‘Hattie,’ she confirmed. ‘Have you seen her?’
Not one of them offered an answer. Hector was still staring. She didn’t like the way he gawped.
‘No? How about Emily?’
This time she got a series of unhelpful shrugs, but then Gavin broke his silence.
‘Wait, you mean that blonde girl who’s obsessed with Lance?’ Gwenhwyfar frowned. Blonde matched her description, at least. Gavin pointed up the slope that eventually led to the canteen. ‘I saw her by the Art block, with that friend of hers. Not Hattie, the other one.’
‘Charlotte?’ He shrugged again. ‘Thanks.’ Quickly she turned to leave.
‘I don’t know why you hang out with her,’ Viola said, separating herself from the others. ‘With Emily. You don’t seem like the type.’
Gwenhwyfar crossed her arms. ‘The type to what?’
‘Associate yourself with that lot.’ Viola watched her closely, her fists stretching her malformed pockets. ‘They’re two-faced. Emily has a new best friend practically every week.’
‘She does, does she?’
‘You’ve no idea what they’ve been saying about you behind your back.’
Gwenhwyfar looked beyond Viola to Gavin. He averted his eyes. ‘Don’t I? All right then, what did they say?’
‘Maybe you should ask Emily?’ Viola challenged.
‘No, I’m asking you.’ Gwenhwyfar squared closer. ‘Come on, what did she say about me?’
Viola rolled her eyes, as if it were obvious, as if she should already know. ‘She called you a sheep-shagger, what else?’
Gwenhwyfar scowled as, suddenly, her cheeks burned beetroot. For a moment words failed her, and she struggled to crawl through the shock. ‘A sheep-shagger?’ she repeated, appalled. Her eyes slid beyond Viola to her entourage, and she caught a smirk upon Tom’s lips. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she suddenly snarled, ‘so why don’t you just shut up? If anyone’s two-faced around here, it’s you.’
She spun on her heels and stormed up the hill. She expected to hear laughter in her wake, but none followed. Moments later her vision blurred with tears that she struggled to blink away.
‘Gwen!’
Starting, Gwenhwyfar looked up to see Hattie jogging down the hill. The other girl soon fell into step beside her.
‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ she said, obviously out of breath. ‘Have you seen the others?’
‘No,’ Gwenhwyfar remarked, avoiding eye contact. ‘Someone said they saw Emily by the Art block, though.’
‘Was Charlotte with her?’ Hattie demanded.
‘I think so. Why?’
‘I’m just curious.’ Hattie glanced to her doubtfully as they climbed the steps to the path running aside the drama studios. ‘It’s just… I think she’s been saying things to Emily about you. Earlier when you went to go talk to Arthur she told me that you said I was fat.’
‘Fat?’ Gwenhwyfar lapped it up. ‘I never said that!’
‘You didn’t?’
‘Of course not! Unlike some people, I don’t bitch.’
‘Charlotte’s been telling Emily you’ve been saying nasty things about us.’ Gwenhwyfar’s insides were boiling. Hattie continued to pry. ‘Have you upset her or something?’
‘I haven’t said anything to that girl,’ Gwenhwyfar hissed. ‘Not a thing! She’s been rude to me since I got here. So no, I don’t like her.’ She stopped and turned to Hattie in distress. ‘Has Emily said anything about me to you?’
Stunned, Hattie shook her head.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Not to me, she hasn’t,’ Hattie answered. ‘Why? Has she said anything to you?’
Gwenhwyfar shook her head. She strode towards one of the back entrances of Badbury, which was nestled next to cordoned off grass.
‘So it’s just Charlotte, then,’ concluded Hattie. Gwenhwyfar nodded stiffly. ‘Her uncle’s in the army… maybe she just doesn’t like the Welsh.’
She wished that Hattie had never found her. The other girl launched into some scandalous story about Charlotte’s uncle and how he’d had an affair while posted abroad in Israel. Hattie revealed that Charlotte was convinced he’d fathered a child with his lover, because a few weeks after he had returned they’d received a phone call from an accented woman. Charlotte had told Hattie she could hear a baby crying in the background. After that Gwenhwyfar found her mind closing to the particulars. Her life was mutating into a vortex of “she said, he said”.
* * *
Gwenhwyfar arrived at History that afternoon to find that Morgan was still ignoring her. She was curled over her textbook with a hard shoulder erecting a barrier between them, and when Gwenhwyfar offered her a pleasant greeting, she received an icy silence for her trouble. The stillness of the car park engaged her for a while as she blurred out the rising noise levels of her class. Their teacher was late again, but more surprisingly, so were Arthur and Bedivere. They arrived right before Mr Caledonensis, who stumbled in organising papers and notes.
‘Hey, Arthur,’ Gwenhwyfar offered him her widest smile. ‘Bedivere. Have you decided if you’re coming to the party tomorrow night?’
Arthur and Bedivere both sat sideways in their chairs. ‘I’m coming,’ Bedivere confirmed. ‘Though I don’t know if I’ve managed to convince Arthur yet.’
He laughed at this, so Gwenhwyfar did too. ‘Oh, please Arthur, you have to come. It won’t be the same if you don’t.’ The compliment made him blush, and he began to fidget. ‘I’ll hardly know anyone there. Charlotte and Hattie will be chasing after boys all night. I was hoping that Emily and I could hang around with you guys.’
This hooked Bedivere all the more. ‘That should be all right, shouldn’t it?’ he consulted, eagerly.
‘I don’t know if I can make it,’ Arthur murmured. ‘I have other things to do, you know.’
‘Can’t you postpone them?’ Gwenhwyfar suggested. ‘Just for a few hours?’
‘I don’t know…’
‘Oh, come on, I know you want to,’ Bedivere pressed. ‘Just get someone else to look after her for a bit, she’ll be fine.’
Still unconvinced, Arthur shifted and glanced out of the window. Bedivere used his silence as an opportunity to ask Morgan instead.
‘Probably not,’ Morgan shrugged, as Arthur’s eyes settled on her expectantly. ‘It sounds pretty lame. If I want to become legless, I’ll go swim with sharks. I don’t feel like going to one of Tom’s parties, anyway.’
The four looked across the room. Tom Lincoln Hareton was currently heckling Mr Caledonensis about his choice of jumper. He was wearing woodland green.
‘Still,’ Bedivere insisted, ‘it’ll be good. Even if it’s just to make fun of the idiots.’
‘And you’re definitely coming?’ Arthur’s brown eyes fixed on Gwenhwyfar. She felt a jolt through her stomach.
‘Definitely. I’m the new girl, I have to go.’
This seemed to appease him. His shoulders dropped, and he relaxed back into his chair. ‘Well, it seems like I don’t have a choice, either.’
* * *
Gwenhwyfar spent most of Friday gazing at the clock, hoping in silent desperation that her new top would arrive in time. She’d had a moment to check with Bedivere during tutorial that he and Arthur were still coming, but since then sightings of either boy had been scarce. Science that afternoon was Chemistry, though due to a stricter teacher, swapping seats was impossible. When it was time to pack up and leave, Arthur grabbed his belongings and strode hastily out of the door.
She was eager to get going. The moment her mum parked the car in the driveway she flew towards the house to pick up the bag she’d prepared the night before. Eve followed at a leisurely pace, peeling away her coat in the lobby. Gwenhwyfar came charging back down the stairs.
‘Mam? Did any parcels arrive today?’
Eve eyed her with surprise. Her school uniform was gone and she was wearing a large maroon hoodie with worn jeans. ‘We’re leav
ing now?’
‘I don’t want to be late.’ Gwenhwyfar strode into the lobby to pull on her trainers. ‘Were there any parcels?’
‘But we just got in! What was the point of coming home? I could have brought your bag with me, if I’d known.’
‘Mam! The parcel?’
‘What parcel? I didn’t know you were expecting one.’
Gwenhwyfar huffed, muttered something and then proceeded to panic over what she was going to wear.
‘Can’t you just go in something else?’ Eve tried, pulling her driving gloves back on.
‘But I wanted to wear that!’ Cursing, Gwenhwyfar ran back up the stairs. Eve shouted after her, proclaiming she was going. As she opened the front door a yellow van crackled onto the driveway and blocked her car. Out came a man with a soft parcel.
Shrugging on her coat Eve positioned herself in the doorway. ‘Gwen!’ she yelled.
Soon they were back in the car, driving through their affluent neighbourhood to Emily’s house. The central navigation system told them they would be there in ten minutes, but her mother was a slow driver, and would probably take longer.
‘So how’s school going?’
‘Good.’ Gwenhwyfar kept her eyes fixed out of the passenger window, willing her mother to go faster.
‘You’ll get used to it. You may even prefer it, after a while.’ There was a long silence. ‘So who’s going to this party? Anyone nice?’
‘I only know the girls I’m going with,’ Gwenhwyfar shrugged. ‘I haven’t really met anyone else yet.’
‘Well, maybe now will be a good opportunity to get to know people. Where is it?’
‘At a boy’s house. He’s got a girlfriend, before you ask. We probably won’t stay long. We’re going to watch films, later.’
‘You’re still going riding tomorrow, though?’ Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘You know, your father and I were thinking. Once we’re more settled, if the stables here are any good, maybe we can get you a new horse. Would you like that?’
‘I don’t want a new horse,’ she muttered. ‘If so, what was the point of selling Dillon?’
‘He’s old, Gwen. The trip would’ve been too much for him. He hadn’t been in a horse box for over ten years.’
‘Well, maybe we shouldn’t have moved, then,’ she bit, glancing to her mother who gazed ahead with crinkled eyes. She looked young for her age, but it was a youth bought with expensive creams and relentless face yoga. Gwenhwyfar knew she was handsome, however, and that she herself had been given the best of her mother’s features: a heart shaped face, a small, rounded chin and full lips; though she was often told she’d got her short legs and petite frame from her paternal great-grandmother. She tanned easily and darkly, like her father, and it was his almond eyes she felt she bore, though sometimes they seemed more like the green, hooded eyes of her mother. Her mother’s nose was sterner than her own; and though the similarities didn’t end there she had dyed the thick, chocolate locks they both shared bleach-blonde for as long as she could remember.
‘We had to move. Your father was going to lose his job. If he hadn’t have been headhunted we would’ve had to sell up, anyway. We wouldn’t have ended up in such a good neighbourhood. Do you want to be one of those kids living in the slums?’
‘What happened to you and Dad being able to look after us?’
‘We can, Gwen, thanks to moving here. Without this job your father has nothing.’
‘We must have savings,’ she contested.
‘If we do, they’re none of your business.’
‘How come he has to work so late all the time?’ she scowled. ‘I thought this job meant fewer hours.’
They passed Logres, still open, although the classroom lights were switched off for the night. On the sports field there were afterschool clubs playing cricket and rugby, with some students still in their uniforms lingering to watch the games.
‘It does,’ Eve insisted. ‘But it’s only his first week. Once he’s settled, I’m sure we’ll see more of him.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Actually, now that you’re back in school I was thinking of getting a job. Nothing big: just something part time. What do you think?’
‘Would you still be home for after school?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘I think it’s great. What were you thinking of?’
Her mother shrugged. ‘Your aunt and uncle say they could do with some help at their firm. I may not have worked since I had you, but I still know how to be a secretary. If not, there’s always a craft shop in town looking for extra help. Just something to do.’
‘Couldn’t you work from home? You could start your own business.’
‘I wouldn’t know what.’
They pulled into Emily’s street. Gwenhwyfar peered out of the window in an effort to spot the right house number, which ended up being at the far end of the road.
‘Beautiful houses,’ her mother observed, as she brought the car to a halt. ‘We wanted to buy here, but nothing was on the market. Which one is it?’
‘That one, I think.’ Gwenhwyfar grabbed her bag. Her mother undid her seatbelt and pulled the keys out of the ignition. ‘Mam, I can find it myself.’
‘I’d just like to say hello to Olivia. It won’t take a moment.’ She opened the door and got out onto the empty street. Huffing, Gwenhwyfar followed. The whole community had the feel of a holiday resort, and each colossal building could have been its own hotel. Some of the long driveways were gated and housed expensive cars. As they approached Emily’s front door the property greeted them with an air of exclusivity.
They rang the doorbell. Olivia Rose welcomed them both politely and invited them in, directing Gwenhwyfar to Emily’s bedroom where Emily, Charlotte and Hattie were already waiting. Later, Eve called up the stairs to announce she was going, and then they were all given pizza, hardly eating a few hurried slices before rushing back upstairs to get dressed.
At first Gwenhwyfar was annoyed that, unlike Charlotte, she hadn’t opted for a dress, but once ready she felt satisfied with her choice. The emerald green sparkles of the scale-like fabric clung to her perfectly, and dark jeans coupled with silver heels balanced out the fact it was backless. Her make-up was light, but reminiscent of Viola’s dark, smoky eyes. When she returned downstairs to find the others waiting, Charlotte’s jealousy was evident.
‘Ready?’ Emily stood, looking uncomfortable.
‘Yep!’ she exclaimed. It was obvious they had just been talking about her, but refusing to dwell on the matter, Gwenhwyfar grabbed her coat and strode towards the door.
It wasn’t a forgiving night. As they walked together, huddled in their jackets, Gwenhwyfar found her gaze drifting upwards to a night sky inferior to the one back home. They found Tom’s house with the door shut and the curtains drawn, the low rumble of sub-bass faint but definite. A sudden wave of heat washed over them as they came inside. Coats were heaped by a coat stand, and loud music boomed from the first room to their left. The air was pungent with deodorant and perfume.
‘Made it, then?’ Viola offered a smile that could have been considered sarcastic. Surprised, Gwenhwyfar only stared. She looked like an undiscovered supermodel.
Viola had one of those faces that could wear any hat and any hairstyle, with a long swan-neck and a refined celestial nose. Her eyebrows were thick and arched, and her cheekbones angled to a striking profile. For a few moments Gwenhwyfar was overcome with jealousy, though it was mostly for Viola’s slender height. She had to be no more than a few inches shorter than Arthur. Her complexion was flawless, smooth and like bone china, and she wore jeans with a dark corset, softened by waving hair.
‘Where are the toilets?’ Gwenhwyfar removed her coat. Viola took it from her.
‘Upstairs. I’ll hang this in the closet. It’ll get stolen, otherwise.’ She gave Gwenhwyfar a knowing smile; one that this time almost seemed kind. Perhaps she felt guilty for being so horrible to her yesterday, Gwenhwyfar mused, or perhaps she was going to thro
w her coat in the bin. Whichever, Viola was gone without an insult. Gwenhwyfar then realised that the others had abandoned her too. Stealing the opportunity, she hurried upstairs with her clutch to preen herself.
* * *
She ran into Arthur and Bedivere when she came back down to join the party. They were standing by the door in the hallway, eying their surroundings. Bedivere had shed his coat onto the pile, and Arthur held his awkwardly, not quite willing to part with it. Eventually he hung it on one of the pegs, half-concealing it beneath the other coats.
Bedivere saw her first. ‘Gwen!’ he exclaimed. The formalities of school suddenly crumbled as he moved in for a quick hug. ‘You been here long?’
She shook her head the moment she was released. ‘I only got here five minutes ago. You?’
‘We just arrived,’ Arthur said, jumping in. He offered half a grin. ‘I’m surprised I could remember the way.’
‘You’ve been here before?’
‘Not since year seven.’
Bedivere searched beyond them both, keen to dive headfirst into the throng. ‘So where’s Emily?’
‘I think she went to get a drink.’
‘Do you mind if I go look for her?’
Their silent shrugs were encouragement enough; and Bedivere was off, hunting for the apple of his eye. Gwenhwyfar sent Arthur an encouraging smile. ‘That jumper looks good on you.’
He looked down as if to remind himself what he was wearing. ‘Thanks. You look nice too.’
‘Want to get a drink?’
‘Sure.’
She turned to lead him after Bedivere, her heart thrumming like a humming bird. The air thickened as they passed through the living room, and though she recognised a few people from school most faces were new to her. They found the drinks table in the kitchen, littered with empty cups and half-filled bottles. A few names had already been emptied, cheap rum and another unidentified spirit; and all that was left was known as “solution”, a potent home-brew with the appearance of clouded lemonade. She mixed two cups with cranberry juice, gave herself an undersized straw, and then handed one to Arthur.
The Future King: Logres Page 5
