Scarlet and Ivy – The Lost Twin

“Scarlet Grey!” she said, in an accusatory tone.

“Yes, Miss?” I responded, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

“That’s Madame Lovelace to you, insolent girl!” She pronounced it Loveless. “Why aren’t you at your desk?”

“I-I fancied a change of scenery?”

I heard snickers from behind me.

Madame Lovelace glared. “And you,” she said. “Who are you?”

Hang on a minute. Who was she talking to? I turned around and saw Ariadne standing just behind me, looking sheepish.

“Um,” said Ariadne. “I’m new.”

Madame Lovelace gave an exaggerated sigh. “Both of you, sit down,” she said, jabbing her finger in the direction of two unoccupied desks in the first row.

Relieved, I hurried to the nearest one and sat down.

“Now, girls,” said the teacher, slapping at her dusty dress. “Open your desks and take out your pens, please. Today we shall be studying the Battle of Waterloo.”

The lid of my desk was woodworm-speckled and decorated with a little brass number four, plus many years of idle scratches. I lifted it up. It smelt of ink and paper inside, and a familiar floral scent that went straight to my heart.

Scarlet. It was the rose perfume that she’d worn for the past few years after getting a bottle of it for Christmas.

I glanced around the class to see if anyone else had noticed the smell, but the other students looked half asleep. Madame Lovelace began to dictate lines about Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington.

Ariadne put her hand up. “My great-great-granddaddy fought against Napoleon,” she said.

“Very nice, dear,” said Madame Lovelace, looking displeased at the interruption.

I peered into the desk. There was a book in the bottom, with The History of Great Britain written in dull, heavy letters on the cover. I took it out.

“Now,” said Madame Lovelace, “turn to page fifty-three for a list of the important historical figures involved in the battle. Make a note of these, as you will need to remember them.” She punctuated every sentence with occasional coughs.

I heard Penny giggle quietly behind me.

I opened up the book and the smell of Scarlet’s perfume hit me so strongly I almost choked. It was as though she’d poured it all over the pages. I looked at Ariadne. Even she was wrinkling her mousey nose, so I slammed the cover shut.

“Miss Grey!” shouted Madame Lovelace.

“Yes?”

“Yes Madame. Do you have a problem with your book?”

“No, Madame.”

“Then kindly stop abusing it and pay attention!”

For the rest of the lesson I tried to ignore the perfume, but it felt like it was seeping into my mind. Why would Scarlet have brought her precious bottle into class?

At ten o’clock the bell rang and everyone began to filter out of the room. I had to think of a reason to stay behind.

“Madame Lovelace?” I asked.

She peered up at me over her thick-rimmed glasses. “Yes, Miss Grey?”

“May I clean the blackboard for you?”

Madame Lovelace looked like I’d just offered to spit in her tea. “Are you up to something, girl?” she said, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she frowned. “The Scarlet Grey I know wouldn’t have cleaned my blackboard without the threat of the cane.”

Oh no! She might tell Miss Fox and then … No. Stay calm. My mind scrambled for something to say.

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” I swallowed and tried again. “I shouldn’t have been insolent earlier. I thought I should make up for it.”

I half expected Madame Lovelace to stand up, point her bony finger at me and shriek that I was an imposter. Scarlet never made apologies for herself. I was always the one who had to do the apologising.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, she just blinked at me a few times and then said, “Very well. Just make sure you clap the rubbers out afterwards. I do hate chalk dust.” She gave a small cough again, and I wasn’t sure whether or not she was illustrating her point. “You can have a house point for that.”

I nodded, although I had no idea what a house point was, or what I did with one.

I watched her shuffle out of the room, and then lifted the heavy desk lid. Underneath where the book had lain were several old sheets of paper and a green exercise book, all of which smelt like a rose garden. And underneath that I spotted the catch. A little metal thing in the bottom. I lifted it, and it opened a smaller hole. Inside it was an ink well, some dusty old pen nibs and – folded into a tiny square – a piece of paper.

I snatched it out quickly and immediately my eyes were drawn to the first word …

her.

Her? The last line from Scarlet’s diary reappeared in my mind. Someone needs to know the truth about … her.

The question was – who was she?

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