Scarlet Wakefield 02 - Kisses and Lies

by Lauren Henderson

  “Ha! As if I would have gotten caught!” Taylor says cockily.

  “But honestly,” I admit, “Plum has always been an absolute cow to me. I can’t be too upset that she’s got her comeuppance.”

  Plum is an awful person. And she’s only got what she deserved. I mean, there’s no one in that clip making her do drugs, or say that diets are for poor people. . . .

  “So, what? It’s rough justice?” Taylor asks.

  “I suppose so,” I say doubtfully. “But it’s still not right. No wonder Nadia laughed like a drain when she’d answered all my questions. She got what she wanted, and she didn’t have anything that useful to tell us in return. And she sort of lied to us when she didn’t tell us why she really wanted us to delete that clip of her throwing up.”

  Taylor cracks a grin.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “I wiped it off Plum’s phone. But I sent it to mine. We’ve got the dirt on Nadia anytime we want.”

  I gawp at her.

  “That’s awful!” I say.

  “But brilliant,” Taylor says complacently. “I am an evil genius.”

  In her triumph, she automatically bounces the netball she’s carrying, and immediately looks appalled.

  “Some evil genius,” I tease, “you can’t even play netball properly!”

  Then I duck as Taylor makes a grab for me, uttering dire threats about bouncing my head off the nearest wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot someone, and as Taylor makes another grab at me, I throw myself into a showy and completely unnecessary dive roll, lunging far enough away that I don’t kick Taylor in the face as I fly into it. I land on the grassy verge and roll easily. I’m on my feet again in a couple of seconds, and as I come up Taylor’s saying, sounding very indignant:

  “Jeez, Scarlett! I was just messing. I wasn’t going to hurt you or anything.”

  Then she sees Jase, and realizes why I was showing off. He’s standing underneath a group of elm trees, a wheel barrow and a broom propped a little way away, enough to suggest that he saw us approaching and walked out to meet us.

  “Nice escape,” he says to me, his eyes glimmering. “I was wondering if you needed any help.”

  I giggle. Ugh, it’s the kind of giggle I only do with boys, and I hate it. I never sound this coy or pathetic with girls.

  “No, she’s not as scary as she looks,” I reply.

  “Yes, I am,” Taylor says indignantly.

  Jase laughs.

  “I wouldn’t like to get in a fight with you,” he says to Taylor, which completely wins her over.

  “Jase, this is Taylor,” I say, and then wonder if I shouldn’t have done that the other way around. Does it sound like Jase is more important to me than Taylor?

  “Hey,” she says, blushing only very slightly. “Um, we met before, in the maze.”

  I wish Taylor hadn’t mentioned that, because when Jase found us in the maze, Lizzie was sobbing and we were standing over her, harshly interrogating her about the anonymous “It wasn’t your fault” note, which turned out to be from conniving Nadia.

  I try to nudge Taylor to get her to shut up about it, but the tips of her ears have gone pink, so it looks like she’s realized it for herself.

  “That was ages ago,” I say brightly, trying to gloss over it.

  Ugh. I start to fiddle with my hair, out of nerves, and realize to my horror that I put it in bunches today, which, as always, have gone curly from the damp weather. It’s an old habit from gymnastics, because if you’re doing forward or backward rolls, a ponytail on the middle of your head will bump on the ground and dig into you, whereas bunches never get in the way of anything. But bunches—particularly curly ones—make me look thirteen years old. Plus, I’m not wearing any makeup and I’m in a white T-shirt, brown gym skirt, and pale blue tabard over the top. It’s the ugliest outfit you ever saw.

  I hope Jase remembers how I looked on our date.

  Behind us, I can hear the stream of netball players giggling and whispering as they trail past down the path that leads back to the changing rooms. I don’t really blame them—I’d be doing the same thing. We barely see any men around here at all, apart from poor Mr. Theobald, the maths teacher, who for many and various reasons doesn’t count as a man in any meaningful way. Jase Barnes is like catnip to a lot of very bored and frustrated cats.

  And I’m the girl he stops when she’s coming back from netball practice. I wish I felt more deserving, and less guilty. There’s so much about me he doesn’t know. If he found out everything, would he still look at me like he’s about to push Taylor aside and kiss me?

  “Your dad’s the gardener here, right?” Taylor asks politely.

  Jase grins, his white teeth flashing.

  “Yeah—my dad and his dad before him. I’m following in their footsteps, you might say. Got my gap year now, so I’m sweeping leaves and saving up to travel. Then I start at agricultural college next year.”

  “Oh, cool,” Taylor says enthusiastically.

  While I really like it that Taylor seems to approve of Jase, I’m all too aware that Miss Carter won’t—no way I’d be allowed to talk to a boy during school hours, even if he is working here. And Miss Carter can’t be far behind us on the path. . . .

  “We should get going,” I say, pulling a face. “Our PE teacher’s really strict.”

  Although this is nothing but the truth, saying that I have to go seems to prompt Jase into more than just making conversation.

  “So, I was wondering . . . what are you doing later?” he asks, looking straight through me.

  I’ve been doing so well being cool, and now I dig my nails into my palms to remind me not to gush with excitement. I didn’t think I’d see Jase till Friday, half-term—we’ve texted a couple of times and sort of agreed to meet up then—and here he is asking to get together with me today. He must be really keen to see me. My whole body floods with warmth at the thought, even though it probably shouldn’t.

  “After school?”

  “Yeah,” Jase says, shifting on his feet and lowering his gaze, as if he doesn’t care one way or the other what I say. But I know he does. “You free?”

  I actually manage to be cool enough to turn to Taylor and look at her inquiringly, like I’m asking her if I’m free or not. She quickly grasps what I’m doing and says, “We haven’t got anything planned.”

  I look back at Jase.

  “Okay then, I’m free,” I say casually, though my palms are slick with sweat.

  “Great.” His face lights up. “Want to go for a walk around the lake?”

  “It’s out of bounds,” I say warily. “There’s a gate, it’s always kept locked—”

  Jase grins and pats his pocket. “I’ve got the key,” he says. “I thought we could have a bit of, you know, time on our own. . . .”

  Oh my God, I can’t believe he said that at all, let alone in front of Taylor. I guess it’s clear that he and I aren’t just going to have a talk about the weather. I must be blushing madly by now.

  And I don’t want to say no.

  “I would like to see the lake,” I manage, as if that’s the only reason I’m accepting his invitation. “I haven’t been there since I was little.”

  God, this is so embarrassing. It’s like I’m admitting that I want to be alone with him so we can kiss again. Forget looking him in the eye—my head’s ducked so far down now that I can barely see him at all. I know I said that I didn’t think I should hang out with him too much until Dan’s death is resolved, and I mean that one hundred percent. But the trouble is—that’s when I’m not with him. When he’s standing in front of me, asking me out, all my good resolutions melt like I did in his arms the other night.

  “Meet me at four by the gate?” he suggests.

  “Um, yeah.” I’m torn between giving him a huge smile and dissolving into the ground with utter embarrassment.

  I’m more than relieved when I feel Taylor grabbing the back of my tabard and pulling me away—just in time, as Miss Carter�
�s voice can be heard on the path behind us, telling the girls carrying the net of balls to hurry up and look lively.

  “Ohmigod, you have a secret date with a superhot boy!” Taylor mutters.

  “I know,” I mutter back. I’m determined not to look over my shoulder to get a last glimpse of him, much as I’m dying to. “I can’t believe he saw me in this stupid tabard.”

  Taylor grimaces.

  “I know, gross. . . . But hey, he was probably looking at your legs anyway.” She nudges me. “That forward roll you did, he probably saw your panties as well.”

  “Don’t say panties! It’s weird and creepy. Say knickers.” I’m blushing all over. I hadn’t thought of Jase seeing my big brown gym knickers (part of the very old-fashioned PE uniform) when I did the forward roll. I was just overcome with a mad desire to show off.

  “Jase saw your knickers! Jase saw your knickers!” Taylor chants, till I can’t bear it anymore and scream terrible curses at her, chasing her all the way back to the changing rooms, which at least lets off some of the head of steam that’s building up inside me at the thought of seeing Jase this afternoon by the lake.

  That’s not the only head of steam that’s been building up, though. Because I haven’t told Taylor about the letter I sent to Mrs. McAndrew yesterday. I didn’t know if she would think it was a good idea, but that’s not why I didn’t tell her.

  It’s more clear now than ever that I’m leaning on Taylor way too much. She did all the hard work of getting Plum’s phone and sorting out that video clip. She even thought of sending the incriminating evidence back to herself, which is probably why she makes a good partner. Taylor’s always right there, more than eager to help, and maybe, lucky as I am to have a friend like her, I’m coming to rely on her so much that I can’t do anything on my own.

  I know Taylor’s motives are only the best: she wants to be a PI, so this is great practice. She’s bored to death here at Wakefield Hall, and helping me is a great adventure. And, now that we’ve become close, she wants me to solve the mystery of Dan’s death for my own sake.

  But I never asked Taylor to help me. She saw there was some secret I was trying to unravel, barged right in, and, I must admit, saved me from a fate worse than death—being busted by my terrifying form teacher when I was totally out of bounds. Still, I never chose to have her as a partner: she just started acting like one. And more and more, I’m worried that because she’s so good at it, because she may well be better than me, I’m not proving to myself that, if Taylor wasn’t around, I could handle this on my own.

  Could I even have got this far without her? I don’t know. And that’s a very scary thought, because if I don’t know, what does that say about me? Doesn’t it mean that I’m not as clever and strong and brave as I think I am, or want to be? If we really are all on our own in the end, then I have to fight my own battles, don’t I? The really important ones, at least.

  Right now, I think that the more I, and only I, am responsible for finding out who killed Dan and why, the more I’ll feel that I’ve earned the right to move on and put it all behind me. And moving on from Dan’s death is the single most important thing in my life.

  I can’t consult with Taylor on every single thing. She’s so strong and confident, she could take everything over without even meaning to. This is my investigation, my fight, and I need to take control.

  But I know she won’t see it that way.

  nine

  BALANCING ACT

  “It’s so beautiful,” I say breathlessly. “I haven’t been here for years and years.”

  I can’t see Jase, who’s closing the gate behind us, but I can hear a lilt in his voice as he says, “Yeah, it’s lovely, in-nit? Seems a shame that nobody gets to use it. Your gran comes here sometimes. Oops, sorry”—he corrects himself as he comes up to stand next to me—“Lady Wakefield, I should say.”

  I giggle. “No, it’s fine. She gets cross with me when I don’t call her that too.”

  Jase stares at me incredulously. “Your gran makes you call her Lady Wakefield?”

  I pull a face. “In term time, yeah. She says if I don’t, discipline will slip.”

  “Right. Your gran could be in a coma and she still wouldn’t let discipline slip.” Jase gives a belly laugh.

  It’s horribly true. But looking at Jase, standing on the little slope that leads down to the glittering surface of the lake, thoughts of my grandmother mercifully fade from my mind; the excitement of the moment is too much for me to think about anything negative. It’s a glorious autumn day, and the oak trees around the lake are deep shades of russet and gold, like quiet fires. The weeping willows dipping into the water are exactly as I remember them, their branches bending so elegantly they look like dancers leaning over the water. And the lake itself, with its central fountain of leaping dolphins, is one of the most calming sights I’ve ever seen in my life. There’s something about still water shining in the sun that instantly makes you feel peaceful.

  Or it would, if I didn’t have Jase standing next to me, and every nerve ending in my body wasn’t jumping, wondering when he’s going to kiss me again. . . .

  “We used to go out boating on the lake,” I remember. “Me and my dad.”

  “The boathouse is over there,” Jase says, pointing to a small building in the same gray stone as the balustrade that runs around the border of the lake.

  “Oh yeah. Wow, everything looks so much smaller now.”

  “How old were you when you came here with your dad?”

  “Only about four.”

  “No wonder it seems smaller now, eh?” he says. And, to my surprise, I feel him taking my hand. “You miss them a lot, do you? Your parents?”

  I don’t know how to answer this. No one’s asked me that question that I can remember. I’m amazed that Jase is asking it, actually. And I’m really touched.

  I clear my throat.

  “I can’t say I miss them, I suppose. They died when I was very little. I think I’ve sort of made up memories from looking at photos, if you know what I mean. But I miss having parents. My life would be so different if they were alive.”

  Jase squeezes my hand.

  “And I can see from the photos that they loved me,” I say, to my horror. Why am I telling him this? Tears are pricking at my eyes as I say the words. “So, um, that would be nice.”

  I mustn’t cry. I mustn’t cry. I’m sounding pathetic enough as it is. I stare ahead, blinking fast and breathing deeply, and manage, just about, to get my tears under control.

  “I’m really sorry,” Jase says after a few moments. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I take another deep breath. “No one ever does ask about my parents, so I liked that you did.”

  “Can’t be much fun for you, living with old Scratchface,” Jase says.

  I turn to look at him, feeling safe to do that now I’ve got my tears under control.

  “What did you call her?”

  He grins at me, unabashed. “Old Scratchface. Your aunt. That’s what I used to call her when I was little. I was never allowed onto the Hall grounds proper—we had to keep to our garden. But I used to sneak in sometimes, to explore, and God, wouldn’t she tear me off a strip if she caught me! I used to have nightmares about her, tell you the truth.”

  I giggle. “Scratchface,” I say appreciatively. “That’s perfect for Aunt Gwen.” I realize something. “That’s why we never met before, when we were little. Because you weren’t allowed anywhere on the grounds. I never even knew there was another kid here.”

  “I knew about you,” Jase says. “Saw you wandering all over the place, actually. But I never let you see me when I was exploring, because then I’d really get into trouble. With my dad too. No fraternizing with the Wakefields, they’re too posh for the likes of us, that’s what he always said.”

  Oh dear—Jase has mentioned his dad. I can tell he didn’t mean to, not after the incident a couple of nights ago, but now he’s all tense
d. He must still be embarrassed about it, because his hand slips out of mine. It’s my turn to feel sorry for him about his parents.

  Sensing that we need to change the subject to something a lot lighter, I walk down the slope to the edge of the lake, and jump up onto the balustrade. It’s only about a foot high, and wide enough to walk along easily.

  “I wish we could come here more,” I say wistfully. “We could buy some boats and row, or punt, or something.”

  Jase runs down the slope and jumps up next to me.

  “It’s all health and safety now, isn’t it?” he says, reaching for my hand again, his momentary gloom forgotten. “You can’t do anything, because if something went wrong somebody would sue you.”

  “That’s really stupid,” I say.

  “Well, maybe you should change things. Talk to your gran.” Jase looks at me. “This’ll all be yours one day—you should have some say in what goes on.”

  I goggle at him.

  “I can’t even think about that right now.” I stare over the lake. I suppose I will own all of this one day. But the responsibility feels completely overwhelming like a huge coat thrown over my shoulders, one that’s much too heavy for me, and I can barely stand up in it, let alone walk.

  “Sorry,” Jase says, squeezing my hand. “I just completely freaked you out, didn’t I?”

  I nod.

  “Scarlett—”

  It’s so nice hearing him say my name that I involuntarily turn to him and smile. The sun is behind me, and the sunlight melts in his eyes, turning their amber into liquid pools of gold. Just like the sunlight, I melt looking at him. His hand clasping mine is warm and strong, and on his palm I can feel the calluses from all the gardening he’s been doing. He raises his other hand to shade his eyes from the sun, and I say, idiotically:

  “It’s very bright, isn’t it?”

  Jase just smiles. He takes a step toward me, and I find myself taking one toward him, till we’re nearly touching. He lowers his head, and I tilt mine up. It’s like a dance, we’re so smoothly choreographed. His lips touch mine and we kiss, very gently. My heart bounces in my chest as if Taylor were playing basketball with it. We drop each other’s hands—again, just as if we were choreographed. I reach my arms up to his neck and Jase’s arms lock around my waist. We pull each other closer. Our feet shift, and Jase must have gone a little off the edge of the balustrade, because he wobbles, which makes me wobble. The next thing I know we’ve torn our arms away from each other, because we need them to balance with.