The footsteps stop, we don't know how close. I shrink back into the shadows, desperately trying to conceal not myself, but my nakedness. Felicity seems unperturbed, making no effort to move back into the darkness. She is almost ... curious.

"Gemma? Is that you?"

It is him.

"Yes, Kartik, but, wait ... just a second!" I yelp frantically. If there is one thing worse than being caught naked in the middle of the night, then it is being caught naked by Kartik. Naked with Felicity, might I add.

"What is it, Gemma?"

I am flustered, throwing on my clothes, no time for my corset. I am dressed, but the clasps on my gown hang loose, and as I turn to Felicity for help, I notices she is still sitting as she was.

"Felicity! Get dressed!" I hiss as quietly as I dare. But she just smiles at me and sinks further back into the recesses of the crevice.

"He will be suspicious if both of us come out ... even if we both are fully dressed." There is a playful note in her tone, which frightens me to my very core.

"Well, then, stay right here. Don't make a sound, do you hear?"

And, kicking my corset into the darkness, I enter the main part of the great hall.

"Kartik?"

He is here. He is here and he is real.

"Gemma, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep." And it is not a lie, I couldn't. But it is not the truth, either.

"What is it?"

"I ... I just miss my mother terribly. Some days it hurts more than others. It ... it hurts a lot today." This is no lie, either. I do miss my mother; think of her every time I close my eyes. But recently she has been just a flicker. Just a quick, tugging sickening feeling, and then I can move on. This is what I am supposed to do. Move on.

"Gemma." Kartik is standing closer now, the candle flickering in his hand, illuminating his curls, his lips, the dark shadows under his eyes, the way he looks haunted.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Kartik?" I press my lips together, try to pretend that I am alone and a nice Christian girl.

"I have reason to believe that the school is under ... threat of some sort. From ... it doesn't matter."

And to my surprise, I find that it does not.

"Kartik..." I step still closer, relishing in the smell of his skin and the way I know every contour of his body. I don't want passion and movement tonight. I want to be close to him, to have him hold me and tell me he loves me. Because the one link I had to my mother is gone. My necklace is the cause of all my unhappiness. It still lies, in a pool on the floor, glinting in the silvery light form the window.

"Gemma... you need to rest."

"I need to be, Kartik." And with that, I reach out and extinguish the candlelight with a pinch of my finger and thumb.

I feel no pain.

I sleep fitfully, because the day after tomorrow, my dear Pip is being taken to London and is never coming back. I wonder what it feels like to suddenly find out how you are going to spend every single day of the rest of your life. To know that there are no more surprises, no more choices. Nothing real.

My Pippa is the object of my dreams. Kartik leads me to my room, kisses me gently on the end of my nose, and closes the door on me.

I am alone.

Pippa is crying, smiling and laughing and crying because she is broken. Mr Bartleby Bumble makes no effort to hide his leer as they step out of the church. Voices are hushed, because the tear tracks of the bride are evident. Her mother hurries her away, a terse word, a sharp slap, a motherly kiss.

I can see it all in my head. I know how it will go.

The worst thing is that I will not even be there to witness it. I have not been invited. I will never be able to see Pippa Cross again.

Pippa crying, empty and alone. Pippa crying, shying away from her husband. Pippa crying, naked under bedcovers, Bumble snoring away contentedly next to her.

Pippa crying Pippa crying Pippa crying.

I cannot stand it. I scream 'No!' and in an instant Pippa is gone, and my mother is there.

Instantly I am alert, hostile and tense as if to pounce. But she approaches me with her arms outstretched, my darling mother once more. I have grazed my knee, stung my calf, muddied my dress. I am six years old, and my mother is holding me.

"You are such a silly little girl, my darling Gemma. So impetuous. You know, you're wrong, after all. There's nothing working against you except you yourself. Not a silly piece of silver. A bauble on a string could never hurt you, Gemma."

I murmur, something indistinguishable, and she laughs. "It's no use to anyone. No, not even you. It's not real, you know, Gemma. None of it is. You have to know what you have yourself. What is running through your veins. The blood of a father who loved you to distraction and the blood of a mother who tried to do better. The blood of a brother embarrassed to love you, but who loves you nonetheless. The blood of a sister who wanted you unconditionally, who loved you through faith. Is that not amazing?"

Mother, darling mother, don't let go of me now.

"Gemma, you could throw that piece of decoration out, you know. Into a lake, into a battlefield. You could still go there. And no, it's not paradise, because imperfections are beautiful. You know that to be true. But it is good. It is good. There will always be work to be done, and you should not shirk it, because improvements are progress. Maybe one day, when it is good enough and safe enough, you will be able to save your father. But maybe not. Maybe you can save Tom. Maybe he doesn't deserve it. Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe maybe. It is for you to decide now.

"But if I can give you one piece of advice, my child, it is do not run away from what you fear. The monsters of our minds feed on fear itself. So starve them."

And then she was gone and my world was black.

But I know what I have to do.

When I wake I automatically reach for my locket, dangling lazily around my neck. It is not there.

I am hurrying the girls through the dawn-streaked rooms of Spence. Down corridors, round corners, tripping on steps and falling down stairs. A curious light hangs on us all, a grey, oppressive light that seems unnaturally piercing. It is stripping us raw; we are all naked to each other now. We know everything and everyone and everyone is terrified.

"Gemma, Gemma, wait!" I cannot distinguish between the voices of my friends. We are all hushed and sombre, hoarse from lack of sleep and lack of hope. We are all one person, and we are a thousand people.

"Gemma, what is it? What is it?" A tug on my nightgown, but I will not stop for anyone, I will not stop for anything.

"Gemma." And there it is. That sound that causes me to catch my breath in my throat and stumble on a loose thread of reason. Felicity.

"Gemma, was it something that you dreamt? Because, Gemma, dreams are nothing but dreams."

I turn, and this will be it. I will not pander to other wants, other desires, because I have done wrong, I have sinned, and if that means that I am going to Hell, then I shall welcome it with open arms. Because the man that is going to marry our Pip, he is a respectable church going man. The man broke my Felicity prays for an everlasting soul. The girls of the academy, the girls that mocked Ann, the girls that drove her despise herself. They love the Christian God; they call him Father.

They think he will save them.

And if this is what Heaven will be like – filled with all of those people – then I will take my chances with Hell. I will turn my back on everything I know, and I will never again be a good, nice Christian girl.

"Felicity. My mother was dead to me. And then she came back. I found a sister that I never knew I had. I was able to forgive, and be forgiven, by something so completely different that we cannot think of it, we cannot imagine it, for our minds will explode and everything we know will be gone.

"But would that be so bad?"

We all know the answer, and the answer isn't yes.