Mum sipped her coffee. ‘And Edward Prince of Wales, and Mrs Simpson.’
Dad smiled. ‘You can almost see them in their whites can’t you? Running through the corridors calling “anyone for tennis” to each other.’
‘And Agatha Christie wrote here,’ I added. ‘In fact, it was used as a location for the film Evil Under the Sun.’
Mum sighed contentedly and looked out of the window. ‘It is lovely. How did you find it, Marie?’
‘Stuart brought me here last month and we both fell in love with the place,’ said Marie. ‘Then when we realised that they had a licence to do weddings, well . . .’
Hah. I thought. Sorted. Everybody happy.
‘Just don’t make me wear pink on the day,’ I said.
Marie laughed. ‘Oh I thought a bright candy pink might be nice. With lots of ribbons and bows. Gimme a break. You can be my bridesmaid in your jeans and trainers. As long as you’re here, that’s all I care about.’
‘Talking of outfits,’ said Mum, rooting in her bag and producing a wad of brides’ magazines, ‘I brought these for us to look through.’
Nice try, I thought as I looked at Marie sympathetically.
A little later, we went back over to the mainland and that’s when the real trouble started. It was a lovely afternoon with a bright blue sky and Marie drove us around the area. It was incredibly pretty. Idyllic in fact. Thatched cottages, winding roads through hedgerows, quaint little villages. After a stop for a cup of tea in a roadside tea shop, Marie set off to find a bank and Mum and Dad headed down the High Street and started gazing in estate agents’ windows.
‘What are you looking for?’ I asked as I caught them up. ‘Somewhere to rent for the summer?’
Mum glanced at Dad. ‘Er, not exactly,’ she said.
‘Just getting an idea of the prices,’ said Dad as he continued looking in the window.
‘Why? Are you thinking of going into real estate?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Dad and looked at Mum. ‘Um. Er. You tell her, Maureen.’
Mum took a deep breath. ‘We’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for some time. TJ. We’ve been thinking of moving.’
‘Moving! Why? When? What for?’
‘Now don’t panic,’ said Mum. ‘Actually we’ve been talking about it for some time now . . .’
‘Not to me, you haven’t. This is the first I’ve heard.’
‘We didn’t want to say anything until we were more sure, but your father is thinking of going part-time and commuting. We’ve always liked this part of the world and after looking around today, well . . .’
‘But why can’t you go part-time and stay in London, Dad?’
‘We could. That is . . . was an option. But we fancy a change of pace. And it won’t be long before we come up for retirement. We always wanted to retire by the sea and now that Marie’s down here as well . . .’
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, I thought as alarm hit the pit of my stomach. ‘But what about me? What about school? What about my friends?’
Dad hesitated for a while. ‘A change of pace might do you good as well,’ he said finally. ‘I’m not sure that London’s the best place for you and . . . well, that new crowd you’ve got in with . . .’
‘New crowd? You mean, Lucy, Nesta and Izzie? But you hardly know them . . .’ He didn’t either, as I hardly ever took them back to my house. Dad never liked me bringing friends home that much and, when I did, he always complained about the noise. It was much simpler to go and hang out at their houses.
‘I do know them, TJ. What about that time I caught you all having a pillow fight and jumping up and down on your bed? Not very mature. Not the behaviour of nice young ladies. You’re going to be fifteen on Monday and it’s time you started acting your age.’
‘But we were just being silly that day. We’re not usually like that.’
‘What about that Izzie then? Remember that incident with her? I think she might be a bad influence.’
‘Izzie! But . . . Why Izzie?’
‘Even her own mother was worried about her in the summer. She was round at our house and she’d been out with some strange boy and drinking . . .’
I snorted back laughter. ‘That was a one-off. Izzie is Queen Organic. She’s so into health stuff. Honestly. She’s not a bad influence. No way. I could show you girls at our school who are a bad influence, but not Izzie.’
Wrong thing to say.
‘Exactly,’ said Dad. ‘So you admit that there are girls at your school who are a bad influence?’
‘No. Yes. But I don’t hang with them. No. Mum. Dad. No. We can’t move. My whole life is up in London. I can’t leave.’
But Mum and Dad had spotted another estate agent’s on the opposite side of the road and were making a beeline for it.
No. No. Nooooooooooooo, please God, I thought. I mean, I like Devon and all, but live here? Nooooooooooooooooo.
Burgh Island Hotel is on Burgh Island, which is a twenty-six acre tidal island, two hundred metres off the south Devon coast between Salcombe and Plymouth.
Famous people who have stayed there include Noel Coward, Agatha Christie, Edward Prince of Wales and Mrs Simpson, Amy Johnson, Winston Churchill.
Movies in which it was used as a location include Evil Under the Sun.
Chapter 4
‘But you can’t go,’ said Lucy as we went into assembly the following Monday. ‘Steve was gutted after you told him last night.’
I stuffed the birthday cards and presents that they’d just given me into my rucksack. Lavender bath gel and soap from Nesta, glittery nail polish from Lucy a scented candle from Izzie, plus Lucy had brought me a card and present from Steve – a CD collection of love songs from the last decade. Somehow, their gifts made the fact that I might have to move away even worse. Even though they were birthday presents, it felt like they were leaving presents.
‘Never mind Steve,’ said Izzie linking her arm through mine. ‘I’m gutted. We’d really miss you.’
‘Maybe you could come back at weekends,’ said Nesta. ‘You can stay in my room with me.’
‘And we’d come down to visit in the holidays,’ said Lucy. ‘I like Devon.’
‘So do I,’ I said as we took our places in our class line up. ‘But that doesn’t mean I want to live there.’ I felt utterly miserable. Some birthday, I thought. Fifteen and it felt like my life was over. I wouldn’t know anyone in Devon. Starting a new school would be horrible, like reliving what it was like when Hannah first moved abroad. And I know what Hannah went through when she first got to South Africa, although she’s made friends now. But I didn’t want to make new friends. I didn’t want to go through all that again. I liked Lucy, Izzie and Nesta. I’d never find mates like them again. And no matter how much they insisted they’d come and visit and stay in touch, I knew what would happen. It was happening with Hannah already. We’d promised to email every day, keep telling each other everything, but she hadn’t been in touch for weeks now – not even an email wishing me happy birthday. But come to think of it, I hadn’t been in touch either. It was too awful to think that the same thing might happen with my new friends. No. Mum and Dad couldn’t be serious. It was a mad idea.
‘You could always run away,’ Nesta whispered in my ear. ‘We’d make sure you had food and stuff . . .’
‘Quiet at the back,’ called Mrs Allen looking pointedly in our direction.
After the usual boring announcements, Mrs Allen suddenly beamed. ‘Now girls, I have something special to tell you about today. An exciting project is to be launched by the mayor and it’s one that I think many of you will be very interested in . . .’
Nesta turned and feigned a yawn to me. I grinned back at her.
‘The aim of the project is to produce a book detailing our city’s heritage,’ continued Mrs Allen, ‘that has been written and researched by the city’s students. The final version is to go on sale at the British Museum. The project is open to all pupils from Year Ten
upwards who wish to take part. The mayor has asked that those involved research London as it is today and London as it was in the past. Areas such as its history, its famous landmarks, buildings, costumes through the ages, contributions from its inhabitants, artists, writers, architects . . . and the list goes on. Schools have been chosen from each of the four areas of London: North, South, East and West. Our school has been fortunate enough to have been asked to be one of the schools representing the North. Each school within each area will obviously focus on their particular area . . .’
Sounds brilliant, I thought. I’d love to be involved, but I’ll probably be living out in the back of beyond in some backwater with people who’ve never even been to London.
‘The mayor has asked to see an initial presentation just before Christmas, so that only gives us until the end of term,’ Mrs Allen continued. ‘So we need to get ourselves in gear immediately. The first meeting for the North London area, for those of you who’d like to contribute, will be tomorrow evening at the Institute of Science in Pond Square in Highgate, so . . . all those budding journalists, historians and artists out there, take note. All the head teachers of the schools taking part are meeting tonight and we’re going to appoint one pupil to oversee the project with the help of a number of teachers. But essentially, this is your project and I hope that you will rise to meet the challenge and make this particular school proud of your efforts. At the end of term, there will be an open day featuring the work so far and school governor, Susan Barratt, and Sam Denham, the celebrity journalist, whom I believe some of you know from his visit here last year, will be attending. Details have been posted on the noticeboard in the hall. Pupils involved will be given time to work on the project and can arrange this with their head of year.’
Cool, I thought as Mrs Allen continued. Even though we might move to Devon before the project is completed, Mum said it might be ages before they find the right house, so I’ve got at least one more term here, and then they’ve got to sell our house. I’d have time to take part in the initial stages at least. ‘Well you can count me out,’ said Nesta as we made our way to first lesson. ‘We get enough homework as it is.’
‘Might be fun,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m going to volunteer. I could research costumes through the ages. It’s an excuse to go and look round places like the Victoria and Albert Museum. I’ve been meaning to do it for ages and you never know, it might give me inspiration for my own designs. I like combining the old with the new.’
‘What about you. TJ?’ asked Izzie. ‘You up for it?’
I nodded. ‘Think so. I’d like to do something on the old houses in Hampstead and Highgate. You know, like Kenwood House. There are plenty of other places I’ve been meaning to get round too. Like Lucy said, it’s a good excuse to do it and it might be my last chance if we move.’
‘And you could do something on the spiritual side of London,’ suggested Lucy, turning to Izzie.
‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘Yeah. I’ll have a think about it.’
Nesta pouted. ‘I hate you all. Now I feel left out, or at least I will if you all take part and I don’t.’
‘Then choose something interesting to you,’ I said. ‘You could look at theatre through the ages. Or great love affairs.’
Nesta didn’t look convinced. ‘I guess,’ she said. ‘And Mrs Allen did say that there’d be time off to do it. So maybe. Certainly no harm in going to the open day at the end of term. That Sam Denham was a bit of a dish. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.’
I laughed. Typical Nesta, I thought, as Lucy, Izzie and I signed our names on the board and wrote our area of interest.
On Tuesday night, we met at Nesta’s house near Highgate and got changed and made up.
‘Just in case there are any boy babes there,’ said Izzie as she wriggled into a denim mini with a zip down the front.
‘I thought you were going through a celibate phase,’ I said.
Izzie laughed. ‘I like to keep an open mind on all matters.’
‘And I’ve decided I’m not going to do it,’ said Nesta. ‘It’s not my thing.’
‘So why are you coming?’ I asked.
‘Luke’s going to be there. His school is one of the ones chosen as well.’
‘So is Steve’s,’ I said. ‘He called earlier. He wants to do photography.’
‘What about Lal?’ asked Izzie.
Lucy laughed. ‘Not interested. Too much like hard work he said. What about Tony, Nesta?’
‘His headmaster turned it down. Said that the pupils there had to focus on their exams. But then Luke’s doing A-levels as well, but his headmaster didn’t seem to mind. Apparently he said it would look good on their CV if their material gets used.’
‘More like the school’s CV,’ I said. ‘Smart headmaster if you ask me.’
The hall was already full when we got to the Institute and Nesta spied Luke on the other side of the room at the front. He gave us a friendly wave and I watched as Nesta made her way over to him and he put his arm around her and steered her towards a seat. He looked gorgeous in a big overcoat with a red scarf knotted round his neck. I looked around for Steve, but couldn’t see him in the crowd.
The meeting soon got underway with one of the teachers from a school in Cricklewood taking the chair.
‘My name’s Miss Longbottom,’ she started, and immediately I noticed Lucy’s shoulders begin to shake in front of me. It doesn’t take a lot to make Lucy laugh, only trouble is that it’s infectious. Especially in a place where you’re not supposed to be laughing. Izzie’s shoulders started to shake next and I missed the list of categories that Miss Longbottom was reading out as I battled not to laugh as well. I caught the end of what she said though. Some girl called Marie Nash was to be the overall co-ordinator and the different areas of interest had their own co-ordinators who we were to report to.
Lucy took note of who was in charge of costume and who was in her group. Steve was put in charge of photography with a team of three other pupils and Izzie was put with a boy called Trevor in charge of the spiritual development of North London. I wondered if he knew what he was in for. He looked very straight and probably envisaged looking at churches and the development of Christianity. With Izzie by his side, he’d be looking at witches, mysticism and lines of energy if she had her way. There were other groups for science, music, geography, architecture and finally Miss Longbottom got to the famous houses and their inhabitants.
‘And now we come to the inhabitants and historical houses in North London. Luke De Biasi will be co-ordinating this area along with . . .’ she glanced down at her list, ‘Theresa Joanne Watts, Sian Collins and Olivia Jacobs.
Nesta turned and gave me the thumbs up. I smiled back at her. Cool, I thought. I’ll get a chance to talk to him properly about old houses.
‘OK everyone,’ said Miss Longbottom, ‘now, if you can all divide into your areas and introduce yourselves, we’ll reconvene in about twenty minutes.’
As everyone got into groups, Nesta caught up with me as I made my way over to meet Luke, Olivia and Sian.
‘It’s so top, you’ll be working with Luke,’ she said. ‘You can keep an eye on those two other girls while you’re at it. I saw the way that little blonde one looked at him. I’m sure she fancies him.’
‘I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about,’ I said, as I glanced over and Luke beckoned me to go and join them. ‘She’s not a patch on you.’
‘Well, report back if there’s any funny business, won’t you?’
‘Course I will,’ I said. ‘Just call me Watts, Private Detective.’
Email: Outbox (1)
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 25th November
Subject: Londres
Aloha Hannah ma petite fruitcake
Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately, it’s been mad here. How you doing? I still miss you. Life is major crapola at the mo. Mum and Dad have had a nasty turn and deci
ded they want to go and live in Devon. Yes, Devon. No thank you.
Still hanging with Izzie, Lucy and Nesta. They are great mates which will make it even harder if I have to leave London.
Cool news is that we’re doing a big project (loads of schools involved) about London’s history. I’ll be working with Nesta’s new boyfriend Luke who is a total dish. And really nice.
Luv
TJ
Email: Inbox (1)
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 25th November
Subject: Moving
Bernando fernando octiposie
God! Poor vous. Major whammy in the problemo stakes.
OK. Listen to Auntie Hannah.
Re moving:
Plan A: when the estate agents send people to view your house, volunteer to show them round. As you do, let it slip that you have psychotic neighbours with very noisy children who all have criminal records.
Plan B: tell prospective buyers that the house has a ghost. A really horrible ghost, who likes to wander round with an amputated arm and hit people with the soggy end. Tell them, he’s ’armless enough apart from that one habit. Hahahahaha.
Plan C: get a load of rotting garbage, hide it in every room, then tell the prospective buyers that there is a bad damp problem in the house.
That should sort them. Am I a genius or wot?
What happened to Steve? You didn’t mention him. Are you still dating?
Over here we’re going into summer sizzler time and it’s fab. It’s probably no consolation, but remember how I felt when I heard we were moving. I thought my life was over. Now I love it here and have made good friends. Things change. You might actually like Devon. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear at the moment, but things might not be as black as they seem.
Yours truly
Agony Aunt Hannah.
PS: Write back soon.
PPS: Ohmigod. I’ve just seen the date and realised. It was von birthcake yesterday. Oh er. Bad girl Hannah. Um. Card in the post. Present in the . . . in the shop. I am soooooo sorry. I will make it up to you. Please don’t hate me forever. Happy happy birthday even if it’s late. And sorreee sorreeee sorreeee am bad friend. Smackgirlnaughty.
Mates, Dates and Tempting Trouble Page 3
