New Girl

by Carmen Reid

  Aaaaaargh! Amy and Gina turned red and attempted to swallow the vile mouthfuls. Niffy unceremoniously spat the offending cake back out onto her plate.

  Min arrived at their side, a half-eaten scone laden with cream and jam in her hand. Taking another bite, she said through her mouthful, ‘What’s up with you lot? This is Mrs K’s best spread yet.’

  Suddenly the Neb was at their side again, not looking quite so friendly this time. In fact she was frowning and her mouth looked mean and thin.

  ‘I have had to bake the entire tea twice,’ she snapped. ‘Do you have any idea how much work that involved? Even worse, a great deal of perfectly good food has gone to waste because of you selfish, silly little girls. You are on washing-up duty until the end of term and you will never, ever meddle in my kitchen again,’ the Neb declared, before turning, expression set back to welcoming smile, to the parents behind her.

  Gina could feel her toes curling in her shoes at these words; Amy hung her head and even Niffy didn’t seem to be shaking with the need to giggle.

  ‘I think we should go upstairs,’ Amy suggested. Both Gina and Min nodded in agreement but Niffy reminded them that she had her parents to look after.

  ‘Are Niffy’s parents really going to take us all out for dinner?’ Min asked, once they were back in the peace and quiet of the dorm.

  ‘That’s the plan,’ Amy replied. ‘They’re just having a cup of tea in the sitting room – I think there’s something Niffy’s mum wants to talk about in private.’

  ‘In private?’ Min wondered.

  ‘I know,’ Amy said. ‘Sounds ominous, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Did you know that she thinks her parents are having real problems?’ Gina had to ask.

  Amy just sighed. ‘I think it’s been like this for years. But maybe it’s got worse lately. She’s been worried about them all term – worried there’s something going on that they won’t tell her about.’

  ‘What are you going to do about Mrs K?’ Min asked from her bed, where she was lying flat out, trying not to doze off after her strenuous afternoon.

  ‘Maybe we should buy her a bunch of flowers?’ Gina suggested.

  ‘Oh God . . .’ The reluctance on Amy’s face was obvious. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. Otherwise she’ll never, ever let us forget about it.’

  ‘She’s not really that bad—’ Min began.

  ‘Yes she is!’ Amy retorted. ‘I’ve been here since I was ten and so has Niffy, and we’re agreed that the Neb is a daughter of the devil.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been here since I was thirteen and I really don’t think she is!’ Min answered back, aware of how childish this argument sounded.

  ‘Have you always shared a dorm with Niffy?’ Gina asked Amy to try and change the subject.

  ‘Yeah. There are a few other girls who’ve been here as long as us, but I’ve always shared with Nif.’

  Just then the door flew open and Niffy burst in. To their surprise, she was streaming with tears and flung herself down on her bed, face first, sobbing noisily.

  ‘Niffy!’

  First Amy, then Min and Gina huddled round her bed, patting her on the back and asking what the matter was.

  When only sobs came in reply, Amy asked gently, ‘Are they getting divorced? Is that what the problem’s been?’

  The sobbing went on. Long, slow minutes passed with Amy just patting Niffy’s back, Gina and Min looking at each other, not sure what to do next.

  Finally Niffy was able to blurt out, ‘No . . . no . . . I just knew it! I knew all along that something was not right. My mum’s just told me that—’

  Her sobs broke out anew and she struggled to get the words out. ‘My mum’s ill. She’s known for months and she’s only just told me.’

  The news was met with a stunned silence.

  It took a minute before Amy managed to ask, ‘What’s the matter with her?’

  Niffy gave a horrible strangled gurgle. ‘She’s got cancer,’ she blurted out. ‘Some kind of leukaemia, but she says it’s not the really serious one. I can’t believe there’s any other kind!’

  The three girls round her bed all looked at each other in fright now.

  ‘Where is your mum?’ Amy asked when Niffy’s sobs seemed to have subsided a little.

  ‘She’s still in the sitting room where I left her. I told her not to follow me!’ Niffy replied, head still buried in her pillow. ‘I have to go home,’ she added. ‘I mean, I have to leave St Jude’s and go to school at home but she doesn’t want me to do that! Says she wants my life to carry on as usual . . . as usual’ – Niffy’s voice rose close to a shout – ‘as bloody usual, while she goes off and threatens to die on me! And if I don’t go home’ – she sat up now and wiped hot tears from her cheeks – ‘she’s going to have to sell Ginger! Because she’s not well enough to ride him.’

  It was no use, the sobs broke out again but Niffy managed: ‘Don’t think I’m more upset about Ginger than Mum, it’s not that. But I love him Too . . .’ And with that Niffy fell face first back onto her bed.

  ‘I want to go home,’ were the words that came through the pillow, ‘and I really don’t want to go home!’

  Only Amy really understood what her friend meant.

  They’d been boarders together for five years. Amy understood perfectly that Niffy didn’t want to leave school and have to deal with her family and all its problems full time. There had been moments for Amy when boarding school had been a protective bubble of normality away from her unconventional home life. It would be so hard for Niffy to leave.

  The door opened and Mrs N-B entered the room, looking much more composed than her daughter. She greeted the girls with a smile and, standing with her back against the door, told them, ‘I’m really sorry about this. I’ve upset Luella much more than I meant to. I mean . . . she’s much more upset than she really needs to be.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about your news.’ Amy wanted to make it clear that Niffy had told them.

  Mrs N-B sat on the end of Niffy’s bed and ran a hand through her daughter’s hair. ‘It’s not nearly as bad as you think, Lu,’ she said softly. ‘They’ve got it so early . . . Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Lulu – you’ll set me off as well.’

  Looking away to give them some privacy, Gina thought how strange it was that there were three different Nairn-Bassett girls: Luella belonged to the school, Lulu belonged to her family; Niffy was theirs.

  ‘I want to come home, Mum. Just for a term or two,’ came from the pillow. ‘You’ve got to let me. Just to make sure you’re really going to be OK.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Mrs Nairn-Bassett soothed. ‘Think how much you’d miss your friends.’

  Amy, Min and Gina all looked at each other. They knew they had to help Niffy. If she was in no fit state to fight her corner with her mother today, then they would have to do it for her.

  ‘Mrs N-B . . .’ began Min, who now had some experience of difficult conversations with parents.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘DOESN’T EVERYONE DESERVE a fair start? A fair chance at making the best of their life?’ Amy took a deep breath before she went on, trying not to let the piece of paper in her hands wobble too much. ‘Why should someone who lives in the wrong part of town not be able to go to a good school? Why should someone whose parents can’t afford to send them to a school like this miss out on good exam results and the chance of being well qualified for the rest of their life?’

  She looked up . . . Oh dear – she definitely wasn’t going to do that again. There were far too many faces out there, all staring back at her. Everyone looked deadly serious and grim – it was totally freaking her out.

  Before she’d got up to begin her speech, she hadn’t felt too nervous, but now that she was coming to the end of it, she was feeling deeply shaken. Her words didn’t sound convincing even to her. And the poisonous smiles on the faces of Penny and Louisa over on the other side of the table were hardly reassuring.

  ‘So, to conclude,�
� Amy ploughed on, ‘this house believes in a fair and just system of education for all, not just for the few who can afford to pay for it.’

  She sat down abruptly and listened to the applause. There was no doubt that it was a little restrained, a little polite. Oh, capital S, H, I and T. They were going to lose.

  Penny stood up with a beaming smile. There were no notes clasped in her hands – she was going to do this from memory, the cow! Look at her fingers! Not the slightest sign of trembling.

  With a voice full of confidence, with a positive swagger, Penny kicked off her speech. She was leaning forward; she was really speaking to her audience, not at it. She was winning them over, convincing every single one of them. Look! There were smiles and nods of agreement as she rattled on, ‘Wealth isn’t usually an accident: almost everyone in this room has talented parents who work really hard every day to make the money to send you here. To the best school in Edinburgh—’ Loud claps interrupted her words. ‘To the best school in Scotland!’ She punched the table for emphasis. Louder clapping and a whoop or two followed.

  ‘Your parents want the best for you!’ Penny’s voice was passionate. ‘They didn’t want to dump you in some mediocre comprehensive where nobody cares about the best; where “good enough” and “scraping by” are all that is required . . .’

  Amy struggled with the desire to bury her head in her hands. Why had she ever thought this would be a good idea? One moment of pomposity as she’d met Penny at the notice board and now, here she was, being humiliated in front of the entire school.

  As Penny’s speech finished to thunderous applause, Amy wondered how she was going to be able to sit through the two supporting speeches without screaming.

  Finally it was time for first Penny and then Amy to give their brief concluding speeches. There was no mistaking the sneer on Penny’s face as, completing hers, she sat down to further loud applause. Once she’d made sure Amy was looking, she spread her thumb and forefinger into an L for loser and showed it to her.

  Amy looked away in disgust, stood up – and discovered to her surprise that she’d totally lost her temper and didn’t care what anyone in this smug little Penny-loving audience thought of her any more. She put down the page she’d prepared and began to talk off the top of her head.

  Suddenly she could only think about her dad, who’d gone to a school so rubbish, he’d left at sixteen without a single qualification, even though he was a bright guy – he still couldn’t write a sentence without making at least three mistakes. That just wasn’t fair, was it?

  ‘Fine!’ she stormed at her audience. ‘That’s fine. You just sit there smugly and congratulate yourselves on the fantastic results you’re all going to get. Fantastic because your parents have bought the best teachers for you; fantastic because the school has weeded out everyone who isn’t clever enough, isn’t committed enough, isn’t even stable enough! It must be a real cushy number teaching here: no one with a problem is allowed to stay on at this school, are they?!’

  She was aware of the complete quiet in the room now.

  ‘So all those other kids who leave school at sixteen without a qualification, because they’re poor, or badly taught, or ADD or dyslexic, or had no one encouraging them, not even somewhere quiet at home to go and study . . . we’ll just forget about them, will we?

  ‘Who cares about them? Not you lot: the lawyers, accountants and doctors of tomorrow. Because you went somewhere else. You haven’t got a clue what they’ve been going through. And they won’t be able to change anything when they grow up, because there’s no way they’ll become lawyers, accountants, doctors or teachers.

  ‘But that’s fine. If you’re happy with that; if you’re happy for this city to have some of the best schools in the country and some of the absolute worst, then that’s just fine. You vote for them.’ She pointed at Penny and Louisa, then, suddenly feeling a tightness at the back of her throat, sat down abruptly.

  After a moment or two of stunned silence, much louder applause than she’d expected broke out.

  ‘Oh, never mind Penny,’ Niffy told Amy for about the fiftieth time that day as they walked along the boarding-house corridor after supper. ‘Thirty-three people voted for you, didn’t they? They can’t all have been your friends, because you’ve only got about three friends! I think this shows incredible promise: a career in the law is calling to you!’

  ‘Oh, put a cork in it!’ Amy replied.

  ‘You won!’ Niffy reminded her. ‘You won! What did Mrs Greig say again? “Provocative but impassioned.”’

  The payphone in the corridor booth began to ring – an extremely unusual sound: it hardly ever got the chance because there was almost always someone on it.

  Neither Niffy nor Amy rushed to answer it, because this would involve running round the boarding house in search of the person the call was for.

  ‘Oh, go on,’ Amy instructed Niffy once the fourth ring had sounded.

  Niffy reluctantly went over and lifted the receiver. ‘Hello? Who? Oh! Yeah . . . That’s me . . . Who is this?’

  Amy edged in a little closer to her friend to make sure she didn’t miss any of the conversation.

  ‘How are you?’ Angus was asking Niffy: Angus of the leopard-skin g-string, Angus of the dorm visit, Angus of the cheeky smiles and daring bets.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied, still sounding surprised. Why on earth was Angus phoning her? Was this some kind of a wind-up?

  ‘I just wondered if you were going to be around . . . you know . . . during the summer?’ Angus asked, sounding very unsure of himself.

  Around during the summer? Oh! Poor boys! Niffy couldn’t help thinking. They were so clueless and kind of hopeless. They should not be the ones who had to ask for dates; really that should be a girl’s job. Always.

  ‘Are you asking me out, Angus?’ Niffy asked, and Amy began to giggle beside her.

  ‘Well . . . erm’ – there was some vigorous throat-clearing going on – ‘sort of . . .’ Angus concluded.

  ‘That’s really sweet of you,’ Niffy said, ‘but . . . erm . . . I’m not going to be in Edinburgh much. I’m going home to Cumbria and I’ll be at a school there for a while because my mum’s . . . not very well,’ she added.

  ‘Oh,’ Angus replied. ‘I’m sorry.’

  There was a pause while he considered what to say next. ‘Don’t be too wild then,’ he added, and there was such an obvious note of disappointment in his voice that Niffy felt she had to help him out.

  ‘Cumbria is lovely – you should come and visit. You know my brother Finn, don’t you?’

  ‘Finn? Yes. Well . . . that would be great. Fantastic. Well, I’ll do that! OK, well, great to talk to you. I’ll definitely try and do that . . . OK then . . . Well, take care and . . .’

  Just as he was about to hang up and possibly punch the air and do a little victory dance, Niffy had to prompt him: ‘Angus?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Do you want to take my home phone number? That way you can phone me and we can make the arrangement.’

  ‘Oh yes . . . erm . . . just hang on – got to go and find a pen . . . something to write on . . .’

  Once Angus was off the line, Niffy couldn’t help turning to Amy with an excited giggle.

  ‘So Angus coming to Cumbria is a good thing, is it?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I think so!’ Niffy answered with a grin.

  Then, holding the receiver up so that no one else could call in, she told Amy to go and get Gina.

  ‘Gina? Why?’ Amy asked.

  ‘There’s something she has to talk to her mum about before she goes back home.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘MOM, IT’S GINA. Hi!’

  ‘Oh, hi. Hi, honey. How are you?’

  After Gina had caught up with everything going on at home, Lorelei wanted to know all about school and Gina’s schoolwork. How was it coming along? Had she finally settled in and got her head down?

  ‘Yeah,’ Gina assured her, ‘I’ve been
working really hard. My biology results are good. My physics is apparently improving . . .’

  ‘That’s great! Fantastic news!’

  Gina went on down the list. ‘I think even Madame Bensimon might have some hope for me, and English . . .’ She thought about Mrs Parker and all her praise and encouragement over the past few weeks – Another A for Gina . . . Girls, we have an essayist in our midst, a composer of polemics, a future journalist maybe? An opinion former? At the very least, a brilliant book reviewer. No teacher had ever been so nice to her before, and as a result, her reading list was growing by the day.

  ‘English,’ Gina told her mother modestly, ‘is going really well. I’m sure I’m going to get a really good report card for this term, Mom. You’ll be proud of me. Maybe you’ll even let me come home.’

  ‘Wow, baby, I am proud of you!’ Lorelei replied. ‘Of course you’re going to come back now! We can’t wait to see you. All of us. Your friends included. I was speaking to Paula’s mom and Paula’s got a whole summer of fun planned out for you. Three parties in the first week of the holidays alone. And you may go!

  ‘It must have been so hard for you,’ she finally acknowledged, ‘fitting into a totally different school, with all those new people. I am so proud of you.’

  ‘So . . .’ Gina took a little breath to help her get the question out. ‘Mom . . . how come you did so badly at your O-levels?’

  She pressed the receiver tightly against her ear. For a while all she could hear was the gentle buzzing a transatlantic line sometimes makes when no one is talking.

  ‘Oh . . . you found out about that?’ Lorelei asked in a voice which sounded much less certain than usual. ‘How did you—?’

  ‘Never mind how I found out,’ Gina interrupted. ‘I think you should just tell me what happened.’

  ‘But I . . . I didn’t want you to find out about that,’ Lorelei said.

  ‘Why not?’ Gina asked, exasperated. ‘In case I thought you were anything less than perfect?’

  Down the line, she could hear her mother’s deep sigh.