by Carmen Reid
All this made Niffy’s shoulders shake with effort and finally a great snorty giggle erupted from her nose.
Mrs Knebworth handed the offending yellow envelope back to her.
‘You take this, young lady,’ she said, utterly calm, utterly icy, ‘and we’ll have a little word later. Thank you.’
Chapter Twenty-two
MIN WATCHED THE minute hand of the big clock in the assembly hall crawl towards the hour. In just moments, this exam would be over. She looked down at the papers in front of her and wondered if there was anything more she could do.
She’d approached her questions slowly, methodically and thoroughly. She’d found them all surprisingly easy and now she’d carefully checked through her entire paper several times. She couldn’t find another single thing to do.
Just like in her dreams, she watched the clock, but she didn’t feel any sense of panic at all. This was fine.
It was already Wednesday, and she’d managed to get through three whole days of exams without any trouble at all. She was growing much more confident that she was going to do just as well as Mrs Knebworth and most of her teachers had told her she would.
‘Time’s up,’ a voice rang out across the hall. ‘Put your pens and pencils down. Please sit still while we gather up the papers.’
The sense of relief seemed to flood through the room. Girls leaned back in their chairs, and Niffy stretched out her long arms and yawned.
As soon as they had filed out of the hall, friends huddled together in little groups to compare notes on the exam. It was the last paper of the day, so a big catchup was in order.
‘I thought it was fine,’ Min told Zarah with a little twinkle in her eye.
‘Yeah, me too,’ Zarah twinkled back.
‘Easy-peasy,’ Min whispered, not wanting the group of girls on her left to hear.
They were moaning bitterly about the last question:
‘We’ve not even moved on to that section yet,’ one was saying. ‘That was so unfair giving us that!’
‘Totally mean,’ her friend agreed.
‘So . . .’ Amy bumped her arm against Gina’s. ‘Did you survive?’
‘Yeah, I thought it was OK and you know maths is not exactly my fave.’
‘I know, me neither, but it was OK. So, are we going out for our one hour of special permission?’ Amy asked, trying to keep the excited look from her face.
‘Yeah! Min, you’re going to come, aren’t you? You have to buy a Valentine’s card for Greg!’
Min looked embarrassed at the thought. ‘Well . . . I’ll come along with you but I don’t know if I’ll be sending—’
‘Min!’ Gina protested. ‘You have to!’
Zarah also dug Min in the ribs.
This was Wednesday, and the coming Saturday was the fourteenth of February. So, after much arm-twisting, the sixth formers had persuaded Mrs Knebworth that boarders had to be allowed out this Wednesday afternoon. Just for an hour. They would all be back well in time for supper, but they had to be let out to buy the essential Valentine’s cards, presents and all-important stamps so that everything would arrive in time for Saturday.
Valentine’s Day – in a building with ninety-two teenage girls in residence – was a Big Deal. A very, very Big Deal. The postman had already joked that he would need an extra trolley bag for delivery on Saturday.
The only boarder who was not going to be going anywhere, for some time to come, was Niffy.
‘Shall we buy one for you to send?’ Amy asked Niffy as her friend strode out of the exam hall.
Niffy just snorted in reply to this.
‘What do you have to do this afternoon?’ Gina asked.
‘I don’t know yet . . . I’ll probably be washing the Neb’s underpants or something.’
A couple of day girls who heard this turned to face Niffy with their faces screwed up.
‘Only joking,’ Niffy assured them. ‘Just.’
After the dementia envelope, Mrs Knebworth had decided that gating Niffy wasn’t punishment enough, so Niffy was now doing chores in the boarding house to atone for her sins. She had already had to wash several floors, clean many windows, and she’d had to vacuum the tops of the wardrobes in the entire building. Basically Niffy was doing every unpleasant household chore Mrs K could devise.
Not far from St Jude’s, there was a bustling little high street which had a smart stationery shop. This was where many of the boarders now headed.
The front of the shop was a riot of tasteful Valentine’s exuberance: red hearts, pink hearts, purple hearts, silver and glittery hearts and paper roses.
Inside, the little shop was mobbed with girls in green St Jude’s blazers. But Amy, Gina, Min and their friends managed to squeeze in and join the crowds at the card racks. Just like everyone else, they began to rifle through the selection on offer.
‘You are going to send one to Greg?’ Amy asked Min.
Min, who was examining a card with a cartoon of a scientist on the front, considered the question carefully.
‘Maybe,’ she said with a little smile.
‘You should,’ Amy encouraged her. ‘You two are stupidly letting exams get in the way of your lurrrrrve,’ she teased.
‘Shhhh!’ Min said, looking embarrassed, but she didn’t put the card down.
‘What about you?’ Gina asked Amy.
‘What about me?’ Amy was also holding a card, which she continued looking at so that Gina couldn’t see the expression on her face.
‘Well, you were all keen to come down here and everything . . . Who are you planning to send a card to?’
‘My dad,’ Amy replied, but there was just something a little jokey about this. Gina didn’t quite believe it.
‘Well, that’s very nice and very thoughtful, but don’t you think Finn deserves something? Just a little message to show you’re still thinking of him?’
‘He knows I’m still thinking of him. I’ve emailed him twice now. No reply! And will he send me something?’ Amy asked. ‘That’s the problem. I don’t want him to know that I’m thinking of him, if he’s not going to send something back.’
‘But he won’t know the card is from you,’ Gina pointed out. ‘You don’t sign it, you keep him guessing, that’s the whole point!’
‘Hmmmmm . . .’ was all Amy said. Now she was holding the card against her chest. Gina couldn’t see it, so couldn’t tell if it was the kind of card you’d send to your dad or to the cute guy you were still very interested in.
‘You’re going home at the weekend, aren’t you?’ Gina asked Amy.
Amy nodded. ‘It’ll only be “home” for a few more days. I’ve got to help Dad pack up.’
There was a pause. Amy didn’t want to say any more and Gina understood not to ask any further.
‘Not still trying to get Niffy’s brother to like you?’
Amy, Gina and Min looked up in surprise at the sneering voice which had shot this comment over from the other side of the card rack.
There was Penny B-H, pulling a face at them.
What was her problem? She could just never, ever leave Amy alone. Always had to prove how superior she was by teasing her at every possible opportunity.
‘Why don’t you just mind your own business,’ Amy replied calmly.
‘Huh!’ was all Penny said. Then she turned on her heel and went over to the counter to pay.
‘Who’s she buying a card for?’ Gina whispered to Amy. ‘I thought she and that Llewellyn guy broke up ages ago?’
‘Who knows and who cares,’ was all Amy said with a shrug.
‘Hey, Amy,’ Gina said in a whisper, not wanting Min to hear, ‘do you think we should send Min and Niffy an anonymous card each? And what about Mrs Knebworth?’
‘Min and Niffy, no,’ Amy replied. ‘Way too obvious. They’ll know. And Mrs Knebworth?! Have you gone stark, staring mad?’
‘It’ll be fun,’ Gina said. ‘She’s been seeing this guy; she’s giving Niffy such a hard time. Why don’t we just
send her a card to mess with her mind?’
‘Card? No . . .’ Amy said. ‘I’ve just had a much better idea.’
Chapter Twenty-three
ON FRIDAY EVENING, at 4.50 p.m. exactly, Min sat down at the Upper Fifth sitting-room terminal and logged on to chat to her two exam correspondents, just as she’d done every day of the exams so far.
She opened up her email and saw that the message from her mum was already in the inbox, asking her how today had gone.
‘Really well,’ she typed. ‘French wasn’t so bad . . . Biology fine and maths quite easy, I think! How’s your day going?’
‘Fine,’ her mum, who had been waiting in her cramped office for this e-conversation, typed back.
‘How’s everyone at home?’ Min asked next.
‘Everyone’s great. They send their love. We’re all missing you, as usual, big girl. It seems a long time to wait until you are home again.’
‘I know,’ Min typed back and felt just a little achy at the words.
‘But the time will pass quickly if you study hard. We love you, Asimina. Try and have some fun when the exams are over. I’ve put a little extra pocket money in your account. Have a little treat. What about that nice boy you talked about? Why don’t you take him to the pictures?’
‘Maybe! Thank you, love you, Mum . . . going to go now. Byeeeeeee xxxxx’
‘Bye bye, A xxx’
Min didn’t have too much time to think about the rest of her family and how they were doing because it was now 4.55 p.m. Time for her next e-speak.
‘Hi!!!’ she typed. ‘Are you there?’
‘Yes. How did it go today?’ came the immediate
response from Greg.
‘Pretty good, I think. How about you?’
‘Maths was horrible. Everything else fine.’
‘Really? I thought our maths paper was easy.’
‘That’s because you = genius.’
‘Funny. Ha-ha.’
‘You taking some time off studying at the weekend?’
‘Yeah. Think I need a break. My brain’s cooking.’ Min paused, she didn’t hit Send yet. Hadn’t he just asked her what she was doing at the weekend?
Min could feel butterflies leap up in her stomach. There weren’t any more exams . . . Did she want to go out with her friends? Or with Greg? Maybe she could meet him with her friends? Maybe then it wouldn’t be so scary. They hadn’t seen each other since before Christmas. It was bound to be nerve-racking.
OK, but what had Zarah said? Meet up with him, before someone else snatches him away. Min definitely didn’t want that to happen. Good grief! Even her mum was telling her to take him out!
It was time for super-swot girl Min to do something really exciting and rebellious . . .
‘Would you like to do something on Saturday?’ she typed. Crossing her fingers, holding her breath, she hit Send.
There seemed to be too long a pause before his reply dropped. Then there it was:
‘Saturday is Valentine’s Day . . . did you realize?’
Min felt her face fall.
‘Oh well . . . if you have other plans, don’t worry . . .’ she typed back, feeling as if something had withered and died inside. Someone else had come and snatched him away.
‘No! No, I mean it’s Valentine’s . . . we could go and do something nice like . . . eat heart-shaped cakes at that café you took me to???!!’
‘Oh! Yes . . . I think that sounds very nice. I haven’t seen you for ages.’
‘I know . . . will we recognize each other?!’
‘Yes! Is seven o’clock good for you? At the Arts Café?’
‘It’s a date,’ he replied.
‘Oh, really!’
Just then Amy poked her head round the sitting-room door.
‘Bye, Min,’ she called across. ‘I’m off to Glasgow. Have a great weekend and I hope you get loads of Valentines! Or maybe just one important one!’
‘Bye, Amy.’ Min looked up. ‘I’m going to meet Greg on Saturday night at the Arts Café!’ she said excitedly.
‘YES!’
‘But won’t all the cafés be full of tables of twosomes and roses and all that stuff?’
‘YES!’ Amy replied. ‘That’s the point! Finally, you two can tell each other how much you care!’
Min couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Greg and a cosy table for two. But . . .‘oh no, you won’t be here to help me do my make-up,’ she said, looking anxious. ‘The spots are better, but I could still do with a little touch.’
‘No worries, I’m sure you look one hundred per cent pure dead delicious to Greg,’ Amy assured her. ‘Where’s Nif, anyhow?’
‘Niffy said she had one of her chores in the laundry room,’ Min replied.
‘Ta.’
With that Amy closed the sitting-room door and went over to the boarding-house laundry room. This was one of the most old-fashioned rooms in the whole place.
It had a stone floor, great big worn porcelain sinks on fat white porcelain legs and two industrial-sized washing machines. Probably girls had been doing laundry in this room ever since this house had been built back in the 1800s.
Crouched down underneath the sinks was Niffy.
‘I’m heading to Glasgow,’ Amy announced as she came into the room.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Niffy turned round. ‘Hope it goes OK.’
‘What on earth are you doing?’
Niffy, in long pink rubber gloves, was holding a knitting needle and poking at the underneath of the sink.
‘Cleaning out the plug holes,’ she answered as a long trail of mushy, stringy grey goo emerged on the end of her needle. She plopped it unceremoniously into the plastic basin she had at the ready.
‘Oh, that is disgusting,’ Amy said, stepping a little closer and pulling a face. ‘What is that?’
‘Soap scum and dirt mixed up with lots and lots of hair,’ came the gloomy reply. ‘All this long hair. It’s everywhere.’
Amy looked a little nauseous now. ‘That is disgusting,’ she repeated.
‘Yeah, the Neb’s worst job so far. I’ll probably have to lick the toilets clean next.’
‘Stop it!’ Amy squawked.
‘Yeah . . . what was Min saying about the Neb not being too bad? Well, she should come in here and see what I’m doing.’
‘You should have taken Min’s advice and not played that last trick then,’ Amy said. ‘You’re the one poking goo out of a sink drain. Min’s in the sitting room arranging her Valentine’s date.’
‘Huh.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ Amy said, checking her watch, ‘but those rubber gloves are going to come in handy for that job we talked about.’
‘You get it out. I don’t want to touch it. The paper’s gone all soggy.’ Gina pulled a face. ‘Gross!’
Niffy, holding the lid of the toilet cistern in her hands, looked down into the water. The bottle of wine had been hidden in there for several weeks now and the paper labels were flapping off. Still, Niffy put her rubber-gloved hand into the water and brought the bottle out. It dripped all over the toilet and the cubicle floor.
‘Towel?’ she suggested.
Gina darted out of the cubicle. When she came back, she reluctantly handed over one of her own towels which she’d taken from its peg in the bathroom.
Niffy wrapped the bottle up in the towel and tucked it under her arm to carry it back to their dorm.
Two of the bottles – one of wine and one of cider – had already been returned to the Daffodil dorm and Milly, in a fit of generosity, had told Niffy that she and Gina could keep the third as a thank-you present.
But Amy had suggested that the bottle of wine, labelled with a mysterious note, should be Mrs Knebworth’s Valentine’s surprise.
‘She won’t think that one of us would have gone to the effort of buying her wine,’ Amy had explained, ‘so she’s bound to think it’s something to do with her mystery man. Trust me, this will be much more convincing than just some anonymous card.’
Back in the dorm, Gina and Niffy unwrapped the bottle. Most of its paper label came off as they took away the towel.
Now it was just a plain bottle of red wine with a plastic top.
‘It doesn’t look very impressive,’ Gina said.
‘Yeah, but by the time we’ve finished with it . . .’ Niffy turned to the label and ribbon that Amy had left out for them.
‘The bottle looks naked.’
But Niffy was already writing on the label.
‘Don’t make it too fancy,’ Gina reminded her. ‘Amy said if it’s supposed to be a present from a man, it’s got to be very plain.’
‘How’s this?’ Niffy held the label up. It said: ‘I could be yours. Drink me, Norah K.’
Gina burst out laughing.
‘Norah! I still can’t believe that’s her name!’
Niffy tied the brown label onto the bottle with the string, then made an attempt at a bow.
Gina applauded. ‘That is perfect. That definitely looks like a guy present.’
Niffy seemed to wince at this.
‘I don’t mean you’re like a guy,’ Gina added quickly. ‘Niffy, of course you’re not like a guy. You know that. You just have a kinda practical way of doing things. Not girlie.’
Niffy was still scowling.
‘Loads of famous, beautiful and elegant women aren’t girlie,’ Gina went on.
‘Yeah?’ Niffy didn’t look convinced. ‘Like who?’
‘Like . . . Katherine Hepburn, Hilary Swank, Cate Blanchett . . .’
‘It’s not my fault that I’m built like a boy.’ Niffy pulled her school cardigan down to demonstrate how flat her chest was.
‘It doesn’t matter. All models have flat chests and anyway, boobs are over-rated. Boys sometimes forget all about you and can only think about your boobs.’
This at least made Niffy giggle.
‘Talking of boys and boobs . . .’ she asked innocently. ‘What are you and Dermot doing on Valentine’s?’
‘Did Amy tell you about the boob thing?!’
‘Maybe . . .’
‘Did you tell anyone else?’
‘Maybe . . .’
‘You shouldn’t have!’
‘I know . . . but what are you doing on Saturday?’
