by Carmen Reid
No. No way. Absolutely no way! Never, ever. It was Niffy who should be picked for the national team. She was really, really good. She deserved a place. And anyway, if Nif was on the team, she'd be up in Edinburgh regularly for practices and Amy would get to see her much more often.
That was all Amy wanted: to see plenty of Niffy. She'd thought she needed to be on the team to do this, but now she saw that so long as Niff was on the team, it would be fine.
'Pass, you airhead!' Penny hissed across the pitch, and at these words Amy suddenly found it easy to deliberately fumble the ball and send off a wonky shot that landed exactly where someone on Niffy's team would get it.
Just three fast passes later and Niffy had scored. She celebrated her victory by running straight up to Amy and giving her a high-five.
'Totally pathetic,' Penny fired at Amy, once she'd made sure the coach was out of earshot.
It was not until ninety minutes later that the coaches had whittled down their selection by playing the group of hopefuls in a series of brutal matches, and the Scottish under-seventeen squads were announced.
'Penny Boswell-Hackett' was read out, and there was a long wait as the coach went alphabetically down the list before announcing, 'Luella Nairn-Bassett.'
'Yessssss!' Niffy and Amy weren't shy in shouting out their excited response to this.
It wasn't a guaranteed place in the Scottish team for either of them, but a place on the thirty-strong squad.
'Nice try, losers.' Penny's comment was aimed mainly at Amy.
Amy turned her back on Penny and pretended she hadn't heard a thing. 'When's your train home?' she asked Niffy.
'No hurry. I thought we'd all go to the Arts Café for old times' sake.'
No one had told her about the ongoing awkwardness between Gina and Dermot then . . .
'You could go and see your dishy lover boy,' Niffy bumbled on, quite unaware of the glances Amy and Min were shooting at Gina.
'Ha!' was the first thing Gina said.
'Oh dear – has it all gone wrong?' Niffy asked. 'Nobody tells me anything!'
'Oh . . . you know, not really . . .' Gina began. But inside, she was deciding not to be a baby. In fact, she was going to be big about this. Wasn't she? She'd been to the guy's house, she'd eaten lunch, met his mum. She couldn't go on just ignoring him. Could she?
'No,' she insisted, tucking her little Prada up underneath her arm, 'it's fine. Honestly, let's just go. I'll be fine.'
'Have you told him you might see him this weekend?' Amy wondered.
'Well, not exactly. Erm . . . vin fact, no. I told him I just wanted to be friends.'
'Oh . . .' Niffy, Amy and Min all replied together, finally understanding exactly how awkward this was going to be.
Chapter Nine
Saturday afternoon on a beautiful September day and the café wasn't too crowded because people were out and about – shopping and strolling around and enjoying the very last burst of summer sunshine.
As soon as the girls came in, they were spotted by Dermot, who was working his usual Saturday shift. Because he was pale-skinned, his vibrant pink blush didn't exactly go unnoticed.
'There's a big table free – over there in the corner,' Min pointed out helpfully.
Gina gave Dermot a smile and a wave, then followed her friends over to the table.
He stood very still and seemed at a loss – unsure whether to smile and wave back, or turn on his heel, or glare . . . or what? He settled for running a hand through his hair with a confused look on his face.
As soon as Gina and her friends had settled down in their chairs, he approached them with his notepad at the ready.
'Well, hello there,' he began, his clear blue eyes meeting Gina's. 'This is a bit . . . unexpected.'
'Hi, Dermot.' She gave him a friendly smile back. 'How's it going?'
'Oh . . . I'm fine. Nice of you to ask,' he added pointedly. 'What have you been up to?'
'Well' – Gina was finding his gaze unsettling; she was now fiddling with her hair a little nervously – 'I've been busy at school . . . and Niffy's come up to see us. She's just been picked to play in the Scottish hockey team.' She hoped this would move the conversation on.
'Hey! Well done. That's great.' Dermot turned and offered Niffy his outstretched hand to congratulate her.
As he and Niffy shook, Gina took a proper look at him. He was in his café uniform: blue shirt, black trousers, blue and white striped apron. His hair had grown out just a little since she'd last seen him. Watching him hold Niffy's hand and smile warmly at her, Gina couldn't deny the pang she felt. But she still thought it was best if they were just friends. Friends was fine. Then she wouldn't need to feel jealous or anxious, or suffer any kind of pain when he went off with Scarlett . . . or whoever else.
'How's your mum?' Dermot asked Niffy.
'She's doing really well,' she told him, her voice resolutely cheerful – although she was just beginning to realize, sitting here in the café with her three friends, that she would give anything to be back at St Jude's with them and for life to be back to normal. She was deeply jealous of their wonderfully normal lives.
'So you've left the Daffodils?' Dermot asked her. Last term the four had shared the Daffodil dorm at the boarding house.
'She has, but only temporarily,' Amy chipped in. 'And we're not Daffodils any more.'
'No, we're Irises,' Min told him. Although she was generally shy around boys, she felt at ease with Dermot because he was so nice and friendly to them all.
'Oh, Irises . . . Much more classy.' He treated her to one of his kindest smiles. 'And how are you doing?' he asked her. 'They've managed to drag you away from your books for the afternoon?'
'Yeah . . . but apparently you're a bookworm too,' Min replied, remembering some of the details of Gina's date.
'Oh!' Dermot seemed almost flustered. 'Did Gina tell you that?' He nodded in her direction.
'Yes,' Min went on. 'She said your house was full of books, that you've read most of them and you're one of the smartest boys she's ever met.'
'Hmmm.' Dermot was colouring up a little at this. 'Did she say anything about me being cute though? Funny? No? Devilishly handsome? Because if it was all just about how clever I am, then I'm in big trouble.' He risked giving Gina a teasing smile.
But she was starting up with a fierce blush of her own. This was just too cheeky. Why was he asking Min to reveal her secrets?
Luckily, before Min had to try and come up with the tactful and diplomatic answer that these questions demanded, there was a sharp: 'Dermot! The orders!' from the gruff-looking man behind the counter.
Dermot gave him a smile and a quick salute in response.
'Is that your dad?' Gina asked in a low voice.
'Yup, the one and only. I'd introduce you, but he's in a very grumpy mood, and anyway, I'm not quite sure where we are . . .' He gave her a very frank, direct look, which made her heart beat nervously. 'Friends . . .?'he asked, keeping his eyes on hers. 'More than friends . . .? You know what? I'll leave you to think about it. So . . .' He straightened up and looked down at his notebook, pencil at the ready. 'Don't tell me, double skinny latte, no sugar, no chocolate on top.'
'Yes,' Gina answered. Here at least was one question she could cope with. 'Thanks.' She smiled as nicely as she could, to make up for the fact that she really didn't know how to answer his other questions yet.
When Dermot returned to the girls' table with their coffees, he was annoyed to see that three guys he recognized from the snooty Edinburgh boys' school St Lennox were settling down beside the four Daffodils – no, Irises; he wasn't going to be able to get that into his head. They'd always be the Daffodils to him. One of the guys was even squeezing himself into the small sofa right next to Gina!
'So lovely to see you!' Charlie Fotheringham's loud, posh voice was booming across the table. 'Tell me all your news! Niffy! Why are you here? I thought you were on a leave of absence.'
As the dorm girls took turns to explain a
ll the latest to him and his two friends, Dermot set the mugs down noisily on the table, then grumpily took the boys' orders.
'I had a brilliant summer.' Charlie settled back in the sofa, his arms behind his head.
Amy and Min were exchanging annoyed glances. Neither of them had actually invited the boys to sit down at their table like this. They were both desperate to hear Niffy's news and find out how she was settling in to her new school. As for Gina, she just wanted to be left alone to think about Dermot properly, logically, without this nervous hammering in her chest. None of the girls were really in the mood for flirty chat from these three boys.
But never mind – Charlie was clearly intent on telling them about the fun he and his pals had had waterskiing off the Cap d' Antibes all summer. Aha – that was why they all looked so good: deep brown tans; hair tousled and lightened in a way that could only be achieved by a long hot summer in the Med. They sported the expensive casual clothes that marked them out as the wealthiest of the wealthy St Lennox boys: preppy Gant and Ralph Lauren labels, shiny leather belts and beautifully cut jackets – one of them even had a Tag Heuer watch glinting softly on his wrist.
Dermot, who was hovering behind Gina, tried to be subtle. He leaned down over the back of the sofa, brushing against her arm and hair, and whispered to her, 'I'm not working tomorrow . . . Would you like to meet up in the afternoon, my friend? I want to go and see an exhibition at the Modern Art Gallery, and they have fantastic cakes. Almost as good as here,' he added persuasively.
At his accidental touch, Gina felt a shiver travel down the back of her neck. Suddenly she thought of them kissing on his bed, and the burst of warmth in the pit of her stomach fired up once again. But still, she didn't want to commit to something as definite as another date with him. So she told him, 'I'll call you, OK?'
When Charlie heard her utter these words, he turned his head in astonishment, saw her talking to Dermot and boomed out, 'Gina, are you dating the waiter? The waiter?'
'Why don't you mind your own business?' Gina told him calmly.
'But,' he spluttered, 'St Jude's girls don't go about dating the – the hired help.'
Could he have sounded more snobbish?
'What?' Amy exclaimed. 'Welcome to the twenty-first century, Charlie. Shame you missed the twentieth!'
'Nice guys,' muttered Dermot under his breath, just loud enough for them all to hear. But he didn't want to cause any sort of scene, especially with his dad already in such a bad mood, so he turned on his heel and walked quickly away.
'Charlie, you pompous arse,' Niffy said gently, with a teasing smile yet quiet authority. And at this, Charlie bit his lip.
This was Niffy's power. She had a big brother, so she was totally at ease with boys in a way that Gina, Amy and Min just weren't. But more than that: pompous, titled members of the Edinburgh aristocracy didn't overawe her because her mum had been to school in Edinburgh; her grandmother and even her great-grandmother had been to school in Edinburgh. She knew these people. She had been to their christenings, their toddler birthday parties; she knew all their parents; she even had a stately home of her own. She was one of them in a way that Amy, Gina and Min were not, never would be and would never want to be.
So when Niffy called Charlie a pompous arse, he had to listen.
'Well, she's only a Yank,' Charlie muttered. 'What can you expect?'
At this, Gina felt angry tears spring to her eyes; more than anything else she wanted to hit Charlie. But, like Dermot, she didn't want to make a scene in his café.
'Charlie, I think it's time for you and your friends to buzz off,' Amy said between gritted teeth. 'You see, we only have Niffy for another hour or two and we'd like to keep her to ourselves.'
Gina caught Min's eye. Min was looking at her over the top of her cappuccino.
'Do you think Dermot's OK?' she asked Gina in her quiet, clear voice.
That was all Gina needed. Before the boys had even picked up their coffees, she was already on her feet. She'd decided to tell Dermot that a date at the Modern Art Gallery tomorrow would be fine – would be more than fine, would be great. Delightful. She was glad that Charlie was such an idiot, and that Min was so thoughtful – because together they'd helped her to see quite clearly what a very nice boy she had on her hands in Dermot.
She caught up with him at the counter, where he was loading a tray with an order for another table.
'Do you still want to go out tomorrow, Dermot?' she asked quickly, before he made her too nervous to say the words. 'Because I know I'd really like to,' she added, to make sure that he understood why she was there.
But Dermot turned to her with a serious face. 'You know what?' he began, picking up the tray and turning away from her. 'It's obvious we don't belong together, so I think we should just forget it.'
Chapter Ten
A note, folded so often and so tightly that it looked like a little ball of paper, plopped onto the classroom table in front of Amy. She looked round but couldn't immediately see where it had come from. There were seventeen girls in the English class, all with their heads bent down over the afternoon's assignment – a comprehension test based on some half-page of writing so long-winded and tedious you had to wonder why the examiner had bothered with the ten ridiculous questions. The first one set the tone for the rest: 'When the narrator uses the word "derogatory", what do you think he means?'
Amy had been writing, but with all the enthusiasm of someone trying to stave off sleep. She'd even felt her eyelids sagging once or twice, so the small note pinging onto her table was an excitement, to say the least.
Gina had seen it land too; even Min had been roused from her frantic scribbling to give it a quick glance, but then she'd sniffed and made a disapproving face. She didn't like any distractions from her work.
'Go on,' Gina urged under her breath. 'Take a peek.'
Amy moved the ball of paper down out of sight onto her lap, then quickly unfurled it.
The scribbled words in front of her read:
Suzie Woodrow's lawyer dad has been charged with drink driving but it won't be coming up in court because he's done a deal. Pass it on.
Amy glanced up at Suzie, who was sitting at the table across from theirs. She had paused for a moment in her writing and was chewing the skin at the corner of her nail while looking distractedly out of the window.
Someone else might have taken this as proof that this little titbit of gossip was true, but Amy wasn't impressed. She wasn't impressed by the gossip either. This was the kind of titbit you got when you were in a classroom full of Edinburgh lawyers' and doctors' daughters. It almost made her homesick for her old school, where the hot chitchat was, as often as not, about whose dad had gone to jail. In Amy's book, if you couldn't get off a stupid little drink-drive charge, what was the point in being a flaming lawyer?
She picked up her pen and wrote at the bottom of the note:
You call this gossip? Penny B-H having nits is much more exciting than that. Pass it on.
Then, making sure that Mrs Parker's head was bent over her desk, she flicked it idly onto the table Suzie was sitting at, just to stir things up a little.
'Girls!' Mrs Parker raised her head, suddenly filled with fresh enthusiasm for the lesson. 'I haven't told you about the house competition we've come up with here in the English department.'
Some barely suppressed groans met this announcement.
Amy was one of the groaners: hadn't Mrs Parker and her inter-house competition caused quite enough trouble last term when Amy had stood against Penny in the debating contest? Yes, Amy's side had in fact won, but only by the skin of their teeth, and it had been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life to date. No way was she going to repeat that. Whatever Mrs Parker was going to suggest, Amy was not going to get involved. No. Definitely not.
'Obviously the summer debating season is over' – Mrs Parker pushed back her frizzy blonde hair and shot Amy, then Penny, a significant look – 'and a lot of fun it was too,' she
added. 'And there was I thinking that blood sports had been banned . . . No, no, this term . . .' She stood up and walked in front of her desk, revealing to the class her sassy purple and black dress with matching waistcoat in all its glory.
'Where do you think she shops?' Gina hissed into Amy's ear.
'eBay,' came Amy's tart response. 'It's either eBay or India, or maybe Monsoon. All equally bad.'
'Girls!' Mrs Parker shushed them. 'This term we want to inspire you to get involved with the dramatic arts . . .' The English teacher seemed to enjoy the slight hush that this announcement brought. Although most of the girls in the room realized that their career options were limited to doctor, lawyer or accountant, a few still nursed a secret longing to be Hollywood film stars.
'We want those girls who are interested to submit a one-act play. The four most fascinating oeuvres will be performed, one by each house. I'll be holding open auditions to choose the cast and the directors. Fun, no?'
Despite her promise to stay out of it, Amy felt her ears prick up. Acting? Yes, obviously she was going to join her dad's nightclub business after she'd done a law or business degree, but she was one of those girls who couldn't help daydreaming about acting just a little. Maybe having a famous actress on board wouldn't be such a bad thing for her dad's business anyway . . . would it?
'A one-act play?' Penny was the first to start with the questions. She was already taking notes, eager to get cracking. She was just such a prize-hunter, already doing everything she could to make sure she was appointed head girl in two years' time. 'So how many words are you looking for?' was her next question. 'How long should it take to perform?'
Mrs Parker was more than happy to elaborate, and provided a list of recommended plays as 'inspiration' for all those planning on entering the competition.
Amy, Gina and Min wrote down the suggested titles.
'Interested?' Min asked Amy.
'Not writing . . . but maybe acting. Gina?'