you for the … uh … lovely socks. I don’t suppose Aunt Phoebe gave you any presents for us from her, or from Aunt Sara, did she?” Our aunts were the best family we had, and I couldn’t quite believe that they’d forget our birthday.
Father didn’t look up. He shuffled a piece of paper from one pile to another, and chewed on his pipe. “Phoebe gave me something,” he muttered. “A few packages in shiny paper. But as to where I put them …” He laid down his pipe and stared around the roomas if it would answer his question. “Hmm. I could have sworn they were in here. Perhaps Edith tidied them away.”
My fists clenched. Of course she did.
“Never mind, Scarlet,” he said, standing up and ushering me back out into the hall. “We’ll find them another time. Why don’t you run along and play with your brothers?”
And with that, he shut the door in my face.
“I’d rather eat worms,” I told the door.
I spun round to find Ivy standing behind me. “Did you hear that?” I asked. “She’s taken them, hasn’t she.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ivy said, her eyes trailing to the floor.
The sight of her sad expression only stoked my fire even further. “Right,” I said. I turned on my heels and marched up the stairs. Ivy must have quickly realised what I was up to, and started running after me.
“Scarlet, we can’t …” she said.
But it was too late for that. I went straight across the landing to the master bedroom, and hammered on the door as loudly as I could. Of course, I didn’t wait for an answer. I just wrenched at the handle and pushed it open.
And there was our stepmother, lounging in the four-poster bed, munching on chocolates, and surrounded by shreds of shiny wrapping paper.
“What are you doing in here?” our stepmother demanded. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning up?”
Scarlet stared at her for a moment, her face as scarlet as her name, speechless with anger. And then it all came pouring out in a raging torrent. “Who do you think you are? You can’t order us around like servants! You can’t treat us like dirt to be swept under the carpet! You … you can’t take our only birthday presents for yourself!”
Edith dragged herself off the bed and stalked over to Scarlet, the familiar grimace (and a smidge of cocoa) back on her face. “I’m your mother now, and I can do what I want, you insolent little brat!”
“YOU’RE NOT OUR MOTHER AND YOU NEVER WILL BE!” Scarlet shouted.
There was a breath, an instant of heavy silence. And then Edith swung out and slapped Scarlet round the face.
I gasped, and dragged my twin backwards. There was a mark across her cheek, a ghost of our stepmother’s hand.
“Girls?” Father’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Keep it down, will you! I’m trying to work.” There was the sound of the study door pulling shut again.
Edith just stood there, her chest heaving, her face flushed, wiry hair sticking up from its usual careful curls.
Scarlet broke away from me, tears flashing in her eyes, and ran across the landing. Even school had to be better than this.
I looked up at our stepmother, watching her expression turn triumphant. It made me feel sick. “She’s right,” I said quietly. “You won’t ever be our mother. Our mother was worth ten of you.”
And with that, I turned and went after my twin.
I put my arm round Scarlet and comforted her until she’d calmed down just enough to simply be angry, and then we stayed in our room for most of the day. I didn’t particularly want Scarlet and Edith anywhere near each other again, and Scarlet wasn’t exactly keen to face up to her either.
I wasn’t quite as disappointed as Scarlet about the awfulness of our birthday. It was never a particularly joyous occasion, so why would this year be any different? I thought that, deep down, Scarlet felt that the world ought to treat her better than it did. She could never understand why it didn’t happen. I, however, had much lower expectations.
Of course it goes without saying that Father didn’t come upstairs to see if we were all right. If our stepmother had told him anything about what had just happened, it would have been that Scarlet had attacked her for no reason. She always painted herself as the victim and Father always believed her.
As we wallowed in our misery, I finished reading my book. Then I unpacked and repacked my bag about three times until it was neater than neat. As horrible as Rookwood School could be, I found myself wanting to go back, which was certainly a surprise. I missed our friends – Ariadne and Rose – and the other girls too. Rookwood had improved a lot since its former headmistress and headmaster had been taken off in a police van – even with the grey porridge, the cold and the bullies, it could still be a good place sometimes.
Around lunchtime, there was a click from the doorway. Curious, I wandered over and tried the handle, only to find I couldn’t pull it open.
Scarlet sat up straight on her bed. “Did someone just lock us in?”
I nodded. “Looks like it.” Scarlet had always had a habit of kicking doors (and walls, and furniture) that I had never understood, but at that moment I was tempted to try it. Instead, I bent down and peered through the keyhole. I could see right through it – so she’d taken the key away again. No chance of pushing it out to free ourselves.
My twin put her head in her hands. “Could it be any worse?” she asked.
I heard the sound of the door unlocking just before dinner time. It opened to reveal Edith with her familiar scowl.
“Your father’s asking where you are,” she said, in a voice that implied she couldn’t be less interested and was hoping she could forget about us forever. “I said you were messing around up here. I suppose you’d better come down.”
Scarlet went over to the door and stared up at her defiantly, though I could see her hands were shaking. “You locked us in,” she said.
Edith put her nose in the air. “And? That’s beside the point. Get down there and see your father.”
I went over to stand beside Scarlet. For a moment I thought she was just going
