Mystery at Silver Spires by Ann Bryant

voice from just behind us. “Aren’t we lucky with this beautiful English sunshine!”
    Emily and I turned to see Madame Poulain and Mrs. Lawson, the ICT teacher walking along together.
    I thought I ought to speak straight away. “I’ve just realized I’ve left my ICT answer sheet behind, Mrs. Lawson. Is it okay if I rush back and get it, Madame Poulain? We’ve got ICT after French, you see.”
    â€œNo, don’t worry,” said Mrs. Lawson. “It’s not vital. We’ll work together on the answers in the lesson.”
    I could have kicked myself. I shouldn’t have said anything. Now I’d lost my chance to go back to Forest Ash before the end of school. Emily bit her lip and gave me a fleeting, pitying glance. And we walked on in silence.
    All afternoon I felt terrible. Like a murderer. What would I do if I found Silver lying dead up in the attic? I knew I’d cry and cry, because he felt like my very own secret treasure, and I’d blame myself entirely for his death.
    The moment the end-of-school bell went I flew back to Forest Ash, wondering whether the time had come to tell Mrs. Pridham about Silver. She was just coming out of her flat with Matron as I rushed in through the front door.
    â€œMy goodness, someone’s in a hurry!” she said.
    And in the two seconds it took me to cross the hall I imagined her reaction if I did tell her. First she’d be worried about the rat poison, and would probably get Mr. Monk to go up there and take it away immediately, because she wouldn’t want to harm a cat. But then she’d probably ask him to shoo Silver off, muttering about cheeky stray cats. No, there was no way I could risk telling her the truth.
    â€œJust think, Mrs. Pridham,” Matron was saying, a smile playing about her eyes, “if I rushed around like Bryony I wouldn’t have to bother with my diet!”
    Mrs. Pridham laughed as Matron hurried over to me. “Let’s see if I can keep up with you on the stairs, Bryony!”
    My heart sank. How could I go up to the attic with Matron on my heels? But I couldn’t be so rude as to race off without her so we walked upstairs together and I went into the dorm and flopped on my bed. I’d leave it a few minutes before I risked sneaking along to the cleaning room. While I was waiting I concentrated on straining my ears for any sounds at all, but it was completely silent. And it stayed that way, until Emily suddenly came crashing into the dorm followed by the others.
    â€œOh, Bry! Are you okay?” asked Sasha, the concern back on her face at the sight of me flat out on my bed.
    Emily and I exchanged a look and I decided in that second that I must tell the others about Silver. They were standing very still, watching me carefully, not used to me looking sad, or acting dramatically. It was no wonder I’d shocked them all so much.
    I sat up and sighed. “Truth talk, guys,” was all I said.
    â€œYes, of course,” said Antonia, who had invented the expression and actually the whole idea of truth talks, way back in the first term when her English hadn’t been so good. We’d kept the name Truth talk because it said exactly what it was. Basically, if anyone in the group felt the need to share something important with the others, we all piled onto their bed and listened while they talked, then tried to make them feel better.
    It felt funny watching the others climb my ladder and squash themselves on the bed, because this was the first time I’d ever been the one to call a truth talk. Once they were all sitting silently, watching me with big eyes, I began in my usual straightforward way.
    â€œThat noise you heard in the night, Izzy, is a cat.”
    â€œA cat!” said Izzy in a faint squeak, as though she didn’t want to interrupt me but couldn’t help her surprise slipping out.
    â€œI went up to the loft to investigate and thought I’d seen