Talent

by Annie B Matthews

  Talent

  By Annie B. Matthews

  Text copyright © A. B. Matthews 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Prologue

  It was dark. The moonless night suited her purpose and it was all she could do not to laugh with excitement at how things were turning out.

  She had found the Talent only a few months ago, almost by accident. Certainly at first she had no idea of the potential behind the attitude he put on. And then…then she had realised that Lucas was the key to her plan.

  He had been so quick to train, so eager.

  She watched as the boy stumbled from the train, eyes wild and skin as pale as marble.

  Admitting now that she had harboured a sliver of doubt that Lucas would fail, she rocked back on her heels, satisfied.

  He hadn't.

  Step one.

  Smiling, she melted into the shadows. Lucas was perfect. A genius. She could trust him to make sure that everything went smoothly.

  And then, at last, they would pay for what they had done.

  Chapter One

  The hands on the battered clock were definitely not moving. Libby sighed and dropped her gaze back to the test paper in front of her. She’d been watching the clock for what seemed like hours, marvelling at how slowly a lesson could pass.

  Around her, students were either poring over the History test, doodling on it or, in one case, sleeping on it. The teacher, looking bored herself, seemed unconcerned by the soft snores coming from the back of the classroom. She either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about the low murmurs around the room as students got bored of the test and started their own conversations in muted voices. It had become clear by the end of Libby's first week at the school that the woman didn’t notice an awful lot; Libby wasn’t sure how much of it was intentional.

  Her own paper lay finished on the worn, scuffed desk. It had barely offered a challenge. She had covered the topic last year and had aced the test. That assessment had been twice as challenging as this one.

  Beauton School was nothing like her old one. It seemed like light years ago now, but only last month Libby had been studying at one of the best girls' schools in the country.

  In all honesty, Libby didn’t mind the move. She knew what she wanted to do with her life and knew what she’d need to get there; it didn’t matter to her where she went to school as long as she could get the qualifications she needed. Her father’s bankruptcy had been an unexpected blow, but it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

  It had been a change though. Gone was the large house, top school and generous allowance. The cost of staying at her old school had been insurmountable.

  The family had relocated to a country town where her father had found work with a small family business needing his expertise. She now drove a reluctant old Metro and wouldn’t have an allowance until she’d managed to find a job that fit around her study.

  Since she had no friends in this new town, an allowance was hardly necessary. So far no one had spared her more than a passing glance and she was shy enough that it had become increasingly difficult to make the first move. Remembering the hostile glare from one girl on her first day, Libby grimaced. It wasn’t hard to recognise the brunette as one of the in crowd, but since the in crowd wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be, the rejection hadn’t hurt.

  The flash of white caught her eye and she turned to see one of the girls in the front row toss a square of paper onto her friend’s desk. Cheating? She watched the other girl’s face split into a wide grin. Doubtful she was a cheat, Libby thought to herself. No one was that excited about History answers.

  The bell rang then and she watched in amusement as half of the students bolted for the door, not waiting for dismissal. The teacher hurled instructions over the din, something about next week's reading. Libby sympathised, but didn’t stick around.

  The school was small and the centre of it, a large green rectangle opening up to the sports field, was packed with students, all upbeat now that lessons had stopped for lunch. Libby wasn’t quite so enthusiastic; there was no fun in sitting alone.

  Another headache started to throb behind her eyes as she pushed her way down the corridor. Yet one more result of the move, she thought wryly. She didn’t think a day passed without a headache starting up, but if she were lucky it would be a mild one.

  “Hey.”

  Startled, Libby glanced towards the cheerful voice. The girl was petite, a red-headed pixie with a wide warm smile.

  “Hi.”

  “You’re in my Biology class.”

  Libby hadn’t noticed. She usually arrived dead on time, taking the always empty seat by the door.

  “I’m Kelly.”

  “Libby.” She managed a smile as Kelly fell in step beside her.

  “Great to meet you, Libby.” There was a trace of amusement in her voice that Libby didn’t understand. “It’s nice to see some new faces around here. We rarely get new students midyear. We rarely get new students at all, for that matter.”

  Raising her eyebrows, Libby considered that. It would explain why no one had particularly been interested in talking with her, since they all had their established cliques. Great.

  “Are you heading to the canteen?”

  “I was going to get some air,” she confessed. “Headache.”

  Kelly pulled a sympathetic face. “I hope you feel better.”

  Before Libby could respond, Kelly came to a halt. Her eyes unfocused for the briefest moment before she lit up like a candle. When her gaze snapped over Libby’s shoulder, she turned to see what had caught the red-head’s attention.

  It was a boy, she realised wryly. He looked slightly older than Kelly, and she guessed that he was in Year 13. He walked towards them with a long gait, his dark eyes locked on the girl beside her.

  Boyfriend, of course. What else? He was gorgeous, lean and olive skinned. Amused with herself, she looked away to give the couple some privacy.

  “Danny.”

  “Kelly.” There was something in his voice that made Libby a little wistful. He caught Kelly’s hand in his before turning to Libby. “Hello.”

  “This is Libby.” Again Libby heard the note of amusement, this time with a hint of smugness that had her puzzled. What was the joke?

  “Nice to meet you.” His smile was genuine, and she relaxed a little. “Are you joining us for lunch?”

  The third wheel? As nice as they seemed, the couple were completely together. Libby couldn’t think of another way to explain it. The intensity of their relationship was crystal clear.

  She’d always been uncanny in her ability to read people and their feelings.
It was one of the reasons she kept to herself a lot; it was hard to be chatty with someone who was bored by your conversation, as hard as they tried not to be. It was harder to date, knowing that the guy was only interested in one thing. This guy was different, though. It was though they held hands because they had to, as though some contact was a physical necessity.

  Putting her curiosity aside, Libby managed to decline with a smile. Even though her headache had disappeared along with the distraction, she wanted to get outside. The sea of strange faces made her anxious for space.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Kelly looked disappointed and the thought of that cheered Libby a little. Perhaps she’d find a friend here after all.

  “Mum?” She dropped her bag onto the sofa on her way through to the kitchen. It was the only cheery room in the house and they all seemed to congregate there. When they did congregate, Libby corrected miserably. These days the atmosphere in the house had been stifling.

  “Hey, honey.” Francis smiled, the warmth not quite reaching her eyes. “How was school? Any better?”

  Libby shrugged, watching as her mother filled the kettle and busied herself making tea.

  Since the move her mother had been really quiet. She’d put on a brave face around Libby, always pretending that she was fine. Yet sometimes Libby caught her unawares and she’d been worried by the distressed look in her eyes.

  “Okay. I spoke to someone.”

  Francis laughed. “Finally. I knew they couldn’t all be that antisocial.”

  “You know I wouldn’t lie.” In spite of it all, Libby grinned. “Still, I’m not exactly a party girl, so it hardly matters.”

  Her mother put a hand on her shoulder as she passed to the fridge, a brief gesture of support.

  “I have managed to get some local gossip, however.”

  “You’re the best information gatherer I know,” Francis laughed. “Do tell.”

  Settling against the counter, Libby picked up an apple from the fruit bowl. “The lady who works at the Green Street post office is Bevly,” she recited, knowing her mother had met the softly spoken lady who ran the town’s central business. “And would you believe she’s married to Tony Broughton?”

  That had her mother staring. Their estate agent was big, brash and intolerable to be around for more than ten minutes at a time. “No, really?”

  “Yep. Their daughter was complaining to a friend in the toilets this morning. He's blocked off her allowance after finding her emails to a boy who is not suitable. Apparently her mother tried to intervene and got an earful for her trouble. No wonder she’s so timid,” Libby commiserated, as her mother sat opposite and pushed a mug of tea across to her. “It’s a wonder she's allowed to speak at all.”

  Francis put down her mug. “Libby.”

  The scolding was clearly for form’s sake, but Libby shrugged in reluctant apology. “Also, the Beauton Arms on High Street is the students' watering hole of choice.”

  Her mother sighed. “It’s not like London, is it?”

  The silence stretched as Francis avoided meeting her daughter’s eyes. Libby grimaced, took a deep breath.

  “Are you unhappy here, mum?”

  “What?” Laughing a little, Francis got up from the table and began busying herself with preparations for dinner. Carrots from the fridge, an onion from the basket. “Of course not. We’re together, that’s all that matters.”

  “I know.” She chose her next words carefully. Her ability to read people was not a strength when it came to reading her parents. Not these days, anyway. “You just seem a bit…preoccupied.”

  “Hmm?” Again the vague smile. “Oh well, I’ve just been busy getting things organised in a new place. How’s Sally? Have you heard from her this week?”

  Libby wondered if she should allow the change of topic. For the first time, she had no idea how to handle her mother. Sighing, she shrugged. “She’s okay. I’ll email her later.”

  “You must miss her.”

  Another shrug. Sally had been her best friend since she was twelve and they had been through a lot together. No one knew her as well as Sally.

  “Yeah, but she’s thinking of visiting in the holidays. Or I could visit her. What do you miss, mum?”

  She saw the hesitation, the thinning of her mother’s lips before her face turned away. Before either of them could speak, the sound of the front door opening told them her dad was home.

  “Good afternoon ladies.” His greeting was upbeat, but somehow false. Libby smiled anyway, and rose to kiss his cheek. A sudden rush of affection had her hugging him for a moment longer than usual.

  “Did you have a good day, dad?”

  “Not bad, kiddo.” He leaned over to kiss Francis and Libby felt a little relieved as her mother smiled. A genuine smile this time, she noted. “Okay, Fran?”

  “Absolutely. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes if you want to change.”

  “Great.” Whistling, he left the kitchen.

  Smiling, relieved beyond measure at her father’s happy response to Francis’ greeting, Libby turned to face her mother.

  “I’ll just-” The words stuck in her throat. Francis had her eyes squeezed closed, her face a study in despair.

  Without a word, Libby pushed from the room, her heart racing. What was wrong with her mother? Her parents had always been happy together, and she’d never doubted that they were in love. Even their rare arguments had never lasted long, had always ended with her dad making her mother laugh. How could it matter so much, that he had lost his position as partner when the firm had gone bust? It wasn’t as though it had been his doing, although he’d argued equal responsibility.

  One of the three partners had been dealing under the table, and it had gone terribly wrong for them all. Eric had maintained that he should have seen what was going on, should have been more aware of his partner’s dealings. Either way, the resolution had been to leave the city. She had thought they were all in agreement, that the move had been a joint decision. Now, faced with the evidence that her mother couldn’t bear their change in circumstance, Libby was shocked numb. It seemed incomprehensible, a betrayal.

  She climbed the stairs wearily, passing her dad in the small hallway.

  “Libby, what’s wrong?” He rested a hand on her shoulder, concerned. “You look ill.”

  “I’m not feeling too good.” She managed a tight smile. “Another headache. I’m going to bed.”

  “Shout if you need anything.”

  She knew his worried gaze follow her, felt the weight of it as she shut the bedroom door behind her. Falling onto the bed, Libby stared up at the ceiling.

  The longing for her old life was almost too much to bear. Not the house, nor the other things she had had, but the camaraderie of her old home, the absolute certainty that she and her parents were a unit, a team that could take on anything and win. The missing of it was a crushing weight.

  Rolling into the pillows, Libby let the tears come.

  Chapter Two

  She barely slept. Exhausted, Libby moved from class to class the next day, barely taking in what she was supposed to be learning. She had thought of so many ways to try talking to her mum about what had gone wrong. She had also talked herself out of it. Was it really her business?

  Libby had to admit that she’d been avoiding both her mum and dad recently, feeling awkward in the unsettling atmosphere that seemed to descend whenever they were together. It had been a relief when school had started, giving her an excuse to get out of the house. She’d spent too much time holed up in her new room, but it was becoming obvious that her retreat hadn’t been helping matters.

  It was a relief to tag along to the canteen with a couple of girls from her Chemistry class. They’d been put in a group together and, although initially wary, the two had warmed up a little when they’d realised that Libby knew her stuff.

  They were talking about someone she didn’t know. Rather than try to join the conversation, Libby turned her attention to the sc
ene around her.

  The canteen was packed. It seemed as though everyone had gathered here today, squeezing around tables and talking nine to the dozen. Two girls sat across from her, laughing, heads close together in conspiracy. Libby smiled a little, then frowned as one of the pair threw something hard at the boy opposite them. He’d been reading – alone, but evidently content. He glanced up, reddening as he saw the girls laughing at him.

  Libby felt her cheeks heat in disgust, her fingers curling around her fork as though it was a weapon.

  The dark haired boy pushed his book into his back pack and hurried towards the exit, lunch forgotten. She watched him leave with sympathy. It was never fun to be on the outside.

  Sighing, she continued her study of the room.

  She saw him almost immediately. Straddling a chair backwards, he was grinning at some joke. Dark blonde hair fell a little too long around his face, a face that had her staring. He was quite simply gorgeous. She watched as he leaned forward, his shirt stretching across broad shoulders. For the first time in her life, Libby was completely transfixed.

  Then his eyes flashed to hers and it was like a punch to the chest. His eyes were green, vivid and piercing. For a moment she felt as though she recognised him, like an old acquaintance she hadn’t seen for years. It was startling, unexpected.

  Only when he broke the gaze, turning away with an unreadable expression, was she aware that she hadn’t been breathing. Letting out a long breath, Libby turned back to the girls beside her, hardly noticing that she was interrupting their conversation.

  “Who is that, over there?” Libby couldn’t think where she had seen him, but she must have. She usually didn't have such an interest in boys, and not just for the lack of opportunity due to being at a girls' school. Her dream was tied up in her studies, and she didn't want the distractions of shallow hook ups.

  Now, for reasons she didn’t wait to explore, she wanted to know everything she could about this boy.

  Janey raised an eyebrow. “Jackson? Don’t go there.”