by Carmen Reid
‘That was really kind of you,’ Amy said, but then gave an exaggerated glance at her watch. ‘It’s only ten minutes till supper though. I’ll think I’ll save them for afterwards.’
‘That’s incredibly restrained of you,’ Min said in surprise. ‘They are totally delicious.’
‘I know. I’ll eat them . . . just later – I’d better go and put them somewhere safe, before Niffy waltzes in and demolishes them,’ Amy said, picking up the little plate.
‘Amy . . .?’ Gina asked, her voice serious now as she flicked a glance at Min. Together, they had both decided they needed to help Amy and Niffy make up. ‘Don’t you think the row with Niffy has been going on long enough? It’s time for you guys to make up now. You know – maybe sit down together and talk about the whole Finn situation. Calmly. We can help you. We can ask Niffy what she thinks, if you want us to . . .’
Amy lifted a finger to her mouth and began to chew at a ragged nail.
This struck Gina as strange – she’d never noticed Amy bite her nails before.
‘Niffy’s not given me any sign that she wants to make up,’ Amy said finally. ‘I think she’s enjoying it.’
‘Maybe she thinks you’re enjoying it,’ Min said.
‘Do you want us to talk to her?’ Gina suggested. ‘We’re desperate for this to be over – it’s such hard work being in a dorm with the two of you at the moment. It’s really uncomfortable.’
‘Yeah,’ Min agreed.
‘Well, what about the hockey?’ Amy asked. ‘She’s moved to Penny’s team. I saw her with Penny this evening.’
‘They’re in the hockey squad together,’ Min said with a shrug. ‘Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe it’s nothing to do with you.’
Amy found these words familiar. That’s what Niffy had said: maybe it was true; maybe it had just been about the hockey.
‘You’re both so stubborn,’ Gina said, ‘but you played the trick on Niffy, you’re her brother’s new best friend – maybe you should try apologizing first.’ ‘We’ll try and talk to her,’ Min offered again, ‘if you want us to.’
Amy shook her head. ‘Look,’ she said finally, ‘just let me think about it, OK? Maybe you’re right, maybe I’ll have to say sorry first . . . but just give me a bit of time.’
Picking up the saucer with the little cupcakes, Amy got to her feet. She wanted this uncomfortable conversation to end, so she blurted out, ‘I better go and put these in a safe place,’ then left the room.
‘OK . . .’ Min said.
‘Please think about it,’ Gina called after her.
As soon as she was out in the corridor, Amy headed straight for the laundry room, which was usually very quiet at this time of the evening.
Switching on the light, she went over to the swing-top bin. Without hesitation, she tipped up the saucer and launched the two delicious little cupcakes straight into the rubbish.
Then she peered through the flap to see where they had landed: right down amongst the empty packets of laundry powder. Good! The temptation to eat them was over.
Amy had decided that there had to be at least one thing in her life which was under her control. Although she might never be as pretty or as talented as Peta, she could make sure she was as thin.
Back in the sitting room, Gina turned to Min. ‘The cupcakes . . .’ she began.
‘Yeah?’ Min asked.
‘Have you noticed? Over the past few days . . . I think Amy’s gone a bit weird about food.’
Chapter Twenty-three
SCHOOL LUNCHES AT St Jude’s were unusually good. There was plenty of fresh, tasty, healthy food. The slimy stews and soggy steamed puddings that girls might have had to put up with in the past had long ago been replaced by baked potatoes, adventurous salads, grilled fish and chicken, pasta dishes, and lightly steamed vegetables.
The odd member of staff was on duty in the lunch hall, keeping a watchful eye on queue-jumping, but there was no strict supervision. In the past, a teacher had sat at the head of every one of the twelve dining tables, eating with the girls and handing out detentions to anyone who couldn’t get through their helping of stringy lamb casserole and boiled potatoes. Nowadays the girls were usually left to their own devices.
Gina and Min were sitting with Serena and Willow from their year and Rosie from the year below.
‘Where’s Amy?’ Rosie asked for the third time.
‘I dunno,’ Gina told her. ‘She said she was coming straight up, but would have to eat quickly because she had a rehearsal in the lunch break.’
‘But I’ve been here since the bell went and I haven’t seen her,’ Rosie complained.
‘Well . . . that’s weird,’ Gina had to admit. She found herself exchanging a look with Min.
Over the past few days they’d both missed Amy at lunch – only for her to claim later that she’d dashed in, wolfed something down and had somehow missed them.
‘I was looking for you,’ she had insisted. ‘I’ve no idea how we didn’t see each other.’
‘You don’t think . . .’ Min began, but then she seemed to think better of it, and instead asked, ‘What’s happening this weekend? Is anything happening? Amy said something about a party that we were all invited to, and I thought if we were going, then I’d tell Greg to come along – because he emailed and said he’d like to see me,’ she ended shyly.
‘Ooooooh!’ Gina and Rosie chorused together.
Then Gina started to explain: ‘OK, the party – it’s complicated. Yes, there is a party. Amy’s going to see Finn and Niffy’s going to see Finn – so that’s going to be interesting . . . Unless, you never know, maybe they’ll have made up by then. Maybe Finn will bring them together again. We’re allowed to bring friends, so Greg can come, Dermot can come – Rosie, you, Willow and Serena and a couple of other friends can come. But we’ll all have to think of a really good cover story, because let’s face it’ – here came the very big complication – ‘the Neb isn’t going to let us go.’
They all fell silent.
‘Can’t we think of anything?’ Rosie asked.
‘Well, Amy’s suggestion was,’ Gina began carefully, looking at Willow, ‘if a day girl got their mom to phone Mrs Knebworth and ask if we could go to a party at their house, that might be OK.’
Willow looked at her in surprise. To a day girl, all the rules, regulations and complications of being a boarder far outweighed the hours of fun the girls must have in each other’s company every evening.
‘You need my mum to phone up your housemistress and ask for you all to come over to a party at my house – are you joking?!’
‘Are we joking, as in, no way your mom would do it? Or as in, you can’t believe the lengths we have to go to?’ Gina wanted to establish.
‘I can’t believe the lengths you have to go to,’ Willow replied. ‘I mean, it’s just some flat party with some Craigiefield boys, and we’ll all be home by midnight.’
‘Erm . . . eleven o’clock sharp, in a taxi,’ Gina corrected her, and pulled a face.
‘Your life is too exciting,’ Willow teased, scraping the very last of the peach yoghurt from the carton in her hand.
‘I know. How can we stand it?’ Gina joked.
‘I’m going to have to go,’ Rosie said, looking at her watch. ‘I’ve got a music lesson in ten minutes.’
‘I’m heading off too,’ Willow said, stacking all her lunch things on her tray and manoeuvring her legs out from under the table and over the wooden bench. ‘I’ll ask my mum, OK? I’m not sure what she’ll say, but I’ll ask her.’ She headed off, followed by Serena.
Gina and Min were left facing each other over the dining table. Min was eating her way slowly and thoughtfully through a small slice of banoffee pie; Gina had already finished her two courses and was topping up her water glass to have something to do.
‘What were you about to say about Amy?’ she asked her friend.
‘Erm . . . well – her eating . . .’ Min hesitated.
‘Have you sa
t beside her at supper lately?’ Gina asked.
‘Yes,’ Min replied with a look of concern on her face.
‘She asks for a small helping of the main course, then hardly touches her pudding, that’s what I’ve seen. Every night,’ Gina said.
‘Yes, me too,’ Min agreed.
‘I haven’t seen her at lunch for three whole days, Min,’ Gina added anxiously. ‘If Rosie says she’s been here since the bell . . .’ She glanced up at the grand old station clock on the dining-room wall. ‘The dining room’s going to close in three minutes,’ she pointed out.
The friends looked at each other. Now they knew for certain that Amy was skipping lunch.
‘This morning she ate one oatcake and a banana,’ Min said. ‘How on earth is she going to make that last till supper time?’
‘My friend in California, Ria . . .’ Gina began. ‘Her sister’s in hospital – she’s really sick because she stopped eating. We’ve got to try and talk to Amy.’
‘Gina, this is scary,’ Min said. ‘What can we do?’
Chapter Twenty-four
NIFFY BOARDED THE bus, hauling her large bag of hockey kit in after her. She fumbled for money, got her ticket then dragged herself and her bags along to the first available seat.
She was exhausted. It was nine-thirty in the evening and she’d been running up and down the Scottish hockey squad’s training pitch for two and a half hours. She was ravenous too, but the boarding-house packed supper was long gone; she hoped she’d be able to make herself a mountain of toast as soon as she got back.
The other St Jude’s girls on the squad were all day girls – who’d been picked up by a posse of parents in estate cars and 4x4s, Niffy couldn’t help noticing. Every single one of them had driven straight past her as she’d trudged along to the bus stop in the drizzle. Not one had thought of offering her a lift. In fact, Niffy was sure she’d seen something like a smirk on Penny’s face as she’d passed by – and the Boswell-Hackett family home was only a five-minute walk away!
Penny might have seemed friendly when Niffy had shown her the hockey-disaster video clip at the play rehearsal the other night, but the truth was, she was a cow. She pretended to be friendly one minute – if she thought there was something to be gained from it – but she’d just as likely blank you the next.
The bus stopped, and Niffy glanced up to see a tall, dark-haired boy in St Lennox uniform get on. As he paid for his ticket, she had the feeling that she’d seen him before – knew him even. She realized with a lurch who it was and quickly turned her face to the window, hoping he wouldn’t see her.
But Amy’s last, brief boyfriend – the famously handsome Jason – walked slowly up the aisle looking for a seat, and chose the one in front of her. Then, in his typical smooth manner, he said, ‘Hello there – you’re Amy’s friend Niffy, aren’t you?’
Before Niffy could reply, he’d clocked her tracksuit and was asking, ‘Been out training? Are you with the Scotland squad? That’s impressive.’
Niffy fixed him with a cool gaze. ‘Hello, Jason,’ she said finally. ‘Yeah – under seventeens. It’s really hard work though. I’m shattered.’
There was a little more small talk before Jason finally asked the question Niffy had been expecting: ‘So how’s Amy? I haven’t seen her since . . .’
‘Halloween?’ Niffy suggested.
‘Yeah . . .’ Jason cleared his throat. ‘That didn’t go so well.’
‘No,’ Niffy had to agree. ‘I can’t imagine you’ve heard much from her since then.’
If Jason had been any normal sort of guy, he’d have said no and maybe moved on to other less awkward topics of conversation. But Jason had an amazingly over-inflated opinion of himself. He thought he was the best-looking, most charmingly irresistible Adonis of St Lennox. He hated the idea of Amy McCorquodale telling him to get lost, in front of people he knew, at the St Jude’s Halloween party. He really hated it. So what if he’d had another interested girl on the side – who could blame him? So he missed a date: he’d spent a lot of money on apologizing with flowers!
So instead of saying no, Jason leaned over, smiled slyly – and told Niffy a complete and utter lie. ‘Poor old Amy,’ he began. ‘I think she’s very sorry. She still emails me several times a week wondering if I’d like to come and meet her for a coffee. In fact, I’ve finally given in – I’m going to see her . . . on Sunday, I think. But don’t tell her you ran into me – for some reason she wants to keep this top secret,’ he added, and even winked for effect.
Niffy felt tears of rage well up in her eyes. She knew it! She knew Amy was never going to get over Jason in a weekend. Finn was just a tonsil-tickling distraction to while away the time while she planned her next meeting with this slime-ball.
And what about Finn? When he found out about this, he was going to be so upset . . .
Amy had thought about what Min and Gina had said for several days now. She knew that Niffy wasn’t Penny B-H’s new friend; in fact Niffy hadn’t made any new friends at all. When she wasn’t with Min or Gina, she was often wandering the corridors of St Jude’s on her own. She also spent a lot of time in the dorm on her own – when she wasn’t attending her two hockey practices per week . . . on her own.
So Amy had decided that when Niffy came in from hockey tonight, she would be waiting for her in the little boarders’ kitchen. While Niffy made the stack of toast she’d need after an evening of training, Amy was going to try and talk to her; try to build a bridge.
Wasn’t that what Finn would want? They were going to see him at the weekend, so wouldn’t it be best if they tried to patch things up for his sake?
Amy waited in the kitchenette with the large bags of soft white bread and tried to work out what she was going to say to Niffy. She avoided thinking how much she would like a piece of toast. She was winning: although there were no scales in the boarding house, she could tell from the feel of her clothes that she was losing weight fast. It was just a matter of willpower. Mind over matter . . . mind over fatter.
The front door banged open and, with a clatter of bag and hockey stick, Niffy came in. She went into Mrs Knebworth’s sitting room to sign in, then, just as Amy had predicted, headed straight for the kitchenette, where girls were allowed to help themselves to tea and toast and fruit in between meals.
‘Oh, hi,’ Amy said as Niffy came into the room. ‘I was sort of . . . well . . . I was just hoping I might find you here and that we might be able to have . . . just . . . I don’t know, some sort of . . .’ Her eyes dropped to the floor.
The expression on Niffy’s face was not exactly making this easy. She looked angry. What the bloody hell was she still so angry about? It was ages since the Ginger joke; ages since she and Finn had become an item. Could Niffy honestly not get over this?
‘Talk,’ Amy said finally. ‘Try and have a talk about . . . stuff.’
‘Are you joking?’ Niffy stormed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Ever since Jason had spoken to her on the bus, she’d been wondering how to tell Amy and, more importantly, Finn, that she knew exactly what was going on.
Now that Amy was standing right here in front of her, Niffy felt unbelievably angry.
‘Get out of here!’ she said furiously. ‘I know exactly what you’re up to.’
Red in the face with anger, embarrassment and hurt, Amy fled the room. Gina and Min were totally wrong: she and Niffy were never going to be friends again in a million years!
Chapter Twenty-five
‘AMY . . .’ GINA BEGAN as she and Min hurried into the dorm after school, hoping they would find Amy there on her own.
She was lying on her bed, flicking listlessly through a magazine. Gina looked at her closely. She kept trying to see if Amy was losing weight, but it was hard to tell under the sludge green of the St Jude’s uniform. Amy’s jumper had always been long and baggy and her skirt had always slipped nonchalantly to her hips.
She looked very pale – there was no doubt about that – her cheeks cha
lky-white, with dark rings under her eyes. But then if Gina had to survive through till supper on one oatcake and a banana, she’d look pale too.
‘Min and I want to talk to you,’ Gina said carefully, and sat down on the end of her friend’s bed.
‘Oh, good grief – if this is about Niffy again, you can just forget it,’ Amy muttered. ‘I tried to talk to her last night and . . . Just forget it. Whatever you thought about her being ready to be friends again, well, you were completely and utterly wrong. I wish I’d never bothered. It was totally embarrassing.’
‘Oh . . .’ Gina sounded surprised. ‘Well . . . But there’s something else.’
‘Not about Niffy,’ said Min. She sat down on Gina’s bed, which was next to Amy’s.
‘What?’ Amy asked. ‘You both look so serious!’
‘Erm . . .’ Gina took a deep breath and decided to just come out with it. ‘You’re not eating properly. You have tiny breakfasts, tiny suppers and you’re not eating lunch at all.’
‘It’s so bad for you,’ Min chipped in before Amy could reply. ‘You have to stop it, or else . . . we’re going to tell the Neb.’
She and Gina had decided beforehand that this was what they would tell Amy.
‘Wh-what?!’ Amy said with a gasp. She dropped her magazine and sat up to face them.
‘We’ve noticed,’ Gina said gently.
‘We’re really worried about you,’ Min added.
For a moment Amy looked angry, but then she seemed to think better of it. ‘You know,’ she began, ‘I have skipped lunch – a few times – and I have been trying to eat less . . .’
‘Why?’ Min wanted to know.
‘I just feel a bit . . . chubby,’ Amy admitted.
‘Don’t be stupid!’ Gina jumped in. ‘You’re beautiful – and, Amy, Ria’s sister is in hospital because she didn’t eat. She’s made herself really, really sick. Everyone over there is so worried about her.’
‘OK, OK.’ Amy looked almost embarrassed about their concern now. ‘I won’t do it any more. I’ll go to lunch and I’ll be normal, OK? Don’t worry about it – and I don’t want you to talk about it either – to anyone else.’