Secrets at St Jude's: New Girl (12 page)

‘Ooooh! Are we all going to the ball, gerrrrls?’ He rolled his ‘r’s theatrically. Then, spotting the large shopping bag tucked under Lucy’s chair, he leaned down to take a peek inside, before throwing up his hands and declaring, ‘
Cerise chiffon . . . I am overcome!

My dear
’ – he gazed at Lucy – ‘
you are going to be the
belle of the ball
.’

When he finished by wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, Niffy and Gina didn’t just laugh, but also applauded his performance.

Dermot made a little bow then bounced off to take orders from another table.

‘Isn’t he a sweetheart?’ Gina whispered.

‘No wonder you lot are in here every weekend!’

Suzie said. ‘Who is he?’

‘He’s Dermot. His dad runs the café and he’s just about to sit his Highers. But all the time he’s not studying, he’s in here earning his pocket money.’ Gina, who had never even had to make her own bed to qualify for her generous allowance, found this deeply impressive.

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‘Niffy? What about you?’ Amy was still on about dresses. ‘Min’s going to wear my little red number, but what are you planning?’

‘Oh . . .’ Niffy stretched out her long arms and yawned, as if this was the most boring conversation in the world. ‘I thought I’d go to Topshop – they have dresses, don’t they? Quite cheap? I’ve only got about thirty pounds left in my account.’

‘Thirty quid?’ Amy was truly horrified. ‘You can’t even get a decent eye shadow for that!’

‘Well, I’ll leave it just a little bit longer. Maybe my dad will stick a tenner in an envelope if I ask him nicely.’

‘So what is this ball going to be like?’ Gina asked, beginning to feel quite excited about it. ‘Are the guys really going to come in tuxedos? Like in the movies?’

‘Yeah, or kilts!’ Niffy enthused. ‘You can’t really say you’ve experienced Scotland until you’ve had a twirl round the dance floor with a guy in a kilt.’

‘Yeah, but you have to watch the metal buttons on kilt jackets when the twirling gets wild,’ Amy added.

‘They can cause flesh wounds.’

This didn’t sound so cool to Gina. ‘What!’ she exclaimed. ‘I wasn’t going to get involved in any of 128

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your complicated Scottish dances anyway, but now I’m definitely propping up the bar.’

‘Oh yes, there will be all the non-alcoholic fruit punch you can drink,’ Suzie informed her.

‘What am I going to wear?!’ Amy wailed once again, her head in her hands.

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Chapter Ten

‘Are you going into town?’ Niffy asked at breakfast on the actual day of the
actual
Year Four summer ball.

Finally the long awaited event had arrived!

‘Yeah, just as soon as we’ve finished,’ Amy told her.

‘They’ve had to do a few alterations, but my dress is going to be ready to collect just as soon as the doors open this morning.’ There was no disguising the excitement in her voice. She had finally found it –

the dream dress. The dress that would be the envy of every single girl at the ball.

‘Well, it’s just . . . I thought maybe I’d go in with you and you could help me look in Topshop, because I’m still not sorted out.’

Amy looked at Niffy in disbelief. ‘What!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s today, Niffy. Tonight. You can’t go in your jodhpurs, you know.’

‘Shame really,’ Niffy growled.

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‘I don’t know if I’ve got time to help you look,’ Amy said. ‘Gina and I were going to go in, get the dress, buy some new lipsticks, then come back here and do our hair, our nails, our make-up . . . you know.’

‘Amy, it’s eight thirty-five a.m.,’ Min reminded her.

‘OK, here’s the plan,’ Niffy instructed. ‘We set off after breakfast, you and Gina go to Harvey Nicks, I go to Topshop, then at twelve thirty we meet in the Arts Café. You have to be ready by then, Amy,’ she warned.

‘You have to have the new dress, the new shoes, the new blusher, new lip gloss, new hair gel and whatever else it is you need. Then we’ll have a coffee to perk us all up and head back here with hours to spare before the seven-thirty start. What about you, Min? Are you coming with us?’

Min set down the large glass of orange juice she was drinking and answered, ‘Amy’s lending me something, so I’m fine. I’ve got to put in some training this morning. I’m so slow. Grinding to a standstill.’

Just then, Selina Davis, one of their fellow Year Four boarders, returned to the table, gingerly dangling two fresh pieces of toast in her fingernails, with the news:

‘You do know that it’s Daffodil’s turn to wash up after breakfast today.’

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loud and so heartfelt that the Neb scuttled over from her table at the dining-room window to find out what was wrong.

‘We’re on washing up!’ Amy practically shrieked. ‘I can’t wash up – I’ve got to go out and get my dress!

And think of our nails!’ she pleaded. ‘All the rubber gloves have holes in them. Our hands will get trashed.

Couldn’t we swap with whoever’s on next week? One of the Year Three dorms? Pleeeeeeeease!’

‘Oh dear.’ Mrs Knebworth went over and looked at the rota taped neatly to the kitchen door. ‘Now why did I not think of the Year Four ball when I was making that up? No . . . two of next week’s dishwashers are away home this weekend, so I can’t help you there, I’m afraid.’

She turned round, and the expected look of sympathy came out looking very like a smirk; immediately, all four Daffodils were convinced she had done this on purpose.

‘I’ll wash,’ Niffy volunteered. ‘My hands are knackered anyway.’ And she held out her rough hands with their short square nails and chewed cuticles for inspection.

‘I’ve got really dark purple nail varnish – I’ll smarten them up with that tonight,’ Amy offered in response to this – in her opinion – selfless act of martyrdom.

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*

*

*

The Arts Café was busy by 12.30. Almost every table was filled as Amy and Gina scoured the space for Niffy, sure that she would be here by now.

At first they didn’t spot her, because they were looking at the smaller tables, expecting to find her on her own, but then Gina pointed to one of the packed sofa corners, where four scruffily dressed boys were laughing loudly at a story being told by an equally scruffy girl perched on the very edge of her seat: Niffy!

‘Oh, hi!’ she called, spotting them hovering, laden down with Harvey Nichols white and gold shopping bags. ‘Over here! Finn will get you coffees. How did I manage to forget that my brother has a weekend out and said he would be in Edinburgh?’ she added, and smacked at her forehead with her hand. ‘Duh!’

‘Craigiefield boys,’ Amy quietly explained to Gina.

‘It’s a really posh boarding school for boys in the middle of nowhere. They only get let out once in a while, and Niffy’s brother, Finn, is one of them.’

‘Amy! You know everyone. Gina meet Finn, Euan and Jamie from Craigiefield and their friend Charlie from St Lennox’s,’ was Niffy’s casual introduction.

‘And show, show!’ she insisted, pointing at their bags.

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‘No!’ Amy said firmly. ‘Not here. It’s a surprise.

What about you? Any luck?’

‘Yes!’ Niffy reached down and fished around for her plastic bag. From inside she hoicked out a strapless, electric-blue taffeta mini-dress with a flared skirt and net petticoat. ‘Not bad, eh?’ She grinned. ‘Reduced to fifteen pounds.’

‘Really?’ Amy tried to sound enthusiastic.

‘Yeah, it’s a size sixteen – might need a safety pin or two – but a bargain!’

The boys were grinning and making approving noises.

‘Great colour!’

‘Great length!’

‘All girls should have to wear dresses like that.’

‘Yeah. It should be the law.’

Finn stood up, revealing a physique as long and gangly as his sister’s. Like the other three boys, he was draped in a mac, baggy jeans, several scarves and over-grown hair, which had to be regularly swept back from his face.

But despite the scruffiness, these were rich boys.

They were tall, with healthy good looks, and Gina could see the expensive watches, the smart shoes, the discreet labels. Plus, she was beginning to understand 134

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that not everyone in Scotland spoke like these boys did, as if they were distantly related to the Queen.

‘What would you like to drink, girls?’ Finn asked.

‘Sit down, man, there’s a waiter.’ Jamie pointed to Dermot, who came over, skinny as ever and still dressed in the see-through white shirt.

‘Hello, dorm girls.’ He greeted them with only a brief smile: clearly the presence of the boys was putting him off.

Amy and Gina, both now squeezed between Euan and Charlie on one of the leather sofas, ordered Cokes.

As Gina took off her jacket and pushed it behind her, Charlie, a beefy blond guy who already looked about thirty-five, leaned in just a little too close.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ he schmoozed. ‘Now, I’m coming to a ball at your school tonight, but what about inviting my friends along as well?’

The fingertips of the hand resting on his knee were brushing ever so lightly past Gina’s leg. Why, in every group of boys, was there always one lech? And why had she been landed with him?

‘Yeah, I’ve told them about tonight’s thing at school,’ Niffy explained, ‘and I’m sure if they dressed up, no one would notice. I mean, it’s not like there’s a ticket check at the door or anything.’

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Amy didn’t look so sure, but Finn seemed very enthusiastic. ‘Yeah, fantastic. We’re staying at Charlie’s for the weekend. His people have got a big place in the New Town.’

By now, Gina had learned that ‘people’ meant parents and ‘big place in the New Town’ tended to indicate a five-storey Georgian townhouse, Grade A listed, Scottish Heritage registered, price tag about £2 million.

‘We’ll borrow some clothes,’ Finn went on, ‘and turn up at seven thirty for some fun.’

Borrow some clothes?
Amy just about choked. After all the trouble she’d taken to find the right dress!

After all the trouble she was planning to go to: straightening her hair, applying her evening make-up, shaving, manicuring, plucking, and she would be dancing with cretins like this, who would show up, probably drunk, in clothes they had
borrowed
!

Surely Jason wasn’t going to be like this? When Amy thought of Jason at the dance, she imagined him in a dark, perfectly cut dinner suit, with a white silk scarf and a carefully knotted bow tie. He would ask her to dance; they would skim through a waltz, then maybe he would get her a drink (school non-alcoholic punch, sadly – no bubbles of champagne frothing in crystal flutes between them).

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Amy, would you like to come outside, get a breath of
fresh air?
he would ask, and she’d shiver from head to toe because everybody knew what ‘would you like to come outside’ meant.

Just the thought of kissing him made her stomach flip and her toes curl. He’d ask her permission, of course. In his smooth and chocolaty voice, he’d utter words like:
Amy, I’d really like to kiss you . . . do you
think that would be OK?

And before she could even breathe, their lips would touch and his beautiful cheeks and silky dark hair would be right against her face, his arms pulling her towards him. It would be sooooo romantic. Nothing like the other kisses she’d experienced to date. She was sure, absolutely certain, that Jason was the one: he was going to be her first love.

‘Tomorrow – yeah, we’d love to, wouldn’t we?’

Niffy’s nudge brought Amy out of her daydream.

‘What?’ Amy asked, wondering what Niffy had agreed to now.

‘Go round to Charlie’s for afternoon tea?’

‘Fantastic.’ Charlie seemed to be breathing right into Gina’s ear now.

Dermot arrived with their coffees and banged them moodily down on the table.

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‘Hi, Dermot,’ Amy ventured. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Oh, fine,’ he said, but with a heavy note of sarcasm.

‘Having a ball, are we? And these are your dashing partners, I suppose?’

‘Dermot!’ Gina leaned back in her chair and turned round to face him. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ he replied, but she could see from his expression that this wasn’t true.

‘D’you want to come?’ she asked suddenly, wanting to make him feel better. ‘I mean, if we can sneak these guys in without a proper invitation, I’m sure we could get you in too.’

Dermot was smiling at her now. ‘That’s a very kind offer,’ he told her. ‘I’ve never been to a ball before.’

‘Neither have I,’ she said.

His eyes held hers. ‘I can’t do country dancing.’

‘Neither can I! Come on, it’ll be fun.’

He ran his hand through his hair and laughed. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Too many reasons, Gina! Too many reasons!’ he told her. ‘Number one, I’d stick out like a sore thumb; number two,

I’m working here till eleven

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my cupboard right now – it’s at the cleaner’s!’ he joked and gave her a wink.

Charlie inched his wallet out of his back pocket and peeled a tenner from inside. ‘Hey, waiter! I’ll take care of these,’ he boomed. ‘Anyone for anything else?’