Girl, 16: Five-Star Fiasco (19 page)

‘Shouldn’t you find your phone first?’ asked big Tom patiently as if Humph was a child. ‘What’s the point of a charger if you haven’t got a phone?’

‘I found Humph’s phone this morning when I went down for my jog on the beach,’ said George, slapping his head as if he’d just remembered. There was something stagy about the way he did it. ‘I dried it off in the microwave for you, buddy. It’s still there.’

‘What?’ Humph jumped to his feet, his green eyes wild with excitement. He raced to the microwave, threw open the door and took out a mobile. He examined it and stared accusingly at George. Jess watched, fascinated but fearful. ‘You didn’t really dry it off in here, did you?’ Humph asked, puzzled.

‘Sure!’ said George, his eyes dancing. ‘Give it another blast if you don’t believe me. Half a minute at maximum should do the trick.’

Humph stood, hesitating and frowning, glancing at his phone and then at the microwave. Then he reached for the door.

‘Don’t!’ yelled Jess. She couldn’t help herself. ‘It’ll explode!’

Humph stared at her and the other boys groaned.

‘It’s metal!’ said Jess.

Humph turned to George. ‘You didn’t!’ he said with a slinky grin. ‘This is one of your big jokes. I’ll get you for this, George Stevens!’ But he seemed strangely pleased to have been the victim of another trick. ‘Did you really find it on the path? Where?’

‘George picked your phone up off the table yesterday afternoon,’ explained speccy Tom admiringly. ‘You never know where it is anyway. George reckoned he could make you cook it this morning.’

Jess was revising her opinion of big speccy Tom. At first she’d thought he was the gentlest of the guys, but he seemed to hero-worship George.

‘You owe me five quid, mate,’ Tom went on. ‘I told you he’d never fall for it.’

‘He would have!’ protested George. ‘If Little Miss Head Prefect here hadn’t butted in.’

Jess felt a flare of furious indignation. ‘You could have ruined Humph’s phone,’ she pointed out, sounding indeed rather Head Prefectish – a horrible feeling for Jess, like the way she’d felt when Fred couldn’t be serious about organising Chaos. Jess hated being teacherish – she was usually a bit of a rebel.

‘My phone’s rubbish anyway,’ said Humph, refusing her support and siding with the boys who had played the trick on him. ‘Maybe I could have claimed back the insurance and bought a better one. Hey! Let’s do it, guys.’

The boys then settled into an argument about what would happen if you put a mobile phone into a microwave, while Jess and Flora ate their breakfast in silence. There was a slightly weird atmosphere. Jess didn’t have much of an appetite and Flora’s scrambled eggs lacked their usual divine fluffiness and were kind of stringy. Where was Fred? Jess couldn’t think about anything else, although every other moment she felt she was being over-anxious and stupid. What could be more normal than a lie-in?

Shortly afterwards, while Jess and Flora were washing up, Mrs Stevens entered in a beige woolly dressing gown, accompanied by Gubbins.

‘The view!’ she raved. ‘Isn’t it heavenly! Charles said it was going to rain today – he’s useless. Have you all had breakfast? Where’s Fred?’

There was a moment’s naughty pause again. You could feel the electricity in the air. The guys’ faces were full of flickering mischief.

‘He’s having a lie-in, poor old Fredianus,’ said George. ‘He couldn’t sleep all night because of O’Connell snoring.’

‘I don’t snore!’ retorted speccy Tom. ‘If Fred couldn’t sleep it wasn’t because of me.’

‘Couldn’t Fred sleep?’ asked Jess anxiously.

‘Well, I reckon he’s asleep now,’ said George with a devilish grin. ‘Listen!’ He held up a finger. There was silence. ‘Hear anything? No! No distant cries for help. Only the sound . . . of silence.’ For a split second Jess had a horrible sort of hallucination that George had killed Fred, that George was some kind of crazed serial murderer and later that day he was going to kill them all, one by one, in a mad game of charades.

‘Is it OK if I go and wake him up?’ she said, suddenly determined to do something – anything – to make sure Fred was OK.

‘Yes, of course, Jess.’ Mrs Stevens smiled. ‘Tell him I’ll put some toast on.’

‘There goes the Head Prefect,’ said George with a titter, as Jess headed for the stairs. ‘Poor old Fred!’

Jess gritted her teeth. She was trying not to hate George, but it was a challenge.

The stairs were the kind of open-tread wooden sort you get in old barns, and they led directly up into a huge attic which ran the whole length of the house. There were about eight single beds in there, arranged in two rows just like a school dormitory. And every bed was empty. Fred was nowhere to be seen. Jess stared in disbelief. There were five messy beds, where the boys had evidently slept, strewn with the boy debris of smelly socks and stuff, and three untouched beds. Jess’s heart was hammering away like mad. Where was Fred?

At the far end of the room she noticed a closed door. She tiptoed down to it. There was a sign hanging on it which read:
THIS IS IT!
Presumably it was a bathroom or loo. Jess hesitated by the door.

‘Fred!’ she called softly.

‘Unlock the door,’ came Fred’s voice immediately, from behind the blue painted boards. Jess noticed that there was a bolt on her side of the door which was drawn across. Hastily she unbolted it and opened the door. Fred walked out, still in his pyjamas and shivering.

‘They locked you in!’ Jess gasped, clapping her hand across her mouth. ‘But you must have been in there for . . .’

‘Two hours,’ Fred said quietly, but with a heavy dash of venom.

‘Two hours!’ whispered Jess in disbelief. ‘They told me you were having a lie-in!’

‘There’s no need to go mental about it,’ said Fred stiffly. ‘Go back down. I’ll get dressed and be there in a minute.’

‘Why didn’t you shout?’

‘I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction,’ said Fred grimly.

‘Mrs Stevens said she’s making some toast,’ said Jess limply, trying to cheer him up.

‘Toast!’ Fred gave a quiet, bitter laugh. ‘As far as these guys are concerned, I
am
toast.’

Jess headed for the stairs, her mind reeling. When did a practical joke go too far? Two hours, locked in the freezing loo! Poor Fred! But the essential thing was not to show them it mattered. They must pretend they didn’t mind a bit. Or was that spineless? Jess had never felt so confused.

Chapter 24

As Jess re-entered the kitchen, everybody looked at her and there was a kind of horrible expectant pause – the guys all had mischievous grins, and Flora looked nervous.

‘He’s fine.’ Jess forced herself to smile, even though she felt more like shouting. ‘Just got detained in the bathroom.’

‘Oh no!’ Mrs Stevens glared at George, but not sternly – there was a playful look on her face. ‘You didn’t? George, you are hopeless. I’m so sorry, Jess – it’s a stupid tradition here at Sea Spray. Anyone sleeping in the dorm for the first time gets locked in the bathroom. But usually they start to yell the place down and get let out right away.’

‘I think Fred was reading or something,’ said Jess lightly. ‘Why is there a bolt on the outside of the door, by the way?’ She tried to sound polite, even though right now she thought that the bolt was the stupidest thing she’d ever seen.

‘Well, when it’s blowing a gale, that door rattles like crazy and nobody can sleep a wink,’ explained Mrs Stevens. ‘So we had that bolt installed and it holds the door snugly in place. We never dreamt these wretched boys would use it as a way of tormenting their guests. Oh, hello, Fred! I’m so sorry about my idiotic sons. Let me soothe you with some French toast.’

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ said Fred, putting on his faux grin. ‘I’ve always wanted that kind of peace and quiet. I was really irritated when Jess came and forced me out. I could spend all weekend in there.’

‘I wouldn’t say that!’ warned Humph slyly. ‘Or maybe your wish will come true!’

The guys all laughed, and Fred sat down carefully at the table, still wearing the smile he used when he was really, really embarrassed and uncomfortable. Jess longed to give him a massive hug. This was ridiculous. She could feel tears gathering behind her eyes, but the boys mustn’t see or she’d never hear the end of it.

‘I want to look at that view again,’ she said quickly. ‘Come on, Flora!’ She grabbed her fleece and rushed out. The sea now had a glassy grey look, clouds had covered the sun and a bitter wind was blowing the coarse grass around at their feet.

‘Jack’s mum said she thinks it might snow,’ said Flora, snuggling into her parka. ‘Wouldn’t that be amazing! I’ve never seen it snowing on the sea! We could get snowed in and not be able to go back to school!’

Normally Jess would have jumped eagerly into this fun fantasy, but she was still seething. ‘Can’t you stop Jack behaving like an idiot?’ she hissed.

Flora looked startled. She blushed. ‘What do you mean?’ she faltered, biting her lip uneasily.

‘You know! Him and his brother! All these stupid jokes! Humiliating poor Fred! And calling me Head Prefect and stuff! And calling Fred Fredianus!’

Flora kind of cringed. ‘It’s just guys having a laugh!’ she said lightly. ‘And anyway, Fred was the one who found that name in the first place. What’s the problem?’

‘It’s really stupid and hostile.’

‘You’re overreacting, Jess.’ Flora kept her voice low, and she was trying to sympathise, but she clearly wasn’t about to diss her boyfriend and his family, who owned this glorious place. ‘Just lighten up,’ she went on. ‘I mean, they play tricks on Humph all the time and he just laughs it off.’

‘Yeah, but Humph is George’s friend from uni,’ argued Jess. ‘He’s used to it and stuff. It’s part of their routine, you know. Fred’s a total stranger – and he’s three years younger than them.’

‘Are you saying Fred can’t take care of himself?’ Flora frowned in a disbelieving kind of way. ‘Honestly, Jess, he looked fine. I think you should just relax and stop worrying about him. What guy wants to have his girlfriend fussing over him all the time in front of other guys? Just leave him to fight his own battles. I mean, Fred’s got a really, really devastating wit. If anybody can fight his corner, he can.’

Jess was silent. Everything Flora had said made perfect sense. She didn’t want to spoil this weekend by being stressy and awkward.

‘OK,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I just wish . . .’ She paused.

‘Wish what?’

‘I wish . . . I don’t know.’ Jess’s wish hung in the air, changing shape all the time. What was it, this wish that would change the weekend from an ordeal into a treat? ‘Oh, nothing.’ Jess had a feeling that if she worked out exactly what she was feeling, it would be the kind of stuff that would upset Flora.

‘Let’s go in,’ she said. They turned from the tremendous view and, as she did so, Jess realised she’d hardly even glanced at it; she’d only seen the rough grass at their feet, whipped by the winter wind.

Indoors, George was lying on his back on one of the sofas and Gubbins was standing on his tummy, licking his face. George was giggling uncontrollably. With his high-pitched voice, he sounded like a harmless little boy. Jess felt ashamed, as if she’d made a fuss about nothing.

‘Don’t let Gubbins stand on top of you like that!’ called Mrs Stevens from the kitchen door. ‘He’ll think he’s dominant over you.’ She turned to Jess and Flora. ‘We’re trying to teach Gubbins that his place is at the bottom of the pack,’ she explained. ‘Apparently you must never lie on your back and let them sit on your tummy, like George is doing now – push him off, George! – because what George is doing is submissive and it makes Gubbins feel like top dog.’