Instalment 2 of The Blight of Beacon

end of Chapter 1: An Invitation to Oodles

Miranda and Katie had only to wait three more days until the school term started. Soon enough, they were standing in their almost-new uniforms at the door of their first class. Miranda was small with fair hair and serious grey eyes. She looked neat and cautious as usual. Katie somehow managed to make a stiff blazer and skirt look scruffy. Ellie and Felicity greeted them both in a friendly way. While they stood in line, Ellie pointed out a girl with long blonde plaits. The girl had a snub nose and an air of complete poise and confidence.
“That’s Elspeth Richman-Snood,” she told Miranda in a low voice. “And those two girls with her are her flunkies. Mishka Moylan and Star Kennedy. They think they’re the in crowd at Oodles.”
“I don’t even want to think about it, Star,” Elspeth was saying airily. “It’s enough for me to get Best Girl once. I’ve done my duty by my family. It doesn’t really mean anything, and truly, I don’t mind who gets it this year. As long as it’s not one of the leeches.” Elspeth looked around herself suspiciously.
“What does she mean, leeches?” asked Miranda.
“Well,” Ellie said rather reluctantly. “Don’t worry about it, but that’s what she calls the scholarship girls. Honestly, Miranda,” Ellie added when she saw the dismay on Miranda’s face, “don’t even give it a second thought. That’s just Elspeth.”
“I think you’re really clever to have gotten a scholarship,” Felicity said, her eyes round. “It’s ever so hard to get into Oodles on scholarship.”
“Elspeth says she doesn’t care,” Ellie added in a mutter, “but she’d burst a blood vessel if she didn’t get Best Girl this year as well. And her mum’s just as bad. She’s a shoo-in, too. She takes all the extras and does ballet at the Exhibition Night each year. And she sucks up to the teachers like nobody’s business. I know, because one of the girls from ballet told me all about it. I think it’s nauseating, personally.”
“How do you win Best Girl?” Katie wanted to know.
Felicity knew the answer. “You have to win the highest number of points out of all the girls in your form. But before they even add up your points you need to get at least a hundred points in three different categories. The first one is Academic – you know, schoolwork, the second one is The Arts and the last one is School Spirit.”
“What’s that?” asked Miranda. “School Spirit, I mean.”
“Who knows?” chuckled Ellie. “All I know is Elspeth got her points for that category last year by having her mum donate the money to do up the staffroom. They got cushy new chairs and a coffee machine.”
Miranda curled her lip in disgust.
“You should try for Best Girl, Miranda,” Katie told her earnestly. “You could win it easily.”
Miranda laughed. “Thanks Katie, but I think I’d have to hold up a bank before Mum could donate new furniture to the school.” She said this without thinking, and then she looked anxiously at Ellie and Felicity to check their reactions. They didn’t seem to be exchanging meaningful glances, but Miranda couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t meant to let on to the other girls at school about how little money her family had. Miranda scolded herself silently for slipping up.
By recess, Elspeth had sniffed out who was a scholarship girl and who wasn’t. She and her friends started to snub Miranda and Katie immediately. Miranda thought that the unconventional Katie was a more obvious target for Elspeth’s snide remarks, so she was surprised to find herself the victim of choice. They had history with Miss Goody after recess. Miranda saw, to her intense scorn, how Miss Goody simpered over Elspeth and her friends. It seemed Elspeth could never get into trouble with the history teacher, no matter how she sniggered with her friends or passed notes around class.
The first few days merely increased Elspeth’s dislike of the scholarship girls. On Thursday, she managed to ruin Miranda’s day before the end of lunchtime. Oodles lunches were held in the dining hall, where the girls sat in their forms at old varnished wooden tables. Miranda was thrilled to see that the food actually looked edible. She’d endured a year of limp fish fingers and cold peas at Drivell Comprehensive. On this day, she was carrying a tray of food carefully back to the second form table. When she walked past Elspeth and friends, Elspeth pushed back her chair suddenly – and Miranda, small and thin as she was, nearly went flying. She managed to save her tray of food, but only by clutching it to her chest. A good portion of gravy and mash ended up on her school blazer. She gazed from her dripping blazer to Elspeth in angry astonishment.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Elspeth said sweetly as Mrs Huffington hurried over to help Miranda clean herself up.
“Do be more careful, Elspeth,” Mrs Huffington told her evenly.
When the teacher had gone and Miranda was sitting in her place with her blazer stuffed under her chair, Star and Mishka let out the peals of nasty laughter they had been suppressing. Still pretending to be sorry, Elspeth said in a fretful voice,
“Clumsy me! Gravy all over your brand new blazer!”
“Oh, it’s not brand new,” Katie piped up innocently. “We got it second hand. Mine too. They look just like new, though.”
The entire second form stared. Then the giggling began. Miranda gazed at Katie in complete amazement, hardly able to believe that she had said such a thing. She thought she would shrivel up under the embarrassment. Didn’t Katie realize that Elspeth was not their friend? Or that cheap second hand clothes were not something to be proud of? Miranda, glowing a bright pink, stared at her food furiously. Elspeth, Star and Mishka muttered and tittered together about leeches not even being able to afford their own school uniforms.
“Belt up, you lot,” Ellie told them authoritatively. She continued to eat her lunch, making a determined effort at conversation with Miranda.
Miranda was grateful but still mortified. She could barely reply to Ellie’s remarks. She hated to be pitied. What was more, she knew that it was a only matter of time until Ellie would abandon her as well. It was too much to expect from any friend to keep sticking up for her with the likes of Elspeth Richman-Snood determined to make her look pathetic. Katie was eating her lunch obliviously. She was unaware of Miranda’s suffering.
More was to come. Miranda tried to be quiet and inconspicuous. She avoided all the other girls in her form in hopes that they would forget about her. She even steered clear of Ellie and Felicity. Ellie tried to talk to her a few times, but she hardly answered. Ellie eventually gave up. It was a week after the blazer incident, during art class, that Miranda next drew Elspeth’s attention.
The art teacher reminded Miranda of her father. She wore an enormous rainbow coloured shirt and countless pieces of mismatched jewellery, and had great enthusiasm for things like dead leaves and the shape of a puddle. As the teacher raved about a pine cone, Miranda reflected gloomily that Miss Spotswood would probably have considered the gravy stain on her blazer an absolute masterpiece.
Miss Spotswood had the girls working on self-portraits with charcoal. They all sat drawing with mirrors in front of them, most of them giggling. Felicity’s portrait was very amusing – she had made the eyes too low on the forehead, and the shoulders too high. These, combined with an attempt to draw her hands folded, made her look rather like an evil hunchback plotting revenge – or so Ellie remarked. Star Kennedy’s attempt to capture her light blue eyes had simply resulted in a rather stupid expression. Miranda thought it was actually a pretty close resemblance. Much to Ellie’s amusement, Katie’s self-portrait appeared to have two noses. Miranda looked into her own grave grey eyes and pale thin face in the mirror rather unhappily. Drawing was about the last thing she felt like doing at that moment. The thought of drawing a picture that Elspeth was likely to ridicule was even less appealing. She heard Mishka Moylan’s voice raised in fawning enthusiasm.
“Elspeth, that’s absolutely brilliant. Gosh, you’re so talented! How on earth do you do it? You ought to use your art folio instead of your ballet for the Arts category of Best Girl this year. Your art is even better than your dancing.”
Mishka had meant it as a compliment, but Elspeth narrowed her eyes.
“You obviously don’t know a thing about ballet, Mishka, if that’s what you think,” she snapped.
“Oh, I didn’t mean – I mean, I just meant…” stammered Mishka.
“You’d better get on with it, Miranda,” Katie chose this moment to say quite loudly. “If you want to use an art folio for the Best Girl award, you’ll need to have something to put in it.”
Elspeth stared at Katie, and then Miranda, with cold eyes.
“You’re trying to win Best Girl, are you, Miranda?” she asked nastily.
“Of course not,” muttered Miranda, cursing Katie silently.
“Oh, she’ll win it no problem at all,” Katie told Elspeth. “She’s very smart and arty – well, her dad’s a sculptor, so it runs in the family. And the School Spirit category is a bit of a doddle, from what I’ve heard.”
Elspeth went an unsightly shade of purple.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said between clenched teeth.
“Oh, you know – your mother paying for those things in the staff room last year,” Katie said blithely.
For once, Elspeth had no reply. Ellie barely concealed a snort of mirth.
“Go on,” Elspeth told Miranda with a tight smile. “You just try for Best Girl, leech. It will be a good laugh to watch you fail.”
“I’m not trying to win Best Girl,” Miranda insisted desperately. “Katie’s the one who said it, not me.”
Elspeth wasn’t listening. She had already turned back to whisper with Star and Mishka. Mishka looked quite grateful for the distraction. It had taken Elspeth’s attention off her own blunder for the moment. Miranda thought that she would give Katie a good ticking off when they got home. Didn’t she care how much trouble she was getting Miranda into? Did she even realize?

* * *

Miranda and David had been adopted by the Crundles. Miranda was adopted before she was two years old, and David was taken in as a foster child at eight. She had taken the Crundles’ name, as they were the only family she had ever known. David did remember his family, but it seemed he would rather forget them. He too became a Crundle by name when he turned ten years old. Now, he was fifteen. David was scrawny, but he was tall. He had dark hair that he often wore in huge spikes all over his head. He was pale and always wore black, he listened to depressing music, and he loved anything supernatural. Sometimes Miranda suspected that he only talked about ghosts, vampires and aliens as much as he did to annoy her, especially as she absolutely refused to believe in anything of the kind.
One Saturday morning a couple of weeks after school had started, David appeared in the kitchen with a book in his hand.
“Look at this, M,” he said, slapping it down in front of her.
“Is this another one of those true ghost stories things?” she sighed, rescuing her toast from underneath the book.
“No, just look at it.”
She did so. It was a curious-looking book, with soft, thick pages and a cover made of cloth. It was entitled Dragoon’s Guide to Commonwold, and had a drawing of a woman smiling as she pressed buttons on what appeared to be a microwave oven. But it was the oddest microwave oven Miranda had ever seen, being made of wood and nails, with an hourglass instead of a digital clock. She opened the book and looked at the contents page.
“Clothing and dressing,” it read, “Manners and gatherings; Work and school; Home and household science; Glossary of terms.”
“What is this?” asked Miranda. “Is this a library book?”
“No,” said David. “It fell out of Katie’s bag as she was going upstairs.”
“David, you ought to give it straight back!” Miranda admonished. But she was already flicking through the pages, her amazement growing.
“For the…the Oldenwolder who wishes to clean his clothes, there are a number of options,” she read aloud. “Washing machines operate by adding water and soap to a tub into which one places one’s clothing. The tub uses Science and Electricity to slosh the clothes until they become clean. Do not be alarmed if the machine becomes very noisy. Then the clothes can be hung on a line suspended from two posts. Oldenwolders should note that these washing lines do not move the clothes out of the way when one walks underneath the line. What on earth?” Miranda exclaimed.
“Do you think Katie might be from another country?” David said doubtfully.
“How could she be?” Miranda answered bluntly. “Okay, she’s a bit odd and sometimes she doesn’t seem to know what’s going on. But how could she be from another country? And her accent – well, it’s just like ours.
“I know,” said David. “Hey, perhaps she’s from one of these little communities that don’t use any technology. They’re always building barns with ropes and wood – you know.”
“I suppose it’s possible.” Miranda said absently. She was still reading as she flicked through the pages of the book. “Listen, David. Children in Commonwold are generally regarded as neither useful nor knowledgeable. Many consider them a nuisance. They are sent to large buildings called Schools for much of their lives, where they are taught how to be adults and introduced to concepts of Science.”
At that moment, Katie came into the kitchen. When she saw what Miranda was doing she leapt across the room and onto her book with astounding speed and an ear-splitting shriek. Miranda jumped up in shock.
“What’s all this?” exclaimed Mr Crundle, hurrying into the kitchen. “Katie, are you all right?”
“She stole my book!” Katie gasped, her face white as a sheet. “Out of my satchel!”
“No, I didn’t!” protested Miranda.
“No, keep your hair on, Katie,” David put in quickly. “You dropped it on the stairs. I showed it to Miranda.”
Katie was trembling. Miranda couldn’t tell if it was with fear or anger. She gazed from Miranda to David as though she expected them to turn her in to their father at any moment. They simply stared back, mystified. Miranda had no idea what exactly she was supposed to be turning Katie in for.
“Sorry,” David added belatedly. “It’s just a book, though, Katie. It’s not like it’s your diary or anything. And I was going to give it back.”
Katie stormed off. Mr Crundle looked at his children sternly for a moment. But their obvious bewilderment made him think twice.
“It seems that Katie is very protective of her private things,” he said after a minute’s thought. “Perhaps this is something to do with her memory loss. We’d better be respectful of the way she feels. Try not to touch anything of hers.”
Miranda rolled her eyes at David. Their father’s approach was to encourage all his children in their interests and support them in their actions, no matter how bizarre. Mr Crundle returned to his studio. David helped himself to the remainder of Miranda’s toast and sat down opposite her.
“Something odd’s going on with Katie,” he said knowingly.
“Really?” said Miranda in mock amazement. “You should try going to school with her. All my new friends have done a runner already.”
“Bad luck,” he said sympathetically. “That’s the problem with girls,” he added. “They’ll abandon the one who hangs about with the oddbod – not just the oddbod herself.”
“It’s worse than that,” said Miranda. “Katie keeps saying stupid things in front of Elspeth Richman-Snood. She absolutely hates me now.”
“You haven’t got Cynthia’s daughter in your class, have you?” snorted David. “I met her once. James Dufty brought her to the school formal last year. Stuck up little nouse.”
“She’s awful to us,” Miranda confessed glumly. “Because we’re scholarship girls.”
“Hah! Because you actually had to show a glimmer of intelligence to get into Snootles, you mean?”
Miranda didn’t reproach David for mocking her school because at least he was being kind to her. She didn’t dare tell her parents that she wasn’t enjoying Oodles. Not after the fuss she had made about wanting to go there in the first place. Although David teased her constantly, at least she could be honest with him. She knew he wouldn’t betray her to their mum and dad.
“What do you think that book was, really?” he asked Miranda thoughtfully.
“Probably just a joke,” she answered. “One of those books that pretends to be serious, but it’s really just poking fun at something.”
“A satire, you think?” he said.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I wonder.”
“What else could it be? There’s no country called Common… Common-whatever it was.”
“Commonwold,” David supplied. “It almost sounds like the name of a planet—”
“For goodness’ sake, David!” Miranda cried impatiently. “Katie is odd, I’ll give you that. But she’s not an alien. Don’t you think it’s hard enough for the poor girl? She’s lost her memory – and here you are saying she’s from another planet. Leave it out, will you?” Miranda surprised herself by defending Katie.
“All right, all right.” David shrugged. “But I wish she’d blinkin’ well remember who she was. It would solve a lot of mysteries around here.”
“I suppose she will remember eventually,” Miranda said. “Until then, we just have to put up with her being a highly imaginative individual.” This is what their father called Katie whenever they described her odd behaviour.
“If she was an alien,” David said cheerfully, “she could just vaporize that Elspeth Rich-and-Snotty.”

“If only it were that simple,” Miranda sighed.



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Welcome to the first instalment of Crossover Chronicles

Book 1 - The Blight of Beacon

from Chapter 1 "An Invitation to Oodles"

It was the letter Miranda had been waiting for.
“Dear Miss Crundle,” it said. “The Upper Drivell Young Ladies’ School is pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the school on scholarship—”
That was all Miranda needed to read. She let out a cheer and threw the letter in the air, and then did a victory lap of the kitchen. Mrs Crundle caught the letter, beaming, while Miranda’s brother David watched his sister with disbelief.
“I’ve never seen anyone so happy to be going to school,” he remarked sourly.
“It’s not just a school, David,” Mrs Crundle reminded him, catching Miranda for a hug. “It’s the best girls’ school in the county.”
“Don’t you start,” he groaned. “It’s all she’s talked about these holidays. ‘Oh, I hope I get into Oodles,’ ‘I must get into Oodles,’ ‘oh, whatever shall I do if I don’t get into Oodles?’ She’s just about driven me bonkers.”
“Congratulations, Miranda,” said Katie, their foster sister, shaking Miranda’s hand enthusiastically. “I knew you’d get in – you’re awfully brainy.”
“Thanks,” puffed Miranda, sinking breathlessly into a kitchen chair. She didn’t usually run about like that – serious and tranquil was more her style. “I can’t believe it! This is going to be fantastic.”
“I suppose the one advantage is that you don’t have to go to Drivell Comprehensive anymore,” said David with a slight grin. “So you won’t end up doing your A-levels in swearing and petty thuggery.”
“Oh, David, your school isn’t that bad,” admonished Mrs Crundle. “Anyway, you have no right to complain. We gave you the chance to try out for Guilderton Boys’, and you said you’d rather…well, rather not go.”
“Rather use a dog turd for toothpaste, I think he said,” Katie put in.
“Yes, thank you, Katie,” Mrs Crundle replied, sounding faintly ill.
“I think it will be lovely,” Katie assured Miranda. “After everything you’ve told me about this Oodles place, personally, I’d love to go there.”
Mrs Crundle looked at Katie in surprise.
“Would you, dear?” she asked with interest.
“Of course!” said Katie. “All those plays, fairs and open days. It sounds like good fun.”
Mrs Crundle sat thoughtfully for a moment. “Miranda had already applied to get into the Young Ladies’ School by the time you came to live with us, Katie,” she said, “so we didn’t think about your putting in an application. We can’t afford to pay the school fees, and Miranda’s only going because she got a science scholarship, but you never know…perhaps you could get a scholarship too. Would you like to apply?”
“I’ll give it a bash,” said Katie. “Why not?”
Miranda watched her mother and Katie silently. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted Katie at her new school. A moment later, she remembered how hard it had been to win a scholarship, and shrugged off her concerns. The chances of Katie getting in were practically non-existent.
“Aren’t you going to miss your friends at Drivell Comp?” David was asking her.
“What friends?” Miranda returned sceptically. “Most of the girls there are only interested in fogging up the locker room with spray deodorant, or pretending to think all the boys at Drivell Comp are complete muppets.”
“You’ll be walking through the swanky part of Drivell to get to Oodles,” David remarked. “‘Upper Drivell,’ they call it. Like they want to be a posh little village somewhere. But really, they’re just in good old Drivell like the rest of us.”
“You can rag on it all you like, David; I’m still over the moon I’m going there!” Miranda told him.
“Well, you’re a nutter,” David shrugged. “But you’re a smart nutter.”
This was a high compliment from David. Miranda, still bursting with joy, went outside to her father’s studio to tell him the news.
“That’s wonderful, chickpea!” he exclaimed, hugging her warmly and covering her with clay off of his apron. “And it was on the science scholarship, you say? Well, they had to accept you. There’s not many twelve year olds about who know as much as you do about insect anatomy or the atomic composition of sulphuric acid.”
“H-two-S-O-four,” grinned Miranda, picking semi-dried clay out of her short, fair hair. “And, Dad, they’ve got a science club for the older girls, and they do real field trips out to ponds and drains and so on. I heard that, last year, they did testing on mud from a pig farm!”
“Sounds amazing,” Mr Crundle told her with rather blank enthusiasm.
“Oh, it was. Apparently they found a species of micro-organism which is normally only found in South America. It was absolutely brilliant.”
“Well, it sounds like just the right place for you,” her dad chuckled, returning to his sculpture. “Pass me that scraper, will you, Miranda?”
Miranda passed the scraper and then went to wander through the back garden and daydream about her new school. She had a moment’s discomfort when she remembered that her mother would be putting in an application for Katie but her logical mind took over almost immediately. They’ve already handed out the scholarships for this year, she said to herself, so she really doesn’t have a hope of getting in. And if she gets in next year, well, I will have been there for a year and I’ll have sorted out some friends by then, I’m sure. With these thoughts, Miranda was able to put the idea of Katie coming to Oodles almost completely out of her head.
In the coming fortnight – the two weeks before term started – Miranda was far too busy to think about anything but the whirlwind of preparation. She was out every day with her mother or father, getting things ready to start in second form at the ancient and prestigious Upper Drivell Young Ladies’ School. One day she was buying a second hand uniform from a local ex-Oodles girl who seemed very relieved to hand it over. The next day she was at the Drivell educational bookstore purchasing what seemed like an enormous amount of ridiculously expensive books. She was most disappointed by her father’s response when she wondered aloud which extras she should take.
“I really don’t think there will be any after school photography or Italian lessons, chickpea,” he said. He was wearing a hat he’d carved from a stale loaf of bread to celebrate the pagan harvest festival.
“But Dad!” exclaimed Miranda. “Everyone takes extras. I’ll be the only girl who doesn’t.”
“I doubt it,” he answered cheerfully. “I’d be surprised if the other scholarship girls can afford any extra classes.”
Miranda grumbled quietly to herself but she didn’t have the heart to complain too loudly. She knew the books and uniforms alone were stretching her parents’ finances.
“You need to sell a few sculptures, Dad, to fund Miranda’s swish hobbies,” David said helpfully.
“Oh, the art market’s dead on its feet,” Mr Crundle said airily. “I’d be lucky to sell one or two pieces a year with the collectors so reluctant to buy.”
Miranda couldn’t help but reflect that her father might sell more of his sculptures if they were remotely pleasing to look at. But they were frightening things – grotesque and gnarled looking shapes that didn’t resemble anything Miranda had ever seen. Once, when Miranda had been going through a horsey phase, Mr Crundle had sculpted her a clay horse. It really had looked like a horse. Miranda often wondered why her father didn’t make more things like that horse.
On the Tuesday before school was due to start, Miranda attended an orientation tour at Oodles. She found that most of the other girls on the tour were first formers. However, she swallowed her shyness and asked around the group until she unearthed a couple of girls who were also starting second form that year.
“Ellie Manjuli,” said one of them, grinning at Miranda. “And this is Felicity Van Hoeven. We met at the admission interviews.”
“Did you just move to Drivell?” Felicity asked her shyly. She had white-blonde hair and enormous frightened eyes.
“No, I’ve lived here all my life,” Miranda told Ellie. “I started at Drivell Comp last year, but I got into Oodles for this year.”
“I didn’t want to come here,” Felicity whispered confidentially. “But I didn’t do well enough at my old school, so mum forced me, in the end.”
“I wanted to come,” Ellie shrugged. “Mainly to see what all the fuss was about.”
“I’ve wanted to come to Oodles since I heard it existed,” Miranda said raptly, then she blushed a little. “I mean, it’s got to be better than Drivell Comp.”
“Why do they call it Oodles, anyway?” asked Ellie. “No one I’ve asked seems to have a clue.”
“My sister says it’s because they give you oodles of homework,” sighed Felicity.
“I think it’s something they’ve got from the school acronym,” said Miranda.
“Acro-what?” demanded Ellie. “Is that some kind of gymnasium apparatus?”
“It means the initials of the school,” said Miranda, unable to help smiling. “U.D.Y.L.S. Sort of sounds like Oodles.”
“Ohhh!” Felicity and Ellie both sounded enlightened, and they looked at Miranda with admiration.
Suddenly, Miranda felt on top of the world. She had a new school, a scholarship, a second-hand uniform that would pass for brand new, and she had already made two friends. She felt like nothing could go wrong. However, her delight turned to embarrassment when she turned around and saw her mother arriving with Katie.
“Mum,” she said, puzzled and very self-conscious. “You’re too early. The tour runs for another hour.”
“No, darling.” Her mother was beaming. “I’ve brought Katie to join the tour. We’ve just heard – Katie got into the school too! One of the scholarship girls had to decline at the last minute – her father got a job in Greece, or something. So Katie was given her place!”
Miranda stared. Her heart sank while she tried to prepare a face of pleased congratulations for Katie. Ellie and Felicity were looking on with interest.
“Uh, this is my…sister…my foster sister, Katie.” Miranda introduced Katie warily.
Ellie and Felicity welcomed Katie. Miranda worked valiantly to hide the dismay that was trying to show itself on her face. She didn’t want Katie at Oodles.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Katie. In fact, she did like her, in a way. But she was so odd. A lot of things had changed since Katie had entered Miranda’s world, carrying all her possessions in a single, small, battered leather satchel from which she was inseparable. She didn’t want to blame Katie, but when the girl had arrived in the Crundle house, it felt like Miranda’s life quickly became something just short of chaos. Katie had blockaded herself in the Crundles’ third bedroom, blacking out the window with paint. In addition to the ordinary lock, she had placed a latch with a padlock on her bedroom door, and wouldn’t allow anyone in there. Each night at the dinner table Katie openly pocketed leftover food, either for late night snacking, or to add to the stash Miranda suspected she had in the locked room. Katie never turned on her light, but did all her homework, reading and dressing in her pyjamas by torchlight. Miranda thought she must have brought a lorry load of torch batteries with her from the home, because the pocket money the Crundles gave their children certainly wouldn’t stretch to cover them.
And Katie wasn’t just puzzling. Miranda was, in fact, a little suspicious of Katie. Something strange had happened just a couple of weeks before, when Mr Crundle had taken the three of them to the seaside for a summer holiday treat. At the end of the day, Katie had nipped into a souvenir shop and bought herself a cheap snow dome with an unnaturally happy-looking plastic seagull inside. She gave it to Miranda to hold while she went to change out of her swimming costume. Unluckily, Miranda dropped it on the grass and, while it didn’t smash, the dome part broke off the base. She examined it in vexation, thinking she would have to go and buy Katie a new one, but Miranda cheered up when she saw it was simply that the glue holding it together had crumbled – it would be easily mended. She put the pieces carefully in the front pocket of Katie’s satchel.
This in itself was not suspicious, but what happened on the drive home was.
“Oh, Katie,” she said casually. “That snow dome you bought came apart when I dropped it on the lawn – sorry. But it’ll be fine. I’ll fix it at home, I promise.”
Katie didn’t seem unduly concerned. “I thought it seemed a bit loose after I bought it,” she said. “Where is it?”
“In the front pocket of your satchel,” Miranda replied, glad that Katie wasn’t cross with her.
But now Katie’s face changed. She looked suddenly alarmed and her gaze flew to her bag.
“Don’t worry,” Miranda reassured her hastily, reaching into Katie’s satchel to retrieve the snow dome. “I’m sure I can glue –”
Later, Miranda wasn’t sure what had startled her more – Katie’s dismayed gasp when Miranda plunged her hand into the pocket or the fact that the snow dome came out in one piece – whole and unbroken. Miranda stared at it in amazement.
“But … it was in two bits,” she puzzled.
David glanced into the backseat. “It’s probably just slipped back into the base,” he commented.
Miranda tried to pull the two pieces apart again. But they were stuck together – utterly and completely stuck. She could no more pull them apart than she could understand the look of guilty horror on Katie’s face. She’d often thought about that incident, wishing she could get into Katie’s room to take a better look at that snow dome.
Add to all these things the scuffling noise from the girl’s bedroom that started late at night and only finished with sunrise, and Miranda couldn’t decide whether she felt more exasperated or curious about Katie. However, when she complained to Mr Crundle, he told her patiently that the social worker had advised them to let Katie “find her own way” in their household.
“What does that mean?” Miranda asked Mr Crundle crossly.
“It means that we should pretend it’s normal for her turn the spare room into some kind of secret military headquarters,” put in David.
“It means,” said Mr Crundle, chuckling slightly at David’s remark, “that we let her make the small changes she sees as necessary to make this house her home.”
“Small changes?” Miranda raised her eyebrows. “Dad, she’s put booby traps in the hall outside her room! I got squirted in the face with your shaving cream when I stopped to tie my shoelace yesterday.”
“Brilliant,” grinned David, impressed in spite of himself.
“Things will settle down with Katie soon,” Mr Crundle said mildly.
Observing Katie looking brightly around at the school buildings, Miranda sighed quietly. Mrs Crundle was explaining to the girls breathlessly that the Headmistress of Oodles had said she saw “something of a creative genius” in Katie.
“All right, Mum,” Miranda broke in. “The rest of the group is waiting for us. You’d better go.”
Mrs Crundle left, smiling proudly at Katie and Miranda.
“Mums, eh?” said Ellie, nudging Miranda. “My mum made aloo tikki for me to share out at morning tea time.”
Miranda grinned weakly. She was watching Katie closely, just waiting for her to say something peculiar. Katie regularly said something peculiar.
A moment later, Miranda forgot Katie altogether. They had arrived at the school’s science laboratories.
“This is Science One,” announced Mrs Huffington, indicating the gleaming white classroom. “Science Two is next door, but that is for the fifth and sixth form girls. The Upper Drivell Young Ladies’ School has the newest and most elaborate school science laboratories in the country.”
Miranda gazed around herself with delight. Science One was truly a thing of beauty – gleaming sinks, rows of Bunsen burners, glittering glass flasks, and test tubes in their dozens. Cabinets and cupboards promised probes and microscopes and scalpels. Miranda thought that she could live out her whole life quite happily in Science One. Her own most treasured possession was a microscope – a twelfth birthday present from her parents. Miranda was awfully proud of it because it wasn’t one of those play microscopes with a measly two or three hundred times magnification. This was a high-powered microscope – the kind used in real laboratories. It had cost the Crundles a small fortune and Miranda had traded not only her birthday, but also the following Christmas and Easter, in exchange for the present.
Mrs Huffington led them on down the school corridor and Miranda followed her somewhat reluctantly.
“Now I will show you your Common Room. First and second form girls share a Common Room. As you can see, there are some lovely comfortable chairs here for you, and a collection of books and magazines. You may add your own magazines to the collection, if they are appropriate. There is also a kettle so you can make yourselves tea, if you wish.”
“What, no jacuzzi?” whispered Ellie, making Miranda snort.
“We expect you to take care of your Common Room,” added Mr Huffington, “and if you don’t, you lose your privileges until further notice.” This was about as close to being stern as Mrs Huffington had come, and Miranda reflected that if all the teachers were like her, school at Oodles was going to be a walk in the park.
“So, unless there are any questions, we shall move on to the Great Hall,” finished Mrs Huffington. “Yes, er…?”
“Katie Pickerwick,” Katie replied, lowering her hand.
Miranda winced, waiting.
“I was just wondering,” Katie continued, “will we have somewhere to keep our things?”
“Each girl is given a locker,” Mrs Huffington told Katie. She led the girls into a small room just outside the Common Room. “Here is the locker room.”
Miranda relaxed. She felt quite proud of Katie for asking such a normal question.
“Oh, good, a locker,” Katie was saying, looking round herself in a slightly puzzled fashion. “And our lockers live in these little metal boxes, do they?”
For a second, Mrs Huffington frowned disapprovingly, but covered her irritation with a tolerant smile. Some of the other girls were tittering uncertainly. Miranda at looked at Ellie and rolled her eyes, hoping to distance herself from Katie’s peculiarity a little.
“Very funny, Miss Pickerwick. Come along now, young ladies.”
Miranda sneaked a look at Katie as they walked. She looked thoroughly bewildered as she glanced back at the locker room, and then hurried after the teacher. Miranda wondered for a moment if it could be that Katie genuinely did not know what a locker was. A moment later, she dismissed the thought. It simply wasn’t possible that a thirteen year old girl could be that ignorant.
The group of chattering girls fell silent upon entering the Great Hall behind Mrs Huffington. Clearly, the Great Hall was designed to inspire terror in disobedient schoolgirls. It was grand and highly decorated, with many pillars and even more arches. The walls were covered with wooden honour boards.
“Best Girl plaques,” whispered Felicity, awestruck. “Every year, there is a Best Girl chosen for each form. They’re all here for the last couple of centuries.”
“There’s hundreds!” Miranda whispered back.
“Look at all the Richman-Snoods up there,” muttered Ellie.
Miranda glanced sharply at Ellie. She was right – the boards were littered with the name “Richman-Snood.” Miranda knew the name well. Her mother was a lawyer. She was not a high-priced flashy lawyer, but a lawyer who was paid not very much by a community welfare organisation to help people who couldn’t afford lawyers. There was another lawyer in Drivell – and this one was a highly-paid, flashy lawyer – called Cynthia Richman-Snood. Mrs Crundle often came home from work complaining about Cynthia Richman-Snood. By all accounts, the woman was ruthless and sneaky. Miranda spotted her name on a plaque suddenly: Cynthia Richman-Snood, Best Girl, Sixth Form. It was on an honour board from about twenty years ago.
“There’s one in our form,” added Ellie. “Elspeth Richman-Snood. I used to go to ballet lessons with her.”
“What’s she like?” Miranda wanted to know.
“Don’t ask,” Ellie said darkly.
“Look,” said Felicity in a whisper, nodding her head towards a woman who was crossing the hall, “there’s the Headmistress, Ms Lycaon.”
“Who?” frowned Miranda. “At my interview, the headmistress was Mrs Gabbins.”
“Yes, she left suddenly,” Felicity replied. “She had an ill relative or something. This is the new one.”
“Is she all right?” asked Miranda.
“A bit scary,” said Felicity.
Miranda reflected that that might not mean much, coming from Felicity. Felicity seemed perpetually terrified. She suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be listening to Mrs Huffington.
“—and the annual school Exhibition Night is also presented here, of course. Do remember, girls, that the Great Hall is to be treated with veneration. There is no larking about in here – or there will be consequences,” she added warningly.
After a moment, Katie’s hand went up again.
“What consequences, Miss?” she asked meekly when Mrs Huffington nodded at her.
Mrs Huffington looked at Katie keenly, obviously deciding that Katie was one to be watched.
“What do you think, Katie?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “What do you think might happen if you lark about in here?”
“Um…” Katie looked around at the austere hall carefully. “I might be turned to stone? Or die a grisly death?”
The other girls giggled again and Ellie whispered to Miranda, “She’s got bottle, I’ll give her that.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Miranda replied, shaking her head.
Mrs Huffington chose merely to give Katie a stern look and resume the tour.
“Come along, girls. Now we shall go to the staffroom, where you will meet your other teachers and be our guests for morning tea. But wait – if you look up here, right to the top of the highest tower of the building, you will see the school’s pride and joy – the famous Box Hedges. These hedges sit right out on the ramparts of the North Tower, and it is the first formers’ duty to water them in the summer. The hedges are very old and we are fortunate enough to have a listing in Great Gardens of Great Britain because of them.”
The girls stared at the hedges dutifully, and then followed Mrs Huffington again. In the staffroom, the teachers were sitting at tables with cups of tea. Miranda caught some of the tail-ends of conversations before they went quiet for the introductions, and it seemed that the teachers were mostly complaining about the weather at various holiday locations they had visited for the summer.
“This is the teachers’ staffroom, girls, and this is the one time you will be permitted in here,” smiled Mrs Huffington. “This is Miss Byron, the sports teacher, Mrs Underly, the Home Economics teacher…”
Mrs Huffington rattled off a long list of teacher’s names and subjects – far too many for the overwhelmed new girls to remember. Miranda noted one or two: Mr Dirger, the science master, who seemed quite harmless, and Miss Goody, the history teacher – because she looked thoroughly nasty. It was impossible to forget Ms Lycaon, the new Headmistress. With her exceedingly straight posture and air of utter capability, she stood out. After the introductions, the girls were split up and seated at tables with the teachers. Miranda, along with Ellie, Katie and Felicity, was led to the table where Miss Goody sat with old Miss MacWhirter, the music teacher.
“Well,” said Miss Goody, smiling with a tight mouth around at the girls. “Isn’t this nice? Isn’t this nice, Wendy?” she shouted suddenly.
“Eh?” frowned Miss MacWhirter.
“I said, isn’t this nice?” Miss Goody shrieked even more loudly while the girls tried not to wince.
“Oh, yes, yes,” said Miss MacWhirter, who looked much more interested in the cake trays that were coming around.
“She’s a little deaf,” Miss Goody whispered to the girls.
“Not in the least bit deaf,” Miss MacWhirter snapped, which seemed to surprise Miss Goody.
“Well, and have any of you had older sisters at the Young Ladies’ School?” Miss Goody asked brightly. It seemed that she had to work very hard to be nice.
Miranda, Ellie and Katie shook their heads silently, but Felicity gave an unwilling, “Yes, Miss.”
“And what is her name?”
“Belinda Van Hoeven, Miss.”
“Violin,” said Miss MacWhirter with a nod. “Didn’t practice enough.”
“That girl didn’t spend nearly enough time on any of her homework,” Miss Goody added with an unpleasant smile. “I hope you’re not like her,” she told Felicity.
Felicity gazed at the table, unable to reply.
“I give more homework than any of the teachers at this school,” Miss Goody announced rather proudly and Miss MacWhirter harrumphed in agreement, biting into a scone. “I hope you girls like homework.”
There was nothing that could be said to this. The girls all pretended to be chewing and therefore unable to speak.
“Now, which schools did you attend before the Young Ladies’ School?” asked Miss Goody.
“Beaton Towers, Miss,” said Ellie.
“Hmm, not bad,” said Miss Goody with an air of superiority.
Felicity’s old school was begrudgingly announced to be “fair,” whilst Miranda’s old school got a decided, “oh, dear me.” Katie did not know where she had last gone to school.
When the Crundles had fostered Katie, the social worker told them that she was suffering from memory loss. Apparently Katie had been found alone, without any idea of where she lived or who her family was. She only knew her name and age. At first, Miranda had found this a little too hard to believe, and David had spent hours trying to make Katie recall her past. All he ever got out of Katie, however, was a cheerful, “sorry, I really can’t remember, David. But thanks awfully for trying to help me.” When Miss Goody heard this story, relayed brightly by Katie, she sat with her lips pursed for some time. Moreover, she seemed just as disapproving of Miranda, now that she knew they lived together.
“On scholarship, are we?” she sniffed, and Miranda and Katie nodded meekly.
It seemed that being on scholarship was not always a wonderful thing. Miss Goody seemed to regard it as positively shameful.
“Never mind,” she said, sipping her tea. “Perhaps you shall make something of yourselves nevertheless.”
“Nothing wrong with being on scholarship,” Miss MacWhirter broke in suddenly, spraying scone crumbs across the table. “Some scholarship girls end up as Best Girls, if they work for it.”
Miss Goody nodded curtly, but her real opinion was plain on her face: scholarship girls ought not to be made Best Girls at any time. She patted her neat perm and looked around at the other tables as though she felt she had been given a somewhat disappointing group of girls.
This was actually better, because with Miss Goody looking around for a higher class of girl and Miss MacWhirter engrossed in her fifth scone, the girls could chat quietly among themselves.
“This aloo tikki is pretty good, actually,” Miranda told Ellie. “My Dad makes it from time to time, but your mum’s is better.”
Ellie beamed when she heard this. “You should taste her cashew nut chutney,” she answered.
After morning tea, the tour was over and Miranda went to wait with Katie at the front gates for her mother. David was right – it was as though Upper Drivell did not want to be considered a part of the busy smoky town of Drivell. On this summer’s day, the lawns were bright and green, the footpaths spick and span, and the birds twittered at just the acceptable volume. Attractive houses lined the streets, and dotted here and there were little shops that sold useless crafts and didn’t seem to have any customers except tourists. Some of the tourists were even taking photos of the school’s shining old towers.
“Do you think you’ll like going to Oodles?” Katie asked her, sounding slightly worried.
“Of course,” said Miranda. “You?”
“I hope so,” Katie replied.
“Just…be normal,” Miranda said, feeling a little mean as she said it.
“What do you mean?”
“You know – don’t feel like you have to stand out from the crowd all the time,” she said gently.
“Do I stand out from the crowd?” Katie asked. She sounded genuinely astonished.
Miranda looked at Katie. Where Miranda was organised and calm, Katie was terribly, wildly messy. Where Miranda was thin and serious, Katie was stout and cheerful. She had a great bush of red-brown hair that was daily forced with little success into two frizzy braids. She had a wide mouth and a mass of brown freckles that looked as though they had been splashed out of a mud puddle onto her face. Her eyes were an uncannily bright orange-brown. Miranda sighed.
“No – look, just forget about it,” she told Katie.

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