by Carmen Reid
‘You. Look. Smashin’!’ he told her with a wink.
Amy had gone to a lot of trouble. She loved to dress up anyway, but tonight she also wanted to cheer her dad up. She wanted him to feel that together they could take on the situation, take on the world. They weren’t going to let this temporary disaster take them down.
So she was in a top of silky white studded all over with bright silver and gold sequins. Her sparkly silver shoes matched and made her feel princess-y. Her white jeans were long and tight and sported a designer tag. In her ears and around her neck were the very expensive diamonds her dad had bought her.
‘Have you said hello to Mrs K?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, we’re all set,’ her dad replied, and held out his arm to his daughter in an old-school gesture of politeness.
She took hold of it and together they walked out of the boarding house and down the flight of stone stairs.
Parked in the driveway, gleaming in the lights from the window, was Amy’s dad’s car: a shiny silver Porsche. He clicked with his key, making the lights blink and the door locks pop open.
Amy felt a slight unease as she slid down into the leather-upholstered seat.
For how much longer would her dad be driving a Porsche?
He drove deftly through the streets until they came to the restaurant he’d picked for tonight. Together they went in to the dark and candle-lit space where waiters in traditional white shirts and black trousers hovered about the tables, brandishing huge menus.
‘Fancy,’ Amy told her dad with a wink.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he winked back.
‘People will think I’m your girlfriend,’ she teased.
‘Not when they see how little wine I let you drink,’ he pointed out.
But the mistake was made once in a while because Amy, when she dressed up, looked like a much older teen and her dad was only in his early thirties.
They were waiting for the first course to arrive when her dad decided to stop the chatty small talk about school and her friends and how she was hoping to do in the exams and begin the much more serious conversation.
‘So . . . obviously, Amy, I want to talk to you about the business and the difficulties we’re facing,’ he said, his gentle voice sounding calm.
He folded his hands together, placed them under his chin and looked at her.
‘Yeah . . .’ she said, feeling slightly breathless, sensing her throat close with a little choke.
‘We’re in a lot of trouble, princess. I might be able to keep one of the clubs . . . or I might not.’
‘One!?’ Amy heard the shrill surprise in her voice. ‘But you own eleven!’
‘I don’t exactly own them, darling; I was running them with Bill and a lot of money borrowed from the bank,’ came the reply. ‘Bill has made an awful lot of money disappear and the banks aren’t in any mood to lend me more. In fact, they want back pretty much everything I’ve borrowed so far.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ Amy asked, feeling her eyes well up and her voice wobble much more than she would have liked to.
‘No panicking,’ he told her, and patted her hand reassuringly. ‘In the first place, we’ll have to cut our costs right down to the bone. Then I’m going to build my one club up again, make it the only place to be in town. Fingers crossed, I’ll be allowed to buy a second very soon and then it all starts to rock and roll all over again.’
When she said nothing, just looked at him uncertainly, he reminded her: ‘Princess, I had nothing when I started. I’m already in a much better position than when I started for the first time.’
Amy felt the wetness of a tear trickle down her face. ‘But, Dad, we’ve got so many more costs now: the flat . . . your car . . . my school . . .’ This last word came in a whisper.
He nodded.
‘I’ll leave St J’s,’ she said, trying to make her voice sound as firm and decisive as she could. ‘That’ll save us loads of money, straight away.’
Her dad smiled at her. ‘It’s great of you to offer. It’s great of you to keep saying “us” and “we”. You make me feel like we’re in this together.’
He reached over, took hold of her hand and gave it a tight squeeze.
Just then, the waiter arrived and set down two very complicated-looking starters in front of them.
‘This looks . . . interesting,’ her dad said, and shot her a little wink.
‘If you didn’t want to eat fancy, why did you choose here?’ Amy asked.
‘One last blow out,’ her dad replied. ‘It’s gonna be beans on toast from now on. So, bon appétit.’
After they’d both tried a careful mouthful of the food, he added, ‘The school is expensive. We both know that. But you’re really happy there, you’re doing so well and, to be honest, Amy, it’s the last thing I want to give up. I’d rather sell the car and the flat first.’
Amy couldn’t help giving a little gasp of horror at the thought of the flat going.
Home, when she wasn’t at St Jude’s, was a beautiful modern penthouse apartment on the riverside in the centre of Glasgow, with truly amazing views in every direction.
‘Sell it?’ she asked. ‘Do you really think we’ll have to sell it? What about if we rented it out? It’s so lovely, surely someone would want to rent it? You could move somewhere smaller . . . and I could even stay with Gran in the holidays . . . you know,’ – she tried to sound brave – ‘if you didn’t have room.’
It was horrible. Much as she loved her gran, living with her . . . that was something from Amy’s past. When her very young dad was out all the time, trying to make his business work, she’d had to live in her gran’s funny little flat: three floors up with noisy neighbours and just a little balcony as outdoor space.
That was still where her gran lived, despite all Gary’s offers to move her somewhere else.
‘You can’t leave your roots when you’ve put them down as far as I have,’ was Gran’s answer to the moving question.
Her dad was thinking.
‘Rent out the flat? Sell the car? Cut our monthly budget to the bone. It might be enough, princess, it might just be enough. I’ll need to go home and do my sums. You do want to stay at the school, don’t you?’
Amy nodded, feeling too choked to speak.
‘You won’t be getting any pocket money for quite a while . . .’ he added.
‘That will be just fine, Dad, that will be absolutely fine. We’ll pull through. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, eh?’
The starter plates were cleared away, and minutes later the waiter returned with two enormous steaks, smothered in creamy sauce.
‘Stick in till you stick oot,’ her dad urged her with a grin. ‘Who knows when we’ll be eating in a place like this again. Best make the most of it. And Amy’ – he suddenly looked serious – ‘you won’t let all this mess up your eating again, will you?’
‘No.’ Amy shook her head. ‘No, I promise. You need me strong, Dad.’
‘Yeah, exactly!’ He smiled again.
Before Amy picked up her knife and fork again, however, there was something she definitely wanted to give her dad.
Ever since he’d picked her up, she’d been racking her brains for a really practical way in which she could help him and now she had thought of it.
Quickly, she undid the clasp of her diamond pendant, then she took the two diamond studs from her ears.
These had been big, extravagant gifts from her dad last year, when business was booming and when he’d been feeling maybe a little more carefree and flush than he should have been.
‘Dad, I want you to sell these and put the money into the emergency account,’ she said, holding the jewels out in the palm of her hand.
‘Don’t be daft!’ he said, and closed her hand round the diamonds again.
‘No,’ she insisted. ‘I really want to help. You’re selling the car, so I’m selling these. Dad’ – she looked at him firmly – ‘you said we were in this together. So this is what I ca
n do to help.’
Her dad looked right into his daughter’s eyes and understood the determined look there at once.
‘OK,’ he said finally, ‘if you’re sure?’
She nodded.
‘I bought them for you,’ he said, making one last attempt to make her change her mind.
‘I know and I love you for it, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘Now you have them back because we both need the money more.’
As Amy finally started to eat her steak, she glanced around the dimly lit dining room, just to have a little peek at what the other diners were like and what they were eating.
Then she saw something so startling, she almost dropped her knife and fork.
No! It couldn’t be! Really?!
‘What is it?’ her dad asked.
‘Don’t look now,’ Amy hissed, ‘but Mrs Knebworth has just sat down over at a table for two with her mystery Jaguar man!’
Chapter Fifteen
‘EXPLAIN IN YOUR own opinion why the Jacobite rising of 1745 was unsuccessful?’ Gina asked, then looked up with mischievous eyes at Dermot.
‘Oh boy . . . OK . . . let me think. I know this . . .’ He rubbed his face over with his hands, then began to recite reasons, ticking them off with his fingers. When he’d given the five he could think of, he looked at Gina for approval.
‘That’s very good,’ she said, ‘but you’ve forgotten about the food. The fact they didn’t have enough food to get any further.’
‘Ah!’ Dermot smacked his head.
‘Relax,’ Gina said from where she sat cross-legged on the floor of the tiny bedroom Dermot shared with his brother. ‘You’ve got two weeks till the Mocks and months till the real thing.’
‘Relax?!’ Dermot exclaimed. ‘But I’m never going to remember all this stuff!’
‘Shhhh! Didn’t you remember five things out of six? C’mon.’ She reached out her hand and touched his arm.
‘Mmmmmm,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, ‘are we about to have a little study break?’
Gina’s hand slid into his.
‘Maybe,’ she said, smiling at him.
He pulled her towards him and leaned back into the comfortable bottom bunk.
They began to kiss.
Dermot tasted of coffee and mint. His hair felt soft between her fingers and Gina kissed him enthusiastically.
He moved backwards onto the bed, pulling Gina along with him. They rolled over so they were side by side on the bed and the kissing continued, both pressing their lips together and using their tongues to feel their way around.
Dermot’s hands were around her back, pulling her in closely towards him.
Gina opened her eyes and saw Dermot’s closed eyelashes right in front of her. Something was just not quite right.
They were kissing, his arms were around her, but somehow, the tingle, the buzz, the magical little something hadn’t started.
Gina closed her eyes again and concentrated on the kiss. No! This wasn’t right. This felt about as exciting as chewing a piece of gum. What was going on?
Dermot broke off from the kiss and moved his face back so that he could smile at her. He looked happy and a little goofy. One hand under her chin, he pulled her face back towards his. Obviously it was all still working for him.
Gina ran her hand down his back and realized that his T-shirt had come untucked, leaving a little gap of skin above his waistband. She put her fingers on the smooth skin and felt Dermot flinch a little underneath her touch.
‘Ticklish?’ she asked, whispering the word against his ear.
‘Very,’ he whispered back.
‘Do you think your mom will know we’ve stopped studying?’
‘Yeah, she’ll probably be coming to listen at the top of the stairs very soon, so if you want more snogging . . . keep going,’ he whispered.
As they began to kiss again, Gina felt his hand move to her shoulder and then – he put it right on top of one of her boobs and squeezed!
She was still kissing him and she didn’t flinch or pull away. But still! She couldn’t help feeling shocked.
That was her boob!
And his hand was right there, on top of it. It didn’t feel particularly nice, this hand just sitting there, squeezing every so often.
Gina opened her eyes again to see that Dermot’s were still closed.
She carried on with the kissing, not quite sure what else to do. Maybe she wasn’t giving the hand a chance. Maybe if she left it there and let it squeeze a few more times . . . maybe she would get to like it. Dermot certainly seemed to be liking this a lot.
‘Mmmmm . . . mmmm . . .’ he mumbled whenever he stopped kissing her mouth and was in-between looking for a new place to kiss.
Just as he put his lips against her neck, there was a sharp tap at the bedroom door.
‘I’ve brought you up some tea.’
It was Dermot’s mum!
At the sound of her voice, Dermot rolled straight off the bed and onto the floor. He took up Gina’s cross-legged position and snatched hold of a folder.
Gina scrambled to sit up on the bed and quickly smoothed over her hair.
Mrs O’Hagan was in the room before they were sure whether or not they’d managed the cover-up.
She had a tray with two mugs of tea in her hands.
‘Hard at work, are we?’ she asked.
She looked at Dermot closely. Now Gina could see that there was a little tuft of feather – one which could only have escaped from a pillow – nestling in his hair.
Chapter Sixteen
NIFFY WAS BORED. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. If she was any more bored, she would actually be a board.
Amy was out with her dad, Gina had been allowed to go over to Dermot’s house for a couple of hours, Min was in the study and just about everyone else in the entire boarding house was glued to some TV programme Niffy could not stand.
So it was very lucky that she had a box still almost full of joke equipment hidden in a suitcase under her bed in the dorm. She’d moved the box from her locker one quiet evening when not many people were roaming the corridors.
Although the Toilet Screamer 130 was now in Mrs Knebworth’s clutches and could never be used again, the blood-curdling yell had been very well worth it. Niffy still had hysterics whenever she thought about it . . . and she was quite enjoying the rumours going round the boarding house that she was behind the prank. Whenever anyone asked her directly, she would neither confirm nor deny it.
Raking though the box of jokes now, she saw many interesting things, but the one which really attracted her attention was a plastic tub full of bright green slime: ‘Extra runny and quick-pouring.’ Excellent!
She lifted the lid of the slime pot and poked at the gooey contents, thought about it for a bit and then an idea came to her.
Stuffing the slime pot under her jumper, she headed for the boarding-house’s main sitting room, where everyone coming back from their evening out had to sign in. Niffy had always wanted to know if that perching-things-on-the-top-of-a-door trick actually worked the way it always did in comics and cartoons.
Now, if she carefully propped the door open and then put the little tub of slime on top of the door . . . would the slime pot fall down and spill its contents all over the next person who walked in? Or what exactly would happen?
It was an experiment . . . For a moment, Niffy even considered asking Min along. Min loved experiments; maybe she’d like to monitor this one. But then, two people fiddling about with the sitting-room door might attract too much attention. Plus, Min never broke any rules and wouldn’t want to risk getting into trouble.
Niffy headed down the corridors towards the room. She was careful not to glance at her reflection in the large hallway mirror, because it still gave her a fright.
Now that nearly a week had passed, it hadn’t got any better with the hair. Sometimes, she almost quite liked it because it was so different, but most of the time she hated it and was willing her hair to grow faster. Sh
e’d even started eating an egg for breakfast every morning because eggs were supposed to be good for hair growth.
Now Niffy was at the door of the large sitting room where the signing-in sheets were kept. Because nearly everyone was in the TV room, the sitting room was deserted, save for a half-drunk mug of tea, which suggested that someone might be back soon.
Quickly, Niffy jammed the door slightly open with a folded section from the newspaper – the motoring section: she didn’t think anyone in the boarding house would miss that – then she pulled a little footstool over so she could reach the top of the door.
Once she’d climbed up, she whipped the lid off the pot of Slime and sat it nice and precariously in place on top of the door. She pushed it slightly to one side so that it had the best chance of falling directly on top of whoever was going to come in next.
Niffy could hear Miss McKinnon’s voice outside in the hall. She was talking to someone and, after listening for a moment or two, Niffy decided it was Mel and one of her Lower Sixth friends.
Fizzing with anticipation now about who would walk in first, Niffy hid herself behind the sofa. If there was a big, gooey Slime Disaster, she hoped everyone involved would rush out of the room to clean up, giving her a chance to make an escape.
On the steps outside the front door, Amy was saying good night to her dad.
They gave each other a big hug and a kiss on each cheek. But even after the kisses, they didn’t let each other go immediately.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ her dad told Amy. He patted her soothingly on the back, just like he had when she had been little. ‘It really will. It’s only money,’ he told her.
‘Ha!’ She tried to laugh a little at this, but trying to laugh only made her feel even more sad.
‘I know you’re going to rush off to work now, aren’t you?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah.’
‘But don’t work too hard, will you? You’ll take care of yourself for me, won’t you?’
‘I will take extra special care of myself just for you, princess.’
‘Dad?’