Scarlet and Ivy – The Lost Twin. Sophie Cleverly

for the past half an hour, while I occasionally replied with ‘mmmhmm’ as loudly as I dared.

      Once she dozed off I would be able to take out the diary. The light of the full moon through the thin curtains ought to be enough for me to read by.

      “Isn’t this exciting?!” Ariadne somehow managed to pronounce extra punctuation marks even when whispering.

      “Shouldn’t we go to sleep now?”

      “But it’s like a sleepover, isn’t it? We can stay up all night and have a midnight feast!”

      “We don’t have any food, Ariadne.”

      “Oh, right.”

      I watched as she picked up a teddy from the floor. It was fluffy and bright-eyed, clearly brand new.

      “I suppose I shall try and go to sleep then,” she sighed, placing the teddy next to her head on the pillow and patting it gently. “I’m sure it will be absolutely impossible. Goodnight, Scarlet.”

      “G’night,” I mumbled.

      She flopped down with her eyes wide open. “Impossible!” she whispered.

      Exactly two minutes later, she was snoring contentedly.

      Finally! I pulled the lumpy pillow from under my head. With a quick shake, the diary fell out into my lap and I turned my back to Ariadne.

      I hoped the diary might hold answers, but when I opened it again I realised that it was empty aside from the letter to me. There were only torn edges of pages that had been ripped out. Where had a year of Scarlet’s life gone?

      I looked at the words on that remaining page again, read them over and over, the ink swimming in front of my eyes. I shook my head. Don’t be as wet as you usually are, Ivy.

      I would have fallen asleep clutching the little leather book in my arms, but I couldn’t risk it. So I hid it away, and held on to the memory of my sister instead.

      The following day was a Saturday; a blessing that saved me from lessons and wearing Scarlet’s uniform. Ariadne and I returned to the dining hall and ate cold porridge for breakfast. It was lumpy and required far more chewing than it ought to have done.

      “What shall we do today?” Ariadne asked.

      I blinked up at her. What was there to do at this school?

      Luckily, she didn’t wait for me to respond. “I’d like to visit the library,” she said. “I’ve heard they have a wonderful collection.”

      So, after a sneaky look at my map in the lavatory cubicle, we took a trip to the school library. It was an impressive sight – rows and rows of enormous shelves, stretching up to a high vaulted ceiling. There were ladders on wheels for reaching the upper levels, and some girls were laughing as they pushed each other along the racks. In the centre lay numerous tables, packed with students being studious, or at least doing a good job of pretending.

      And books. There had to be hundreds, no, thousands of them. So many stories, unread. So much to learn.

      Of course, I had to pretend I was completely unimpressed. Scarlet would have seen the library many times before, and she wasn’t particularly interested in books.

      “I’ll just get … a couple out,” I said to Ariadne, trying to sound bored.

      “A couple? I’m going to get the maximum!” she exclaimed.

      And that was how we returned to our room, me carrying a meagre two books and Ariadne tottering under an enormous pile of them. If the girls hadn’t been laughing at her yesterday, they certainly were now.

      On Sunday we had to go the school chapel for a service. The sermon echoed off the walls, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I saw Scarlet everywhere, in the brass of the candles, in the stained-glass windows and in the tarnished gold collection plates. I felt like somehow she was watching me.

      It started to drizzle as we filed out under the glare of Miss Fox. I tried to hurry back through the jostling crowds with Ariadne trailing behind me. But then I checked myself. You’re trying to be Scarlet – don’t be so wet.

      Father had always said that she walked around like she owned the place, like there was a pole down the back of her dress. So that was what I had to do.

      And it worked! The stream of girls began to move out of my way as I climbed the steps of the school. I turned back to Ariadne and smiled at her. She stopped and waved back, almost getting trampled in the process.

      That was a bit more like it, wasn’t it, Scarlet?

      That night, accompanied by Ariadne’s gentle snoring, I took out the diary, just to hold it. But I soon found myself reading the words again.

      Scarlet’s last line, that oft-heard insult – ‘don’t be as wet as you usually are – just look in the mirror’ – had been playing on my mind. It seemed out of place somehow. And why would Scarlet underline it? Unless …

      What if it’s one of Scarlet’s secret messages that used to drive me mad? What if she’s telling me to look for something? She said she’d try to leave me with some advice – did that mean this was a clue?

      I looked at the underlined words again – first, something wet. A lake? A river? That seemed unlikely. And second, somewhere with mirrors …

      The bathrooms.

      It jumped into my head as if Scarlet had whispered it right in my ear.

      It was lights out, and everyone was in bed. There was a good chance that Miss Fox would be patrolling the corridors, looking for rule-breakers. Then again, surely needing the lavatory was a valid excuse to be up in the night. I sat up in bed and looked down at my shoes. Too noisy; I’d have to go barefoot.

      I tiptoed to the door – my ballet training was certainly useful for something. I had to tug on the handle hard and it made a squeaking noise as it opened that was like a scream in my head. I winced as I stuck my head out and surveyed the corridor. Empty. The nearby door marked ‘Matron’ was shut tight.

      I hurried towards the bathrooms. Every time I passed a door, I half expected Miss Fox to leap out from behind it. Suddenly there was a bang from the other end of the corridor, and I almost jumped out of my nightgown. It was only a window, left hanging open in the breeze.

      There was a dim light in the lavatories, but through the door marked ‘Bathrooms’ it was a different story. I could just make out a small row of doors along the dark corridor, each with a number on it.

      My heart beat faster as I tried the handle of the first door.

      Inside was an enormous cast-iron bath, rusting at the edges, a flat-framed mirror and a faint smell of mildew.

      I pictured Scarlet walking into the room, walking right through me. I pictured her when we were five, climbing into the bath and splashing me with soapy water. Then I pictured her sneaking in here to hide something in the last days of her life.

      “What am I even looking for, Scarlet?” I whispered. There was a lump rising in my throat.

      I walked to the mirror, ran my fingers over the cold glass. My reflection stared back at me, and I had to look away. I tugged on the mirror, wondering if there was anything behind it, but it was screwed tightly to the wall.

      I looked around the chilly room. The pages obviously couldn’t be in the bath. They certainly weren’t next to it. That left only one place – underneath.

      I crouched down and felt along the rough iron surface …

      Nothing. My heart sank faster than the Titanic.

      But then – I could almost hear Scarlet’s laughter ringing out in my head – there were four more bathrooms to choose from, weren’t there?

      Two and three were as empty as number one. I shivered in my nightgown.

      As