A few times recently Dan had felt that someone was watching him. There was nothing concrete, nothing that he could report to the police, but occasionally the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end and he’d turn round quickly, trying to figure out what was making him feel so jittery. Dan felt a shiver run down his spine.
Don’t be stupid, he told himself. It’s just one of the neighbours leaving for work.
And yet...
It was possible he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after being held at gunpoint on the yacht, but somehow Dan didn’t think that was the whole story. There’d been five people on that boat when it capsized: himself, Rose, Max the criminal mastermind, and two Geordies, Max’s henchmen. The Geordies had drowned, their bloated bodies washing up a couple of days later a few miles down the coast. But no one knew what had happened to Max. His body had never turned up although it would have been a miracle if he’d survived. Still, Dan couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Max was out there, biding his time.
Dan looked again at the motorcyclist. In all honesty, there was nothing suspicious about him, except why wasn’t he riding off?
You’re turning into an old woman, Dan chided himself. You’ll be jumping at your own shadow next.
As if sensing that Dan was watching him, the motorcyclist lifted his head in Dan’s direction, the morning sun glinting off his visor. Dan looked away quickly. Now he was the one behaving oddly. It’s just a guy on his way to work. They hadn’t lived in this street long enough to get to know any of the neighbours and people kept to themselves, not wanting to bother with newcomers. Dan pushed off from the kerb and pedalled down the road. All was calm for the first ten yards or so, and then he heard it: the full-throated roar of a well-oiled engine. He kept over to the left, giving the motorbike plenty of room to overtake, but the rider accelerated past him so fast that Dan wobbled and almost fell off. He stopped cycling and glared as the motorcyclist disappeared down the road. He didn’t manage to catch the number plate. With a shake of his head he turned onto the main road and headed towards the college. He was going to be late.
~~~
Rose alighted on Filey Road and walked the short distance to the main entrance where parents were driving in and out, dropping off younger children. The college buildings were hidden from view by a grassy bank and a long line of trees. On the opposite side of the road were large, detached Edwardian houses with big cars in their driveways. This was definitely the affluent end of town.
Rose looked down the road, hoping to see Dan arriving but he was nowhere in sight. However, he had sent a text so she knew he was on his way. She hung around outside the college for a while, watching the cars coming and going. He’d be cycling in, so maybe he’d got held up in traffic. She’d ridden his bike once, a road-racer with dropped handle-bars, and it hadn’t been an enjoyable experience, although that might have had something to do with the fact that she was following a car in which Dan was being held captive in the boot. She’d abandoned the bike, unlocked, round the back of some public lavatories before following Dan onto the yacht and, miraculously, the bike had still been there forty-eight hours later.
She checked her phone but there were no new messages and there was still no sign of Dan. She had hoped they might arrive at the same time and she wouldn’t have to go in alone, but that was probably too much to ask for. She scolded herself for being such a wimp and made her way onto the campus.
The old part of the school was a long, red-brick, three-storey building with gabled windows on the top floor. Newer extensions had been bolted on over the years to produce a hotch-potch of buildings that clustered together around a central courtyard. Rose tried to remember where she was supposed to go. She’d only visited once, at the end of the summer, when Andrea had made the last-minute decision to stay on in Scarborough after Rose’s grandmother had died. She looked around now, feeling helpless. Groups of laughing, chattering students walked past her without so much as a sideways glance. I’ll soon get to know people, she told herself. You’ve just got to go in and smile. It’s not that hard. But where was she supposed to go? She spotted a sign saying Reception and headed in that direction. She’d just have to admit that she was lost.
The reception area smelled of fresh paint as if the decorators had only just finished the day before. Huge abstract paintings and collages by senior art students adorned the walls. In prime position was a large photograph of all the pupils and teachers arranged in formal rows with the old school building behind them. The front of the receptionist’s counter was piled with glossy copies of the school prospectus. The receptionist, a middle-aged lady with her hair in a neat bob, was calmly dealing with a stressed-out mother who was complaining that she hadn’t been able to buy all the required sports kit for her eleven-year-old son because the shop had run out of the necessary items. The boy stood by her side in a blazer two sizes too big for him, looking embarrassed and miserable. Rose waited her turn.
When the receptionist had done her best to reassure the mother that her son wouldn’t face a detention in his first week for not being properly kitted out on the rugby pitch, she turned to Rose with a smile. “Can I help you?” Rose was about to speak when the receptionist’s phone rang. “Just one minute.” She smiled apologetically. “Hello, Scarborough College, how may I help you?”
Rose waited whilst the receptionist held a conversation about a consignment of chemistry books that hadn’t yet arrived. After securing a promise that they would be delivered first thing tomorrow morning, she turned back to Rose. Rose felt guilty. The poor woman obviously had more pressing concerns than dealing with someone who was lost.
“I’m sorry,” said Rose, “but this is my first day in the sixth form and I can’t remember where I’m supposed to go.”
“That’s all right.” The receptionist consulted a piece of paper on her desk. “You must be Rose Jenkins, is that right?”
Rose nodded.
“The sixth form common room is up on the second floor. Let me see if there’s someone who can show you the way.” She removed her reading glasses which hung on a beaded chain around her neck and leaned forwards, searching for a suitable guide amongst the teachers and students who were now arriving in increasing numbers. “Ah, yes, there’s someone.” She called in a slightly louder voice, “Scarlett, could you come over here a moment please?”
A girl with long black hair, wearing a designer jacket and carrying a shoulder bag in mock crocodile purple leather, approached the reception desk. She was followed by two friends who were obviously trying, with less success, to imitate Scarlett’s high-end fashion look. Rose immediately felt underdressed. She hoped that not all the sixth-form girls came to school attired like cat-walk models.
“Scarlett, this is Rose,” said the receptionist. “She’s new here today. Could you show her to the common room please?”
Scarlett turned to face Rose and the smile that she’d given the receptionist was immediately wiped off her face. She scrutinised Rose for a moment, her dark eyes framed with mascara-lengthened lashes.
“Hi,” said Rose, trying to smile and look confident.
Scarlett turned back to the receptionist and for a moment she was all sweetness and light. “Sure,” she said. “I’d be delighted to.” She looked at Rose. “It’s this way.”
Rose adjusted her bag on her shoulder and followed the three girls who were now walking ahead of her, whispering furiously amongst themselves. Rose was sure she heard Scarlett say, “It’s her. It’s definitely her.” One of Scarlett’s friends glanced over her shoulder at Rose who was feeling increasingly uneasy.
They walked down a corridor lined with framed portraits of former headmasters and smelling strongly of wood polish. Turning a corner, they came to a flight of stairs. As they started to climb, Scarlett hung back from her friends and sidled up to Rose. “I know you,” she said. “You’re the girl from the boat that capsized.” There was no warmth in her tone. It sounded more like an accusation.
/>
“Yes,” said Rose. She hadn’t expected to be recognised that easily.
“I saw your picture in the newspaper,” said Scarlett. “I thought you were only here on holiday.”
“We decided to stay on in Scarborough,” said Rose. “After Gran died.”
“I see,” said Scarlett. She sounded disappointed, even a little angry. Rose was at a loss to understand what Scarlett’s problem was and was also annoyed at having to justify her presence in the town. She had just as much right to be here as anyone else, but it wasn’t an encouraging start and her confidence was at a pretty low ebb when they arrived in the common room.
It was a large room with black leather sofas arranged at right angles, a bank of computers along one wall and a kitchen area at the far end with a kettle and coffee machine. Students stood or sat in groups, chatting or laughing over pictures on their phones. Some of them were browsing the Internet on the computers. Scarlett and her friends dumped Rose by the door and didn’t invite her to join them. She wouldn’t have wanted to anyway after that frosty welcome. Was everyone going to be like that? She hoped not. She looked around for Dan but still couldn’t see him anywhere. A voice at her side made her jump.
“Hi, are you new?” Rose turned to see a smiling girl with light brown hair tied in a loose ponytail, her face covered in freckles. “I’m Sophie. What’s your name?”
~~~
By the time he’d locked his bike in the bike sheds and made his way inside, the corridors were deserted and the first lessons had already started. Dan had missed registration when the timetables would have been handed out. He had chosen to study maths, computer science and chemistry but without a timetable he had no idea where he was supposed to be. Worse than that, he’d arrived too late to meet Rose. He’d have to try and catch her at morning break and hope she wasn’t too mad at him, but right now he needed to see the receptionist, sign the late-register and ask her for a copy of his timetable. Not a great start to the new term.
The receptionist was busy on the phone. Dan signed in whilst he waited for her to finish. Eventually she put the phone down and turned to him. “Good morning, Daniel,” she said, peering at him over the top of her reading glasses. “Trouble with the alarm clock this morning?”
“Yeah, something like that,” said Dan.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting a copy of your timetable then?” She smiled at him.
“Yes, please.”
She swivelled her chair round to the computer screen, pulled up his timetable with a few clicks of the mouse and printed it off.
“There you go,” she said, handing it to him.
“Thank you,” said Dan, gratefully.
Dan glanced at the timetable as he hurried along the corridor. He was supposed to be in computer science class, on the second floor. The lesson had started five minutes ago. He ran up the stairs two at a time. The computer room was at the end of the corridor. He peered through the glass panel in the door which, fortunately, was at the back of the classroom. He could slip in without causing too much fuss. He waited until Miss Harris turned to face the white board, then eased open the door and slid into the nearest seat on the back row. Maybe she wouldn’t even notice he was late. He leaned across the desk and switched on the laptop in front of him.
“Hello, Dan,” said a female voice next to him. He jumped. Oh God, not her!
He had inadvertently sat down next to Scarlett Denvers. She flashed him a smile, leaned over and placed a hand on his arm. “Glad you decided to show up.” Dan winced. Was it too late to change his study options?
~~~
“That’s quite a reading list,” said Sophie as she and Rose walked out of the English department and headed back to the common room for morning break. The English teacher, an enthusiastic young man called, to everyone’s amusement, Mr Dickens, had handed out copies of The Great Gatsby and given them a list of a dozen other titles that he was encouraging them to read before Christmas. “Think I’ll give Moby Dick a miss. My brother tried it and said it was boring as hell.”
Rose laughed. Even though she’d only known Sophie for about an hour, it felt like the start of a firm friendship.
“I saw the way Scarlett dumped you by the door,” Sophie had said, after introducing herself. “She can be funny like that with new people.”
“She said she recognised me from the newspaper,” Rose had told Sophie. “For some reason that caused her a problem.”
“Scarlett has lots of problems. Don’t worry about it.”
They’d got chatting and Rose was delighted to find they were both doing history and English. Rose was also doing French and Sophie was doing Spanish.
“Come and meet the rest of the gang,” said Sophie as they returned to the common room. Sophie slotted her arm through Rose’s and led her to a corner sofa where two girls and a boy were sitting. “Hey everyone, this is Rose. Rose, meet Clare and Evie and James.”
“Hi,” said Rose, smiling at the group. They all greeted her warmly and Rose was relieved to see that, unlike Scarlett, neither of the girls were dressed as if for a photo-shoot. Clare and Evie were sipping herbal teas out of chunky mugs. James, a skinny guy with pimples on his forehead, lifted the lid on a Star Wars lunch box and extracted an enormous cheese sandwich.
“Budge up,” said Sophie, pushing her way onto the edge of the sofa.
The others obligingly shuffled along and Rose sat down, accepted into the group without questions or judgements.
“Have you just moved to Scarborough?” asked Clare.
“Yes,” said Rose. She explained how she and her mother had come to Scarborough in the summer to stay with her grandmother in the little house on Tollergate, but that her grandmother had died of a heart attack and Andrea had decided they would stay on in Scarborough and start a new life for themselves.
“Sorry to hear about your grandmother,” said Evie. “That’s a rotten thing to happen on holiday.”
“Thanks.”
They fell silent for a moment, then Sophie said, “But Rose had a bit of an adventure over the summer. Go on, tell them.”
Three pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. James held the sandwich halfway to his open mouth.
“Did you hear about the boat that capsized?” asked Rose.
“Yes,” said Clare, excitedly. She turned to Evie who looked blank. “You remember, there was that freak storm and the old lunatic asylum fell into the sea. And there was an expensive yacht that keeled over and sank.” She turned back to Rose. “You weren’t on it were you?”
“Yep, that was me.”
“Oh my God,” said Clare, cupping her hand to her mouth. “I only really paid attention because my mum saw it in the paper and noticed that Dan was involved.”
“You must be terribly brave,” said Evie, putting her hand on Rose’s arm. “I don’t know how you managed to survive. It must have been freezing in that water.”
“I nearly didn’t,” said Rose, remembering waking up in hospital.
“Well, we’re glad you did,” said Sophie.
James jumped to his feet then and waved his sandwich in the air. “Hey mate, thought you weren’t going to show up this morning.”
Dan was walking across the common room, his rucksack slung over his shoulder, his fair hair flopping into his eyes and Rose’s heart did that skip-a-beat thing it always did when she saw him. He’d made it then. But a short distance behind him, watching him with her dark eyes, walked Scarlett. There was something about the way Scarlett regarded Dan that caused Rose to feel a tightening in her chest. Dan appeared oblivious to Scarlett’s scrutiny as he made his way over to where Rose and the rest of them were sitting.
“Hi,” he said, sitting down next to Rose and kissing her on the cheek. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”
“That’s okay. Sophie’s been looking after me.”
“And we’ve been hearing all about your exciting summer,” said Evie.
“Well,” said Dan, “it was pretty scary actually.” He to
ok Rose’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She understood what the gesture meant. No one else would ever fully understand what she and Dan had been through together.
Whilst the others chatted about their less thrilling but more relaxing summer holidays, Rose couldn’t help glancing across the room. Scarlett was watching her with a look of undisguised dislike. Well, Scarlett could sod off. Rose had made some new friends and Dan was here now, so that was all that mattered.
The bell rang for the end of break and everyone got to their feet, agreeing to meet up for lunch in the school cafeteria. Rose checked her timetable. Double French. She hadn’t spoken a word of French over the summer so she guessed she was going to find out how much she’d forgotten.
“I’ll show you where to go,” said Sophie. “The French classroom is next door to Spanish.”
It wasn’t until the end of the day that Rose and Dan found themselves alone.
“So how was your first day?” Dan asked as they walked to the bike sheds.
“Yeah, it was all right actually. I was really nervous this morning but that was just stupid of me. Everyone’s really friendly.” Well, maybe not everyone. She remembered Scarlett’s hostile reception and the way she had looked at Rose during break time, but Rose didn’t want to spoil her time with Dan by whingeing about someone she hardly knew.
“Just as long as they’re not too friendly,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her on the lips.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “They’re not as friendly as you.”
He unlocked his bike and wheeled it as they walked to Rose’s bus stop. Dan had fallen silent and Rose could tell he had something on his mind from the way he was biting his lower lip. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
Scarborough Ball (Scarborough Fair Book 2) Page 2