Secret Lives

by Gabriella Poole

  ‘Really?’ she said coolly. ‘I thought the rest of us had to cram to keep up with you.’

  ‘Touché!’ He winked. ‘Not the rest of you. Just the one.’ He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. ‘Actually, me and Jake? It’s pure jealousy on my part. Those hawkish eyes, that grim jaw, the shaved hair. He’s so all-American, they could carve him on Mount Rushmore, couldn’t they?’ Releasing her, he sighed, folding his arms. ‘And that grungy chic! The foppish looks of an Englishman cannot compare.’

  Cassie found herself returning his mischievous grin. Well, at least he was honest. Cutely self-deprecating, too. It was an appealing combination, especially coming from a boy who looked as much like a young god as the rest of the Few.

  ‘Oh, you’re not that ugly,’ she told him airily.

  Seizing her hands, he brought them to his lips and kissed them, then pressed them to his heart. She could feel his heartbeat through white cotton. Taken aback, she threw a help me! look at Isabella, but the Argentinian didn’t do anything of the sort. Her expression was delighted, and kind of smug. Cassie tried to glower at her, but couldn’t quite manage it.

  ‘You’ve made my day.’ Richard’s smile was high-wattage. ‘Let me buy you a coffee and show you a little of Paris. I know this perfect little café in the Marais. Nine o’clock tomorrow?’

  ‘Don’t we have lessons?’

  ‘It’s a study morning. Time off to look at the city. Immerse ourselves in its culture. Where shall we meet? Right here? You are my angel, Cassie Bell.’ He blew her a kiss, then disappeared in Katerina’s wake.

  Cassie blinked. ‘How the hell did that happen?’

  Isabella laughed. ‘He likes you, Cassie!’

  ‘He’s a charmer, is what he is.’

  ‘Of course! Why not? His father owns half of your English West Country! You don’t get more magical than that.’ Isabella gave her a nudge and a wink.

  ‘Well.’ Cassie shook her head ruefully, still reeling from the impact of that smile. ‘It’s only one coffee, right? Where’s the harm in that?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘What exactly are we supposed to be studying?’

  Cassie tapped her spoon against her coffee cup, well aware she looked nervous. Richard leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Life, Miss Bell. People. Culture.’ He flung out an arm as if he was presenting her with the entire city. He probably could, she thought dryly.

  ‘So it’s not just a morning messing around or doing retail therapy?’

  ‘Now, now. Sir Alric is big on self-motivation, initiative, that kind of guff. That’s why I took you to the Pompidou Centre first, and the museum.’ His face split in a grin. ‘Now we can mess around.’

  ‘Oh. OK.’

  The sun was warm on the back of her neck, and a light breeze played among the leaves of plane trees and the small zinc tables of the café. Traffic fumes mingled with strong scents of coffee and bread and someone’s pungent French cigarette. Fidgeting, she picked up her cup, and put it down again. Empty.

  ‘Let me get you another of those.’ With what seemed barely more than a flicker of his eyelid and a twitch of one finger, Richard summoned a white-aproned waiter. ‘Something to eat, Cassie?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  He didn’t wait, but gave his order in clipped French, ending on a dazzling smile that even the surly waiter had to return. Replacing his customary scowl, the man turned and hurried away, as if embarrassed to have shown a spark of humanity.

  ‘There’s birds in that thar tree,’ said Cassie, nodding at one of the plane trees in the square. ‘Go on, charm them out of it, I dare you.’

  Richard laughed in delight. ‘I’d rather concentrate on charming you.’

  Cassie searched his face for traces of mockery, but Richard met her stare full-on, smiling.

  ‘Don’t be so hung up on being a scholarship girl,’ he said. ‘You’re much more interesting than all these spoilt heiresses and daughters of despots. Prettier too.’

  ‘Oh, get a life.’ Cassie felt herself flush scarlet. ‘Or did you mean I’m prettier than the despots?’

  Richard hooted. ‘I like you, Cassie Bell! You’re a proper student, and you’re funny too. Those other girls, they’re comestibles.’

  Cassie blinked. ‘You lost me.’

  ‘I could eat them in one bite.’ He bared his white teeth.

  ‘In your dreams, mate.’

  Mind you, Cassie thought, he probably could take his pick of the girls at school. The combination of looks and charm was dizzying.

  ‘Really, though, I’m serious. Those girls are gorgeous, sure, in a polished sort of way, but you’re striking. Your eyes could pierce sheet metal, I swear to God. What do you call that colour? Green? They’re so pale they’re nearly yellow.’

  Cassie fidgeted with her hair. ‘I dunno. Ordinary?’

  ‘Oh, anything but. And your bone structure is to die for.’

  ‘Give over. I’ve got a pointy chin.’

  ‘Just what I said. Amazing bone structure. You know who you look like? You’re really like—’

  ‘Like …?’

  But Richard had stopped himself in mid-flow, and was chewing the inside of his cheek.

  ‘You’re not beautiful,’ he rushed on, giving the word a deprecating emphasis. ‘Not like the despotesses. You’re more natural. Real. Fresh. Anyway,’ he added conspiratorially, ‘some of them don’t even shave their armpits.’

  The new coffees arrived at that moment, so Cassie had to put her hands over her mouth to stifle her explosion of laughter. The waiter gave her a filthy look.

  ‘You are the limit,’ she said when he’d gone. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Pain au chocolat. Go on, try it, it’s heavenly.’

  Doubtfully she bit into it. It was warm and flaky – like Richard, she thought with an inner grin – and entirely delicious. God, she hadn’t realised how hungry she was. She didn’t know if dunking it in her café au lait was the done thing, but what the hell: she dunked it anyway. As the melted chocolate hit her tongue she sighed blissfully.

  Richard was watching her with amusement, and she remembered suddenly to be embarrassed. Honestly, she was eating like she hadn’t seen food for a month. She made herself put the pastry down and take a swig of coffee.

  ‘I like a girl with a healthy appetite,’ he said archly.

  Cassie threw her napkin at him. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

  ‘That’s not really the sort of thing I like.’ He ran a finger round the rim of his tiny cup of espresso. ‘Although Pain With Chocolate does sound very appealing.’

  ‘That’s not what it means,’ Cassie told him. ‘Even I know that. You are wicked.’

  He raised a languid eyebrow. ‘You have no idea.’

  Cassie had to laugh again, shaking her head. What on earth was she doing here? she wondered again. Sitting in the Paris sunshine in a pavement café with a boy who was so far out of her league he might as well be in the next galaxy. ‘Where are you from, then, devil boy?’

  His grin flashed. ‘Hades and Norfolk.’ He took a sip of his thick black coffee.

  ‘Oh? Isabella said something about the West Country.’

  ‘Just because we own rather a lot of it doesn’t mean we have to live there.’

  The face of him. For the first time she felt a tingle of disapproval. She scowled. ‘Is that how you got to join the Few?’

  ‘Oh, Cassie, don’t look at me like that, I beg you.’ He made puppy eyes. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m a rich spoilt brat and it sometimes shows. Of course, it’s also a good qualification for joining the Few.’

  ‘So that’s why Isabella isn’t one of you? I mean, she’s rich and beautiful, but she’s not a spoilt brat.’

  ‘Cassie, your words cut me to the bone.’ Dramatically, Richard clasped his hands over his heart. ‘It’s the truth that stings like a whiplash, I suppose.’ He gave her another grin that melted her hostility. ‘As for bella, bella Isabella, you never know. We’re due to i
nitiate another member this term, and the Few aren’t all self-centred swines like me. She could be in with a chance. And if Isabella gets an invitation to the third floor, it won’t be before time, in my humble opinion.’

  ‘Has your opinion ever been humble?’ Cassie still couldn’t repress her smile, though her heartbeat had suddenly slipped up a gear. ‘What’s on the third floor?’

  ‘Our common room. The Few’s, I mean.’

  ‘Really?’ She took a casual sip of coffee. ‘I bet that’s something else. You couldn’t let me see it, could you?’

  ‘Tut tut!’ Richard wagged a finger at her. ‘Certainly not. What a temptress you are.’ He smiled again. ‘Not that special invitations haven’t been known.’

  ‘Go on. You’ve made me really curious.’

  Cheekily, he tapped her nose with a forefinger. ‘Invitations to the common room have to come from all the Few. Sorry, my dear, but it’s a rule. I can’t just take you up there.’

  Cassie shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. ‘Law unto yourselves, you lot, aren’t you? The Few. I mean, what kind of a name is that? What do you do, except skip classes? I mean, what are you for?’ Her laughter came out a little strained.

  Richard was watching her closely again, his smile a more thoughtful one.

  ‘Coffee’s cold.’ He stood up, his zinc chair scraping on the flagstones, and glanced at the watch on his wrist. ‘And study time’s over. Heavens, Cassie, you’re quite a distraction.’ Carelessly he took her hand and drew her to her feet. ‘Come along. Back to the Academy with you.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘There you are, Cassie! How was the date? Come on, tell me all about it!’

  Isabella was in the second-floor library, perched with Jake on a leather sofa the colour of polished conkers. Cassie wished she hadn’t interrupted. Isabella had looked more animated than ever, touching Jake’s arm, making him laugh, laughing back when he said something dark and droll. If she’d been in Isabella’s position, Cassie would have resented anyone butting in, but the Argentinian clapped her hands and beckoned her over. Jake glanced her way too.

  ‘Come on! What happened? Where did you go? What was Richard like?’ Isabella patted the seat between her and Jake, but Cassie chose the arm instead. She didn’t want to come between them and, anyway, she felt downright uncomfortable around Jake. The way he looked at her was unnerving.

  Did he know she’d trailed him the other night? Had he spotted her after all? She stared at the bookshelves that reached almost to the elaborate plasterwork of the ceiling. The only section of wall that wasn’t covered in book spines was the massive gilt-framed mirror above the baroque fireplace. This room was as magnificent as the rest of the mansion, but who would ever find time to read all these books?

  ‘Well, come on, give! Did Richard kiss you, Cassie?’

  ‘Course he didn’t kiss me!’ Cassie shrugged, blushing. ‘He was nice. Interesting. I like him.’

  ‘M-hm.’ Isabella dug her in the ribs. ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Ow! First the Pompidou Centre. Then this gorgeous museum in the rue de Sévigné that used to be a private house. And finally his perfect little café,’ she mimicked. ‘On the rue de la Bastille.’

  ‘Didn’t they lock up aristocrats there?’ muttered Jake. ‘Best place for him. Watch that guy, Cassie.’

  Cassie gave him a surprised look, but cheerfully Isabella leaned across and slapped his knee. ‘Jake, don’t be such a grouch. He took her to the musée Carnavalet! It’s so romantic. So stunning.’ She sighed. ‘And so is Richard.’

  ‘He’s a stunning, romantic rat.’ Jake obviously wasn’t going to let it go.

  ‘Hey, leave it out,’ said Cassie lightly. ‘You mean I can only attract rats?’

  ‘Course not.’ He grinned at her. ‘But he’s a charmer. Watch yourself, that’s all.’

  ‘He’s a nice guy,’ said Cassie, starting to feel a little cross. ‘You can’t judge him by his family. Or by what he’s worth. I bet you wouldn’t like that yourself.’ Anyway, she thought, you’re the one that needs watching.

  Jake’s face darkened. ‘My family has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Well, maybe his hasn’t either!’

  ‘Jake, I know you don’t like Richard, but there’s no need,’ put in Isabella soothingly. ‘You mustn’t have such a ship on your shoulder. You are just the same with Ranjit.’

  Cassie had never actually seen someone’s face freeze before. She’d thought it was just a figure of speech, but Jake’s expression had gone rigid as stone. That look of hate didn’t suit him. But that was what it was: hatred.

  ‘Don’t talk about him,’ he hissed, then forced his features into something like a grin. ‘And it’s a chip, by the way.’

  Isabella’s startled breath had caught in her throat, but now she smiled with relief. ‘Very well, I won’t. Richard has nothing you haven’t got. Nothing important.’

  Her good humour seemed to have restored Jake’s. ‘Yeah, but I know how charming he can be. He tried it on with me once.’

  Cassie did a double-take. ‘He did?’

  ‘Oh, sure. But he’s not my type.’

  Taken aback, she snapped, ‘So that’s why you don’t like him?’

  ‘Nah. I didn’t mind him hitting on me, but he sure as hell minded me turning him down. He’s had it in for me ever since.’

  Isabella scowled at Jake. ‘Now you’re spoiling Cassie’s date.’

  ‘No, he isn’t. That doesn’t bother me.’

  ‘Quite right. Richard Halton-Jones is a catch, Cassie!’

  ‘Richard Halton-Jones is a love rat,’ muttered Jake. ‘And not just with girls.’

  ‘You know what? I think you are very sweet to worry about Cassie. You don’t need to, but it is very gallant of you.’ Isabella leaned over again to kiss him on the cheek. Reddening, he gave her a sidelong, surprised grin.

  ‘What a cosy little gathering,’ said an icy voice.

  Jake practically knocked Isabella off the sofa as he jumped up, his blush now almost thermonuclear. ‘Katerina, I—’

  The Swedish girl waved an elegant hand. ‘No, Jake, I shan’t interrupt. It’s lovely that Isabella is getting some attention. Sometimes I think she lacks it.’

  Yup: definitely more Snow Queen than Dancing Queen.

  Katerina had chosen where to stand deliberately, Cassie decided, because she knew the light through the tall windows would flatter her pale skin. She’d picked the right backdrop, too: against the richly swagged dark-blue curtains she shone like a cold angel. Jake seemed bewitched. Isabella was thunderous.

  ‘Katerina! Don’t go,’ pleaded Jake. ‘We were just talking. Isabella was just being … enthusiastic.’

  ‘Ah! Isabella is always enthusiastic. About everything! That’s what I love about her! Dear Isabella, I think you understand life and love so much better than we do. Always such joy. Like a puppy!’

  Katerina wore a delighted smile, but Cassie didn’t miss the bite beneath her words. Isabella sucked in a breath, but even she had been silenced. Cassie looked expectantly at Jake, waiting for him to play the gallant again and leap to Isabella’s defence. For a moment it seemed as if he might. Then he closed his mouth and gave Isabella a sheepish glance.

  ‘Yeah, Isabella, I love how you enjoy life!’ he said, too brightly. He hovered for a moment, as if he might lean forward and kiss her back, but he was distracted by a discreet cough.

  ‘Jake, be a darling.’ Katerina turned to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and brushed her fingers across a set of leather spines. Jake shivered, as if it was his spine they’d stroked. ‘I need the Voltaire, and the two volumes of Rousseau, but look at them, they are huge! I don’t think I can manage on my own.’

  ‘No problem, Katerina.’ Reverently he drew the books out of the shelf and carried them after her. Cassie watched transfixed as they vanished into the corridor.

  ‘“Ooh, can you carry my books, Jake?” Pah!’ Isabella had got her voice back at last – a little
late, thought Cassie ruefully. ‘That boy will be horribly deformed by the time he leaves this school.’

  ‘He will?’ said Cassie.

  ‘From being twisted round Katerina’s little finger so often.’ Isabella clenched her fists furiously. ‘He is too stupid to know when he is being led by the nose. Like one of my father’s bulls. Hah!’

  ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think she really likes him. I mean, I think you’re right, she’s just stringing him along. She’ll get fed up. He’ll get over her.’

  ‘Worry? Why would I worry? Why would I care whether he gets over her, or throws himself into the Seine for love of her? I’m not interested in a boy whose brains are stuck in his—’

  ‘Isabella!’

  They laughed, and Isabella flung an arm round Cassie’s shoulder. ‘You’re right, I know that. Poor Jake, he has been under her spell since he came to the Academy. Jake pines for Katerina, and Katerina pines for Ranjit Singh, so Jake won’t ever have her. Serve him right.’ She ended on rather a venomous note.

  ‘Is that why Jake can’t stand Ranjit? He looked practically homicidal when you mentioned him.’

  ‘Oh. That.’ Nervously Isabella chewed her knuckles, but after a moment she gathered her composure. ‘Well. Love can do that to stupid boys. It’s all hormones, of course. The relentless primitive drive of the sexual organs.’

  ‘Cut it out!’ giggled Cassie.

  ‘That would be an extreme solution, but—’

  Cassie gave a yelp of laughter. ‘Stop it! So, seriously. Did Jake come on a scholarship too?’

  ‘Yes. I think it saved him.’ Isabella sighed, all softness and sympathy again. ‘After his sister died, he went – what do you say? – off the rails? He went a bit crazy. A lot of trouble: fighting, gangs, drugs. Three high schools threw him out, but Sir Alric took an interest in his future, wanted to help him.’

  Jake’s sister died? So that was why he was so spiky. ‘Nice of Sir Alric, but …’ Cassie shrugged, then bit her lip. ‘Why would he do that? I mean, Jake doesn’t even seem that grateful.’

  ‘Oh, but of course Sir Alric felt a responsibility! Jessica Johnson had a scholarship here before Jake did.’