by Carmen Reid
‘What do you think?’ Amy ventured. ‘Is he still in touch?’
‘He emails and he still phones once in a while . . . but it seems a bit . . . vague,’ Niffy decided.
‘Oh . . .’ Amy said.
The four girls walked along in a tactful silence for a few moments, then suddenly Niffy burst out with, ‘I bet he’s met some glamorous French girl! I bet that’s what it is. I mean . . . French girls? You know how sexy and generally gorgeous they are. I bet he’s snuggled up with some Solange or Celestine.’
‘Don’t be nuts!’ Gina said with a giggle. ‘He’d have told you, he’s a very nice guy.’
‘Maybe too nice to tell me . . .’ Niffy huffed.
‘You could be sexy and glamorous too, Niff, if you put your mind to it. I mean, the next time you see him, you could be totally transformed.’
Amy was getting that glint of enthusiasm in her eyes. There was nothing she liked more than to glamorize her friends with all her expensive make-up and very lovely clothes. Although she didn’t as a rule lend much to Niffy, because her friend was just so careless and clumsy.
‘A great haircut, Niff, some nice new clothes, accessories, jewellery, just a touch of make-up,’ she went on. ‘You know that you scrub up very well. We’ve done it before. You don’t have to spend a lot, you could go to somewhere like . . .’
Amy paused for a moment. She wasn’t really up on where was cool on the high street; she only liked to shop in designer boutiques and Harvey Nichols.
‘River Island,’ she suggested, trying not to shudder too much at the thought.
‘Huh?’ Niffy humpfed. ‘New clothes? New hair? Jewellery? Not bloody likely. Have you heard how much pocket money I’m getting this term? Thirty quid. Thirty quid for the whole term! The Nairn-Bassett finances are even more up the creek than usual. Finn and I each got a new pair of wellies for Christmas.’
There was an awkward silence as the three other girls thought of their Christmas presents. Amy’s and Gina’s parents were loaded and Christmas Day had been one long, delightful unwrapping session: new clothes, new shoes, new gadgets, all kinds of lovely treats. Min’s Christmas had been more restrained, but only because her parents had five children, so they couldn’t go completely over the top.
Still, Min had got a brand new laboratory-standard microscope which she knew had not been cheap.
‘That’s a shame, Niff,’ Amy said finally, ‘but you know you can always borrow our stuff. You just have to ask. There’s not any real money problem at home, is there?’ she asked gently.
Niffy just shrugged and said, ‘No worse than usual.’
‘You wouldn’t be able to go out shopping and have your hair cut anyway,’ Min pointed out. ‘You’re gated.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Niffy remembered.
‘It’s only three weeks until the Mocks,’ Min said, reminding them all about the upcoming trial-run exams. ‘Mrs K doesn’t let people go out at the weekends before exams, unless they’ve got a very good reason.’
‘Oh no!’ Gina protested. ‘So just how am I supposed to see Dermot?’
Chapter Four
‘BIEN, MES AMIES!’ Madame Bensimon, the French teacher, exclaimed. ‘Vous devez travailler, travailler, travailler.’
Work, work, work.
This was the first time Gina had experienced St Jude’s in the run-up to exams. And if this was how intense it was going to be for mock exams, what on earth was it going to be like when it came to the real thing?
This was only their second day back, and so far every single teacher had laid out a structured revision plan. The amount of homework and studying ahead looked absolutely mountainous. All Gina’s evenings and her entire weekends looked as if they were going to be totally filled up with studying.
‘Ré-viii-sion,’ Madame Bensimon said in French.
There was extra revision homework, special revision timetables, even long lists of revision vocab. In fact, if Gina heard the word ‘revision’ again, she was going to scream!
‘So that long email you were reading and re-reading in the study last night, was that from Dermot by any chance?’ Amy murmured the question very quietly into her friend’s ear.
‘Maybe,’ Gina whispered back.
Dermot had been Gina’s boyfriend for . . . almost seven months now. Seven months! That was ages. Gina had never gone out with anyone for such a long time before. But then, it wasn’t as if they saw each other every day or even every week, so maybe that’s why they were still so interested in each other.
Anyway, Dermot was like a best friend: a really, really nice, really good-looking best friend. Gina found it almost as easy to talk to him as to kiss him.
‘He’s got mock Highers next month,’ Gina whispered back to Amy, ‘so he’s working really hard and he doesn’t think we’ll be able to go out for weeks.’
‘Boo-hoo,’ Amy commiserated.
‘He said I can still go to the café and see him,’ Gina added. Every Saturday, Dermot worked in his dad’s café as a waiter; that was how Gina and her friends had got to know him in the first place. ‘If we’re allowed to go,’ she concluded gloomily.
‘Trust me, I will get us out of the boarding house for a few hours on a Saturday at least, but a trip to the café isn’t the same as a nice, fun date though, is it?’ Amy replied.
‘And what about you? Any news?’ Gina asked.
Last term, Amy had started to go out with Niffy’s big brother, Finn, but this had caused a huge meltdown between Niffy and Amy. The arguments had gone on for weeks until finally Amy and Finn had promised to call everything off until the Christmas holidays.
‘Later,’ Amy hissed, pointing a finger briefly at Niffy, who was sitting on the other side of Gina.
‘Silence!’ Madame Bensimon glared at them both, putting an end to the conversation.
‘Ailsa.’ The teacher gestured to one of the girls seated at the side of the room. ‘C’est très chic!’ was her comment. Madame, who was something of a très chic French lady herself, couldn’t help noticing major style changes.
‘Ah . . . merci,’ Ailsa said with an embarrassed smile.
Now everyone was looking at Ailsa, whose straight golden hair had been cut into a really short bob. For a St Jude’s girl, short hair was unusual. Most of the girls preferred long hair, shoulder-length at the very least.
Niffy glanced over and saw the new style. Ailsa looked so different, so completely transformed, that even Niffy, who didn’t usually notice haircuts or new clothes, couldn’t help being impressed.
‘That is nice,’ she whispered to Gina.
‘Mmmmm . . .’ Gina agreed, although she would sooner cut off her hand than lop off any more than the bi-annual two-centimetre trim from her own long, blonde mane.
‘Ré-viii-sion,’ Madame repeated. ‘Have we made up timetables? Have we considered how we will cover all the necessary subjects before the exam which you will sit in exactly nineteen days?’
It was unusual to hear Madame Bensimon speak English; she almost always spoke French in class. But this was obviously so serious a subject, Madame didn’t want to risk a misunderstanding.
Several members of the class, including Min, looked panicked by the news that the exams were only nineteen days away.
‘Madame?’
One of the day girls, Penny Boswell-Hackett, raised her hand to ask a question.
‘Here we go,’ Amy couldn’t help whispering under her breath.
Amy and Penny had history.
They had fallen out on Amy’s first day at St Jude’s, four years ago, and it didn’t look as if they were going to make up any time soon.
Penny Boswell-Hackett was clever, reasonably pretty and very, very old-school Edinburgh posh. Her mother had gone to St J’s, her grandmother had gone to St J’s, probably even her great-grandmother too. This made her think she was totally superior and oh-so-much-better than girls like Amy.
Amy was also clever, pretty and just as good on the hockey pitch as Penny would eve
r be. But Amy wasn’t from Edinburgh; she was from Glasgow. Amy didn’t have several generations of St Jude’s educated ancestors; she had a single dad, who’d grown up in a council tower block. Penny spoke with a posh and cultivated voice; Amy had a strong Glaswegian accent.
Basically Penny was far too much of a snob to ever be able to overlook any of these things and see Amy as an equal.
No, Penny B-H and her best friends, Tiggy and Louisa, forever known by Amy and her friends as Piggy and Weasel, were always, always going to look down their pointy little noses at Amy and whoever chose to be her friend.
‘Tiggy, Louisa and I have got this plan,’ Penny told Madame Bensimon with a smug smile. ‘We’re going to go round to each other’s houses and revise for two hours and then have a little treat afterwards. Maybe go out for a hot chocolate, or give each other a manicure or do our hair. You know, so we’ve got something to look forward to afterwards. So it’s not just all work, work, drudge, drudge.’
Madame Bensimon gave a little clap, she was so captivated by this idea.
‘Bien sûr,’ she said. ‘A little reward. Mo-tee-vah-sion. Quelle bonne idée!’ Then she gave Penny, her favoured star pupil, a special little smile of appreciation. ‘You are going to do very well in your French exam, Penelope.’
Amy couldn’t stop a little snort of exasperation escaping from her nose. The Penny and Madame Bensimon love-in just wound her up every single time.
Even more annoying was the fact that Penny’s idea was good. Amy could imagine her and Gina studying for two hours and then enjoying a little pampering treat afterwards. It would be fun. But now, of course, she couldn’t do anything like it, because Penny would accuse her of copying. Argh! The thought!
‘Une bonne idée,’ Madame Bensimon repeated. ‘Maybe we can all plan a little revision time with our frrrriends and a spoiling “petit rien” afterwards.’
‘Well, except for the poor boarding-house girls,’ Penny pointed out cattily. ‘They can’t leave the building after school, except at weekends, so no going out for hot chocolates for them. Poor little boarders, nothing to do every evening except swot.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Amy hissed.
Chapter Five
DINNER IN THE boarding-house dining room was always noisy. Ninety or so girls fought for space at the long tables that had been set out in the room. The junior girls were always to-ing and fro-ing from the serving hatch with dishes, courses and fresh jugs of water. The level of chat rang all the way up to the ceiling and the Neb often had to stand up at her little table in the bay window at the top of the room and ring her bell several times to ask for peace and quiet.
There was always talk: about school, about home, about news and, best of all, gossip. Every little snippet of exciting information was picked apart with relish.
‘So you’ve been gated along with Daffodil dorm – how come?’ one older girl was asking Niffy.
‘Ermmm . . .’ Niffy quickly stuffed a great forkful of shepherd’s pie into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to answer this immediately.
‘Something about a delivery . . . in the middle of the night? Was it Milly’s new boyfriend?’ the other girl wheedled, desperate for more information. ‘Apparently he is absolutely gorgeous.’
Niffy chewed slowly; she didn’t like this sixth former much and didn’t really want to share any private information with her. Plus, she could see other curious heads turning in their direction, desperate to listen in.
Luckily the Neb’s little bell began to ting-ting-ting-a-ling for silence.
‘Girrrrrrls,’ she began pleasantly, then ran through some housekeeping pointers before turning to the guest she had sitting with her at the top table.
‘Now, you may be wondering who I have sitting up here with me this evening . . .’
Every head and neck craned in the direction of the table. A pale and dainty woman of about thirty or so sat beside Mrs K. She had long, totally straight brown hair which fell down her back from a centre parting. The most striking thing about her face was how pale and totally plain it looked.
She was wearing an olive-green cardigan buttoned up to the neck.
Mrs Knebworth, with her bouffant blonde hairdo and purple satin blouse, looked almost glamorous by comparison.
‘OMG, do you think it’s the Neb’s daughter?’ Amy whispered.
Mrs Knebworth often spoke about her one and only daughter and there were many photos dotted about her private sitting room. But only a handful of boarders had ever managed to meet her.
‘I thought she was blonde,’ Niffy whispered back.
‘I’d like you all to say a big hello to Alison McKinnon, Miss McKinnon to you, of course. She’s going to be the assistant housemistress here and a great help to me. She comes to us all the way from the island of Barra, and she’s very much looking forward to getting to know you all and finding her way around her new home and Edinburgh. I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome.’
Everyone clapped politely, then Mrs Knebworth sat down and the level of chat, clatter and noise immediately returned to normal.
‘An assistant housemistress?’ Min queried. ‘We’ve only ever had Mrs Knebworth, plus the cook.’
‘Perhaps it’s new regulations,’ Gina wondered. ‘With ninety kids, you might have to have more adults around.’
‘Maybe Mrs K’s planning to take a bit more time off during term time,’ Niffy pondered. ‘I mean, usually she never leaves the place except during school hours.’
‘From Barra?’ Amy repeated, her nose wrinkled up. ‘Bound to be a total country bumpkin. You’ll get on well.’ She directed this last bit at Niffy.
‘Shut up!’ Niffy said cheerfully, before adding the sarcastic comment, ‘We can’t all come from the glittering glamour of Glasgae, you know.’
‘Hey!’ Shyanne from Daffodil dorm leaned back in her chair so she could talk to Niffy behind the backs of the four girls between them. ‘Did you find a good hiding place?’ she asked, referring to the three bottles.
‘Yup,’ Niffy confirmed.
‘One of us will have to contact you about that in the near future,’ Shyanne added, putting a code voice on a little thickly.
‘The mission awaits command,’ Niffy teased.
‘Whatever!’ Shyanne said and snapped her chair back into place.
‘You need to get rid of that stuff before you get into any more trouble,’ Min chipped in, having overheard Shyanne, ‘and why is Laurel missing from their dorm?’
‘Oh, haven’t you heard?’ Niffy asked. She was scraping the last of the first course from her plate and was now looking over towards the serving counter to see what was coming up for pudding. ‘Apple sponge with custard, excellent,’ she said, mainly to herself.
‘Laurel?’ Min reminded her.
As Niffy began to tell how Laurel had left school because her parents had lost their business, she realized that everyone around her, including Amy, was listening in with widened eyes.
‘Poor Laurel,’ Min sympathized.
Everyone who heard the story looked sorry. Every girl knew that it was expensive to be at St Jude’s. They were all here because someone was paying the substantial fees, and being at the boarding house cost three times more than going to the day school. In the back of most girls’ minds was the usually unspoken fear that if the family’s money suddenly ran out, they would have to leave the school and all their friends, possibly very abruptly.
‘Are all your families OK?’ Amy asked her friends. ‘I mean . . . loads of businesses are having a rough time right now.’
Gina was the first to quietly admit, ‘My mom and Mick are stressed out about whether or not they’re going to land some big software contract. I think, if they get it, they’re going to be great. But it’s a big deal. They’re going to hear real soon.’
Amy looked at Min next, who replied with a shrug, ‘People need doctors, no matter what. So my mum and dad feel lucky – everything’s fine with them.’
‘Just like my dad
,’ Amy said with a smile. ‘He has eleven nightclubs now and he says everyone needs to go out, have a drink, have a dance and forget about their problems, no matter how bad it gets out there.’
There was a little pause. Niffy had already told them things were worse than ever with the Nairn-Bassett family. Niffy came from one of those ludicrously posh families where all the money was made generations ago and now it was just trickling down and slowly but surely running out.
The Nairn-Bassetts lived in a vast country house which was in serious danger of collapsing because it was in such a bad state of repair. But there was no money in the N-B family to pay for any of the work which needed to be done. Mr N-B ran the estate around the house in a vague and half-hearted way.
‘Well, you know my dad . . . he sells barley and a few cattle,’ Niffy said through her large mouthful of sponge and custard. ‘No one ever seems to pay him very much for it. Mainly we sell stuff out of the house.’
‘Huh?’ Gina asked.
‘You know, paintings, silver coffee pots, the odd bit of jewellery . . . Dad takes it off to Sotheby’s in Edinburgh and usually gets five thousand pounds a pop. My ancestors bought some classy items, you know.’
Amy listened to this with wide eyes. ‘So they’re stripping the place out, but they still won’t think of selling it?’ she asked. ‘That house must be worth a fortune! Why don’t they just sell it to some Norwegian millionaire or something and live happily on the proceeds for ever, especially now that your mum’s been ill.’
Niffy was just as wide-eyed back. ‘You don’t understand, Amy,’ she replied. ‘The Nairn-Bassetts have had Blacklough Hall for eight generations. My parents aren’t going to be the ones to sell it. They’re just hoping that something happens, fortunes change . . . I dunno . . . they’re just . . .’
‘Hanging on for a miracle,’ Amy said bleakly.
‘I keep telling you, I’m going to be a world-famous—’
‘Show-jumper and solve all their problems.’ Amy finished Niffy’s sentence and rolled her eyes.
