Jealous Girl Page 10

  'Yeah.' Amy offered each cheek in turn, but warned him, 'Just no licking, OK?'

  He ushered them in. 'Come on, meet the rellies.'

  The rellies, Angus's aunt and uncle, turned out to be nice. The house was glittering and the unmistakable impression was: rich, rich, rich. It couldn't have been more different to the threadbare state of Blacklough.

  'My uncle is a banker, you know – wads of money,' Angus explained in a cheerful whisper.

  When Amy was shown into the drawing room, she made straight for the beautiful bay window and admired the three gleaming cars parked outside. An Aston for him, a Lotus for her, and an immaculate old-fashioned blue Land Rover, perfectly restored, shining and loved in every way – for going into the fields, perhaps?

  'Angus, who cleans the cars here?' Amy asked.

  'This old boy, Roger, he does all the odd jobs . . . Why?' he wondered.

  'He does a blinking good job,' she said. Even her dad's driver, who kept the McCorquodale Jag sparkling, would be impressed. 'I need to have a little word with Rog, if that's OK,' she went on.

  Angus's eyebrows shot up. 'Fine . . . but . . .'

  'Niffy said you'd just passed your driving test,' she added.

  'Yes,' Angus confirmed, 'but—'

  'Good!' Amy told him with a secretive smile. 'Because I've just had this totally, totally brilliant idea.'

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was nearly eight p.m. and already growing dark in the village of Buckthwaite. This was exactly what Amy had wanted. Any earlier and there might have been too much daylight to get away with her plan; any later and there was a danger that the people they needed to see would have gone home.

  'There!' Amy pointed, feeling a rush of nerves. 'There they are . . . That's definitely her anyway, the ring-leading cow. So long as we make an impression with her, this will work. OK, pump up the bass.'

  Molly Haddon – that was the name of the mouthy girl in the baseball cap who'd had a go at Niffy earlier that day – was one of the first of the group to spot the white Range Rover coming up the street towards the arches of the town hall, where they were still huddled.

  How could she not notice it? Amy, Niffy, Gina, Min and Angus had spent hours cleaning it. Mr N-B had agreed, of course, but even he'd been astonished by the degree of effort which they had all put into the task.

  Amy had charmed Roger into handing over car shampoo, T-Cut colour restorer (which the Nairn- Bassett Range Rover had needed, that was for sure), wax polish, chrome buffer, tyre blackener, glass polisher, even a hand-held vacuum for the seats.

  'Come on!' Amy had urged them over and over during the cleaning process. 'It's got to shine! I know how these things are done. It can't look like it's ever spent one second outside the inner city.'

  Once the Range Rover had been polished to perfection, Amy had enlisted Angus's help to gather together all the other items she needed.

  'The car's CD player works, doesn't it?'

  'Hmm . . .' Niffy didn't know. 'Dad always listens to Radio Three.'

  When inspection of the CD player had revealed that it did in fact function, Angus had been sent to rifle through his cousin's old CD collection until they'd found exactly the right thing.

  'Shake Da House vol. six – perfect!' Amy had declared as she set the CD aside.

  Then thin chiffon scarves were tied over three big torches so they gave off glowing purple, blue and yellow lights.

  'And now for our disguises,' Amy had announced, causing the four faces of the others to turn to her in disbelief. She still hadn't told them what she had in mind. She was worried that if she told them, they would refuse to play along and simply think that she was out of her mind. But somewhere, deep down, she just absolutely knew they could pull this off.

  'OK, now we need baseball caps, puffy anoraks, sunglasses, and lots and lots of gold chains,' Amy had told them.

  'What?' Angus had demanded in astonishment. 'Where the hell are we going to get all that? And why? Why don't you just tell us what's going on?'

  'Look at the size of this place!' Amy had insisted, refusing to be put off. 'If we start looking round here, I promise you we'll find everything we need. We'll raid the fancy-dress boxes, the backs of wardrobes – even the Christmas decorations if we have to! Come on!'

  'Look at that.' Molly Haddon was now nudging the girl next to her, and most of the others turned to look in the direction of her pointed finger. 'That's pretty flash.'

  Now all eyes were fixed on the white Range Rover as it drew closer. All four of the 4X4's side windows were half-open so that the teens standing on the wet pavement could hear the loud music thump, thump, thumping from inside.

  'That is flash,' one of the boys agreed with Molly.

  They were looking at the cool coloured lights that seemed to glow from the car windows, lighting it from within.

  'It's a customized one,' the boy added. 'Special light and sound system,' he muttered with a hint of longing. 'That is unbelievably cool.'

  Now the car was drawing closer, slowing right down; to their surprise, it was pulling to a halt right beside them.

  In the passenger's seat they could see an incredibly glamorous blonde, heavily made up, wearing dark glasses, flashing with diamonds, her hair falling loose about her shoulders. In the driver's seat was a massive guy in a big padded anorak, baseball cap and large dark glasses. He looked very blond and very serious. In the back seat was another seriously padded guy, also in a baseball cap and shades. In his hand was some sort of thick wooden stick – like a bat or something.

  'Maybe they're Russians,' the boy wondered out loud. He sounded almost nervous. But then this was Buckthwaite: exotic strangers in customized Range Rovers weren't exactly common around here.

  When the passenger window slid down, the group of teenagers instinctively took a step back.

  The blonde girl in the front seat turned to face them. She raised her sunglasses so that she could take a better look at them all.

  'Remember me, then, guys?' she asked in clear, unmistakably Glaswegian tones.

  It took a moment or two, but then Molly and her friends realized that this was the same girl who'd been in the high street earlier with that stuck-up Luella Nairn-Bassett girl. Every one of them was now too nervous to make any sort of reply to Amy.

  'Do you know who my dad is?' she began. 'No, I don't think you do. Well, let me tell you. My dad is one of the hardest men in Glasgow. No!' she scolded. 'Don't look in the car. He's not in the car. You think he'd drive around in a tin can like this? No, he drives a really nice set of wheels,' she went on, not even remotely nervous now.

  When she was ordinary Amy McCorquodale, she wasn't a very good liar, but when she was in costume, playing a part, it was a different story. She was an actress now, speaking her lines with conviction, just like she'd practised all the way here.

  'He's a businessman,' she said darkly. 'I don't think I need to tell you what kind of business. Let's just say he has a lot of security men . . . ready to provide security' – she paused and looked at them meaningfully – 'at a moment's notice.'

  Then Amy carefully opened the tiny, but oh-so-obviously- labelly handbag on her lap and took out her dinky little phone. 'I could just give him a wee call and my two security men here might have some new orders.'

  Molly was now looking at her with undisguised terror, her mouth open. 'I'm . . . I'm . . . I didn't . . .' she stammered, unable to get the words out.

  'It's very simple . . .' Amy had to admit she was almost enjoying this now. 'Just be nice,' she instructed, 'or at the very least polite to my friend Luella. Or else I might have to get some of my friends to give some of your friends a lesson in manners. And you wouldn't like that. Do you understand?'

  There was an outbreak of unanimous nodding amongst the group on the pavement.

  At that, Amy pressed the button on the Range Rover's electric window and felt a rush of relief when the glass slid up. Angus put the engine in gear and drove off as smoothly as he could, his p
alms sweating at the thought of accidentally stalling the car at this critical stage.

  The three had barely made it round the corner before they collapsed into hysterics with relief. Both Niffy, heavily disguised, in the back seat and Angus in the front pulled off their baseball caps and whooped with laughter.

  'You were brilliant,' Niffy told Amy. 'For goodness' sake!' she instructed. 'Go left, Angus! Left just here, otherwise we'll be back on the high street and they'll see us!'

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Monday evening, just as Min was reaching over to switch off her bedside light and plunge Iris dorm into darkness, she voiced the question that everyone else had been thinking about all evening:

  'Do you think Niffy got on OK at school today?'

  'Dunno,' Gina and Amy replied together.

  'No one else has heard from her then?'

  'No,' they answered together again.

  'Well . . . we'll just have to wait and see,' Min said, and then, with a click, it was dark.

  Gina closed her eyes, but after a few minutes she opened them again and listened to the sounds around her.

  Amy was rustling about in her bed, pulling the duvet tightly around her and snuggling down into her favourite sleeping position. Min was quiet as a mouse, as usual, but outside in the brightly lit corridor Gina could hear the older girls, who didn't have to be in bed yet, coming and going, making the stiff hinges of the fire doors creak.

  Like most of the other boarders, Gina had got used to the sounds of the boarding house and could usually fall asleep quickly, tuning them out. But tonight her mind seemed to be restlessly turning from one subject to the next and she had the feeling that it wasn't going to be so easy to sleep.

  She thought about her little brother. In a few days' time it would be Menzie's birthday, and although she'd bought him a present, wrapped and parcelled it up and sent it to the States in plenty of time, she wasn't going to be there. This was the first birthday of her brother's that she had ever missed. That made her think of the day he'd come home from the hospital, in her stepdad's arms so that her mother could swoop down, scoop Gina up and soothe her prickling jealousy with the words: 'Congratulations, Gina! You're a sister. You're a beautiful big sister and your baby brother is going to love you.'

  It didn't matter that her mum and her three Californian school friends would be coming over to Scotland to see her soon; Gina could suddenly feel tears forming behind her eyes, but she quickly squeezed them away, not wanting anyone to hear her cry. And that was when Dermot came into her mind, without her even asking him to . . . or so it seemed.

  They hadn't even fallen out over Scarlett, whoever she was. They'd fallen out over Charlie the idiot Fotheringham and his stupid, stupid, nasty little remarks. Well, fine. Dermot was probably with Scarlett now, and it was just as well that Gina had untangled herself from him as quickly as possible. Two fat tears fell silently from the corners of her eyes, slid down the sides of her face and landed on the scratchy white cotton of the boarding-house pillowcase.

  When she finally fell asleep, Gina tossed and turned, troubled by vivid dreams of a techno-coloured California, then found herself wide awake in the silent darkness.

  The winking red numbers of her alarm clock showed that it was 1.56 a.m. Despite the dark, Gina could just make out Min quietly getting up and heading out of the room, pulling the door shut noiselessly behind her. Five minutes later and Min still hadn't come back in. After fifteen minutes Gina was beginning to worry. Was Min sleepwalking? She put on her dressing gown and slippers and decided to go and investigate.

  First of all Gina checked the bathroom, but there was no one in there. Then it occurred to her that there was only one place in the boarding house where Min was truly comfortable and at home; one place where she liked to spend the majority of her waking hours: the study. If Min was sleepwalking, then she would definitely sleepwalk all the way down there.

  As quietly as she could, Gina hurried down the stairs and along the silent corridors. As she approached the large double doors, she saw a sliver of light underneath them, but still, she made her way in quietly.

  A single small lamp had been switched on over one of the computer desks; the only sound was the quiet tippity-tap of fast typing. Gina could see her friend's dark head bent over one of the computer keyboards. But Min was so busy typing, she hadn't even heard her come into the room.

  So Gina began to walk towards her desk. She didn't mean to give Min a fright, but Min was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't notice Gina until she was hovering right behind her.

  'Hi,' Gina said quietly.

  'Aaargh!' Min gave a small shriek in response.

  'So is this the secret of your amazing new biology grades?'

  'Oh no!' was Min's response. 'You saw!' She scrambled with her mouse to close down the file she had been working on.

  Gina had only meant that she'd caught Min studying in the middle of the night, but now that Min was acting all guilty and as if she'd seen something secret, out of burning curiosity she had to play along.

  'So how long's this been going on?' she asked without the slightest idea what she was talking about.

  'A few weeks . . .' Min confessed, blushing furiously. 'Well, about five weeks. We've not met yet, but his emails are lovely and they've really helped me so much.'

  Gina was so surprised by this revelation she could hardly form her next question. His emails are lovely . . . What was Min talking about?

  'Who is he?' she asked, astonished.

  'He's this nice guy – I think he's a student. He knows loads and loads about biology and, more importantly, he's into NLP and he's giving me info on techniques to overcome my squeamishness.'

  'What's NLP?' Gina was crouching down beside her friend now, amazed to see her looking so alert and excited at two in the morning.

  'Neuro-linguistic programming,' came the answer.

  'OK, never mind that. Tell me about the guy?' Gina asked.

  'Well, he calls himself Gecko and I call myself Raven – we've not even done real names yet.'

  'Min, this is scaring me,' Gina confessed. 'Internet chat rooms, cyber dates . . . I take it you know how many weirdos are out there?'

  'Don't be silly! We're just email-pals, the way people used to have pen-pals. But he seems so nice. I'd really like to meet him in person.'

  'Min' – Gina sounded very serious – 'if you arrange to meet this guy, you have to do it in a very public place and at least one of us has to come with you. It's the Internet, Min!' she warned her. 'There are a lot of strange people online.'

  'Gina!' Min laughed. 'He's a science geek. We got chatting through an online science club.'

  'Min, promise me . . .' Gina warned.

  'I'll promise you if you'll promise me not to tell Amy anything about this,' Min countered.

  'Why not? She'll be happy for you.'

  'No! She'll tease me – she'll go on about my geeky Gecko boyfriend, and it's not like that!' Min insisted. 'We're just science buddies, chatting about exam problems and my anxieties about dissected frogs.'

  'Well, OK,' Gina agreed, only because she knew Min was totally right. If Amy knew anything about this, she'd be like a dog with a bone.

  'Why do you have to email him in the middle of the night though?' she wondered.

  'It's the only time I can be sure of getting online at the same time as him,' Min answered.

  'But what about sleep?'

  'Oh . . . we only do this two or three times a week.'

  'Two or three times a week?' Gina was astonished. 'Min, you must be exhausted!'

  Min looked up at her with a confidential smile. 'I find that the back row of Miss Ballantyne's history class is the ideal place for a catch-up snooze.'

  'Come on,' Gina instructed. 'Call the science club meeting to an end and let's get to bed.'

  It didn't escape her notice that Min's email ended with a lot of 'x's. This was all a very interesting development and Gina had no idea how she was going t
o keep it a secret.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mrs MacDuff, the biology teacher, was walking towards Min's seat with a curious look on her face.

  'Asimina,' she began, placing Min's homework sheets down on the table, 'this is excellent work. Unbelievably good.'

  There was slightly too much stress on the unbelievably for Gina's liking.

  'I'm working really hard, Mrs MacDuff,' Min replied. 'I'm really trying to make progress.'

  'So no one else is helping you?' the teacher wanted to know. 'There's no one else's hand in this homework?'

  'No, not at all.' Min looked up and met Mrs MacDuff's gaze.

  'Hmmm . . .' was all the teacher said before returning to her desk.

  Was Gina imagining it or did she see some hint of a confused blush creeping over Min's cheeks? Her eyes were cast down now and she was fiddling with her hair.

  All last year, biology had been a problem for Min. But as the teacher had noticed, something had definitely changed. Gina now knew about the Internet friend who was helping Min out and she actually wished she didn't. Was geeky Gecko helping Min with her feelings about biology? Or helping her with her actual homework? Was Min cheating? And was any of this even Gina's business?

  Gina wondered if she should speak to Amy – if Amy wasn't too busy hanging out with Rosie, of course; but then Gina caught sight of the classroom clock and felt a fresh pang of gloom.

  Menzie would be waking up on the morning of his ninth birthday right now and she didn't even know what he had planned for the rest of the day. Would he be splashing about in the pool with a gaggle of friends? At some point he would definitely be blowing out candles on one of the fabulous chocolate cakes her mom always had specially made by the neighbourhood French pâtisserie.

  When she was at school, Gina tried not to think of her family going about their daily lives without her. It was too sad to imagine them carrying on, not knowing her new friends or the day-to-day details of her new life.

  They'd never seen her dorm, except in the photos she'd emailed home; they'd never met Mrs Knebworth – or Amy, Niffy and Min, or . . . Dermot. There he was again, popping unbidden into her head, quickly she tried to press some sort of mental delete button to get rid of him.