh, we have sooooo got something on Princess Di.’
‘Like what?’ I asked. ‘We saw her walking into the valley with a bag. Big deal.’
‘Maybe she’s the dreaded Beast of Bathory, and in the bag are some more severed limbs! MWAH ahh AH!’
I laughed. ‘Come on, seriously.’
‘Let’s go and ask her about it now,’ said Maggie.
‘Not yet. We don’t want her to know we’re on to her. Don’t you know anything about espionage?’
‘Eh?’
‘Espionage. Spying. Look, we’re in the driving seat here—we’ve got something on her. If we go down there and let her know what we know—not that we know much—she’ll make up some feeble excuse, and next time she’ll be even more careful about covering it up.’
‘Covering what up?’
‘Whatever it is that she’s just done,’ I said. ‘No, we have to play it really cool, don’t let her suspect we know anything. Come on. Let’s go and put these back in the yard. I need to get my libretto.’
* * *
Later, as the others squealed off to the dorms to collect luggage and leave with their parents, Maggie helped me put the signs up in the Landscape Gardens saying ‘Keep Out’ and ‘Unsafe: Frozen Water’ and then we got two hot chocolates from one of the stalls and played cards in the bay window of the common room. Girl by girl, trunk by trunk, car by car, the school emptied, the Christmas smells disappearing and the chatter evaporating on the polar white air. A Pup called Tabitha Bonham, who was also staying behind until her army parents picked her up some time before Christmas Eve, had latched on to me and was sitting by my feet with a floppy toy rabbit, the ear of which was in her mouth.
‘SNAP,’ Maggie shouted and banged her hand down on the coffee table between us. I stared out of the window as she shuffled the stack.
‘She looks very furtive,’ I whispered.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Secretive. Like she’s doing something she shouldn’t. Maybe she is.’
‘Oh, she
so
is,’ said Maggie, her eyebrows going into suggestiveness overdrive. Dianna looked around again and disappeared into the trees.
‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘This is Dianna Pfaff we’re talking about.’
‘Yeah, I know. The Kate Middleton of Bathory School. Wouldn’t swear if her fanny hair caught fire. But what’s it about then? And what’s in that bag?’
I shrugged. ‘Candles for the procession or something? The route goes that way.’
‘The route’s already marked,’ said Maggie. ‘I watched Amy Sudbury and Helena Freemantle doing it this morning with white paint and gaffer tape.’
‘Okay well—’
‘Look, there she is again,’ said Maggie as Dianna’s blonde head appeared in the gap between the trees and the path from the Birdcage up to the Temple. She still had the bag. Then we lost her. ‘Damn.’
‘What is she doing up there?’ I said aloud.
‘I’ve got to know,’ said Maggie. ‘I’m gonna go and catch her red-handed.’
‘No, wait,’ I said, holding her arm. ‘Wait until she comes back down and then go and ask her.’
Maggie was just about persuaded. I went back to scrubbing the roof while she watched and waited for signs of movement in the gardens. Pretty soon, the gorgeous sugary smell of roasting chestnuts and the sweet notes of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ came floating up to greet us from the scene below.
‘That bleeding caterwauling,’ Maggie muttered. ‘Seriously, I’ve heard better noises coming out of abattoirs.’
‘How many abattoirs have you visited then?’ I said, swilling off the last white remnants into the guttering.
‘Nash, Nash, she’s coming back, look!’
I put down the bucket and raced back over to the Observatory turret roof again, hiding behind Maggie as we watched Dianna coming back down the hill. She disappeared into the trees. When she reappeared, we saw that the white bag she had been carrying had gone.
I looked at Maggie. ‘Where’s the bag?’
‘Oh, we have sooooo got something on Princess Di.’
‘Like what?’ I asked. ‘We saw her walking into the valley with a bag. Big deal.’
‘Maybe she’s the dreaded Beast of Bathory, and in the bag are some more severed limbs! MWAH ahh AH!’
I laughed. ‘Come on, seriously.’
‘Let’s go and ask her about it now,’ said Maggie.
‘Not yet. We don’t want her to know we’re on to her. Don’t you know anything about espionage?’
‘Eh?’
‘Espionage. Spying. Look, we’re in the driving seat here—we’ve got something on her. If we go down there and let her know what we know—not that we know much—she’ll make up some feeble excuse, and next time she’ll be even more careful about covering it up.’
‘Covering what up?’
‘Whatever it is that she’s just done,’ I said. ‘No, we have to play it really cool, don’t let her suspect we know anything. Come on. Let’s go and put these back in the yard. I need to get my libretto.’
* * *
Later, as the others squealed off to the dorms to collect luggage and leave with their parents, Maggie helped me put the signs up in the Landscape Gardens saying ‘Keep Out’ and ‘Unsafe: Frozen Water’ and then we got two hot chocolates from one of the stalls and played cards in the bay window of the common room. Girl by girl, trunk by trunk, car by car, the school emptied, the Christmas smells disappearing and the chatter evaporating on the polar white air. A Pup called Tabitha Bonham, who was also staying behind until her army parents picked her up some time before Christmas Eve, had latched on to me and was sitting by my feet with a floppy toy rabbit, the ear of which was in her mouth.
‘SNAP,’ Maggie shouted and banged her hand down on the coffee table between us. I stared out of the window as she shuffled the stack.
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