The paparazzi were already turning their backs on the house, shouting to one another and running down the steps on to the pavement.
‘Hang on!’ Izzy was about to slam the door shut when Summer, dressed in tennis whites and with a racquet in one hand, ran up the steps two at a time.
‘About time,’ Caitlin teased, looking over Summer’s shoulder in an attempt to spot Ludo. ‘What kept you?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ Summer said quietly. ‘Happy birthday, Izzy!’
She tapped Izzy on the shoulder and thrust a parcel into her hands. ‘Did I miss the birthday photos? I thought I wasn’t going to get past that lot – you certainly got maximum coverage this year. What a crowd!’
‘I suppose you think that’s funny,’ muttered Izzy. ‘Look, thanks for the present – but I’ve got to make a phone call.’
Summer glanced at Caitlin and raised an eyebrow.
‘What’s up with her?’ she asked. ‘And why are you soaking wet?’
‘Why are you wearing tennis gear?’ Caitlin returned. ‘And where’s Ludo?’
‘Oh this – I’m, well, from that film, you know – Wimbledon?’ she said hastily. ‘And Ludo’s gone to a movie with a mate – why?’
‘But Izzy said she’d invited him . . .’
‘She did, but no way would my brother do the fancy-dress bit, not for anyone.’
Caitlin’s heart sank. Her own brother was prepared to dress up if it meant being with Izzy. Ludo clearly hadn’t given her a second thought. All her efforts had been for nothing. He had been imprinted on her heart forever and what was she to him? A fleeting memory. If that.
‘Caitlin, you’re shivering,’ Summer said, chucking her tennis racquet to one side.
‘What’s with the drowning rat bit?’
‘Nothing,’ mumbled Caitlin. ‘Just something that seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘So what took you so long?’ Caitlin asked as they headed down to the basement disco. ‘The party started ages ago.’
‘I know.’ Summer shrugged. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t going to come – I hate hanging out at things like this without . . .’
She stopped mid-sentence and bit her lip.
‘Without Ludo?’ Caitlin asked.
‘Ludo? Why would I want to hang out with my brother?’ Summer asked.
‘Well, who then?’ Caitlin looked at her, noticing the flush creeping up her neck and behind her ears. ‘You’re hiding something. I can tell.’
Summer lowered her voice.
‘Listen, if I tell you the whole story, you have to promise on your life that you won’t say a word to a living soul.’
‘I promise,’ Caitlin said, sensing that she was about to be let in on one big secret.
‘Well, about six months ago––’
‘Hey, stop all this girly talk!’ Tom lurched up to Caitlin, grabbed her and planted a rather beery kiss on her lips. ‘Come and dance, sexy!’
‘Tom, stop it!’ Caitlin pulled away. ‘I’m talking to Summer.’
‘It’s OK, you go ahead.’ Summer shrugged. ‘It’s nothing, anyway.’
‘See?’ Tom laughed. ‘What could possibly be more important than you and me partying big time?’
Caitlin was about to tell him where to go, but one glance at Summer assured her that she’d missed the moment. She’d just have to make sure that they had time alone again pretty soon.
Because she was certain that something really mysterious was going on. And if there was one thing she loved, it was a good mystery.
‘Great party,’ Caitlin said to Izzy at midnight as she hunted for her bag in Izzy’s bedroom. ‘I’m bushed – my feet feel like I’ve trekked across continents!’
She eyed Izzy questioningly.
‘You OK?’
‘Why did I do that? Why did I mess up?’ Izzy replied, and Caitlin noticed that she was close to tears.
‘What are you on about? It’s been a brill party! Oh – you haven’t had a row with Jamie, have you?’
‘Of course not. I mean, telling the press where my parents were,’ Izzy said. ‘Apparently they gate-crashed the ball at the Pavilion and took loads of photos while Dad was . . . well, you know . . . having a good time. So I get Mum screaming at me down the phone for making it all more public than it needed to be, saying I’ve let the side down . . .’
‘That’s not fair,’ Caitlin objected. ‘What else could you have done?’
‘Kept my mouth shut, according to my mother,’ Izzy replied. ‘You just don’t know how lucky you are, Caitlin. You can go home to a normal family and do what the hell you like and no one will give a toss.’
She slumped down on the end of the bed.
‘It’s very hard being famous,’ she sighed as the front door slammed downstairs and the sound of chattering drifted up from the pavement below. ‘Such pressure.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not like the press are going to be interested in you, is it?’ Caitlin reasoned. ‘It’s your dad they’re interested in. What do they want to talk to him about?’
‘Oh, the usual – me going to a posh school while his department cut back money to schools, and when they’re tired of that one it’s all about the fact that my parents like to live life, enjoy themselves, drive fast cars . . .’
She flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Sometimes, I wish I was you.’
‘Me?’ Caitlin laughed. ‘Hey, that wouldn’t work – you couldn’t snog Jamie if you were me!’
Instead of the laugh that Caitlin had hoped to produce, Izzy’s face fell and every last trace of bravado faded.
‘You don’t think Jamie will go off me – you know, when the press start on about stuff . . .’
The pleading note in Izzy’s voice wasn’t lost on Caitlin.
‘He’s not that shallow – he’s dead keen on you. He’s never been like this with any other girl.’
‘Really? You mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?’
Caitlin shook her head.
‘By the way,’ she asked casually, ‘what are you up to this holiday?’
‘Sod all, probably,’ Izzy muttered.
‘If I let you into a secret,’ Caitlin said hastily, ‘will you promise faithfully not to tell Jamie I said anything?’
‘Go on then – what?’ Suddenly Izzy was all eagerness.
‘He wants the two of you to go on holiday together,’ Caitlin announced.
‘Oh my God – it’s not true? Really? When? Where?’ Izzy gasped. ‘We could go to Mauritius – it’s so cool, you get little thatched houses on stilts – or maybe Bali! I’ve always wanted––’
‘Hang on,’ Caitlin interrupted. ‘Jamie’s not Bill Gates, you know. But he’s got this plan – and you’ve got to look surprised when he tells you, OK? Because it’s not quite all sorted yet. And it’s going to be great, but trust me, long haul is out!’
‘OK.’ Izzy nodded eagerly. ‘So when’s he going to tell me?’
‘Soon,’ Caitlin assured her. ‘I’m sure it’ll be soon.’
‘Do it now, OK?’ Jamie whispered to Caitlin, glancing over his shoulder to where Summer and a cluster of others were waiting for cabs outside Izzy’s house. ‘Ask her about the holiday.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m relying on you. I’m going to see that Izzy’s OK – don’t let me down!’
‘Your brother seems really nice,’ Summer remarked, scanning the oncoming traffic for a taxi.
‘He is, in small doses.’ Caitlin smiled. ‘Actually, he’s much easier to live with now he’s so in lurve!’
‘I hope he doesn’t get hurt,’ Summer commented. ‘I mean, Izzy’s OK, but she’s just out for a bit of fun and a good laugh.’
‘She hasn’t got much to laugh about right now, though,’ Caitlin remarked. ‘Jamie was saying that he really thinks she’s going to need to get away from her parents for a bit, with all that’s going on with the press and stuff.’
She waited, hoping that Summer would c
otton on.
‘So, is anyone else coming to Casa Vernazza?’ she went on when Summer didn’t respond.
‘Not if I can help it,’ Summer said. ‘Dad keeps on about getting a gang together, because he wants me to have fun, but I reckon it’s just an excuse to get a load of people around so that Gabriella can show off to them.’
She pulled a face. ‘See, there’s a whole heap of stuff I’ve got to sort out this holiday – that’s partly why I need you there. You’re kind of, well, sensitive, and not in your face.’
Caitlin glowed. ‘Is this about what you were going to tell me?’ she began.
Summer nodded.
‘Partly,’ she said. ‘But not now and not here – I’ll tell you when we get to Italy. You’ll understand better once we’re there.’
She sighed. ‘Trouble is, if I don’t invite some mates, Dad’ll probably take matters into his own hands and drag the cousins over, and that, believe me, would be the pits. Anyone would be better than them.’
‘In that case,’ said Caitlin with a smile, ‘I think this is one problem I can help you with.’
Sorted!’ Caitlin told Jamie half an hour later, as they drove home. ‘You owe me – she wasn’t exactly keen. Izzy isn’t her favourite person in the universe.’
‘I can’t see why,’ Jamie protested. ‘She’s great – she’s fun, she’s witty, she’s got this really soft side . . . ’
‘OK, OK – you run the fan club, I’ll tell you the rules,’ said Caitlin, laughing. ‘You two do your own thing, right? Summer and I have got stuff to sort out.’
‘What stuff?’
‘Art project,’ Caitlin told him hastily. ‘We’ll be working flat out. On our own. OK? We don’t want Izzy cribbing all our ideas.’
‘Suits me.’ Jamie grinned. ‘Couldn’t be better. As kid sisters go, I reckon you’re OK.’
CHAPTER 4
‘Circumstances change, opinions alter.’
(Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey)
‘I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, CAITLIN – HOW COULD YOU? HOW could you make such an exhibition of yourself?’
Mrs Morland sat at the kitchen table, staring in disbelief at the photograph in the centre page of the newspaper. While the foreground was taken up by a very angry-looking Izzy, it was the image of Caitlin, glass in hand, lolling in Tom’s arms with a wet dress clinging to every curve, that her mother kept stabbing with her finger.
‘Toeing the party line! Like father, like daughter; teens in wild party while minister preaches about standards . . .’
Her mother looked close to tears.
‘Mum, it wasn’t how it looks,’ Caitlin insisted. ‘We were just––’
‘Look at you!’ her father butted in, leaning over his wife’s shoulder. ‘I can see your underwear! And what have you done to your hair?’
‘Hey, let’s look!’ Jamie shuffled into the kitchen in his bathrobe, hair tousled and stubble on his chin. ‘Wow! That’s some picture.’
‘This is not something to proud of!’ his mother retorted. ‘And as for you, James, what were you doing, letting your sister prance around, swigging alcohol . . .’
‘Oh come on, Mum, I’m not her nanny,’ Jamie reasoned. ‘Anyway, it was no big deal. We were just having a laugh, then the press barged in looking for Izzy’s dad and . . .’
‘Ah yes,’ sighed his dad. ‘Isabella’s father. The papers are having a field day over him.’
He tossed a couple of tabloids on to the table.
‘So I should think!’ Mrs Morland blurted out. ‘He stands up in the Commons preaching about how we should all take responsibility for our children and then he lets his daughter host a drunken party and––’
‘Now wait, Lynne,’ Caitlin’s father said hastily. ‘If I’ve learned one thing in all my years in law, it’s not to believe everything you read in the press. As I keep telling Caitlin when she wastes her money on those awful gossip magazines, if it’s in the press, the chances are it’s at least fifty per cent incorrect.’
‘Precisely!’ Caitlin shouted in triumph and grabbed her opportunity. ‘Just like that photograph – it looks so much worse than it was. I wasn’t drunk – I was so startled I fell back into Tom’s arms when the flash bulbs went off.’
‘So why were you soaking wet, answer me that one?’ her mother demanded.
‘I – er . . .’
‘Come on, Mum,’ Jamie broke in quickly, ‘you can hardly blame Caitlin for the fact that some idiot got silly and hurled a jug of water over her, can you? These things happen at parties.’
He winked at her as their parents glanced at one another.
‘I suppose you have a point,’ Mr Morland said reluctantly. ‘On this occasion, we will say no more about it – but just let it be a lesson to you. You never know who’s watching you.’
‘Can I go now?’ Caitlin asked. ‘Summer and me––’
‘Summer and I,’ corrected her father.
‘Whatever. We’ve arranged to meet up and do some shopping – bikinis and stuff for the holiday.’
‘Oh no,’ her mother replied firmly. ‘In view of all this . . .’ She pointed to the newspaper and shuddered. ‘. . . you are not going anywhere with that crowd.’
Caitlin stared at her, aghast.
‘Mum, you can’t do that! You promised. You can’t go back on your word now.’
‘You’re very naïve – that much has been made quite clear – and going off on your own with perfect strangers is now just not on. At your age, a family holiday is much better – I’ve said it all along.’
‘She won’t be on her own. Because I’m going too,’ Jamie announced.
‘You? You never said.’
‘I couldn’t get a word in edgeways!’ he pointed out. ‘Summer invited me last night, at the party. And Izzy’s going to come, too.’
Bad move, thought Caitlin. Not a good idea.
‘You? And Isabella?’ Mrs Morland looked horror-struck. ‘But Jamie, you hardly know the girl.’
‘Mum, this is the twenty-first century.’ Jamie sighed. ‘You don’t have to know someone for months before you get – well, before you hold hands.’
‘But her family – I mean, you can see for yourself.’ His mother stabbed at the newspaper again. ‘What sort of example are they?’
‘What her parents do is not Izzy’s fault,’ Jamie retorted.
‘True, but your mother does have a point, Jamie,’ his father remarked. ‘I’m not at all sure that you’re wise to get too involved with all these upper-class, trust-fund types. I said when Caitlin started at that school, that they’re not our sort, they don’t have our moral parameters and––’
Mr Morland stopped in mid-sentence as the doorbell rang.
‘I expect,’ Caitlin’s mother put in, looking reprovingly at Caitlin, ‘that will be someone from the village, waving a newspaper and gloating over your behaviour. Edward, you get it.’
Her husband sighed and went to the door.
‘You want what?’ they heard Caitlin’s father exclaim. ‘Well, you can go on wanting. No comment – none whatsoever!’
The front door slammed with such force that the ornaments on the hall table rattled. Mr Morland stormed back into the room.
‘Bloody cheek!’
‘Dad!’ Jamie and Caitlin exclaimed in unison. The one thing not allowed in their house was any form of swearing.
‘Edward, what is it?’ Caitlin’s mother asked.
‘Local paper wanting to talk to Caitlin,’ he replied. ‘Apparently, someone recognised her photo and now the Chronicle want one of those “I was there and this is what really happened” pieces.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Caitlin burst out eagerly. ‘I took loads of photos. Maybe they’d buy some – even do a double-page spread!’
One look at her father’s face told her that saying any more would be a very bad idea.
Within seconds, the doorbell was ringing again.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Mr Morland stormed out of the room. They h
eard the front door being yanked open.
‘I thought I made it quite clear–– oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise . . . Yes, of course, come in, my dear.’
Caitlin and Jamie both started at the sound of a familiar voice; a moment later, their father returned, looking acutely embarrassed and closely followed by a very tearful Izzy.
‘I’m so sorry, really I am.’ Izzy sniffed, dabbing her eyes with a tissue and accepting the glass of lemonade that Caitlin’s mother offered her. ‘I should have phoned before I came, but it’s just that, well, Caitlin’s my closest friend and you’re such lovely people – and I didn’t know . . .’
She’s good, I’ll give her that, thought Caitlin, as she watched her mother soften before her very eyes.
‘. . . and Jamie said if there was ever anything he could do for me and, right now, just being with him would help so much . . .’
She looked up at Caitlin’s brother and gave him a watery smile. Jamie put a protective arm around her shoulder and glared defiantly at his parents.
‘I thought, where can I go to get away from all the phone calls – they’ve even got my mobile number and . . . well, here was the only place really. So I called a cab and just came.’
She sniffed and pressed her lips together.
‘I’m sorry if it’s imposing – only Dad’s holed up with the PM . . .’
She paused to see the effect that her name-dropping had on the assembled company.
‘You mean . . . the Prime Minister?’ Caitlin’s mother satisfied her urge.
‘Mmm,’ Izzy went on, ‘and Mum keeps crying . . .’
‘Of course you’re not imposing,’ Mrs Morland insisted. ‘I’m glad you felt able to come to us. Whatever is going on with your parents, it shouldn’t be allowed to affect you. Isn’t that right, Edward?’
‘Absolutely.’ He nodded.
Parents, thought Caitlin, are so two-faced at times.
‘I’ll just go and water those tomatoes,’ muttered her father, getting to his feet with more alacrity than he had shown all morning. ‘Leave you in peace.’
‘Edward . . .’ Mrs Morland protested, but he’d already disappeared through the back door.
‘Of course, Dad’s done nothing wrong, nothing at all,’ Izzy continued firmly. ‘He just likes to unwind from the stress of being in office. And he wasn’t really flirting at the Ball, it was just . . .’
Summer of Secrets Page 6
