Chapter 15
Mabel
‘Do you think my sister would like a clothes steamer?’ Zoe sucked her bottom lip sceptically between her teeth, scrolling on her phone.
It was the first of December, and Zoe was spending most of her free time hunting for the perfect Christmas presents for her family. I was more than happy to talk her out of buying one for me.
‘I don’t know Lydia well enough to say, I’m afraid. But isn’t her fiancé a millionaire? Why are you even giving her anything?’
‘Buying someone a present isn’t about whether they can afford it themselves.
It’s about showing each other you’ve made an effort.
’ Zoe put the phone away and linked her arm through mine as we strolled through a courtyard in our college, following the path between two patches of grass.
‘So what are you doing for Christmas this year?’
I gave an inner sigh. I knew she wasn’t going to like what I said next. ‘Clara called me yesterday. She and Timothy are going up to Aberdeen to visit my uncle’s parents. They want me to come, but I’d rather stay here.’
Zoe ground to such an abrupt halt that I was forced to stop too, although we were in the middle of the path. She stared at me in horror. ‘Nobody stays here over Christmas! I can’t allow it. Come to mine. I’m sure my mother won’t mind, she adores you.’
‘That’s sweet, but I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Anyway, Christmas isn’t exactly my favourite holiday.’ I forced a smile to my lips, but even I could tell I wasn’t pulling it off.
‘I know, but that’s the thing.’ She surveyed me, dissatisfied. ‘At least promise me you’ll call if you get lonely, okay?’
‘Sure thing.’ I got her moving again with a gentle tug. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’
‘Yeah, me too. I’ve missed you.’
‘So you’re not angry anymore?’ Ever since our last conversation, when I’d told her about the League, we’d avoided any mention of Ashton. I kept an eye on her, but apart from the fact that she was always yawning, she seemed in pretty good shape.
She sighed. ‘I’ve decided to take it as a compliment that you’re always worrying about me. I mean, you’re a Scorpio.’
I pulled a face, amused. Zoe’s fascination with the cosmic influences of the universe was a perpetual mystery to me. ‘What’s it got to do with my star sign?’
‘Scorpios only sting people when they or someone they love is threatened.’ She poked me in the hip. ‘The fact that you think all that stuff about Ashton just means you love me. Anyway, you know I’m a classic Sagittarius. Tolerance is my middle name.’
I couldn’t help laughing as we passed through an archway, leaving Trinity Hall. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve even missed all your creepy superstitions.’
‘Watch it, Golding – there are limits to even my tolerance!’ She jabbed me again in the ribs, only to pull me in even closer. ‘And now let’s not keep Davie waiting any longer. As a career-focused Capricorn, he has a dangerously solitary streak.’
The first thing I saw as we turned the corner was the blue light.
I stopped short and grabbed Zoe’s arm. It’s happened again – the words shot through my head.
The thought was dark and viscous, oozing through my whole body, until I realised a moment later that the light wasn’t coming from a police car.
It was the fire department. The vehicle was parked immediately outside the building where Zoe and I were headed.
Rapidly, I scanned the facade, but I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Zoe, too, was staring in alarm. She flagged down a passing student. ‘Do you know what they’re doing here?’
‘Somebody said there was a fire. But they put it out before the firefighters got here. No big deal.’ And he walked off with a shrug.
Zoe and I wavered for a moment, then, tightening my grip, I got her moving. ‘Come on.’
Nobody stopped us as we opened the door and entered the building, and as yet things still seemed normal.
No ash, no smoke, no skittish university employees.
Something about the stilted silence made my heart beat faster.
With every step we took through the narrowing, lightless, ever-more-deserted corridors, my misgivings grew, and by the time we reached the editorial offices of the Blue News, dread had gathered in my mind like a pitch-dark cloud, giving my thoughts no room to breathe.
I knew it. I knew it before I let go of Zoe, flung the door open and saw it for myself.
Although the windows were wide open, the room smelt not of late autumn but of …
smoke. Zoe coughed and stopped in the doorway, while I walked inside as if in a trance.
The guy had been right: the fire must have been small.
The desks at the front appeared untouched: the usual warren of overflowing filing cabinets, mountains of paper, supplies of sweets, paperclips and notepads, as well as ancient laptops and personal belongings, like wizened potted plants and forgotten mugs of coffee.
The only evidence of the fire was on the desk at the very back, by the window. It gave off an unpleasantly acrid stench, and the tabletop was covered in a layer of black ash. Directly in front of it stood the only person in the whole room.
‘Davie, what happened here?’
When he looked up, his face was as sombre as I’d ever seen it. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
Zoe followed me inside. She was clasping her beige scarf to her nose and mouth, muffling her voice. ‘Did something short-circuit? Jesus, I’ve been telling you for months that the wiring at this university is the worst.’
‘It wasn’t the wiring.’ With a distracted gesture, Davie slid shut one of the drawers in the filing cabinet next to the desk.
All of them had been pried open, leaving them slightly dented, as if they’d been forced.
And they were empty. I didn’t have to ask to know that all the documents Davie had kept in them were now on the table in a heap of ash.
‘The firefighters thought it might be arson. As if that wasn’t obvious the minute I walked in here and found my desk on fire. They must have only just left – I put out the fire before the flames could spread. One bit of luck, I suppose, under the circumstances.’
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach, thudding so violently that I pressed a hand to my belly. ‘They set fire to your desk, nobody else’s?’
Davie smiled grimly, picking up a picture frame that had fallen over on the charred tabletop. ‘Yup.’
‘And…’ My voice broke as my eyes darted to Zoe, who was looking back and forth from one of us to the other, confused.
Davie understood me regardless. His expression hardened. Scooping up a handful of ash, he let it trickle back down onto the wood. ‘Yes.’
I dropped the bag containing our lunches onto one of the book trolleys. I felt so sick I couldn’t imagine keeping anything down.
The fire had destroyed all Davie’s research into his latest case.
Our case. This was no random act of vandalism: this was the targeted eradication of all the evidence we’d collected on the League over the past weeks.
It was obvious who was behind it. The only question was …
how? How had they found out? I’d told no one.
I hadn’t mentioned it to anybody that… The thought crumpled under the impact of the memory.
Guilt pinched at my eyelids, closing my eyes. ‘Please, no.’
‘What?’ asked Zoe, bewildered. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Zoe.’ I turned to her with an urgent look. And beseechingly, perhaps, because I really, really wanted her to say no to the next question. I wanted so badly to be wrong. ‘What I told you the other day about Ashton. About the secret society. You didn’t mention it to anybody else, did you?’
Slowly she lowered the hand clutching the scarf. The way her face shuttered itself told me everything. Remorse, coupled with uncertainty and mistrust. ‘Why?’
Davie swore, then a moment later slammed a kick into the filing cabinet. Zoe jumped, and I tried not to cry with frustration and despair.
Crinkling the tip of her nose, she tucked her hair behind her ear.
‘I mean … last time I met up with Ashton he asked me why you and I weren’t hanging out as much these days.
I didn’t want to lie. And … they’re just rumours.
He deserves a chance to defend himself. And he did.
He laughed and said the whole thing’s absurd, that you have a vivid imagination, and that he’s flattered you find him and his friends so mysterious, but… ’
Neither Davie nor I were really listening. We just looked at each other, resigned and nervous, because we had both realised what was happening. One, that Ashton and his friends were definitely members of the League of Starlings. And two, that they knew now we were on to them.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, meaning it. This wasn’t Zoe’s fault, it was mine.
Davie had cautioned me against telling her the truth, but I did it anyway.
I had wanted to be honest with her, because that was what she’d taught me: when you like someone, you tell them the truth.
The only problem was that I’d underestimated how much Zoe liked Ashton.
Davie rubbed his head. ‘It’s fine.’
Again, Zoe’s baffled eyes flitted between us. She was so trusting that it took her a visible effort to put two and two together. Once she had, she gasped. ‘Wait, are you guys saying Ashton did this?’
Davie gave a hoarse laugh. ‘Zoe, wake up! He isn’t who you think he is.’
Zoe gripped the strap of her bag. ‘You don’t know him!’
I wanted to say something to defuse the situation, but Davie got there first. There were deep cracks in his normally calm and patient facade, and shining through were the strain, disbelief and rage he was feeling.
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Zoe, can you really be that na?ve? I know more about him than you do. And I could have proven it to you if your psycho boyfriend hadn’t burnt all the evidence!’