NOBODY

Weakness in feeling; strength in control.

Tenet Two, The Book of the Binders

‘Behave, work hard and stay away from Effie! And that boy! The risks are greater than ever. Remember, Anna, fine pearls make no noise.’ Aunt assessed her for any last flaws she hadn’t yet spotted and then gave her a perfunctory hug. ‘Now go, you’ll miss your train.’

Anna left the house, her new uniform uncomfortable, ironed into stiff lines. Black, white and maroon: the sixth-form colours. It would give her standing, make her conspicuous. She couldn’t be conspicuous. I’m a nobody. She touched each of the six knots along her Knotted Cord, every one tight with emotion.

The last few days of the holidays had settled themselves back into their usual shape. Everything appeared the same as always and yet nothing was quite the same. Aunt was tense, not her usual, irritable kind of tense, but an erratic kind – energised and frenzied one minute, jumpy and snappy the next.

Anna hadn’t been able to get the hanging women and the leering faces of the Binders out of her mind. The burnt-fear smell of their words. Aunt and the Binders had spoken of old enemies and threats and worse her whole life, so much and so often that it had become like background noise, like embroidery stitches forming a pattern she could not see and did not understand. But now it was different: a shock of real fear, like the prick of a needle.

There was only one threat the Binders truly feared. The ones who know our secrets.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Attis and Effie either, unsettled to find that she wanted to see them again. She just didn’t want them to see her. They knew her secret – that she was a witch – and the thought made her feel dreadfully exposed. Anna was sure not even they were crazy enough to reveal their magic to ordinary people, but she didn’t think they were going to be particularly careful either and she couldn’t take those kinds of risks. She had Aunt to deal with, and the Binders ready to knot her at a minute’s notice. There were reasons of her own too – she had to remain a nobody.

She walked through the quiet of their neighbourhood, past the uniform houses, the church in its expanse of graveyard, the tidy parks. Just before the station, she stopped outside the newsagents and picked up a newspaper from the rack:

All gone cuckoo? Faceless Women mystery deepens

Despite the story’s national coverage and more than 500 witnesses speaking to police, the identities of the women remain unknown. Police are calling on anyone who might have any information …

Anna scanned the article quickly. It contained several new grisly photographs but nothing of use. How does no one know who these women were? She put it back down and checked her watch. She needed to go.

Running the rest of the way to the station, she took the train to Dulwich. She briefly fantasized about not getting off at her stop, staying on the train until she found herself somewhere else, someone else, but before she knew it she was traversing the long driveway to the school entrance, cars roaring past and the cut-grass lawns sparkling green. The school reared up before her: a sprawling, red-stoned beast, grand and prowling as an old lion, all high windows and turrets and spires rising above the trees, looking as if it had been transplanted to London from the pages of a Gothic novel. It had in fact once served as a Victorian workhouse, a place where the poor were housed to work and die quietly. Behind its grand entrance doors lay a labyrinth of corridors, narrow and claustrophobic as a hive.

Fellow pupils stepped out of their four-by-fours, kissing mothers and fathers goodbye, but Anna didn’t stop to greet anyone. She hurried to the entrance, finding her stomach in knots, just as it had been the first time she’d walked through the doors; after a childhood of homeschooling, she’d been so excited, so full of hope to be experiencing the real world, to be getting away from Aunt. Now all she felt was dread.

It wasn’t that she hated school. She enjoyed her lessons, she was top of the class in several subjects, she loved escaping to the music room to play the piano – it was just all the rest of it. She had to stay focused, as Aunt had said. Get the grades, get into medical school. Even if she lived with Aunt forever, at least if she was a doctor she’d have something of her own life, her own independence, skills that could help people. It wasn’t magic but perhaps it could be something like freedom.

The smell of polished wood greeted her, familiar as the navy carpets beneath her feet. Groups collected around her, friends seeking friends, constellations forming, drawn together by the pull of summer gossip. Whispers stirring. Phones beeping. Anna listened to it as she passed:

‘Yeah, broke up but then he posted those pics of her—’

‘I missed you! Where have you been all my life?’

‘Not a virgin any more – the beach club toilets apparently.’

‘Lost so much weight—’

‘She’s not coming back, not since Darcey shunned her.’

‘Did you see the new girl?’

The air was feverish with excitement, a bubbling anxiety beneath the surface. The gossip mill had begun turning and everyone was required to make their offering.

No one batted an eyelid as she passed. Anna breathed out with relief.

A nobody, still.

She made her way to the Athenaeum – the main school hall – for assembly. It was an exceptionally grand room, with mahogany-panelled walls, stained-glass windows and a raised stage at the end; stiff-backed chairs creaked and groaned as the pupils took their seats below it. Anna quietly took a seat at the end of a row and looked out for Effie, but couldn’t spot her among the crowds.

All grew quiet as Headmaster Connaughty took up his position on the stage, only just tall enough for the wooden lectern behind which he stood. ‘Welcome back to St Olave’s School for Girls. This year is the start of the rest of your lives …’ He was as wide as he was short with a florid, shiny face, an inelegant combover and a bulbous nose. His speech – like all his speeches – was merely an excuse for him to discuss his own exceptional feats in life in getting to where he was today: head of one of the most prestigious schools in London: ‘You must mould your ambitions! Just as I moulded mine and achieved greatness,’ pounding his fists on the lectern, dabbing frequently at his melting forehead with a handkerchief.

Anna looked behind him to the prefects seated on the stage. Darcey Dulacey front and centre, scanning the rows of pupils before her regally, bone structure pure-bred pedigree, hair bronzed, make-up impeccable, a proprietorial smile and cruel eyes, judging and assessing. Anna felt her stomach churn with acid.

‘Look at Darcey’s tan,’ a girl in the row behind started to whisper. ‘Did you see her summer pictures from the Amalfi coast? Sickening …’

‘All those couple selfies with Peter. Life’s not fair.’

‘Are they back together then?’

‘Oh yeah, big time …’

Anna tried to block them out. So Darcey and Peter were back together – what does it matter to me? Peter wouldn’t look in her direction, whether Darcey existed or not. Unfortunately Darcey did exist and there was no escaping her; everyone would be talking about her all day. She was smart, rich, exceptionally dressed, a talented ballerina, spoke Mandarin and ran the school student council, but all of that was merely an accessory to her main skill. Darcey was popular because she knew how to control the conversation, how to place herself at the centre of the gossip web – and how to ingest anyone who stood in her way.

‘And now to introduce the new joiners this year. I hope you will make them all feel welcome and show them what it means to be an Olave’s lady.’ Headmaster Connaughty’s chins wobbled. Anna hated how he always used the word lady as a weapon against them.

Sarah Egerton.

Tiana Oakley-Smith.

The new girls came up on stage one by one, receiving their school badge and shaking hands with Connaughty. Most looked uncomfortable and self-conscious; others rose with their head held high, fuelled by an air of self-entitlement. Darcey watched them shrewdly.

Charlotte Robinson.

Effie Fawkes.

Anna sat up at the sound of her name. Effie made her way onto the stage slowly, casually. She did not fit into either category. She wore the uniform as if it was a mere suggestion and her hair was loose, against regulations. Headmaster Connaughty looked at her with mild irritation. She held his hand for a few seconds longer than the others had, looked at him – right at him – until he almost seemed to recoil, and then she turned away and scanned the row of prefects as if they were faintly amusing to her.

As she left the stage it felt like she ought to carry on walking, out of the hall and to somewhere she belonged, for she did not belong here, not at St Olave’s. Everyone else seemed to feel it too; whispers spread in quiet ripples. Anna saw Darcey strain to get another look. She’s got you worried. Anna smiled and then hid it, lowering her head once more.

Afterwards, the lower years were led out, leaving only the sixth form. Headmaster Connaughty gave them all a knowing look. ‘Now, as you are all aware, the final two years at St Olave’s ceases to remain distinctly girls only and we welcome gentlemen from St Olave’s Boys for mixed classes.’

Charged whispers sparked among the remaining pupils. Connaughty put up his hand. ‘Control yourself, ladies. I know, it is overwhelming to be joined by the godsend that is the male sex.’ His words writhed with sarcasm, but he straightened himself up taller, as if he clearly considered himself at the forefront of the male species. ‘St Olave’s Boys are also permitted to use your sixth form common room and dining area, just as you will be able to use theirs. However, canoodling or other inappropriate forms of relations on school premises will not be tolerated. Neither will any pregnancies.’ Headmaster Connaughty laughed loudly at his own unsavoury joke before dismissing them, the whispers breaking free in an overbearing torrent of noise.

The morning’s lessons were full of introductions. New textbooks, new teachers, new syllabuses and new scandal and slander to overhear. Anna listened, knowing that, without a phone, she was only hearing the surface of it. She was perturbed to find that Effie was already caught up in it, despite being a member of the school for a matter of hours.

‘Transferred from NYC—’

‘I heard she got expelled for drugs?’

‘I heard she set the place on fire.’

‘I heard she had an affair with a teacher …’

No one knew anything really but the gossip mill fed off lies; it could turn pure water to tar. A shut mouth catches no flies. That’s what Aunt said about idle chatter.

Anna was doing her best to keep her distance from Effie but before lunch their whole year would be gathered together for the annual torture of the uniform inspection. Anna made her way to the allotted classroom, fiddling with her Knotted Cord, her dread increasing because as the head prefect of their year, Darcey, would be in charge – but Anna couldn’t deny she was curious too, interested to see how Effie might fit into the hierarchy.

She slotted in at the back of the queue. Effie didn’t appear to have arrived but Darcey was already in full swing – she and her usual accomplices, Olivia and Corinne, sitting on high stools at the front of the classroom, slurping on green juices as they picked over their victims. Darcey had the juices delivered every morning and you always knew who was in her inner circle or current favour by whom she gave one to. They were known as the Juicers.

‘Necklaces aren’t allowed,’ Darcey declared. ‘I’ll have to confiscate it.’

‘But it was a gift from my boyfriend,’ the girl cowering in front of them attempted to protest.

‘Sorry, do I look like a therapist?’ said Darcey. ‘We don’t have time for this. Hand it over.’ Darcey put out her hand while the girl struggled to unclip the necklace.

She gave it to Darcey. ‘Just – when will I get it back—’

‘Next!’ Darcey called over her.

‘Lucie Brown,’ Olivia read off the register in her monotone voice, before returning her attention to her phone. She rarely looked up from it. Olivia hadn’t always been popular, but she’d worked and bought her way into the Juicers’ circle with the ruthlessness she was renowned for on the lacrosse pitch. Deemed neither as attractive nor as charismatic as Darcey, she’d tirelessly transformed herself. Now she ran a fashion blog and had amassed a following who pored over endless pictures of her affecting various vacuous poses: short dark hair cutting into her cheekbones, lips pouting, designer outfits dripping off her tall, muscular frame. Once a girl had emulated one of her photographs and Olivia had sued her, successfully.

‘Lucie, hi! You’ve changed – what is it?’ Darcey smiled at her next victim. ‘You’ve had your nose done.’

Lucie’s cheeks reddened to beetroot.

‘No need to be embarrassed, we all need a little help sometimes. Your noise certainly did.’

‘Suits you, gorgeous,’ Corinne agreed, twizzling her dyed red hair, wearing her usual dreamy expression on her owl-like, blinking face. Corinne did her hardest to cultivate an aura of being a free spirit and friend to all. She ran the school Yoga Club, which had a members’ only policy, and was always preaching vaguely in her breathy voice about the importance of the natural world, global warming and animal welfare, while seemingly doing very little about it.

Darcey flashed her phone in Lucie’s face, taking a picture before she knew what was happening. ‘I’ll spread the word.’

‘Rowan Greenfinch.’

A girl with a head of wild brown hair stepped forwards. Anna knew her vaguely. They’d had classes together over the years; she was lively and talkative and liked to voice her opinions, but Anna normally agreed with what she said so it didn’t tend to bother her. Standing before the Juicers there was no sign of her usual cheerfulness, just a defeated look on her face as though she knew her fate and had already accepted it.

‘Skirt length?’ Darcey nodded.

A lower prefect stepped forwards with a ruler and measured the skirt. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Really? Check again.’

The prefect did as she was told. ‘Yes, it’s within the regulations.’

‘Oh. Weird. It just looks shorter on her. Maybe it’s like a proportion thing, because of the size of her thighs.’ Darcey surveyed Rowan’s legs. Olivia snorted over her phone.

‘I get it. I’m fat. Ha ha.’ Rowan attempted to smile along with their snide jokes as if they were of no concern to her.

‘No, I won’t hear it,’ Darcey said sympathetically. ‘Not fat, just unmotivated. I’m all for body positivity. Corinne, can’t you give her a free pass to one of your yoga classes?’

Corinne smiled down at Rowan. ‘I’m not sure there’s space,’ she said sweetly.

‘You could order in bigger mats?’ Darcey suggested.

‘Extra air freshener, perhaps?’ Olivia muttered audibly.

Some in the room began to laugh. Rowan’s lip wobbled. Anna felt a surge of anger so intense she grabbed onto her Knotted Cord in her pocket to steady herself.

‘On second thoughts, I don’t think it’s worth it,’ said Darcey. ‘Go on. Go. Keep down those portion sizes!’ She gave Rowan a gesture of encouragement, then dispensed her empty juice cup to the minion prefect.

Corinne handed hers over too. ‘Make sure you recycle that now!’

‘OK, next!’

When Anna’s name was called out she gripped her cord tighter and walked to the front, head trained to the floor. I’m a nobody. A nobody.

Darcey’s eyes passed over her without interest. ‘Do you still go here? Skirt length, fine. Heel height, fine. No jewellery. No personality …’ she muttered. ‘Next!’

Anna was so relieved she could have cried – if she’d had any tears left for Darcey. As she walked away she glanced up to find Effie watching her. She dropped her head again, feeling a wave of shame. I did nothing but cower. But Effie doesn’t know what this school can be like. She’d had to learn the hard way.

In the beginning Anna hadn’t understood the rules, hadn’t known how to disappear. She’d attracted attention: the new girl with the insipid hair and the weird shoes, living alone with her aunt. Dead parents. Not a winning combination. She’d hoped to pass under the radar, make a few friends, work quietly, but the rumours had started quickly. Darcey, Olivia and Corinne had enjoyed the game, stirring, spreading them, calling her names, making sure any friends she’d made, she’d quickly lost.

Such a freak – doesn’t even own a phone.

Probably in a cult—

I reckon she killed her parents—

No, they took one look at her and killed themselves—

Aunt had warned her, had said people like them would get noticed if they weren’t careful, and she’d been right. Anna had used the only technique available to her: tucking herself away in her Knotted Cord, disappearing, becoming the nobody they all thought she was. The trick was, she gave herself nothing either: no anger, no self-pity, no tears. It had to work both ways; they had to see it in her eyes – that she wasn’t there any more. Eventually they’d lost interest. There’d been no fun left in it.

‘Effie Fawkes.’

Darcey called out Effie’s name nonchalantly, but Anna knew better, that Darcey was waiting to laud her power over the girl who’d stolen all the attention on their first day back. A murmur travelled through the room as Effie walked to the front.

Darcey tapped her straw against her lips, looking her up and down. ‘Your heels are too big. If they’re not replaced by tomorrow I’ll have to write you a detention slip.’ Effie cocked her head and smiled. Darcey’s eyes narrowed. ‘And your skirt is too short.’

‘Slut,’ Olivia coughed.

‘Me? Why, thank you.’ Effie waved a hand, unabashed.

Darcey appeared unfazed by Effie’s insubordination but Anna knew she would be furious. She walked up to Effie slowly, testing the waters. She flicked her finger at the collection of studs and hoops in Effie’s ear. ‘Really? We’re not allowed to wear earrings.’

‘You’re wearing earrings.’

‘I’m sorry, let me be clear, you are not allowed. What’s more I know you have a tattoo. I saw it on your arm this morning.’

‘Wow, was someone taking a close look at me? I’m flattered, I didn’t know you like me that way, Darcey. I’m open to it.’

The sniggers came again but this time at Darcey’s expense. She jerked her head around and was met by silent, guilty faces.

‘Tattoos aren’t allowed.’ Darcey’s voice sharpened. ‘You’ll have to get it removed or face expulsion, I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t have a tattoo.’

‘I saw it. It was of a spider. Gross, if you ask me. It was at the top of your forearm.’

Effie pulled a face of innocent confusion.

‘Pull up your sleeve.’

‘No.’

‘Hold her arm,’ Darcey barked at one of the prefects. They gave Effie a look as if to say, Please make this easier. Effie rolled her eyes and put her arm out. Darcey pulled up her sleeve. Everyone had grown tense and quiet, leaning forward to get a closer look.

There was nothing there.

‘It must be on the other one.’

Effie rolled up her other sleeve, revealing nothing on that arm either. A few people laughed. Anna found herself stifling back a laugh of her own.

‘Probably some scabby temporary thing then,’ Darcey snapped irritably, looking unconvinced.

‘Sure, why not.’ Effie smiled at her curiously. She made to leave.

‘Wait there.’ Darcey regained her composure. ‘Your hair.’

Effie turned back with a look that suggested the entertainment value of this little game was growing thin. In that moment, Anna wasn’t sure who was the more unsettling of the two.

‘It’s too long.’

‘I’ll tie it up.’

‘No, it needs to be cut – it’s matted and dirty. When did you last wash it? I’m sorry but that’s a health hazard. If it isn’t gone by tomorrow then I’ll have to give you a week’s detention.’

Effie took a long hard look at Darcey and then walked over to the teacher’s desk and lifted a pair of scissors from the pot. She turned to the crowd and began slicing through her hair. It fell away in thick, black shards. Darcey’s mouth dropped open. Shocked whispers ran through the onlookers.

When Effie was finished the remaining hair fell to her shoulders. It didn’t even look bad – the length and sharp angles suited her. Holding a mound of hair, she walked over and offered it to Darcey, who, still in shock, took it.

‘You can wash it yourself.’ Effie smirked and walked off.

Darcey stood frozen. No one else moved either.

Her hand opened and the hair dusted onto the floor. She turned to the rest of them vehemently. ‘If any of you thought that was amusing, rest assured, she’s going to spend the rest of term in detention and if I see you laugh again, Jane, your boyfriend will be finding out exactly what you got up to this summer. NEXT.’

Anna made her way to the sixth-form common room at lunch. It was the first time she’d ever been in it. The space had been designed to feel informal, with sofa areas and tables to sit and eat at or work at. There was a canteen at the far end serving food. It was busy and loud. Anna collected her lunch and walked through the crowded room as quickly as possible, taking harbour at a distant table. She took out a book and listened to the discussions around her – everybody was talking about the uniform incident. Anna shook with sudden laughter as she recalled the look on Darcey’s face. Some girls from the next table glanced over and she shrank further behind her book. She shouldn’t be laughing. Effie was getting herself noticed and people like them couldn’t be noticed.

When Darcey, Olivia and Corinne arrived they were surrounded by a small army of the year’s most popular boys, booted and blazered. Anna spotted Peter among them and her stomach exploded with small butterflies. Ridiculous. She ought to knot their wings.

Still, he looked better than ever: tall and lean, that clean, healthy, fresh-air look, his blond hair lightened by the sun. There was an intelligence to his face, something in the set of his jaw, the knot that gathered between his eyebrows and his blue, quizzical eyes that kept a careful distance, as if he didn’t accept the world as it appeared to him until he had reflected on it himself. He was unbeatable on the school debating team and competed internationally in swimming. He was on track for a place at Oxbridge but was going to take a year out to travel and carry out volunteering work first. Anna had gleaned all this despite having never exchanged a single word with him.

They took up residences at a table, Olivia returning to her phone and Corinne settling on one of the boy’s laps. Darcey made it clear that Peter was hers; she sat with one hand on his knee and an arm over his chair, throwing her head back with laughter and flicking her caramel hair side to side. Anna couldn’t understand how he liked her – how he couldn’t see through her. Then again, Darcey was beautiful and accomplished, their parents moved in the same circles, and he didn’t know her like Anna did. As she’d grown older Darcey had learnt how to hide herself too; her true nature buried beneath artful, tooth-whitened smiles, her sharp words coated in sugar.

Effie and Attis entered. A dark-haired, dark-eyed alliance.

The room hushed. Heads turned. Effie answered the stares with a challenge of her own. Darcey carried on talking but glanced over several times, her eyes travelling up and down Attis’s tall form.

He appeared to be entirely unfazed by the attention, jovially slapping some new friend on the back as he passed. They turned towards the food and he said something that made the serving man laugh. Effie collected her meal and turned around. Her eyes met Anna’s. For one horrified moment Anna thought she was heading for her table but she veered off and sat at one in the centre. Attis followed her path, also catching Anna’s eye. He waved at her – the sort of wave a mum would give her child on their first day of school. Startled, Anna waved back.

She glanced at Darcey, who looked right at her and blinked, clearly wondering what on earth the Nobody had to do with them. Nothing! Nothing at all. Anna shrank further into the corner. Why did he have to wave? To humiliate me!

‘Excuse me.’ A voice sounded to the side of her. ‘Is this seat taken?’

It was Rowan and she was already pulling out a seat beside her with loud and attention-attracting noise. ‘So.’ She pinned Anna down with intense eyes hooded by thick pipe-cleaner eyebrows. ‘Do you know him?’ She nodded unsubtly towards Attis. ‘The one with the come-hither-and-have-sex-with-me-now face. My, he’s …’ She made a biting motion with her mouth. ‘I mean, we need to talk about this. What’s his name? How do you know him?’ Her hair was somewhere between curly and frizzy, as manic as her general demeanour.

Anna began shutting her books. She needed to go. She thought about running out without replying, muttering some apology, but Rowan seemed back to her normal, chirpy self after the cruelties of the uniform inspection, and Anna didn’t want to make her feel bad again. ‘Attis. I don’t know him. I just met him once, and her, Effie.’

‘Oh, so they’re a thing then – her and him, him and her?’

‘I don’t know. I have got to go, though—’

‘Well, how did you meet them? What was he like? He has a kind smile. Ugh, look at Darcey, she’s eyeing him up for sure. She’ll have her claws into him in no time, claws, talons, beak, the whole works, but then, after what happened this morning – can you believe what happened! – Effie can obviously handle herself, with or without scissors. Either way, it’s going to be an interesting watch. We should get the popcorn ready.’ She elbowed Anna playfully. ‘I’m sorry, I’m harassing you, aren’t I? I do that. Mum says I have no boundaries. You’re Anna, right? I think we have a class together. I’m Rowan.’

Anna was surprised she knew her name. ‘Yeah, Anna, nice to meet you.’

‘All right, Miss Formal, shall we shake hands? I’m joking, don’t actually put your hand out.’ She batted Anna’s away. ‘Now, shall we go over there and say hello to him? Bad idea. That’s a bad idea right? It’s not as if people like us’ – she pointed back and forth between them – ‘can just mosey on over to people like them. I hate the rules. Where are you going?’

Anna had started shuffling out from behind the table. ‘Class, sorry, but if I ever talk to him again, I’ll put in a good word for you.’

‘Don’t you dare say Oh, she has a bubbly personality. That’s what they always say about the fat girl. Tell him I’m super flexible.’

‘Sure.’

‘And super chilled.’

‘OK.’

Anna waved an uncomfortable goodbye and made a beeline for the exit, not looking back. It had been far too dangerous in there. The whole day had been far too dangerous.

Whispers divide; in secrets we thrive.

She went to her locker, deciding to head to class early where she could sit alone, unaccosted. When she opened it there was an apple perched on the shelf inside.

It stared back at her, round as an eye, red as a kiss.

Anna couldn’t remember putting an apple in her locker; in fact, she definitely hadn’t put an apple in her locker. She looked up and down the corridor but no one was around. Panic blossomed. How did it get there? It had been locked. Only she had the key. Some new school healthy-eating policy? A prank? Or – something worse?

She reached in tentatively, plucking the apple out. It looked to all intents and purposes like a normal apple. She turned it around and there, carved into the flesh, was a message, small but direct: ‘Who are you?’

Anna stared at the words for a moment and then went directly to the bin. She threw the apple in and fled to the music room. She leant her head against the cold wall, thinking with unease of Effie’s smile, Attis’s wave. Was it them? What does it mean? Who are you?

I’m a nobody. A nobody!