Amber opened her notebook to a fresh page and wrote: MOONLIGHT DREAMERS IDEAS. Last night’s meeting had been all about seeing if anyone was interested; now she had to get clear on how the proper meetings should be run. She jotted down some ideas.
More mysterious
More secretive
Meet by moonlight
But where could they meet by moonlight that wouldn’t be freezing at this time of year? Amber chewed on the end of her pen. There was always the roof garden – after all, that was where it had all begun. She pictured bringing the other girls to her house. Daniel would be delighted. He was always encouraging her to invite friends over. But what about Gerald? He was bound to embarrass her in some way.
Amber heard a chair scraping on the floor behind her. She quickly covered her notebook with her folder.
“So, do you have a girlfriend?” Chloe whispered in her ear. The cloying scent of her perfume made Amber feel sick. Don’t say anything, she told herself.
“Do you?” Chloe whispered again.
The supply teacher glanced over and looked as if she was about to say something, but then continued pretending to read her book.
“Are you gay?” Chloe said, louder this time, and a couple of their classmates started to snigger.
“You are, aren’t you?” Chloe said triumphantly. “You’re gay, just like your dads.”
“So what if I am?” Amber snapped, her anger bubbling over.
“I knew it!” Chloe cried.
“Is everything OK?” the supply teacher called out nervously.
“Yes, miss,” Chloe replied meekly. “You’re such a freak,” she hissed in Amber’s ear before shifting back to her own table.
Amber sat motionless. Why was Chloe obsessed with sexuality? Throughout her childhood Amber hadn’t even known there was such a thing as sexuality; she’d thought it was all about love. Sometimes a man loved a woman and a woman loved a man. And sometimes a woman loved a woman and a man loved a man – like Daniel and Gerald. It was no big deal. But ever since she’d started at this school, and Chloe and her friends had found out about her parents, it had become something to feel guilty about. Something to be ashamed of. And Amber hated herself for letting them get to her in this way. Oscar Wilde had had to go through far worse, and he hadn’t let it get to him. He’d ended up in jail because of being gay. But that was back in the nineteenth century, when people didn’t know any better. Surely things should be different now.
Suddenly a scrunched-up piece of paper landed on the table in front of her. She looked at it like it was a ticking bomb. She knew she should ignore it, but before she could stop, her hands were uncrumpling the paper and she read the scrawled note: How do you have sex with another girl?
A chorus of cackles rang out behind her. Amber sighed. The truth was, she wasn’t even sure if she had a sexuality. The only kind of boy she ever imagined being with was tall and rakish and wore a cravat – basically a teenage Oscar Wilde. Was there such a thing as a Victorian-writer-sexual? As the cackling grew to a crescendo she thought of Oscar again. What would he say to Chloe and her stupid friends? How would he answer them? Like magic, one of his quotes popped into her head. “There is no sin except stupidity.”
Amber felt a sudden burst of determination. She shouldn’t be the one feeling ashamed. They should, for being so stupid. She turned round to face Chloe.
“You’re a very ugly person, you know.”
Chloe’s glossy mouth fell open. “What?”
Amber took a deep breath. “You. You’re one of the ugliest people I’ve ever met.”
Chloe looked at her fellow OMGs. They all started shaking their heads in disbelief. “Me?” she said with a pout. “I’m not the one who has two dads and dresses like a man. I’m not the one who – who’s a lesbian.”
“No. But you’re the one who’s bitter and poisonous. You’re the one who gets a kick out of picking on people. You’re the nasty little troll.”
“Is everything OK back there?” the supply teacher called again, her voice wavering slightly.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to be really sorry you said those things.”
Adrenalin was pumping through Amber’s veins. “Oh, really? I don’t think so.” She turned back to her desk and started putting her things into her bag. “Please can I be excused, miss? I’m not feeling very well.”
The teacher stood up. “Oh – I don’t know. What’s wrong?”
“There’s a horrible smell back here. It’s making me feel really sick.”
“Just you wait,” Chloe hissed.
Amber ignored her and headed for the door.
“So, how exactly does home-schooling work?” Savannah asked, fiddling with the drawstring on her hoodie.
Sky looked at Liam. The three of them were sitting at the breakfast bar, but only Sky and Liam were having breakfast. Savannah was drinking a glass of hot water with a slice of lemon bobbing on top. Rose had left for school already. Her only greeting had been the loud slam of the front door.
“Well, we have to stick to the curriculum now that Sky’s doing her GCSEs,” Liam said, taking a forkful of scrambled eggs.
“But Dad adds in loads of fun extras.” Sky felt a pang of anxiety as she remembered what he’d said the day before about sending her to school.
“Wow, that’s so lovely of you.” Savannah smiled at Liam. She was fully made up, but Sky could see that her eyes still looked puffy. “I wish Rose’s dad was that attentive.”
“Where is Rose’s dad?” Sky asked.
Liam frowned. “Sky, I don’t think—”
“It’s OK, honey,” Savannah interrupted, smiling at Sky. “He’s in the States, working on a movie. Which basically means he’s incommunicado until they finish shooting – he won’t even speak to his own daughter.” She sighed. “He’s a method actor.”
“What does that mean?” Sky asked.
“It means he lives, sleeps and breathes his parts. Not just when he’s on set, but in all of his spare time too.” There was something about the way Savannah said this, a bitterness in her tone, that made Sky think that Jason Levine’s method acting had caused her a lot of pain in the past. “Right now he’s playing the part of Saint Francis of Assisi,” Savannah continued, “so he’s turned his back on all earthly things, including cellphones and computers. I don’t think Rose has heard from him for weeks.”
Sky’s feelings towards Rose softened slightly. No wonder she was so prickly all the time. It must be horrible being cut off by a parent like that.
Out in the hall, the letterbox clattered.
“That’ll be the papers,” Savannah said, instantly looking nervous.
“I’ll get them. Don’t worry.” Liam put down his fork and bounded out of the kitchen.
Sky shifted awkwardly in her seat. It was the first time she’d been on her own with Savannah. She didn’t have a clue what to say. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out the first thing that came to hand, a leaflet she’d grabbed in the Poetry Café advertising a poetry slam. She began studying the small print, although she’d read it so many times she could practically recite it off by heart.
“What’s that?” Savannah said.
“Oh, just a leaflet.” Sky’s face flushed. “About a poetry slam.”
“Really?”
Sky glanced at Savannah, half-expecting her to be turning away, but she looked genuinely interested. “Your dad’s told me all about your poetry.”
“Has he?”
“Yes. He says you’re amazing.”
Sky felt her anti-Savannah barrier lower very slightly.
“Are you going to be entering?” Savannah asked.
“Oh no!” Sky blushed. “Well, I’d like to, but I’m not sure I could, you know … get up in front of all those people and compete…”
Liam returned and placed the papers on the breakfast bar. Savannah looked at them anxiously.
“I’m sure you’ll be great,” she said, but she sounded distracted. She pi
cked up a paper and started flicking through.
“She’ll be great at what?” Liam asked.
Sky showed him the leaflet. “I’m thinking of entering this poetry slam.”
“You should.” Liam’s face was serious. “I mean it, you really should.”
“But I—”
“Bastards!” Savannah flung the paper down. “I need to call Antonio,” she said, rushing from the room.
“Who’s Antonio?” Sky asked.
Liam sighed. “Her manager.”
They both looked down at the paper.
SAVANNAH FERNDALE CELLULITE SHAME the headline screamed, right over a picture of Savannah in a bikini. Has the UK’s top model passed her sell-by date? The article continued.
“That’s horrible,” Sky murmured.
“I know.”
“Is this – is this why she was upset last night? She looked like she’d been crying.”
Liam nodded and ran his hands through his hair, the way he did when he was stressed. “She knew they were going to run a story on her, and she knew it wasn’t going to be good. Someone at the paper gave her manager the nod.” Liam stood up. “I’d better go and see how she is.”
“OK.” Sky looked back at the paper. The article accused Savannah of looking “haggard” and “old”, and of having had too many cosmetic procedures. “I think it’s time Ms Ferndale gave up gracefully and handed the baton to a younger, more flawless model,” it concluded. Even though Sky wasn’t exactly Savannah’s greatest fan, this felt wrong. She heard the muffled sound of crying from upstairs.
Rose stared around the coffee shop blankly. In the background she could hear the monotone hum of her school friends talking – conversations they’d all had a million times before. Who fancied who. Who hated who. Who was going to get “like, so drunk” at the weekend. Yada. Yada. Yada. It was all so freakin’ boring. All day Rose had had a weird sense of being disconnected from the rest of the world. In lesson after lesson she’d gone through the motions, pretending to listen, pretending to read and write. Pretending to exist. The only thing she’d wanted to think about, the only place she’d wanted to be, was in the patisserie with Francesca, eating cake and drinking chocolate and being soothed by her lilting accent and beautiful smile.
“Look, there’s Matt.” Rose’s friend Jasmine nudged her as a group from the local boys’ school walked into the café. Rose watched Matt with the same sense of detachment. If she didn’t know him already, what would she think of him? She studied his shiny chestnut hair, his chiselled jaw, his tight trousers over his rugby player’s legs. He was the living, breathing definition of super-cute, she was sure of it. So why did he leave her feeling so dead inside? You know why, her inner voice chided. But she didn’t want to listen to it. Not now, anyway.
“Parker, get me a skinny hazelnut latte, bruv!” Matt yelled to his friend at the counter.
Disappointment fanned out inside Rose until she felt as if she could barely breathe. Why had she sent him that picture? It was the dumbest thing she’d ever done, and she’d done some dumb things in her time. Rose fumbled under the table for her bag. She had to go.
“Hello, babe.” She looked up to see Matt standing in front of her, blocking her escape. Damn.
“Hi,” she muttered, putting her bag back on the floor.
“Room on there for me?” Matt asked, nodding to the bench she was sitting on.
“Of course,” Jasmine replied in a singsong voice as she shifted along to make room. She fancied Matt, Rose was sure of it.
Rose moved up, searching her brain for an excuse to leave.
Though there was loads of space, Matt sat so close, his thigh was pressing into hers.
“All day I’ve been looking at that picture you sent me,” he whispered.
“What?” Rose’s heart began thudding. “In school?”
“Yeah. It definitely made chemistry more exciting.”
“But—”
“What?” Matt put his hand on her knee. It felt heavy, like a great slab of meat.
Rose took a deep breath. She didn’t want him to see how stressed she was. She had to play it cool.
“Someone could have seen it.”
Matt laughed. “Don’t worry. They didn’t.” His fingers started moving up the inside of her thigh.
Rose shifted to try and get him to stop, but instead he moved his hand higher.
“Not here,” she hissed in his ear.
He took his hand away. “Shall we go somewhere else, then?”
“Like where?” Rose said, trying to buy a little more time.
“I don’t know. Somewhere private.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to – got to have dinner with my new step-dad.”
Matt frowned at her. “What new step-dad?”
“You know, the yoga teacher.” Rose didn’t know why she even expected him to remember. Whenever she spoke to Matt, he was thinking of the next thing he was going to say.
“Oh. Right.” Matt started to smirk. “Don’t think he’ll be around too much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not if those pictures in the paper are anything to go by.” He laughed and gave her leg a squeeze. “Just kidding.”
Rose frowned. “What pictures?”
“Of your mum’s cellulite and her facelift. They’re all over the internet. Didn’t you see the Ferndale Facelift hashtag on Twitter?”
Rose felt sick. “No.”
Matt put his arm round her shoulder and pulled her tight. “Don’t worry. It definitely isn’t like mother, like daughter.”
Rose pulled away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, there wasn’t any cellulite on that picture you sent me.”
Rose felt her hot chocolate coming back up and burning the back of her throat. “I have to go.”
“Already? I only just got here.”
Rose grabbed her coat and bag. “Yeah, well.”
“I was only joking.” Matt’s face fell. “Do you want me to walk you to the station?”
“It’s OK,” Rose muttered, standing up.
Matt looked at her legs. She felt his hand moving up them again.
“I have to go,” she said. “Can you let me out?”
“Can you let me out, what?” Matt asked with a grin.
Can you let me out, loser, echoed through Rose’s mind. Then she thought of the photos he had of her on his phone.
“Can you let me out, please?” she said as sweetly as she could without actually vomiting.
Matt sighed and got to his feet. “Let me know when you’re free to meet up,” he said.
“Yep. Will do.” Rose went to move past him, but his arms encircled her waist.
“Oy, Matthew, get a room, bro!” Parker shouted, coming over to the table with a tray of drinks.
Matt laughed. “Good idea,” he whispered in Rose’s ear.
Rose pulled her face into a fake smile and slipped from his grasp.
By the time Rose got back to Hampstead her body was taut with tension. A signal failure on the tube meant she’d had to spend half an hour trapped on a crowded carriage with her face in some guy’s armpit. And with every automated message apologizing for the delay, her fears had amplified. What if someone saw the photos of her on Matt’s phone? What had the papers said about her mom? And what kind of mood would she be in when she got home? Rose thought back to the last time a paper had run a negative story on Savannah, accusing her of having wrinkles. She’d sunk into a deep depression for a month and had so much Botox she could barely move her mouth.
Rose unlocked the front door and stepped into the hall. Instead of hearing an ominous silence, or Savannah crying, she could hear her laughing – really loudly – in the living room. Then she heard Sky laugh. And Liam. What the hell was going on? She shut the door quietly, crept over to the living room and peered in. Savannah and Sky were walking up and down the room with books balanced on their heads.
“Keep looking ahead!” Savannah
called. “Don’t show any fear.”
“Yeah, work that book, baby!” Liam called, and they all started cracking up laughing again.
Rose shook her head in disbelief. It was like watching a re-run of a scene from her childhood, but with Sky and Liam playing her and her dad.
“When you come to a standstill, put one hand on your hip – it makes you look like you mean business,” Savannah said.
Rose watched as Sky did this and Savannah adjusted her.
Rose’s throat tightened. So, the moment she’d told Savannah she had no interest in becoming a model she’d found herself a replacement. Rose’s body crawled with jealousy. And to think that she’d got angry and defensive when Matt had been joking about Savannah.
Rose slunk upstairs to her bedroom and grabbed one of the pillows from her bed. The first time she punched it she felt self-conscious, but then she pummelled it again and again, pouring out all of the anger and resentment she’d been bottling up for so long. Finally, exhausted, she lay back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. From now on she was going to do exactly what her parents did: look out for number one. She would get Matt’s phone and delete that photo. Then she would leave Liam and Savannah and Sky to play happy families and get the hell out of there. And she would never, ever let anyone hurt her again.
Chapter Twenty
Amber sorted through the coat rail in Retro-a-go-go, her head bursting from a full-blown question attack. This time her questions weren’t random or philosophical – they were all targeted on one subject, one person: Sky. What should she say to Sky when she arrived? How could she keep the conversation going? Where should she suggest they go? Amber picked up a faded denim jacket that had fallen to the floor. This having a friend business was stressful. If she could call Sky her friend… Could she call her her friend? They’d only met twice and once had been by chance, so that didn’t count, did it? Aaargh! Amber shoved the coats back on the rail with such force that the whole thing toppled over.
The Moonlight Dreamers Page 10