by Carmen Reid
‘Yeah, and now we know why,’ Amy had told Niffy. ‘Turns out my dad is gay.’
‘Did you have any idea before?’ Niffy had wondered.
‘You know, I think I did. I think he’s the one who was really surprised by it!’
Then it had been time for Amy, Min and Gina to say goodbye to Niffy. Lots of upbeat, encouraging ‘see you later’ kind of words were exchanged, but when it came to the hugs, it had been impossible to ignore the choked-up throats and welling tears.
‘When do I get to visit you in California?’ Niffy had asked after hugging Gina hard.
‘Whenever you like!’ Gina had assured her.
When Min had put her arms round Niffy, she’d said, ‘You know what I told you about school being for a few years and family being for ever . . .’
She’d felt Niffy nod against her shoulder.
‘I got it the wrong way round.’ Min had tried very hard not to cry. ‘We only get to live at home for a few years, but school friends are for ever. OK?’
‘Hey, you take care . . .’ Niffy had said into Amy’s hair as she held her tight. ‘Keep away from that stupid Hernandez geek.’
‘I will – I have a plan for him. Just as soon as Mel’s supplied a diagram of his willy, I’m going to photocopy it and fly-post it on the lampposts outside St Lennox.’
‘That’s my girl,’ Niffy had told her, finally letting go.
‘You’ll be back?’ Amy had said, and then she’d repeated it, trying not to make it sound like a question: ‘You’ll be back.’
‘Yeah.’ Niffy had wiped at her eyes, then smiled at each of them in turn. ‘You’ll save a space on the fire escape for me, won’t you?’
At those words, everyone had struggled to keep their cheerful smiles in place.
As the Nairn-Bassett car had pulled out of the driveway, with Niffy waving madly until she was out of sight, a small white Interflora van had parked up. The driver had got out, then taken an extravagantly large bunch of fat pink roses out of the back.
As he’d begun to walk towards the front door of the boarding house, Amy hadn’t been able to resist asking, ‘So who’s the lucky girl then?’
When the man had glanced down at the card and read: ‘Amy McCorquodale,’ she’d nearly fallen over with surprise.
‘That’s me!’ she’d told him and he’d handed her his clipboard to sign, passed her the enormous bouquet, then headed off in his van before she’d even fumbled open the envelope to read the card.
Min and Gina were looking over her shoulder in astonishment as she’d read out, ‘I’ve messed everything up. Is there any chance we could start over again? Jason.’
‘Oh my God!’ Amy had not been able to stop herself from laughing at this. ‘What is he like?!’
‘He’s smitten,’ Min had told her.
‘A confused, smitten kitten,’ Gina had confirmed.
‘What am I going to do now?’
‘I can’t wait to find out!’
Now, only Gina was left: her flight home wasn’t till later. She stood by the dorm window and looked out over the school playing fields and the running track where Min had broken the school record.
Then she heard the screech of the fire-door hinge and automatically counted the twenty seconds it took before Mrs Knebworth arrived at the door.
‘Hello, Gina. Not too lonely up here, I hope?’ the Neb asked.
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ she replied.
‘So . . . we all survived the summer term, despite all the usual scrapes and disagreements.’
Gina nodded slowly.
‘Good. I think you really enjoyed it in the end, didn’t you?’
‘Oh yeah.’ Gina smiled. ‘Much more than I thought I would.’
‘Good. We’ll all miss Luella though, won’t we?’
‘Yes . . . but I think she’ll be back soon.’
‘Yes. That’s the right thing to hope for.’ And Mrs Knebworth gave a smile that made her face look almost kindly. Gina wished that Amy was here to see it.
‘Do you want me to order you a taxi?’ the Neb asked next.
‘No, I’m fine. Mom said she’d sort me out with a car – whatever that means. I think it’s because I moaned so much about the taxi driver who brought me here from the airport. Anyway, she said she wants me to travel back in style. I think I’m going business class.’
‘Oh, nice! It’s a long journey – do you want me to pack you up some food? I won’t put in too much salt or garlic!’
This made them both laugh.
‘You’re a dreadful bunch, really,’ Mrs Knebworth added.
‘What are you doing for the holidays?’ Gina asked her.
‘Going home!’ She smiled brightly. ‘I have a little house in Gullane and my daughter’s back from university, so she’s joining me for some of the time. I like the peace and quiet out there.’
Home? Gina had never thought of Mrs Knebworth as having anywhere else to live but the boarding house. She’d certainly not known about a daughter. All she knew about her was that she was a widow – though she’d never really thought about what that meant. Suddenly she felt a wave of sympathy for the housemistress, with a daughter she was putting through university and a job she was never allowed to escape from, except in the school holidays.
When the car arrived, Gina’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. It was a long, sleek black limousine. A driver in a peaked cap and gloves got out, took her luggage and loaded it effortlessly into the boot.
‘So we’re off to the airport, Miss Peterson?’ he asked her.
‘Well . . . erm . . .’ Gina checked her wristwatch: there was still plenty of time. Time enough to make the little detour she’d planned. ‘Can we just head into town first?’ she asked.
‘Anywhere you like, miss. Your wish is my command!’ he answered with a smile.
In the back seat of the car, Gina opened the mini-bar and saw that it was stacked with cans of fizzy drink, bottles of water, and crisps. She set two cans of Coke out on the table, alongside two glasses, and opened some crisps.
With a thrilling mixture of terror and excitement, she re-dialled the number on her cell phone, which had been handed back to her that morning.
As the limo pulled up in the narrow cobbled street, Gina could see an astonished face looking down from the upstairs window, then a hand waving at the sight of her.
A few moments later, Dermot O’Hagan cast off his white apron and, with his dad’s permission, took two hours out from his shift. He ran out of the café, taking the stairs three at a time.
Gina waited in the car, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He was lovely! And he was so into her. Wasn’t he? Of course he was . . . He was rushing down a flight of stairs to get to her. She hugged herself. This was going to be wonderful . . . wasn’t it?
‘Oh. My. Lord!’ Dermot said when the driver opened the door for him and ushered him into the back seat beside her. ‘I take back everything – every single word I ever said about never going out with girls like you. Do you always come here by driver? Why did I not know this?’ he went on nervously, taking a seat, running his hands over his hair and smelling just a touch too strongly of toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant and shaving cream.
‘I’m just an ordinary girl, Dermot,’ Gina assured him as the driver got back into the front seat and started up the engine. ‘Look – it’s Coke and crisps all the way, not champagne and caviar.’
She poured out the drinks and they clinked glasses as the car set off out of town towards the airport.
‘I’m really glad you could come,’ she said, feeling a little shy now that he was really here, nestled into the black leather seat beside her. ‘I just had to share the car with someone! Isn’t it great?’ She used one of the little buttons to whiz the window down, then back up again.
‘Well, I’m so glad to be that someone,’ Dermot said, his cheeky grin in place again.
Then a heavy silence descended and Gina frantically wondered what to say next.
; ‘Oh no, awkward silence time,’ Dermot joked. ‘Oh my God! Here we are: we’ve been thinking and thinking about this, and now we’ve got absolutely nothing to say. I’m sorry – do you want me to talk about the café? What’s been going on there? Or shall I tell you about what happened the last time I got on a plane . . . Which is quite a funny story, but it might put you off flying and I’m not sure that’s what you need right now, is it? Or should I just try and shut up and not drive you demented before we’re even on the ring road? Or how about—?’
‘Shh!’ she interrupted him.
‘See, I am going to drive you demented—’
‘Shh!’ she interrupted again. ‘Dermot! Stop it! I think you’re very nice,’ she added, surprising herself and blushing furiously.
‘Nice! Oh no! No one ever tells James Bond he’s “nice”. I don’t think it’s a good sign. I really do not think this is a good sign at all,’ he babbled anxiously.
‘Dermot!’
Gina moved along the seat just a little so she nudged up against him. He was nice. He was in his blue shirt again – the one that made his blue eyes leap out at you. And she liked the fact that he was nervous and jumpy and had obviously over-prepared in the bathroom for this meeting.
‘So . . . busy afternoon in the café?’ she asked, because it was all she could think of, even though right now she couldn’t have cared if the café was on fire.
‘Oh, you know . . .’
She noticed that his arm had moved down from the top of the seat and was now round her shoulders, but she didn’t mind. Not in the slightest; no, she liked it. It felt warm and heavy against her. Not even the tiniest bit tentacle-like.
He turned to look at her. ‘I’ve been told not, under any circumstances, to kiss you,’ he blurted out.
‘Huh? Who told you that?’
‘Your friend – the skinny one – everyone calls her Smelly or something, but I’m hoping that’s just a nickname.’
‘Niffy? She told you not to kiss me?’
‘Yup, she said you’re allergic to kissing or something . . . which is, you know, interesting. I think.’
Gina looked closely at Dermot: he had a wide mouth and strong white teeth with a little gap between the front two. She thought that she’d never wanted to kiss anything more than she wanted to kiss Dermot’s mouth.
‘Will you stop talking?’ she asked, although really she was interested to hear what Dermot had to say about everything: very, very interested.
‘On one condition,’ he said.
But she didn’t wait to hear what the condition was, because she’d leaned up to meet his mouth with hers. She just knew she was ready for this. Ready to kiss Dermot, yes; but ready for so much more. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to talk to him, know what he thought about things. He wasn’t just going to be a fumbly snog or an awkward experience. He was going to be her friend, her first real boyfriend.
Whatever Niffy had said about kissing – Gina couldn’t quite remember it, because she was a little bit lost and smudgy and fuzzy about the edges right now – but whatever it was, it had been about right.
When that magical, wonderful first kiss was finally over, Dermot looked into her eyes and said, ‘I am so, so sorry you’re going back home. I think I’m going to cry at the airport.’
This only made her smile because, with her heart so happy at her big decision, she told him, ‘It’s just for the holidays. I’m coming back to St Jude’s in August.’
She’d not walked out onto the stage on Speech Day. She’d decided that her English teacher, Mrs Parker, and some of the other St Jude’s teachers, were going to be more useful to her than the ones at her old school. She’d decided she was going to get much, much better GCSEs than her mother – if it killed her. She’d also decided she wanted to spend a lot more time hanging out with Dermot. And most importantly of all, she’d decided that, right now, Amy and Min needed her more than Paula, Ria and Maddison did.
So yes . . . in the hope that California would always be there to go home to, she’d decided she was definitely, definitely coming back to Scotland next term for more.
Acknowledgements
There are two people without whom Secrets at St Jude’s would never have come about: my fabulous agent, Darley Anderson and Random House Children’s Books Fiction Publisher, Annie Eaton. For your many suggestions, kind encouragement and enthusiasm, I am truly grateful.
Julia Churchill at the agency has also been a star, reading early chapters and generally cheering me on! Thank you so much. To Emma, Maddie, Zoe and Ella: I hope you all know how much I appreciate your hard work on my behalf.
An enormous thank you to Kelly Hurst for being such a sensitive, thoughtful and all round brilliant editor, it’s been a pleasure! Likewise, to copy-editor Sophie Nelson: many, many thanks. I am hugely grateful for the effort and enthusiasm of so many lovely RHCB people.
I have to mention my own teen gang, remembered very fondly while I was writing this: loads of love (and don’t worry, names have been changed!). All my very best to John Elder – although he’ll want his pupils to put this book down and go and read something much more serious instead!
Finally: TQ, I owe you, as always. S and C . . . I’m so looking forward to hearing what you think!
About the Author
Carmen Reid is the author of several bestselling adults novels. Secrets of St Judes’s: New Girl is her first novel for young adults.
After working as a journalist in London she moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where she looks after one husband, two children, a puppy, three goldfish and writes almost all the rest of the time.
Visit her website at www.carmenreid.com
Also by Carmen Reid,
for adult readers:
The Personal Shopper
Did the Earth Move?
Three in a Bed
Up All Night
How Was it For You?
SECRETS AT ST JUDE’S: NEW GIRL
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 9781407043883
Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK
A Random House Group Company
This ebook edition published 2012
Copyright © Carmen Reid, 2008
Corgi 2008
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