The Lights Under the Lake. Sophie Cleverly

Thirty: Scarlet

       Chapter Thirty-one: Ivy

       Chapter Thirty-two: Scarlet

       Chapter Thirty-three: Ivy

       Chapter Thirty-four: Scarlet

       Chapter Thirty-five: Ivy

       Acknowledgements

       Keep Reading …

       About the Author

       Books by Sophie Cleverly

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

       IVY

      carlet and I were a team that couldn’t be broken. She was my twin; my reflection in the mirror; the other side of the same coin. As long as we were together, there was nothing we couldn’t face. That was what we’d promised each other. We could do anything.

      But this wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind.

      “Hold still!” yelled Ariadne. “Just one more minute!”

      I looked at Scarlet in horror. By my estimation, we had less than a minute before Miss Bowler arrived and we were all in hideous trouble, and about ten seconds before I lost my balance and plunged straight into the water.

      Scarlet was staring back at me, the expression frozen on her face. “I hate you, Ariadne,” she said, twisting her mouth without moving her eyes.

      Ariadne had received a camera from her father as a present during the Easter holidays, and it was her new obsession. It was small, black and silver, with knobs and dials that clicked and whirred. And right at that moment we were being subjected to it.

      “It’s going to look magical!” she shouted from the other side of the pool.

      I was wobbling. I tried very hard not to think about the chilly water just inches from my toes, and even harder not to think about what I was wearing.

      This was Ariadne’s brilliant idea: Scarlet and I were to dress as water nymphs and pose on the diving boards of Rookwood School’s horrible outdoor pool. She had made us costumes out of old swimsuits and ballet tutus, with streamers of blue and green, and chalked streaks of colour on our faces. She’d scattered flowers in the water around us. I was certain that we looked quite ridiculous.

      She wanted us both to do an arabesque, the ballet move where you stand on tiptoe with your arms outstretched and one leg up behind you, in a mirror image of each other. And now she was on the far side of the pool, bobbing up and down with the camera as she tried to get the perfect angle.

      “Who agreed to this, again?” I whispered to Scarlet.

      The diving boards were cold and slippery, even in the morning sun. Lessons were about to start, and Miss Bowler was not going to be happy if her first swimming session of the day was disrupted by two failed water nymphs tumbling into the deep end.

      “Ariadneeee!” Scarlet wailed as her leg started to give.

      “There. Got it!” Ariadne exclaimed finally. “You can stop now!”

      “Oh, thank goodness,” I said, lowering my raised leg gently to the ground and slowly backing off the board. I could feel my muscles twitching. Scarlet just sat down with a thump, making her board thrum with vibrations.

      Our best friend wandered over to us. She was clutching her camera and grinning, seemingly oblivious to our close brush with peril. “I think this will be my best photograph yet. Daddy will be so pleased.” She’d been learning how to develop her pictures in the new darkroom and sending them to her father in the post. Apparently he was proudly displaying them on the walls of Flitworth Manor.

      “Never make me do that again,” said Scarlet. Ariadne just blinked at her happily.

      “GIRLS!” came a sudden booming voice.

      “Uh-oh.” The colour drained from our friend’s face.

      The huge figure of Miss Bowler came striding past the changing rooms towards us, her whistle swinging back and forth round her neck. “What do you think you’re doing? Is this some sort of art?” She bellowed the word as if it were something terrible and offensive.

      “I … um …” Ariadne stammered, holding the camera out in front of herself as if it would protect her.

      Miss Bowler glared at us furiously. “You should all be in lessons. My class is about to start and the pool is full of GREENERY!”

      “I’ll clear it up, Miss!” Ariadne squeaked. She ran and grabbed a net that was leaning against the wall and began trying to sweep the flowers from the water. The camera bounced on its leather strap as she moved.

      The swimming instructor turned her glare to my twin. “I expect better from you, Ivy.”

      “I’m Scarlet,” said Scarlet.

      Miss Bowler went red. “I don’t care who you are! Clean up this mess and get inside! And for goodness’ sake, put your uniforms back on!”

      I looked down at myself sheepishly. Ariadne had made a brave effort with her costumes, and she was certainly a good seamstress, but she wasn’t exactly at the level of our Aunt Sara.

      I hoped Miss Bowler had finished her shouting, but evidently she hadn’t. “Flitworth, if I see you messing around with that infernal gadget during lesson time again, I will take it off you! Do you understand?”

      Ariadne dropped a sopping pile of flowers at her feet. “Yes, Miss! I’ll put it away, Miss!”

      Miss Bowler’s face contorted with disgust. “Children,” she muttered with distaste. “I’ve a good mind to make you swim la—” She cut herself off, and looked over her shoulder, some of the tomato red draining from her cheeks. I wondered if she was remembering our new headmistress Mrs Knight’s aversion to punishments, or perhaps old Headmaster Bartholomew and the girl who had once drowned at his hands in the school lake. Either way, she seemed to change her mind. “Just get inside,” she said finally, before stomping away.

      I looked back at Ariadne, expecting her to be upset. She loved that camera, and hated being told off. But her worried expression had changed to an excited grin. She waved the camera at us. “I can’t wait to see how this one turns out!”

      Rookwood School was trying its best to return to normality. Or at least, what passed for normality at a place where there really was at least one actual skeleton in the cupboard.

      Last term, girls had left the school in droves, their parents afraid it was unsafe. And they were right, it turned out – our terrifying headmistress Miss