Posse (9 page)

S
O WE'RE BACK IN THE
reception area of the Riveroak Recreation Ranch a little cleaner, on the outside at least. Miss Lackie's guarding us, but not from the reception desk. It's nine o'clock and the receptionist is sitting there now, probably wondering what the hell we're doing here. At least the office is air-conditioned. Patricia's sweat patches are big enough as it is.

Miss Lackie's trying to make small talk with us and it's tedious. We've been through what our
parents do for a living, where our siblings go to school, what we did in the holidays. She has no idea that I'm pulling her leg. I tell her my mother's a professional showjumper and my father lectures in Coprophilia at Sydney University.

‘It's a pretty crappy job,' I say.

I tell her that we went to the Dublin Horse Show over the holidays to watch my mother in the six-bar.

‘What's her horse's name?' she asks.

‘She has two,' I answer without hesitation. ‘Pedro and Nipper. They're brothers.'

‘Oh, that's cute,' she says.

Toying with Miss Lackie is so easy that I decide to prod her for some information. I tried it with Kerr after our showers, but she was cagey as hell.

‘Is Johanna in there too?' I ask, pointing to the hallway where the offices are.

‘Johanna? Johanna's gone home.'

‘Really? Why?'

She pauses. She's either suspicious or trying to be diplomatic. Or perhaps she's even denser than I thought.

‘Reverend Harris wanted her at home.'

‘Why?' My expression is open and innocent. ‘She's not leaving the school, is she?'

‘Oh, no, of course not.'

‘Well, why did Reverend Harris want her at home?'

‘Amy, we can't question what …' She sighs. ‘Look, there are a few different stories floating around. Johanna made a statement before she left and let's just say it
conflicts
with what other people are saying.'

‘Other people? You mean Clare. Or do you mean me? Or both of us?'

‘Johanna was afraid that there might be some … repercussions.'

Deb and I look at each other, mouths agape. What has Jo been telling the teachers? Whatever it is, she's too scared or ashamed to face us. But she'll
have to face us eventually. If any of us are back at school on Monday, she'll have to explain herself.

We don't have an opportunity to speculate about what Jo's told the teachers. Just after Miss Lackie drops that bomb, Mrs Sproule's head appears at the door of the first office. I strain to see Clare through the sliver of open doorway, but Mrs Sproule's red suit is in the way.

‘Amy,' she says in that low, cool drawl of hers. Again, the red lips are pulled back, the teeth are flashing, but the eyes are frozen. ‘Why don't we pop into the room next door?'

Without looking back, I walk straight down the hall and through the door she's gesturing at. The office has been set up as a classroom with one chair up the front and about ten crammed against the back wall. I sit in the chair up the front and cross my legs and arms. Mrs Sproule closes the door behind her and pulls up one of the other chairs close to mine, so that our knees are only centimetres apart. That's another thing she does – she invades
your personal space. She sits forward in the chair and rests her clasped hands on her knees.

‘Is Clare okay?' I ask.

‘She's calmed down a lot. She was quite hysterical earlier this morning.'

‘Are you surprised?'

‘Are you?' She raises her dark plucked eyebrows.

‘I don't understand the question,' I say. I'm not playing her mind games.

‘Do you know why Clare's been so upset?' she says.

‘Because Bevan did something to her last night.'

‘Is that what she told you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Are you sure about that?'

‘She told me she'd just been to see him. And her singlet top was all ripped down the side. I put two and two together.'

‘So she didn't tell you that Bevan had done something to her.'

‘Well … no. But it was obvious.'

Mrs Sproule sits back in her chair, folds her arms and looks at the ceiling.

‘Amy,' she says, looking me in the eye again, ‘someone's life could be ruined on the basis of what you say here. That poor young man's career is probably already ruined. I don't want you to tell me that two and two make five. I don't want you to tell me what is and isn't obvious. I want you to tell me what you saw and heard. Do you understand how important this is?'

I do see her point about drawing my own conclusions. I shut my eyes and think back to the scene in the shower block. What did Clare tell me about Bevan? Nothing I could report – it's what she
didn't
say. It was something to do with him but that's all I know.

‘I don't know exactly what happened to Clare,' I admit. ‘She was too upset to tell me. But I know she went missing last night.'

‘What time did she go missing?'

‘Just after night activities finished. Probably half past eight or nine. It was dark or nearly dark.'

‘How long was she gone for?'

‘I don't know exactly. I didn't look at my watch. Maybe a couple of hours.'

‘A couple of hours? And you didn't alert a teacher?'

‘No, we thought she'd come back.'

‘After a couple of
hours
?'

‘Oh, Clare does that kind of thing. Just to upset people.'

‘Really?'

‘Sometimes.'

‘All right, and what happened after she'd been gone for a couple of hours?'

‘I went to the toilet and found her in the shower. I've never seen her like that. She was sitting on the tiles, bawling her eyes out, and sort of howling.'

‘She was howling?'

‘It was more of a … a whimper, I guess.'

‘And what did you do?'

‘I helped her have a shower and then I took her back to the hut.'

‘And who saw you come back to the hut?'

‘No one except Jo, I think.'

‘You didn't take her straight to a teacher?'

‘She didn't want to do that.'

‘You didn't go to Miss Howell or Mrs Lovas and bring them to your hut?'

‘Clare just wanted to sleep. She was exhausted. We were all exhausted. We thought it'd be better to wait till the morning.'

Mrs Sproule shakes her head and stares at the ceiling.

‘The difficulty with your story, Amy …'

‘What?'

‘Or should I say
one
of the difficulties with your story is that it just doesn't have the ring of truth.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Your best friend – and Clare
is
your best friend, isn't she – disappears for hours and you do
nothing. Then you find her hysterically upset, and you do nothing. Amy, I know – I've spoken to Miss Howell about this – that you're a very capable young woman. If those things had happened as you say, I know you would have done something.'

‘Well, I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't. I'm not a liar.'

‘Well, that's a grey area, Amy. One of the other difficulties with your story is that it contradicts other versions of events.'

I presume she's referring to something Jo's said.

‘What did Jo say?' I ask.

‘Johanna says that Clare never went missing last night; that the five of you went back to your hut after night activities, performed your ablutions and went to sleep.'

‘I don't believe she said that. I just don't believe she said that.'

‘And there's more – she says that you and Clare have been falling over yourselves trying to attract Bevan's attention since you arrived at the ranch.
There was some sort of altercation during a hockey game yesterday, wasn't there? A number of people saw it.'

‘Yes, but …'

‘And you were fighting over this poor young man, whose character you are now trying to impugn.'

‘No!'

‘It's all in Jo's statement. I can show you if you like. But your other problem is this, Amy: Mrs Kerr did a head count of your hut last night just after lights out, and she remembers all of you being there.'

‘I remember her looking in on us. I was awake. But Clare wasn't there.'

‘Mrs Kerr has told me that she paid special attention to your group, Amy. She said you and your friends have been ticking like a time bomb since you arrived. She showed me the napkins you girls drew on. Very inappropriate. And she told me about how you and Clare were trying to drape
yourselves over Bevan, putting him in a very awkward position indeed. Mrs Kerr suspected something was about to happen, and she was very careful to keep track of your group at all times.'

I remember what Mrs Kerr said to me yesterday at lunch:
You stand out like a sore thumb, Amy Gillespie. I'm watching you and your cronies. Remember that.

‘Mrs Kerr's wrong,' I say. I'm losing control. My voice has become shrill and breathless – my
globus
has gone through the roof, through the stratosphere. ‘Clare was gone. Johanna went
looking
for her.'

‘If Clare had really gone missing, I know Johanna would have raised the alarm. She's no shrinking violet. She's a responsible young woman. I know the family.'

‘I can't
make
you believe me,' I say. ‘But look at the evidence. Look at the singlet top.'

‘And where is this top now?'

‘I put it in a plastic bag in the corner of the room last night and this morning it was gone.'

‘I see.'

‘Someone took it.'

‘Really.'

‘Probably Jo.'

‘So you're saying that Johanna Harris is a thief as well as a liar.'

‘Well, I didn't know she was a liar until about a minute ago! And I can't believe it. I can't believe it.'

‘Neither can I,' says Mrs Sproule icily.

I've been able to keep the tears at bay up to this point, but gradually, as the full blow of Jo's betrayal hits me, I feel salty trickles on my hot face. I'm breathing in shallow little puffs.

‘Amy, please …'

I wipe the tears with my hands. I shut my eyes. My mind's racing so fast I can't think of any one thing. I bite my lip and stop crying, but I can't stop the wheezing.

‘I can't believe this is happening,' I say.

‘I'm sure that Bevan Browning is just as incredulous,' says Mrs Sproule.

‘He
kissed
me,' I say. ‘And he tried to have sex with me.'

‘Yes, Miss Howell told me about this new story.'

‘It's not
new
! It happened first. Bevan took me back to his hut and we kissed. And then he tried to … to
do it
with me.'

‘Well, you certainly have a very vivid imagination, Amy.'

‘It's the truth!' My voice cracks again. ‘If you don't believe me, then there's nothing to talk about. Why would I lie?
Why would I lie!
' I'm yelling now, as outraged as I've ever been, but my emotion falls flat on Mrs Sproule.

‘Oh, Amy, spare me your indignation. I don't believe for a moment that you would let a man do anything of the sort to you.'

‘Well, he did.'

‘I won't have my school's reputation polluted by allegations like this, Amy. It's in your best interests to stop telling stories about Bevan Browning immediately. If you wish to proceed, I'll have your
expulsion papers signed by lunchtime today. We don't tolerate liars at this school. We don't tolerate girls who make false allegations as part of …well, it's no more than a game to you, is it? Entertainment. You don't care who you affect.'

‘All I'm doing is supporting Clare's version of events. I don't even care about what he did to me.'

‘I'm afraid that's not good enough, Amy. You can't have it both ways. Either you sign a statement admitting that you lied about the events of last night, or I'll expel you. Do you want some time to think about it or do you want to call your mother now? You can't stay here.'

Mrs Sproule reaches into her suit pocket, pulls out her mobile phone and offers it to me.

‘I want to speak to Clare.'

‘You can forget about colluding any further with Clare.'

‘I want to know what happened to her!'

I take Mrs Sproule's mobile phone and do something I've wanted to do for a while. I dial my father's
mobile number. As it dials, I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear Mum's voice:
He's never done anything for you
. I'm almost relieved when I'm put through to message bank. I hang up. Then, to my own amazement, I have an idea.

‘I'm ringing my stepmother,' I say.

If Mrs Sproule's threatening to expel me, I'm going to need a lawyer. Lizzie is a lawyer, a barrister in Phillip Street. I ring directory assistance and ask to be put through to Selborne Chambers. There are a few rings before a young-sounding receptionist answers. I ask for Lizzie Dandleby. She puts me through.

‘Lizzie Dandleby speaking,' comes a clear, posh voice.

‘Hi.'

‘Hello?'

‘It's Amy Gillespie.'

‘Amy.' Understandably she's quite surprised to be hearing from me. I don't think I've ever spoken a civil word to her. Maybe by accident.

‘What can I do for you, Amy?'

‘I … I'm just here with the headmistress, Mrs Sproule. I'm in trouble, Lizzie.' It's very hard to explain what's going on while Mrs Sproule's sitting here. ‘They're going to expel me.'

‘Why?'

‘It's a long story.'

‘Why don't you call your mother?'

‘She wouldn't understand.'

‘No, she probably wouldn't. Does your father know about this?'