Caramel Hearts (18 page)

2. Sift the flour and salt together. Rub in the butter until the mixture looks like breadcrumbs.

3. Add the water and work into a large lump. Set aside.

4. In a pan, bring the apples, cinnamon, water and sugar to the boil and then simmer gently until the apples go soft and gooey. Put aside to cool.

5. On a floured surface, roll that pastry! Make it thin enough to bend, but not so thin that it breaks. Use a round cookie cutter to get as many pasty rounds as you can out of the dough.

6. Place the cases on baking parchment and fill each with a spoonful of custard and a spoonful of fruit mixture.

7. Brush the edge of each round with milk, then gather up the edges and pull together, forming a seam down the middle of the pastry. “Flute” the edge of each seam (this is a fancy term for pinching it together so it doesn't separate when cooking).

8. Make a small hole in the top of each pasty (to prevent Fruity Custardy explosions) and place on a baking tray. Bake for 10 minutes, then turn down to 180 °C/350 °F/Gas mark 4 until the pasties are golden brown, like summer sunlight.

9. Cool on a wire rack, dust with icing sugar – and enjoy.

Warning:
don't eat them when they're hot, or they'll burn your mouth. Be patient. Remember – all good things come to those who wait!

Chapter Thirty-Three

It's Time to Come Clean

As I skulk down the stairs, Harriet darts into the passageway.

“Where's Jack?” she asks.

“He's gone.”

Slumping on the stairs, I hold my forehead in my hands. “What the hell's wrong with me?”

Harriet places a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. Hatty wouldn't understand. She's way too sensible.

“Can I phone Sarah at her grandma's?”

“Seeing as it's an emergency. But try not to be too long. And if you change your mind… I'm here.”

I pick up the receiver and turn my back. The phone seems to ring for ever and I'm just about to give up when Sarah answers the call, breathless.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Sarah, it's me – Liv.”

“Hey! Give me a minute to catch my breath.” I listen to the heavy panting slowing on the other end. “Sorry, I was trying to knock some time off my 500 metres.”

I can picture Sarah running laps in her grandma's garden. I've visited there a few times, but don't like it much. The gaudy living room and bedrooms filled with
antiques, the massive garden, complete with fountain and orchard – it's too showy. You daren't breathe, in case you break something.

“Sarah, I've got to talk to you. I've screwed up.”

“Shoot.”

“Jack came over to give me a present and we kissed and then we had a fight and it's all my fault…”

“Whoa… back up there! You and Jack
kissed
?”

My voice wobbles. “Yes,” I manage, feebly.

“Jack Whitman? You kissed Jack Whitman?” I hear her settle herself in the comfy armchair next to her grandma's phone. “I knew he fancied you! Tell me every detail!”

I chuckle, despite myself, and reveal only the nicer bits, privately reliving the delicious feel of his soft lips against mine, and carefully missing out the slug bit.

“That's nuts! What about Mad Dog?”

“We won't have to worry about her,” I say, hoping I'm right. “Cos it won't be happening again.”

“Why not? He obviously likes you!”

“Not any more. We had a fight. He stormed out.”

“It's like something out of
Wuthering Heights
,” says Sarah dreamily. “You're Cathy, he's Heathcliff, you had The Kiss…” Sarah says this last bit as though the words start with capital letters. “It's all so romantic! Did you feel any lightning bolts?”

“Are you deaf?” I snap. “We had a fight.”

Luckily, Sarah doesn't take any notice.

“Whatever you fought about, it'll blow over. It did once. Why not again?”

“It's not that simple.”

Trembling, I fight to still my voice. If I'm going to get out of this mess, it's time to come clean to my best mate. Sarah will understand. She'll help me sort everything out.

“Sarah… there's something I have to tell you.”

There is a heavy pause on the other end. “I'm listening.”

“It's not good. It's pretty bad actually…”

“What happened? Did he do something to you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Jack doesn't seem the type to just… Rumour has it that he's more experienced.”

Remembering the warmth of his eyes and the tender way he kissed my nose, I sigh into the receiver. But before I can speak, Sarah's over-active imagination gallops ahead.

“I knew it! He tried to make you go further than you wanted. He's got a bit of a reputation, you know… that's why you threw him out—”

“Sarah, stop! I didn't throw him out – he stormed out. He didn't try—”

“But why else would you be so upset? I thought you'd swap a kidney for a kiss from Jack.”

My back pressed against the cold passageway wall, I take in a sharp breath.

“Sarah, you have to listen to me. But before I tell you, you have to promise not to say a word. And not to fall out with me. OK?”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is serious. Promise me.”

“OK, OK – I promise I'll try. Now, what's wrong? Liv… are you crying?”

Tears roll down my cheeks. Sarah is the only one that truly believes in me, and I'm about to betray her trust. Unable to respond, I sob down the phone.

“Don't worry,” says Sarah, resolutely. “I'll think of something. Tell me what happened and we'll fix it.”

“OK… the reason that me and Jack argued… the reason he stormed out… it was me who took Mrs Snelling's handbag.”

For the first time in my life, I understand why people say silence can be deafening.

“Sarah? Are you still there?”

“I'm s-still here.”

Disappointment seeps out of every syllable. I feel my insides curl and wither like an autumn leaf.

“I didn't meant to do it… I was taking some stuff for baking and…”

“You were s-stealing ingredients? Have I eaten any of those ingredients?”

“I just wanted to be good at something!”

“This one's t-too much, even by your standards. M-Mrs Snelling got r-really hurt.”

“I know but… I didn't know that was going to happen. What am I going to do?”

“Are you s-sorry?”

“Of course I'm sorry. I'm going to give the bag back.”

“With everything still in it?”

“I used some of the money… but there's still loads left.”

“Give it back before you take any more. Go to Mr Morrelly, admit what you did and hand it over.”

“I can't! The Social Services visit is this Friday.”

“You heard him in assembly. They'll be lenient with anyone who owns up.”

“School maybe – but not the Social Services. They'll take me away. They'll split us up, Sarah… Me and Harriet, you and me!”

There is a pause on the other end.

“M-maybe that's not such a b-bad thing, Liv. You're out of control.”

Then, before I can say anything else, Sarah hangs up.

As the line goes dead, I bang the back of my head against the wall. Gently at first, but then hard enough to hurt. I'm sick of messing things up. Every time I try to put things right, I make them worse.

I replace the receiver as Harriet steps into the hallway. When she sees the state of me, she drops the assignment she's working on and runs my way.

“Liv, are you OK? You look sick.”

Before I can answer, everything blurs. I hear Harriet cry out but the sound is muffled. The next thing I know, Hatty's tapping my face and calling my name.

“Liv? Liv, can you hear me?”

“Hatty?”

“I'm here, Liv. I'm here.”

As I battle to focus, I hear Harriet crumple into sobs.

“I'm not cut out for all this. I just want life to be normal again,” she says.

“Please don't cry, sis,” I whisper, the words catching in my dry throat. “Please don't cry any more.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

If I'm Already in Trouble, What Do Manners Matter?

The next morning, I'm surprised to find Harriet clinging to the telephone receiver, tight lipped. It's not even 8 a.m. I plonk myself on one of the stairs and lean my forehead on the banister slats, trying to figure out who's on the other end and why Harriet looks so worried. Is it the Social Services?

“Yes, I'll definitely be there. And Liv too. I'll make sure of it. Can I ask what this is about?” Harriet pauses, listening intently. “OK, no problem. I'll be there, Mr Morrelly.”

Old Mozzer? What's he doing on the phone at this time? As Harriet clicks the receiver into place, she looks up at me, eyes full of worry.

“What have you done now? You promised me you'd stay out of trouble!”

“I have!”

“The visit's in…” Harriet checks her watch, as though it will reveal the answer, while working out the dates in her head. “Four days! We can't afford for anything to go wrong!”

I fidget and groan. It's too early in the morning for hassle and, for once, I have no idea what I've done. Unless Jack or Sarah have grassed me up.

“I don't know what it's about,” I say, trying to sound innocent.

Harriet shakes her head and breathes a huge sigh.

“Well, it's something to do with that Jack guy – that's all I know. Get yourself dressed. We have to be there as soon as possible.”

“What for?”

“That's what I was hoping
you'd
tell
me
. But I guess I'll find out soon enough. As if I don't have enough to worry about. You're a real pain.”

Harriet stomps up the stairs, nudging me out of the way.

Rubbing my forehead between thumb and forefinger, I follow after her, desperately trying to think of a way to stall.

* * *

A film of sweat moistens my hands as I wait in the long, yellow corridor outside Mr Morrelly's office. Avoiding Harriet's frequent disapproving glances, I fiddle with my thumbs. Have Jack or Sarah told on me? I doubt Sarah would betray all those years of friendship. As for Jack, surely the kiss meant something? Both know the situation with Mam. Both know how much I have to lose. But if one of them has opened their mouths, I'm screwed. I'll end up in foster care for sure. I shuffle away from Hatty. Might as well start getting used to the separation now.

The head teacher's door clicks open.

“Olivia, Harriet, please, come in.” Mr Morrelly's voice is unexpectedly gentle.

Harriet's first to stand – upright and obedient, a total swot as usual. Not like me: always in trouble. I watch my sister's breezy walk with disdain. Who's she trying to kid? She's just as scared, only better at covering it up.

“Please, girls, sit down.”

Mr Morrelly's face looks concerned, but not angry. Harriet chances a sideways peek at me, so I avert my gaze. When we're both seated, Mr Morrelly paces in front of the window for a moment, before settling himself behind his big, oak desk. Leaning in, he places his chin on his interlocked fingers, knuckles white as his face. Harriet's lips pull tight across her teeth in a fake smile. I crossed my fingers, hoping I'll get out of this one unscathed.

“How are you, Olivia?” asked Mr Morrelly.

I hold his gaze.

“I'm good, sir. But I'm sure you didn't ask me here to talk about my health.”

I should probably be more respectful – but if I'm already in trouble, what do manners matter? Feeling a sharp stab in my ribs as Harriet lets her elbow slip, I reluctantly zip my lips up tight.

“Well, actually, I have, in a way. We're worried about the company you may be keeping. We've received some serious accusations about a friend of yours, Jack Whitman. We want you to confirm whether they're true.”

Old Mozzer's eyebrows form a perfectly straight line across his brow. I'm off the hook, but a queasy feeling rises in my stomach.

“We've had reports that it was Jack who stole Mrs Snelling's handbag, resulting in her serious injury. And your name was mentioned.”

“My name?”

“Yes. It was indicated to me that you saw Jack in the vicinity of the dinner hall around the time of the incident. Can you confirm this claim?”

I can't speak. It's like my nightmare has come true and my mouth has disappeared. Why is Jack getting blamed for my actions? First, Mrs Snelling, now Old Mozzer.

Too late, I realize that Harriet and Mr Morrelly mistake my silence for confirmation. Oh Jack, I'm sorry. But if I open my mouth to come clean now, Harriet will hate me. And she's all I have left.

“As you know, Jack was hailed as a hero for assisting Mrs Snelling after her fall,” continues Mr Morrelly. “But when someone makes a serious accusation, I have to act on it. I know, Liv, that you two are friends, so if you know anything that might help prove Jack's guilt or innocence…” He pauses and lifts an eyebrow before continuing. “I hope you will do the right thing and share this information with me.”

Taking a deep breath, I stay silent. Guilt plucks at my stomach, but it's the best I can do.

“There have also been accusations that Jack is involved in bullying. For a while now, Jack's had a relatively clean slate, but that doesn't mean it isn't a possibility. I am granting you full confidentiality if you decide to provide information.”

Feeling Harriet's eyes burn into me, I keep my face down-turned.

“I know that this is an uncomfortable situation for you, Olivia, but I must ask – do you have anything to say?”

Slowly, I shake my head.

“That's what I suspected, but I'll allow you time to reconsider. If you think of anything – anything at all – please report back to me immediately. Now, if you don't mind waiting outside, I'd like a word with your sister.”

My skin turns clammy as I leave the room, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor – until I discover a familiar pair of toe-worn blue and brown Adidas. Tracing from the shoes, up over the black trousers and burgundy school jumper, I meet Jack's hard, staring eyes.

My mouth turns dry. I have to warn him! But first, I have to make certain that he won't get me into trouble.

“Jack… please don't tell them.”

He shakes his head in disgust. Before I can say anything else – warn him what to expect – the door opens. Jack squares his shoulders, gives me an awful look and steps into the office. Harriet shoots him an angry glare as they pass.

“Poor Mrs Snelling,” says Harriet, as she guides me away, arms round my shoulders. “You're well rid of him.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “He's about to get suspended.”

I swallow hard. What have I done?

That night Sarah sends me a text:

I CAN'T BELIEVE JACK'S BEEN SUSPENDED COS OF YOU

I try to formulate a reply but fail – what can I say?