Killing Rachel by Anne Cassidy Page A

the rebuke. She tried to think of an answer but couldn’t. She walked on in silence until they got to Amanda’s room. She picked up her coat and bag.
    ‘I’m going into Holt in the morning. I thought I’d take Molly. Try and cheer her up a bit. Why not come along?’
    ‘I might. I’ll let you know.’
    She heard Amanda’s footsteps fading down the stairwell.
    Too hung up with Rachel to notice anyone else .
    The words stung her and she wondered if perhaps Amanda was right. Another girl, a few weeks before, had said that Rose was aloof, not interested in other people. She had been a student at her new college in London. Had it been true at Mary Linton as well?
    She walked in the direction of Martha Harewood’s rooms. She knocked on the door as she had done so many times. In the past there had always been a couple of seconds, wait and then she would hear Martha’s voice singing out the words, Come in! But this time there was just silence so she knocked again and then moments later the door was open and Martha appeared.
    ‘Rose,’ she said, with a shaky smile. ‘Come in.’
    She followed Martha into her sitting room. Martha went across to her desk. It was packed full of things and she seemed to be shuffling from one sheet of paper to the next in a distracted way. Her shoulders were rounded and her voice a little indistinct.
    ‘I’ve put you in your old room. It’s not been used since you left. Actually, quite a few beds have not been used what with the financial downturn. Not so many people sending their daughters to a private boarding school these days!’
    She turned round.
    ‘Do sit down, Rose.’
    Rose sat down.
    ‘We’ve had a most terrible time here. To lose a young girl, like this. It’s just dreadful,’ Martha said.
    ‘You know Rachel wrote to me?’ Rose said after a few moments.
    Martha nodded. ‘Your grandmother mentioned something when she rang.’
    ‘I’ve brought the letters with me. I thought the police might want to see them. Would you like to see them? They’re here in my bag.’
    Martha Harewood shook her head.
    ‘Best to pass them on to the police. Mrs Abbott is liaising with them. I believe they’re due into school again tomorrow.’
    ‘How was Rachel? How was she since . . .’
    ‘Since you left? She seemed a bit lost. Her behaviour improved for a while but then I found alcohol in her room a couple of times and I had to write home. That was difficult.’
    ‘I heard she was friends with Molly Larkin.’
    ‘Yes. An odd combination. I think it probably wasn’t the first choice for either of them. On the other hand I’ve seen all sorts of girls make good long friendships in unpromising circumstances. I had my hopes . . .’
    ‘In the letters she seemed very depressed. She kept mentioning Juliet Baker.’
    ‘Poor Juliet.’
    Martha shook her head. She started to speak but the bell for the end of lunchtime went and she looked away from Rose, towards the sound.
    ‘Afternoon classes,’ she said.
    ‘I’ll go,’ Rose said.
    ‘You know where your room is,’ Martha said, with a half-smile.
    Rose nodded. At the door she heard Martha’s voice from behind her.
    ‘You know, Rose, Rachel was a difficult girl but I still cared for her as much as I cared for any of you.’
    Rose turned back and was startled to see that Martha’s eyes were glittering with tears. Rose’s hand moved out as though to offer comfort but Martha shooed it away. She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and folded it in half and then pressed it to her eyelids.
    ‘I’ll see you later,’ Rose said.
    She walked along the corridor feeling unhappy, her footsteps heavy. Coming up to the room, Daisy, she paused. Adjacent to it was Bluebell, Rachel’s room. She dragged her eyes away and opened her own door. The room was exactly the same as it had been on the day she left. The bed against the wall, the desk and chest of drawers opposite. Above the headboard was a cork notice board. It had been the place to pin