‘He runs his own company.’
‘Oh really? What sort?’
‘A sales company,’ Charlotte shrugged. ‘His clients are all super rich. It’s complicated. You probably wouldn’t understand.’
They were in the cafeteria now, surrounded by noise and the smell of wet coats and umbrellas. Charlotte said something about going to the vending machine, so Gwenhwyfar queued for lunch with Emily, even though she already had one packed.
‘What’s her problem?’
‘What? Whose?’
‘Charlotte’s!’ she stressed. ‘She’s been acting weird around me all morning.’
Emily’s blue eyes cut through the room, seeking their mark. Charlotte was in a queue as well, trying not to look back. ‘Maybe she’s jealous? You are new, after all. She probably doesn’t like not being the centre of attention for once.’ They moved along in the queue.
‘She doesn’t?’
‘It’s the boys,’ uttered Emily. ‘She always flirts with them. She’s probably annoyed that they’re all ignoring her over you.’
She revealed this information with such conviction that Gwenhwyfar didn’t think to question it. ‘Really? They are?’
‘Of course!’ her hyena exclaimed. ‘Look! That guy has been checking you out since you walked in the room, and those boys over there can so not take their eyes off you.’ Gwenhwyfar followed Emily’s line of sight, and she was right, they were all staring. None of them were particularly inspiring, though, and no sixth-formers looked her way. Most of the boys that did sneak a curious glance were similar to her fifteen years of age.
‘It’s probably just because I’m new,’ she dismissed, shifting her eyes away.
‘Probably,’ Emily agreed. They arrived at the opening of the food hall, where she swiped up a red tray. ‘See anyone you like?’
Her nose scrunched. ‘Not really, you?’
‘Definitely not,’ was the candid response. ‘Though Charlotte must like one of them. Maybe that’s why she’s been acting so weird.’
Gwenhwyfar’s attention was snared. Arthur. He was standing at the other end of the food hall, foraging through the chocolate bars. Her chest contracted. A second survey of him confirmed that he was certainly handsome. Unfortunately however, Emily saw him too.
‘Look!’ she squealed, making the boys in front of them jump. Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. ‘It’s him!’
Arthur claimed his chocolate bar of choice and waited patiently as his friend dumped mashed potato and peas all over his tray. Gwenhwyfar’s look of horror did nothing to dissuade Emily as she grabbed an apple and crisps and then hurried over to cut the queue. There were loud protests behind them. Arthur was almost a foot taller than Emily, and currently faced with nothing but his back, she was rather adrift as to how to get his attention.
‘Emily!’ Gwenhwyfar hissed. ‘Emily! Please don’t!’
‘It’ll be fine! Trust me.’ She cleared her throat. It didn’t work.
‘Em—! Don’t you dare.’
Emily rammed her elbow into Arthur’s back, her tray clattering. It resulted in the hoped-for conclusion. Arthur turned around to see what had hit him and was suddenly faced with two girls, one terrified, one deeply apologetic.
‘Oh my God! I am so sorry.’ He was frowning. Gwenhwyfar thought she detected suspicion in his eyes. ‘Really I am. I completely wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right?’
In the commotion Emily’s apple had ricocheted past her crisps and across the floor. Arthur’s skinny friend interrupted his opinion on national affairs to pick it up.
‘I’m fine,’ Arthur replied. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ His friend presented the apple to Emily, who took it with a wide, pink smile.
‘Thanks. Have you met Gwen?’ She gestured to Gwenhwyfar as if displaying a nice framed picture. ‘She’s new.’
‘Sort of.’ Arthur sent Gwenhwyfar a quick smile. ‘You’re in my History class, aren’t you? With Marvin.’
‘Who—?’
He switched his gaze back to Emily. ‘Mr Caledonensis,’ he corrected.
‘We call him Marv,’ his friend contributed, offering Emily a lop-sided grin of his own.
‘How funny. What a silly name.’
‘I suppose,’ added the boy. He was pale and gangly, and had a kind, disproportioned face. His eyes were too small and his teeth were too big, but his cheeks dimpled with a smile that was delightfully wonky, and his brow was creased with the imprint of thought that overshadowed his laughing eyes. ‘Aren’t you in my English class? I saw you earlier.’
‘I think so,’ Gwenhwyfar smiled. ‘You’re…’
‘Bedivere,’ he said, glancing to Emily again.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she told him. ‘You’re in our tutor group too, right?’
He nodded. ‘With Miss Ray. She’s quite nice, she lets us sit in early before the bell goes.’
‘Not all teachers do that,’ Emily divulged with a sniff. As they moved along in the queue the boys made a polite effort to converse. Bedivere asked Gwenhwyfar where she was from, and then repeated the questions she had suffered earlier, until Arthur was forced to interrupt him.
‘Bed, it’s your turn to pay.’ He nodded towards the haggard dinner lady who stood old and thin with an impatient frown. A moment passed, and the crowd swallowed them. Emily pulled out a crisp note to pay for her meagre lunch.
‘Well, I always knew he was a little strange,’ she concluded, batting away the change she was given for her morsel. ‘Are you sure you like him? He’s a bit… off.’
‘I never said I liked him.’ Gwenhwyfar’s face still burned. ‘I just think he’s good-looking, that’s all.’
‘Oh. I see.’
Something told Gwenhwyfar that she really didn’t.
‘We probably should have asked to sit with them. Did you see Bedivere? He was practically gawping at me. Gross.’
Thinking that was a little bit unfair, Gwenhwyfar nodded in agreement. ‘He can’t help it—he is a man, after all.’
Emily giggled at this, and took her place at her usual spot in the canteen. The rain had started to drizzle again, and Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. ‘So is Arthur, you know. If you want him, Gwen, it won’t be hard to get him.’
A gusty breath bellowed through the trees past the windowpanes, turning the spittle to hard rain. ‘Who says I do?’
* * *
‘Hello cariad, how was school?’
Overshadowed by the lean figure of her father, Gwenhwyfar glanced up from her favourite lifestyle magazine. Her homework sat abandoned on her desk. ‘Fine.’
‘Only fine?’ He perched next to her. A city of unopened boxes towered around the bed.
‘I suppose it wasn’t too bad.’ Gwenhwyfar turned the page. ‘I met a few nice girls. Most were horrible.’
She heard the frown in his voice. ‘Horrible?’
‘Yep! Or vile, as they would say.’ A small smile relieved her of further explanation. ‘Can’t we go home yet?’
‘We are home. Besides, Llewellyn’s already claimed a spot in the kitchen. We can’t move the poor beast now.’
‘But where are we going to walk him? You know he prefers the country.’
‘There’s a few parks we can try. Honestly Gwen, he’ll love it. Your mother and I did do our research before we moved. Is your new school really that terrible? I’ll bet you that my day was worse.’
‘No, not terrible,’ she sighed. ‘Just… different.’ She glanced up to him, and saw the deep creases in his brow. ‘It was fine really. I mean it’s just like my old school. I have homework and everything.’ When he smiled, she did too. ‘So how was your day?’
‘Terrible!’ he expelled, slapping his suited knees with a clap. ‘I was late. A police officer stopped me.’
Gwenhwyfar sat up. ‘You got stopped by the police? Why?’
‘Apparently one of my brake lights was out.’
‘Was that it?’
‘Yes, but he decided to do a fu
ll search anyway. He said that they were doing spot checks on vehicles, something about warning levels being critical, but when are they not?’
‘That’s stupid,’ she scowled.
‘It was very unnerving. It was almost like he was looking for something to prosecute me for. The longer he searched the more I began to think about what he might find. Which of course is ridiculous, because all I had in the car were work things. In the end I was a full forty minutes late. Not a good impression to make on your first day.’
‘Did your boss understand?’
‘Just. Well, he can’t fire me for it; I’ve only just started. I’ve agreed to work overtime.’
Gwenhwyfar felt her heart lower with disappointment. There was a call from downstairs, a voice straining to be heard in the large townhouse that twisted several floors up.
‘Ah yes! Supper’s ready. I was supposed to ask you to lay the table. Better hurry.’ He stood and stretched, groaning with discomfort as his thin bones crunched in his neck. ‘Dere mlân.’ Come on.
Supper passed with the three of them sitting disjointedly at the over-sized mahogany table. The rain had long since lessened, and now that night was upon them the windows gazed out into darkness.
‘Oh, I forgot to mention!’ her mother exclaimed, beans suspended halfway between her plate and her mouth. ‘Guess who I saw at the hairdresser’s today? Gwen? Someone whose child goes to the same school as you! How funny is that?’
Her father stepped in when Gwenhwyfar failed to respond. ‘Really? That is quite funny. Who was it, then? Is their child in the same year?’
‘Not only the same year, but she’s in the same tutor group. I wouldn’t have known had I not had to pick up Gwen’s timetable this morning. She was called Olivia, and said her daughter was Emily. Emily something? Pass me the sauce please, Garan.’
The sauce was handed to Gwenhwyfar, who handed it to her mother. ‘Thank you,’ she beamed. ‘What do you think, by the way? Of my hair?’
‘I think it’s lovely, Eve,’ Garan smiled. ‘Though I do like your natural colour, too.’
Gwenhwyfar twisted the cap of the still water. ‘I met an Emily today. She showed me around school. Her surname is Rose. She has horses, apparently. She said I could ride them whenever I want.’
‘Well that’s kind of her,’ Garan remarked, slurping his drink.
‘She invited me over this Friday to stay the night. Can I?’
‘Of course!’ Eve enthused, eager for her daughter to make friends. ‘Her mother seemed very agreeable. She gave a tenner to the homeless child that was begging outside.’ Eve flicked her newly bleached hair over her shoulder.
‘A tenner?’ Garan’s eyebrows arched. ‘She does know that it’s probably been given to some man who’ll spend it all on drugs?’
‘If she’s that rich, why would she mind? She even tipped her hairdresser twenty percent. I think she was just showing off.’
Gwenhwyfar frowned at the pointless diversion her parents seemed to be taking. ‘A homeless child—? Where were the parents?’
‘Their parents are probably the ones gathering the money it collects,’ her father explained.
‘So the parents are homeless too?’
Garan shook his head. ‘Probably not, cariad. The child isn’t likely to be homeless, either. It was probably just a scam.’
‘He looked fairly homeless to me,’ Eve disputed.
‘A good scam, then,’ Garan maintained.
‘His teeth were rotting. I don’t know about you, but no parent I know would let their child’s teeth rot for a scam. He was too thin and dirty.’
‘Well, then he must have been an immigrant. You know how hard it is for them here. Of course he was homeless.’
‘He was English.’
‘He can’t have been. He was probably an illegal.’
‘He wasn’t foreign,’ Eve insisted. ‘He wasn’t the only one either. The little things try to wash your car if you stop for too long. Honestly, it’s like being abroad. Some of them were going through bins.’ Her mother’s dismissive attitude changed to confusion as Gwenhwyfar’s face flooded with distress. ‘But darling, it’s nothing to worry about. Many people just can’t afford homes these days.’
‘How come there were never any back home?’ Gwenhwyfar looked to her father. The topic seemed to have put him off his food.
‘We lived in a rich part of Swansea, Gwen, away from all that,’ Eve said. ‘It helped we were in the country. They cluster in the cities. Usually if there were too many of them, or if they upset the locals, they got moved.’
‘Moved where?’
Garan looked up to Eve, who shrugged.
‘To a sheltered community, I think, nearer Cardiff. There are lots there. They help such people get back on their feet.’
‘Mobilisation Centres,’ Garan divulged. ‘Places where the homeless and disabled can work for a living and integrate back into society.’ He leant back in his chair, and turned his gaze out of the bare windows.
‘It’s the recession,’ Eve added, ‘it makes it hard for people to find work. Besides, some of them don’t want to find work. They’re perfectly happy living off handouts. They’re lucky they get that kind of support at all.’
Gwenhwyfar abandoned her food and rubbed the brim of her glass with her thumb.
‘Oh, please don’t worry about it, darling. People like us don’t need to concern ourselves with such things. Your father and I are more than capable of looking after you. It’s only the small minority that end up homeless. We’ll be fine.’
The table fell to silence. The low whine of Llewellyn, their Catalan Sheepdog, reverberated around the kitchen. His large eyes looked woefully for food.
‘I need money for a school book,’ Gwenhwyfar blurted out. ‘It’s for History. The teacher said it would be forty new-pounds.’
‘Forty?’
Gwenhwyfar shrugged. ‘He said it would be sixty if we don’t get it through the school. This way I’ll have it for Thursday. I need it to finish my homework.’
Eve looked to Garan. ‘I see,’ he murmured, reaching into the jacket suspended on the back of his chair. He pulled the correct amount from his leather wallet. ‘Here you go.’
Gwenhwyfar thanked him sweetly and clasped the notes in her hand, comforted by the feel of wealth against her palm. After supper she found herself searching the national news for anything about the homeless and disabled, but there was nothing, only reports about the Prime Minister’s recent charitable activities and the dispute pertaining to the historical abolition of the monarchy. It was gone ten when she finally abandoned her search, diverted by online shopping websites. She ordered a few coveted items on a whim using her own debit card, subbed on a regular basis by her father, and then switched off her computer to settle into bed. Her mind played over her new possessions, putting herself narcissistically into scenarios that involved the attention of an eager Arthur as she flaunted her new top, mingling at an imagined party.
Logres
The next two days settled Gwenhwyfar into her new routine. She started to learn her way around the school grounds and forged fledgling friendships with teachers and students alike, discovering that Arthur not only shared History with her but all three Sciences, too. As Emily and Hattie became more and more enthused about her pursuit of Arthur, she saw Charlotte less and less, and on Thursday morning all three girls were of the opinion that the recently ‘vile’ Charlotte had to be off sick.
‘I just don’t know what’s the matter with her,’ Emily muttered blackly. ‘I thought it was jealousy when she was being horrible to you, Gwen, but now I think it’s something else. She’s been a right moody cow with me, too.’
They were sitting in their tutor room to escape the cold, and still had some time before registration. Emily was taking the opportunity to perfect her fingertips, scraping pink polish across her nails with a clotted brush.
‘Maybe she’s having problems at home?’ Hattie theorised.
‘She would
tell us if she was, I’m sure of it.’ Emily twisted her wrist to inspect her handiwork. ‘Besides, it’s no excuse to take it out on us, is it?’
‘Maybe she’s ill,’ Gwenhwyfar suggested, wondering why Charlotte was so determined to dislike her. ‘It’s not like we’ve done anything to upset her. If one of us had said something, then it would make more sense, but we haven’t.’
‘I haven’t,’ Hattie scoffed.
‘Me neither. When would I ever?’ Emily pushed the brush back into the bottle and twisted it into place. She let her polished nails harden with splayed fingers. ‘I’ll send her a text later and see what’s wrong. Maybe she’s gone and got herself pregnant.’
‘What?’
She sent Hattie a knowing smile. ‘I saw her in the girls’ toilets yesterday morning, and she was definitely sick. Kept saying she didn’t feel well and everything. She was bent over the toilet for ages.’
‘Never.’
‘It’s true!’
Gwenhwyfar frowned. ‘But surely… wouldn’t she need a boyfriend for that?’
‘Not necessarily.’ There was a short silence. ‘Well, either that or she’s bulimic. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s getting annoying.’
‘Chatting about someone, are we?’
The girls looked up. Viola stood next to them with her slender arms crossed. Her hair was down today, long and like dark chocolate, and for a moment Gwenhwyfar wondered if this was why Hattie, Charlotte and Emily bitched about her so; wondered if it was because she was taller than all of them, thinner, and model-like in her stature. ‘Go on then,’ the slender girl sniped, ‘who’s bulimic? I’m dying to know.’
‘Go away, Viola,’ Emily hissed. ‘This doesn’t concern you.’
‘You’re right, it doesn’t. Shall I go fetch Charlotte instead?’
‘Charlotte’s not here,’ snapped Hattie.
Viola smiled, sarcasm spreading her lips. ‘Yes she is. She’s hiding in the girls’ toilets. Not throwing up, by the way.’
The Future King: Logres Page 3
