I got poked for an update (yep, another late one, I know, sorry), so here you go. Little plot development going on. Iwas going to divide this chapter into two, but that would have made the next chapter very short, and left you guys with a cliffhanger, so I decided to be nice. Up till now the ending of the story has been kind of unsure... but it's gradually taking shape. Whether it'll be happy or sad... well, that remains to be seen.

Chapter 21

Meg met me at the airport again, and I was glad to see her cheerful face again. It even managed to lift my spirits a bit, but I still had to make an effort to be light and bright for her, so she wouldn't suspect anything. Unfortunately, she did.

"My god, you look terrible," she said as we headed for the bus.

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically, trying to force a wry smile.

But she didn't laugh, and her forehead creased in worry. "Seriously… you look sick. Are you okay?"

I fumbled desperately for an excuse. "I'm just tired. It wasn't a good flight."

"Is it ever?" she asked humorously. I laughed along with her only to keep up the pretence. God, it was so awful that I had to lie like this. I had been lying to my parents… to Erik… now Meg. My life was just turning into this big act and I could feel the emotional drain. All I wanted to do was fall asleep and pretend none of this nightmare had happened. Then again, I thought, any dreams I had while I slept would probably make me feel even worse. There would be no escape from this. How long was this going to continue? I dreaded to think.

I was too restless on the journey back to school to sleep, but fortunately Meg was exhausted and her head was lolling on my shoulder after about twenty minutes. That, at least, made me smile a little.

If only…

No. No… I couldn't tell her a thing. She knew too much already. It would only put her life in danger to divulge all these secrets I was hiding. And I knew, in some instinctive way, that she would make me feel ashamed of myself.

And perhaps I should feel that way, I realised. After all, when you got right down to it, what had I really known about Erik before that night we had spent together? Next to nothing. Yet I had convinced myself I loved him. Oh… that wasn't fair. I did love him in a sense, even after what had happened. I understood him, probably better than anyone. All that I couldn't understand was why he had reacted so violently to my seeing his face. If he had stopped only for a moment to listen to me then he might have known that it was because I loved him that I had to see. Perhaps then we could have avoided this entire fiasco. Of course I could have avoided it entirely by not removing his mask in the first place. But at the same time I had to remove it…to make him believe that it didn't matter to me, that I could look past his… deformity. I had to know that Erik trusted me.

Well, he certainly didn't now, I thought bitterly to myself. And on top of that I wasn't at all sure I could trust him either… not after having him nearly strangle me to death.

Sighing, I rested my cheek against the top of Meg's head. I couldn't help the worry that Erik might once again threaten the people I cared about, not just my family now but Meg too. Even…

I suddenly felt as though a knife made of ice had been jabbed into my stomach. Oh god… Richard. In all this chaos I had barely thought of him, but now that I did I realised that he, possibly, was in far more danger than anyone else, including myself. Because now that I was slightly less certain about Erik's trustworthiness, and knew how dangerous he could be, even to me, how could I be sure that, in a moment of anger, he wouldn't strike out at someone else I had strong feelings for. I knew that Erik did not like Richard… probably even hated him. And if he felt possessive enough… and, more importantly, distrusted me enough… then it was entirely possible that he might threaten Richard, or hurt him… just to keep us apart.

Well, it would work, I thought to myself. I didn't want to endanger Richard anymore than I wanted to endanger my family. They were all innocents in this. This mess was entirely my fault. If I hadn't met Erik and, for whatever reason, caught his interest, then none of this would ever have happened.

I brushed my hand up against my exposed cheek. I couldn't let anyone see that I was crying.

But the truth of it hurt. This was my fault. I might try and offload blame onto Erik… say he was obsessed and dangerous but in the end I had brought all this on. I had allowed him into my life… hell, I practically invited him to be a part of it. No one else should have to suffer the consequences except me.

And I was determined that no one would.

Which, as with most things, was easier said than done.

Meg, for example. I looked down at her, her head resting heavily on my shoulder, and knew I couldn't just cut her out of my life. She wouldn't allow any such thing, I told myself with a little smile. But I did resolve to be cautious with what we discussed. I couldn't let her start playing matchmaker, and I certainly mustn't give her any more details about Erik. Granted, she didn't know much about him anyway, but she knew there was 'someone else' and that, in itself, was dangerous. But I needed her around. She was my link to normality… a link that I desperately needed to cling to now.

But Richard… how was I supposed to keep up our 'let's be friends' pact with Erik's jealous shadow looming over us? Even being friends with him might be dangerous. But, as I quickly learned on arriving back at school, not being friends with him was going to be tricky. Almost the second I arrived back in my room I received a text message on my phone. It read: HEYA. HOPE U R OK. SEE U IN CLASS 2MORROW. LOVE RICHARD XXXXXX.

Even though the message itself made me smile, its implications haunted me all the way through the night and into the following morning. I was aware that I couldn't blithely turn to Richard and say "Oh, just so you know, we can't be friends anymore. In fact I think it's best we never talk to each other again." But then again I couldn't give him any reason why that was how it had to be…except the real reason, and I definitely wasn't about to make things worse by telling him about Erik.

"Did you have a good holiday?" he asked as we sat down in English class, side by side, just as we had always done.

"Fine," I said in a distinctly non-committal way, wishing I could sound more convincing. He'd already noted my tired look… and being evasive was not going to quell his suspicions. But to be honest I was already tired of the pretence I was having to keep up. My hair was down and I wore a tight-collard shirt to disguise the purpling bruises on my neck, and although I hadn't gone to the extent of wearing gloves, I had worn a jumper, the sleeves of which were pulled down so that the gold band on my finger was hidden from view. I had to be careful not to let them slide up.

"Did you do anything exciting?"

My shoulders were about to lift in a shrug, but then I remembered myself and forced a smile onto my face. "Well, I went to a big concert with my dad. He's doing pretty well with the orchestra over there."

"That's good," Richard said, but I caught him giving me a funny look. I returned it, trying to stare him down, praying he would leave whatever train of thought he had started on. But he didn't… in fact he opened his mouth to ask me something…

"Okay, good morning everyone," the teacher said as he walked in, although he certainly didn't look like he was having a 'good' morning. I, on the other hand, had to contain a sigh of relief when Richard was cut off and forced to turn to the front of the class. But I could tell from his occasional, worried glances that I was not going to be let off the hook that easily. I chewed on my lip anxiously throughout the lesson and jumped when the bell for the end of class rang.

As soon as we left the room, Richard took me by the arm. He didn't seem at all concerned about missing his next class as he pulled me into one of the empty rooms further along the corridor. Even though I had been expecting something like this my heart pounded at the thought of what we would talk about… and what excuses I would have to make. He didn't shut the door behind us, but when he spoke it was in a slightly hushed voice.

"What's going on?" he asked directly.

Folding my arms across my chest, I tried to feign indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," he replied forcefully, taking a step towards me. "You've been acting weird all morning, and Meg says you were weird last night too."

Inwardly I cursed Meg. I guess my acting skills were not all I had hoped they were. She must have gone to Richard and asked him to interrogate me about what the problem was. It made me angry, in spite of the fact that they only had my best interests at heart.

"Honestly, I'm fine," I insisted, feeling exasperated, but more importantly, frightened that this questioning would go further than was safe.

I could see Richard was still not convinced. But he did not look annoyed with me, only concerned, and although I felt touched by it, it only made me more anxious to keep the truth from him and hopefully keep him safe.

"Christine… listen," he said, now in a slightly strained voice, "I don't care how you feel about me. I mean do but… the thing is I care about you. I really do. And you're the one who wanted us to be friends. So if there's something wrong, and there is," he said with great emphasis, "then I'm not just going to stand by and let you deal with it on your own."

I stared at him in silence for a few moments. Not surprisingly, I was taken aback by the impromptu but obviously heart-felt confession. After experiencing so much childishness in him previously, this mature approach was such a relief it made me want to break down in sobs.

"Richard, I…" I stopped and put my hands up to my eyes, trying to stop my tears with my fingertips. "I know you care and… it's not that I don't appreciate it but…"

I trailed off when I saw Richard's face. He had suddenly gone incredibly pale, and I realised he was no longer looking at my eyes or face but at my hands. Slowly he reached out and took my hand, my left hand, in his. Already knowing what I would see, I followed his gaze and swallowed the bile collecting in my throat as we both looked in silence at the gold ring on my finger. If I had felt bad about the state of things before, now I felt a million times worse.

"Christine…"

Richard's voice was barely even a whisper. It sounded choked on confusion and the lump in my throat grew larger as his eyes finally looked up into mine, desperate for an explanation.

"Christine?"

My name was spoken again, but Richard's lips had not moved. I realised the voice came from behind Richard and I looked over his shoulder to see a figure, slightly blurred by the tears in my eyes, standing in the open doorway.

"Yeah?"

"I just got a message. You need to go to the headmaster's office right now."

There was a pause, and I looked back at Richard. He was still staring at me intently, as if he actually expected me to give him an answer right at that very moment. But the person was still standing there, also waiting for me to answer, and I nodded.

"Sure, I'll… I'll be there in a second."

Whoever the person was, they left after that, and I was alone with Richard, who was still pale and obviously shaken by his discovery of Erik's ring. Finally he seemed to find his voice, although it was quiet and shaky now.

"What the hell is this, Christine? What's going on?"

"I…" I swallowed the lump in my throat again. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"What are you…?" he trailed off, disbelieving. Now he was pulling away from me, as if he'd suddenly discovered I had some contagious disease. He looked hurt and even a little disgusted, and I felt a dry sob escape my throat at his next words. "I can't believe this…"

"Richard, please… if I could explain - "

"Well why don't you?" he snapped angrily. "I'd love to hear you're explanation for that," and he made a sickened gesture at my hand. Hastily I pulled my sleeve back over it and bit my lip, thinking of something to say… anything…

"If I told you… it'd just make things worse…"

"Worse?" he said, almost shouted. "You've apparently gone and got yourself married or engaged or whatever. How could things get worse?"

If only he knew, I thought bitterly to myself, remembering Erik's jealous remark about how I would have preferred him to look like Richard. There was so much danger in revealing things to Richard, someone who had so innocently placed himself in the path of the storm. Maybe… maybe it would be better to just let him think the worst of me and then that would be the end of it all. He wouldn't be in danger then.

"Christine, come on," he said, his mood suddenly changing from righteous anger to desperate concern. "Please just tell me what's going on."

"I can't," I sobbed.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because I…" I stopped suddenly, and then lowered my voice, aware suddenly of the open door and voices down the corridor. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."

And with those words I suddenly knew I had to tell him everything. Even if it put him in danger, he would never leave me be until he knew the whole story, whether it was for his own good or not.

"Christine, please…"

"I can't," I interrupted. "Not now… I have to go…" And I sped quickly past him towards the open door, my mind racing frantically. When I was about to leave I stopped and turned to see Richard looking after me, his eyes wide with worry and sudden fear, though whether it was for himself, or me, or both of us, I didn't know.

"I'll… I'll come and see you soon, okay." I said, trying to sound reassuring in spite of the circumstances. "I'll explain everything… I promise."

And then I left him, hoping that the damage done was not irreparable. God, I'd never felt so sorry for him in my life. Finding the ring… the possibility that his life was in danger… not exactly a great way to start the week, I thought with bitter sarcasm. Well, he wasn't the only one with problems. On top of everything else I was heading to the Headmaster's office for God knew what reason. Maybe I was behind on my work… maybe it was to discuss my options for a future…

If I even have one anymore, I thought angrily as I rubbed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, hoping to disguise the fact that I had just been crying. Once I was outside the headmaster's door I took another few deep breaths, tweaked my collar and raked my fingers through my hair, as much to disguise the marks on my neck as to attempt to smarten up. Then I knocked as confidently as I could.

"Come in," was the muffled reply, and I turned the handle, forcing myself to smile as I entered and saw the headmaster, sitting in his chair. He was generally a friendly man, both in disposition and appearance, but today he was looking distinctly grim and serious. The room, too, felt oddly cold. I wondered if it always felt this way, or if it was just the sense of formality and sombreness of this particular meeting.

"Good morning, Christine," the headmaster said, sounding as grave as he looked. Well, that certainly blew any hopes I had of it being something good he wanted to talk about. Wondering what could possibly have occurred to warrant such seriousness, my stomach suddenly plummeted…

Had something happened to my family?

"Good morning," I said in reply, trying to hide my nervousness and worry. I was about to take the seat he offered me when I realised quite suddenly that we were not alone in the room. There were two other people here… two men…

One of them wore a police uniform.

"Christine, this is Officer Russell and Detective Neilson." Each man nodded in response to his own name. I noticed the man dressed in plain clothes, who was sturdily built, middle-aged, but seemingly friendly, was the detective. His companion looked much younger, and gave me a slight smile along with the nod. I inclined my head in greeting to them, but couldn't help the sense of trepidation creeping up my spine as I wondered exactly what they were here for.

"We were hoping to ask you a few question, Miss Day," said the detective in a casual tone.

I frowned in genuine confusion. "About what?"

"About Charlotte Mason."

There was an incredibly long pause. All I could so was stare at the detective, my expression of confusion fixed on my face, but my mind tumbling about as thoughts and memories collided and created chaos. Charlotte... I had completely forgotten about her… and the conversation I had had with her father the night of the concert, when he had expressed his concern about her sudden illness. What was it he had attributed it too again?

Poisoning?

"Charlotte?" I asked, making sure I wasn't having some kind of messed up nightmare.

Detective Neilson nodded, his lips pursed together slightly. I had the feeling he was eyeing me up as he spoke. "She's a classmate of yours, is that correct?"

"Yeah… we have Music together," I said, carefully. I was still not entirely sure why I was here, being questioned, but when the headmaster told me to take a seat I did so, sitting straight up and gripping the edges of the chair tightly, as if I might fall off. I looked unsteadily at the three men, feeling very much in the spotlight as they watched me with cool, analysing stares. My heart pumped blood through me at an alarmingly fast rate… making me feel hot and causing the bruises on my neck to ache terribly. I had to force myself not to reach up and loosen my collar as I waited for the next question.

"And do you know where she is now?" the detective asked.

Stupid question, I thought to myself. He must know that I knew where Charlotte was. Everyone in school did after all. "Her father told me she was in hospital," I said.

"Do you know why?"

"Well, her father said it was poisoning."

The police officer, who had been listening and writing something on a small black pad he held in his hand, looked up now with a quizzical expression. "When exactly did you speak to her father?"

"The night of the concert… the same day she was sent into hospital."

"And this was the concert Miss Mason was meant to perform in, am I right?"

His emphasis on the word 'meant' struck an ominous chord inside my brain. It carried a hint of… accusation. Whatever the intent of the question had been, it riled me up sufficiently to cause me to simply nod in reply and then ask my own question. "What exactly is this about?"

"Well, like Mr Mason told you… his daughter has been poisoned," the detective said, although for some reason his expression seemed to have become lighter. As if I had said something that pleased him and he was trying to hide it.

"On purpose?" I asked, stupidly.

"We can only assume as much," the detective admitted with a slight shrug. "That is what we are investigating here."

I thought about this, with a sidelong glance at the headmaster. I could see now why he looked so grim. Having the police come and investigate the possibility of someone being poisoned, whether by accident or purposefully, was not exactly a good thing to happen at any school. I could remember, vividly now, that Charlotte's father had mentioned his intent to investigate what had happened. It appeared he was true to his word.

"But why are you 'investigating' me?" I asked, already able to guess the answer, but wanting to hear it directly anyway.

"We've come to understand that you and the young girl were… not exactly the best of friends, shall we say."

In spite of myself, I scoffed loudly. "You can say that again… she hated me."

"Any idea why?" the young officer said, clearly interested.

I shrugged. Not liking to sing my own praises, I didn't particularly want to say that Charlotte might have been jealous of me. Okay, she was a good singer, but she had never appreciated the competition I represented to her. It wasn't like I had gone out of my way to make her hate me, because I hadn't. I'd just been myself and, unfortunately, she didn't like it.

When I didn't reply aloud, the detective answered for me. "Apparently you two are quite… competitive in class."

"She's competitive," I said.

He tilted his head at me. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that she doesn't like anyone who can sing."

The police officer was scribbling all this in his notebook, nodding along to my replies. But both he and the detective gave small frowns at my response, and I wondered if they had been to see Charlotte, and what she might have said in response to the same questions.

"And how do you feel about her?" the detective asked.

"I try to ignore her," I replied truthfully, although the memory of Charlotte's mocking laughter and distasteful stares made me bubble with anger inside.

"You've never bullied her? Called her names? That kind of thing?"

Again there was a long pause as I digested this information and felt my chest tighten at how monstrously unfair the accusation was. If there had been any bullying… any calling of names, then it had been Charlotte who was the culprit and I who was the victim. Inside I seethed with anger… and then sudden panic. Was Charlotte trying to place the blame for her illness on me?

"No, I never did anything like that," I said, but the worry was present in my voice, and I could see that they all picked up on it. Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes as I wondered who they believed… and what it might lead to. "Am…" I swallowed. "Am I in trouble?"

Both the detective and officer looked at me and exchanged glances between themselves and the headmaster. I was glad to see the detective turn back to me with a small, reassuring smile on his face. "Don't worry, Miss Day. This is just a routine questioning."

But I was not stupid enough to believe that. "You're establishing a motive, aren't you."

This actually got a slight chuckle from the police officer, and a wry grin from the detective. "Watch a lot of cop shows, do you, Miss Day?" Then he shook his head. "Well… we can't tell you much… but we can't say that any lead was left un-investigated."

My grip on the sides of my seat tightened. It didn't take a genius to guess how they had got this 'lead'. Obviously Charlotte had fed them some story about how I was jealous of her for singing in the concert and was out to get her. The very idea sickened me almost as much as the initial fact that someone had deliberately poisoned her. And things were only made worse when I realised that I might actually know who was behind the whole thing… I might not have concrete evidence of Erik's involvement in this… but I couldn't deny the possibility that he might have acted on my behalf… poisoning Charlotte in the hope that I would replace her. It made sense, especially when you considered how angry and upset it had made me… how much that concert had meant to me… and Erik's own obsession. If he had wanted to make me happy….

He could have been responsible. But giving them Erik's name… turning him in… such a thing was unthinkable, wasn't it? As if I hadn't betrayed his trust enough already. What worse thing could I do than turn him in to the police? Even if he were only locked away for a year or two, he would not escape publicity… his face would see to that. No… I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't put him through that kind of pain… not after everything else.

But would that mean I took the blame for it?

"Don't worry," the detective was saying, obviously noting my worried expression. "We're not going to arrest you. But there are a few more questions we'd like you to answer, if you don't mind."

I nodded mutely, afraid to open my mouth in case I gave some vital information away.

"Is there any other reason you can think of that someone might wish to harm Charlotte Mason? Anything at all?"

I felt like saying the fact that she was a total bitch might be reason enough, but decided against it. Instead I shook my head and said plainly that no, I personally couldn't think of any reason why someone would do such a thing.

"Is there anyone who might choose to act on your behalf then?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the question. But I quickly calmed down when I realised that they couldn't possibly know about Erik. On the other hand… if they didn't know about Erik… then what else could they possibly mean? I frowned back at the detective.

"I'll take that as a 'no', shall I?" he said with a smile. "Well… that'll do just fine for now. Thank you for your time, Miss Day."

I rose shakily to my feet, but they weren't prepared to let me leave just yet. "We might need to talk to you again in a few days, if that's alright… and, of course, if you think of anything that might be useful, please be sure to tell us."

I nodded, then said a quiet and polite goodbye to them. Not wanting to linger any longer than necessary, I went to the door and, with only a very brief backward glance, left the three men alone. I guessed they would probably discuss what useful information they had gotten from my 'interrogation', and I panicked about it all the way back to my boarding house. More than anything their final question disturbed me. Who could they possibly think would act on my behalf? Poisoning someone for me? Okay… so they were probably right, but they didn't know about Erik, so what could possibly have driven them to ask that question?

I didn't know… and wasn't at all sure I wished to find out.