MALORY’S BEDROOM WAS a revelation to Ashley. For a start, it was easily bigger than their entire living room and kitchen at home, so large that there was room for a double bed – Ashley had never heard of a kid sleeping in a double bed. A smart cherry-wood desk sat under the windows, and there was a small table and chairs, even a two-seater sofa and armchair. The walls were a tasteful shade of pale lilac, while much of the furniture was cream or white. There were a few posters, much neater than the ones of football players Aidan had on his wall; there was one of the elves from the Lord of the Rings movies, which Ashley had loved, and one of the vampires with the white hair from Buffy, which she was less keen on – she would rather die than admit it to Aidan, but sometimes she found Buffy a little scary. Dinner was over, and most of the children had been shuffled along to the ‘games room’, which contained a number of ratty board games and a big television, but Malory appeared just as Ashley had been dawdling down the corridor behind the main crowd.
‘Your bedroom is so cool.’ Ashley paused by the desk. It was scattered with tubes of half-used paint and long, thin paintbrushes. Paintings and sketches – Malory’s own work, she assumed – were pinned to the walls. The view from the window showed the forest and Red Rigg Fell rising above it, doused now in the uncertain tangerine light of dusk. ‘I have to share mine with my brother.’
Malory threw herself on the bed and sprawled there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling.
‘Oh God, you poor thing,’ she said, with feeling. ‘I can’t think of anything worse than sharing a bedroom with my brother. The pervy little bastard that he is.’
Ashley laughed. Being with Malory made her feel grown-up.
‘Is he really bad?’
Malory rolled towards the edge of the bed and planted her stockinged feet on the floor. She grinned at Ashley through the curtains of her dark hair.
‘You don’t know the half of it. I cannot stand him. Here, come and sit on the bed with me. I have some stuff I want to show you.’
Feeling shy again, Ashley went over and perched on the edge of the bed with Malory. The older girl winked, and then leaned down and reached under the bed. She pulled out a large old-fashioned suitcase covered in a paisley print. Malory hauled it up onto the bed between them and opened it by turning a neat silver switch on the top.
‘I hate throwing away good clothes, even though I’ve grown out of them, and I don’t have a little sister to pass them on to …’ Malory began pulling garments out of the suitcase and piling them next to Ashley on the bed. There were clothes of all colours in there, made of shimmering, expensive materials – Ashley saw the shine of satin and silk, even the twinkle of sequins and thick brocade. ‘Mother says I should just dump it all at the charity shop in Green Beck, and she’s probably right, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I think I’ve been saving them for you, Ashie, without knowing it. A lot of this stuff will fit you, I believe.’
Ashley was dumbstruck. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched the pile of fabrics, her fingers tracing the embroidery, the thick weight of wool and velvet under her hand. The idea that these things could belong to her gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew what she was supposed to say, though.
‘That’s nice of you, Malory, but I can’t take these things. They’re yours!’
‘Nonsense. All they’re doing at the moment is sitting in this suitcase under my bed. I’d much rather they went with you. Oh, here, you must try this on!’
The older girl had pulled out a simple white dress from the suitcase and was holding it up, pinching the shoulders between her thumb and forefinger. It was a summery-looking dress, with a lightly embroidered bodice and a skirt made from many layers of a gauzy material. It made Ashley think of ballerinas and princesses from stories.
‘I really can’t,’ she said again. She was thinking now of what would happen if she took these clothes home with her. Her mother would be mortified. She would wrinkle her nose and snap about how they ‘didn’t need anyone’s charity’ and she would ask, ‘Does this girl think we are paupers?’ She might even – and this was much worse – assume that Ashley had stolen the things. To cap it all, her father would assume the same thing and be pleased about it. ‘It’s not fair to the other kids, is it?’ she added in a small voice.
Malory laughed. ‘Balls to the other kids! Here, try it on. I want to see if it fits.’
She passed her the white dress. In Ashley’s hands, the material felt heavy and soft and cool, completely unlike any of her other clothes. When she paused, her cheeks growing flushed, Malory nodded to a long mirror in the corner of the room.
‘There, use that. I won’t look.’
Feeling nervous and strange, Ashley went to the mirror and took off her thin blue sweatshirt, and then her T-shirt, so she was only wearing her bra and jeans. It took her a moment to figure out which way up the dress was. She pulled it on over her head, the heavy silk dropping down over her chest and stomach like a cool breeze. The jeans she was wearing crumpled up the gauzy skirt, so she unzipped the fly and stepped out of them. It was only then she realised that despite the sunny day, Malory’s room was chilly. Gooseflesh stood up on the backs of her arms.
‘There! It fits you perfectly. I must insist that you take it,’ said Malory, who had got up from the bed at some point and now stood behind Ashley in the mirror. ‘It would be a crime for you not to have it.’
Ashley looked at herself in the mirror. The dress certainly did fit, but she wasn’t sure it suited her at all. With her pale skin and fair hair, the white dress made her look washed out somehow. Only her blue and brown eyes seemed real.
‘I can really have it?’
‘Of course. Oh, you could wear it to the big farewell dinner on Monday!’
‘Thank you. That’s really kind. But I don’t want to be the only one wearing a dress.’ She thought of the other kids, who were all from schools or cities similar to hers. She doubted that any of them had fancy dresses in their bags ready for dinner. ‘I don’t think they expect us to put nice clothes on.’
‘Hmm. Well, okay, you could be right about that.’ Malory put one hand on Ashley’s shoulder. ‘I forget that not everyone dresses for dinner.’
At that moment, the bedroom door flew open violently enough that the door handle smacked into the wall. Ashley jumped, but Malory just sighed.
‘Richard, you know perfectly well that Mother made it a house rule that we knock on each other’s doors.’
‘And you know perfectly well how much I listen to anything Mother says.’ Richard slid through the open door, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. At the sight of Ashley standing next to the mirror, an oily smile crept up one side of his face. ‘So this is your little project, is it? I have to give it to you, you couldn’t have picked a more pathetic specimen.’
Standing there in her borrowed dress, Ashley felt horribly exposed. Richard’s sharply handsome face and his finely tailored clothes looked like a threat.
‘Oh, fuck off, will you, Dick,’ Malory replied, her voice dripping with manufactured boredom. ‘I haven’t got the patience.’
‘And don’t I get a say in anything that goes on around here?’ To Ashley’s horror, he joined them at the mirror, pushing his sister out of the way so that he stood behind Ashley. He leaned down so that his chin rested on her shoulder, and his eyes met hers in the mirror. One hand rested on her bare arm, his long fingers burning against her skin. There was a long, uncomfortable silence, one where Ashley was too petrified to say anything, and then he snorted.
‘I don’t know, Mal, she doesn’t look like anything special to me.’
Ashley felt her cheeks burn. She looked down at her feet.
‘I think we’ve had enough of the pleasure of your company, brother dearest.’ Malory took hold of his arm and started to drag him towards the door; they were both laughing, Ashley realised. ‘Go back to that sordid cave you call your bedroom, unless you want me to tell Mother about your own disgusting—’
There was a flurry of shouts from the corridor outside. Malory dropped her brother’s arm, and they both went to the open door. Curious, Ashley followed them, her feet sinking into the thick pile of the carpet.
‘THIS IS THE DEVIL’S HOUSE!’
The shouts were nearer now, accompanied by the sound of running feet and a crash as someone collided with something. Ashley poked her head into the gap left by the Lyndon-Smith siblings just in time to see a dirty, dishevelled man pass by the doorway. He was wearing only a pair of grimy, mud-encrusted jeans, and his bare chest was streaked with filth. He glanced at them as he passed, and just for a second, Ashley caught his eye; he was crying, she realised with a stab of shock. Crying and shouting as he ran.
‘Bloody hell.’ Malory took a step back, putting one arm out as if to shield Ashley, then two more men ran up the hallway in pursuit of the strange intruder. These were dressed in neat shirts and jackets – the barely seen servants that attended to Red Rigg House. The dirty man was past them and gone around the corner; they heard another crash as he collided with something out of sight. There was the unmistakable sound of something expensive smashing into pieces.
‘What’s going on?’ shouted Richard.
One of the pursuers skidded to a halt. His face was flushed. ‘Some kind of homeless person has broken into the house, sir,’ he said. His colleague disappeared around the corner in pursuit. ‘We’ll have him out shortly.’
Richard laughed as though he were genuinely delighted.
‘Well, off you go then, Paul – you don’t want to let him get away, do you?’
The man nodded awkwardly and then sped off.
Malory put her arm around Ashley’s shoulders and squeezed her. ‘Wow, I’m sorry about that, Ashie. How weird. I promise we don’t normally have lunatics running around the house. Are you okay?’
Ashley nodded, although she didn’t feel okay. The wild crying man had been familiar – it was the man she had seen in the woods days before. What did he want?