Killing Rachel by Anne Cassidy Read Free Book Online Page B

upset.’
    ‘But she just wrote to me. There must be a mistake.’
    ‘I’m afraid it is her,’ her grandmother said. ‘There’s no mistake.’
    Rose felt weak at the knees. Her grandmother put her hand out to steady her. She could hardly believe it.
    Rachel Bliss was dead.

SEVEN
    Rose was sitting cross-legged in the studio. Her pad was open in front of her and she was sketching furiously. On the page were three drawings of an eye. One was from the front, another was profiled and the third was closed. It was part of an assignment she was working on, Windows. She had pages of sketches of actual windows and cameras and computer screens and keyholes. She was close to pulling together her ideas and submitting her assignment. This was the week to finish it.
    She stared at the profiled eye and then made a couple of alterations with her pencil. It was rubbish. She scribbled across it. Then she drew straight hard lines across the others. She tore the page out and screwed it up and tossed it on the floor beside her.
    Her back was sore and she wanted to lean against something. The sofa was too far away, though, and it was too much effort to move.
    Rachel Bliss dead! How could it be so?
    It was gone nine in the evening. She’d spent some time earlier with Anna, who had given her the news about Rachel Bliss as though she was telling her about the death of a close relative. Her grandmother had been very sympathetic and concerned and had asked Rose to tell her about her friendship with Rachel. Rose had summed it up in a few sentences.
    She came into our House halfway through term. She didn’t have any friends so Martha Harewood asked me and another couple of girls to look after her.
    She had the next bedroom to me so I saw a lot of her.
    We weren’t very friendly at first but then after a while we spent time together.
    We fell out last Easter. We weren’t friends any more then.
    Anna had made a plate of toast for Rose. She spoke quietly and reverently as if Rose was in mourning. She wasn’t, though. Far from it. She was simply shocked to the core that Rachel was dead. Anna, who was due to go out for the evening, hovered by the door looking uncertain.
    I could stay in, if you want?
    I don’t have to go. I don’t mind keeping you company . . .
    I’ll cancel my weekend away. I don’t want you to be on your own at a time like this . . .
    Rose assured her she should go.
    Now she was alone, pretending to work on a college assignment. She stretched her legs out and stood up. She stepped across and sat on the sofa, holding her back straight.
    Rachel Bliss dead.
    It was hard to believe.
    How long had they been friends? A year? More?
    There were times, during that year, when Rose wondered if their relationship could be called a friendship at all.
     
    Some weeks before Easter, in Year Ten, Martha Harewood sent a note for Rose to come and see her. When she arrived there were two other girls there whom she knew, Amanda Larkin and Molly Wallace. This depressed her immediately. Amanda and Molly were nice girls who helped the teachers out, who got clubs going, who were always befriending people who were homesick or in trouble. She hoped that Martha was not trying to draw her into some sort of friendship group with them.
    The two girls were sitting on Martha’s sofa. Rose sat on the floral armchair, hearing the legs creak as they usually did. Martha Harewood pointed to the jug of squash on the coffee table but Rose shook her head.
    It was usually a treat to be in Martha’s rooms. In the early days, when she first came to the boarding school, Martha had made a fuss of her. It was January, the winter term and her mother had been gone for two and half months. In those days, being a Year Seven, she had had to share her bedroom with two other girls but she hadn’t minded. Martha invited her every week to make sure she was all right. She let her sit in the floral armchair and talked to her about things that were happening in the school. She