| |
I STIRRED AS I FELT something touch my cheek. Feather-light but unexpected, it was enough to wake me. As I sat upright, the Pippi Longstocking book slipped from my hands on to the mattress as McPhee made herself comfortable on my lap.
Miss Harnett, standing by my bed, smiled at me and spoke in a low voice so as not to wake the children. “My dear, you must have nodded off. Are Pippi’s adventures not sufficiently exciting for you?”
I blinked and rubbed my eyes. “To be honest, I rather enjoyed them. What time is it, please?”
“Just gone ten thirty. The younger girls are all asleep, and I’ve made sure the older girls have turned their lights out. I suggest you toddle back to your flat for an early night. You look as if you could do with one.”
“Is Oriana back yet?”
“I’ve no idea, but if the girls need you, they’ll knock on your door. They know where you are. Just don’t leave your flat till after midnight in case they come calling.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to leave it till breakfast time.” I slid my legs round to place my feet on the floor and into my shoes and returned the book to the bedside table. “Did you need me, by the way? Is that why you came to find me?”
Scooping up McPhee and draping the cat over her shoulder like a fur stole, she took my arm companionably and led me to the door. Out in the corridor we were able to speak above a whisper without disturbing the girls.
“My dear, I always end each day with a little stroll among my sleeping beauties, to make sure they’re all settled. When it’s quiet at night and the rest of the dorm is sleeping around you, it’s easy for some little soul to feel overwhelmed by loneliness and homesickness, especially those furthest from home. I aim to nip such feelings in the bud and provide an antidote.”
She tickled McPhee behind the ears, and I reached out to stroke her myself, smiling at her half-closed amber eyes. A cat with such an affectionate temperament should enjoy the post of Comforter to Homesick Girls.
“What about you?” I asked her as we were about to part company at the top of the stairs. “Are you all done for the night? Do you ever have an evening off? It strikes me that you’re always on duty.”
Looking weary for a moment, she gazed down the marble staircase. “Once a headmistress –” Then she brightened. “But there are compensations. I do have the best dorm.”
Her eyes twinkled. Oriana had told me Miss Harnett’s bedroom had once been Lord Bunting’s. Apparently it was fabulous. And I bet the Bursar was dead jealous, tucked away like a servant in the gatehouse.
She gave a little wave of her free hand and began to glide gracefully down the stairs. “Sleep well, my dear,” she called over her shoulder.
I watched as she turned at the foot of the stairs, wondering whether her bed was the same one Lord Bunting had slept in, and whether McPhee was allowed on it with her. Then I headed for my own flat. It might not be as lavish as hers, but I was thankful to have it. I was more determined than ever to make a success of this job, to earn the right to stay here.
Before I reached my own front door, I passed Oriana’s and saw it was ajar. I wondered how she’d got on with Steven on their date, if indeed that’s what it was. One way or another, I’d sleep better for knowing. I tapped lightly on her door and called her name.
No reply. I knocked harder, as we were far enough from the dorms not to wake the girls.
“Oriana, it’s me, Gemma. Fancy a cup of cocoa with me?” I was getting rather addicted to school cocoa.
Hearing no reply, I assumed she was still out and had left her door unlocked by mistake. I wondered whether one of the girls had come to find her and was waiting inside, lonely and distressed. I didn’t like to intrude into Oriana’s private space, but duty called. Remaining on the threshold, I gently pushed the door, letting it swing open slowly so as not to startle whichever girl was within.
“Hello, it’s only me. It’s Miss Lamb. Miss Bliss is still out. Can I help you?”
When I reached inside the door to flick on the light, my mouth fell open with surprise. The walls of Oriana’s flat were completely covered in yellow banknotes. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, every inch of the room was plastered with money.
I stepped in to touch it, to check whether it was really only novelty wallpaper, but the edges of each note were palpable. They were real currency. In a few places notes were coming away from the wall at the corners.
How rich must Oriana be to paper her walls with banknotes? Was this the fruits of her pursuit of rich widowed fathers? Did she fleece each one for what she could before moving on to the next?
I read the lettering on one of the notes. This benefactor must have been Bolivian, as the currency was called the Bolivar, which was new to me.
I had a flashback to the expensive wallpaper with which Steven had insisted on creating a supposedly fashionable feature wall in his lounge with hand-printed paper at £485 a roll. What would he give to have a flat decorated with such an ostentatious show of wealth? The more I thought about it, the more perfect a match Oriana was for him. And if Oriana’s walls were covered in money, what other valuables might be tucked away under her bed or left lying around with no thought for security?
Then I remembered why I’d come in.
“Hello, anybody there?” I called again, louder this time.
This room was certainly empty, and the kitchenette and bathroom lay in darkness. I flicked on their light switches, to reassure myself that these rooms were also unoccupied. Had Oriana inadvertently left the door unlocked when she went out, or had someone broken in? A potential intruder getting past Max’s vigilance? Surely not. But just in case, I thought I’d better alert him, especially with all this money lying about.
I pulled Oriana’s front door closed behind me and retreated to my own flat, lifted the handset for my landline, and pressed the school’s speed-dial number for Max’s pager.
