‘I’d say Selena was too upset to do much noticing,’ Conway said. ‘Let’s ask Rebecca.’ And she stood up.

Mostly people look relieved. Julia looked taken aback. ‘What, that’s it?’

‘Unless there’s something else you want to tell us.’

Blank second. Head-shake, almost reluctant.

‘Then yeah, that’s it. Thanks very much.’

I stood up too, turned towards the path. Julia said, ‘What did I give you?’

She was looking at nothing. I said, ‘Hard to tell at this point. We’ll have to see as we go.’

Julia didn’t answer. We waited for her to stand up, but she didn’t move. After a minute we left her there, looking out over what used to be her kingdom; black hair and white face and that ember of red, and the white grass spread all around her.

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

They’re eating breakfast when Holly feels the thread-tug of something gone wrong, deep in the weave of the school. Too many footsteps tumbling too fast, down a corridor; nun-voices too shrill outside the window, snapping to hushed too suddenly.

No one else notices. Selena is ignoring her muesli and twisting at a loose pyjama button, Julia is eating cornflakes with one hand and doing her English homework with the other. Becca is gazing at her toast like it’s turned into the Virgin Mary, or maybe like she’s trying to lift it off the plate without touching it, which would be a hugely stupid idea but Holly doesn’t have time to worry about it right now. She nibbles her toast in circles, and keeps one eye on the window and the other on the door.

Her toast is down to thumb-sized when she sees the two uniformed cops, hurrying down the edge of the back lawn, trying for out of sight but getting it just wrong.

Someone says at another table, wide awake all of a sudden, ‘OhmyGod! Were those policemen?’ A suck of breath sweeping across the canteen, and then every voice rising at once.

That’s when Matron comes in and tells them breakfast is over, and to go up to their rooms and get ready for school. Some people complain automatically, even if they’ve already finished their breakfast, but Holly can tell from Matron’s face – slanted towards the window, no time to hear whinge – that they’re on a loser. Whatever’s happening isn’t small.

While they get dressed Holly watches the window. One movement and she’s there, face to the glass: McKenna and Father Voldemort, in a smoke-whirl of black robe, heading down the grass at charge speed.

Whatever’s happened, it’s happened to a Colm’s boy.