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  Dermot, suppressing a smile, turned and left the table as both Gina and Niffy tried to calm Charlie down.

  ‘Look, I’m sure he didn’t mean it,’ Gina insisted. ‘Please, don’t make a big deal out of it.’

  ‘For God’s sake, let’s drink up and get out of here,’ Charlie said, wiping himself down with a couple of paper napkins. ‘My brother’s got a flat round the corner – we could go there,’ he added. ‘It’s Saturday night: he’s usually got something going on.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Jason, uncrossing his long legs.

  Which meant that Amy immediately said, ‘Yeah, why not?’

  Which meant that Niffy and Gina would have to tag along too.

  Just twenty-five minutes in Charlie’s big brother Hoagie’s flat was enough to convince the girls that it was time to go.

  No amount of Georgian splendour (cornicing, ancient floorboards, graceful windows) could make up for the obvious student squalor (days worth of unwashed dishes, grubby clothes on the floor, overflowing ashtrays, and empty wine bottles in every corner). Gina had never seen anything like it. Her friends in LA all still lived with their parents, who tended to have maids. Her mouth hung open in astonishment and she refused to even sit down in case she caught something.

  Hoagie, a great shambling bloke in a holey jumper, was watching a DVD with friends and didn’t seem very pleased to see Charlie with two boys and three girls in tow.

  Angus made an effort to jolly everyone along: ‘Hoagie, love what you’ve done with the place! It’s sort of wrecked Budapest nightclub meets nineteen nineties grunge.’

  An attempt at tea was made, but as no one could find any clean mugs or any milk – or, in fact, any tea bags – it had to be abandoned.

  ‘If you want booze, you’ll have to go and get your own,’ Hoagie shouted at them from the sitting room.

  ‘You know what? I think we should leave. Amy?’ Gina’s sharp tone of voice made it clear that they were going, even if Amy had managed to wheedle herself a chair next to Jason’s.

  Not that Jason had noticed. He was too busy going through Hoagie’s CD collection. He’d offered to put on some music but fifteen minutes later he still couldn’t decide which album would least offend his complicated sense of cool.

  In the taxi home, Amy couldn’t stop reliving every moment of the evening, casting Jason in as flattering a light as possible. ‘He wants to see me next weekend,’ she told her friends. ‘Asked if we were going to Charlie’s . . .’

  The other girls were not convinced

  ‘But did he snog you goodbye?’ Niffy wanted to know. ‘Because if he did, I would take that as a sign that he’s definitely interested.’

  ‘Well . . . erm . . . we kissed on the cheeks, but that’s because he’s actually quite shy. I think that’s why he brought his friends along and didn’t want to sit with me at the other table.’

  Gina and Niffy exchanged doubtful glances. Then Niffy announced out of the blue that she thought Angus was ‘completely hilarious’, which earned her a round of whistles and cheers.

  ‘I don’t fancy him!’ she insisted loudly, but there was much teasing and in-depth discussion about the suitability of Angus as a boyfriend, and when Gina and Niffy walked into the boarding-house sitting room to sign in, Mrs Knebworth’s first question took them completely by surprise.

  ‘How was the film?’ she asked, causing the two girls to look at each other in panic.

  ‘Oh . . . we really enjoyed it, didn’t we?’ Niffy answered first, managing to sound casual, but looking desperately at Gina in the hope that she could remember something about the film they’d agreed to pretend to go and see.

  ‘It wasn’t bad. Quite cheesy,’ Gina ventured, but suspected she’d sounded too nervous. Why hadn’t Min gone with them tonight? She was the one who could be relied upon to prime them all with reviews and plot details.

  ‘Anyway’ – Niffy attempted a hurried getaway – ‘we should be—’

  But the Neb cut across her with a clear and unmistakable: ‘So what did you go and see?’ She took her eyes off the television screen so the girls had her full unwanted attention.

  Suddenly Gina remembered the title of one of the films Min had recommended . . . China . . . China Something . . .

  ‘China Doll,’ she blurted out, almost certain that this was the name of the film.

  ‘Oh yes, with . . . umm . . . what’s her name?’ Mrs Knebworth’s head bent slightly to one side, as if this was the most interesting conversation she’d had all day.

  Suddenly Gina was suspicious. Was this just chit-chat, or was the Neb trying to test them?

  She realized she was going to have to answer because Niffy’s face looked completely blank.

  ‘Oh . . . I can never remember her name . . .’ Gina began. ‘Reese Witherspoon?’ She couldn’t help crossing her fingers behind her back because she had no idea who the heroine was or if China Doll was even actually a movie. ‘It was fun,’ she added, with something that was supposed to look like a casual shrug.

  ‘I’m absolutely bushed!’ Niffy exclaimed with an exaggerated yawn, trying to get them out of there as quickly as possible.

  ‘And where’s Amy?’ the Neb asked next.

  ‘She’s just gone to the pantry to put the kettle on – shall we sign her in too? Or do you want her to come in?’

  ‘Oh, just sign her in and head up to bed.’ The Neb turned her eyes back to the screen. ‘I believe you.’ A little smile flashed across her face.

  As soon as Mrs Knebworth heard Gina and Niffy’s footsteps receding along the corridor, she pushed herself up out of her chair and headed in the direction of the pantry.

  This was a little place off the dining room stocked with tea bags, instant coffee, hot chocolate powder, water and fruit, where the girls were allowed to go and make themselves a drink or grab a snack in between official meal times.

  ‘Oh, hello, Mrs Knebworth,’ Amy greeted her. ‘The kettle’s just boiled – do you want me to make you a tea?’

  ‘Yes, that would be kind,’ said the Neb. ‘So, another trip to the cinema?’ she went on. ‘And what did you and the girls go to tonight?’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Amy hesitated. She’d been so wrapped up in preparing for a close encounter of the Jason kind that she had barely listened to Min’s read-through of the film reviews. ‘Oh, erm . . . didn’t they say? You know what my memory’s like.’ She tried to sound jokey and tapped at the side of her head.

  ‘No.’ Mrs Knebworth’s little eyes were peering out at Amy from her pale and pudgy face.

  ‘Erm . . . it was . . .’ Amy racked her brain for any mention of any film that she’d heard recently . . . Hello . . . just any film at all. Absolutely nothing came to mind. She could feel her face start to flush.

  ‘Party Girl,’ she decided on finally, pretty sure that this wasn’t a film – it was something she’d made up. But Amy hated blushing and she hated being interrogated, so she’d decided to get out of there as quickly as possible. ‘Pretty good,’ she added. ‘Gina loved it.’ Then she picked up her mug and headed out of the room, completely forgetting about the cup she’d offered to make for the Neb.

  Mrs Knebworth found a tea bag and poured boiling water into the mug Amy had set out for her. After swirling it about with a teaspoon, she fished the bag out and carried it over to the bin; next she poured in a drop of milk and stirred slowly.

  Now she would take a few sips . . . take a moment. Then she would head over to Daffodil dorm and listen to some more feeble excuses and fibs about what had gone on tonight.

  By the time she opened the dorm door, Amy had an explanation at the ready: ‘It was China Doll . . . they just keep referring to her as the “party girl”, so I got confused . . .’

  ‘And I don’t know how I muddled Reese Witherspoon up with Scarlett Johansson,’ said Gina, but she didn’t sound nearly as convincing as Amy.

  Mrs Knebworth’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Are you girls under the impression that I am stupid?’ she as
ked slowly and icily, clearly in no mood to have the wool pulled over her eyes.

  ‘No!’ Amy was the first to answer. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Well then, don’t bother telling me any more fibs about the cinema.’ Then, in a low and commanding tone, she asked, ‘Just where exactly have the three of you been tonight?’

  It was Gina who broke the silence. ‘Look, I’m sorry, we didn’t go to the cinema – but all we did was go to the Arts Café for coffee. I mean, it’s hardly breaking the law, is it? Why do we always have to say we’re going to the cinema?’

  The sharp intakes of breath from Amy, Niffy and Mrs Knebworth let Gina know immediately that she had said the wrong thing.

  ‘Always?’ Mrs Knebworth repeated. ‘So you always say you’re going to the cinema, do you? When, in fact, you’re going out and hanging around in places like the Arts Café where they sell . . . alcohol!’ There was no mistaking the outrage heaped onto this last word.

  ‘We had coffee!’ Gina insisted, but Niffy and Amy already knew it was too late.

  ‘You are gated!’ came the Neb’s verdict.

  ‘For how long?’ There was a pleading tone to Amy’s question.

  ‘Until further notice! Now get to bed, all of you!’ With that Mrs Knebworth turned and left the dorm, slamming the door behind her.

  ‘Charlie’s party!’ Amy wailed.

  ‘She wouldn’t have let us go anyway,’ said Niffy.

  ‘We’d have thought of something!’ Amy insisted.

  ‘Not any more,’ Gina said.

  As the light was clicked off in Daffodil dorm, Gina looked up at the ceiling and thought not of her mother, her brother and her home, five thousand miles away. She thought of Mrs Knebworth and infuriating school rules, and itched with injustice at the punishment that had just been issued. Yes, as every day passed, Gina was becoming more and more of a Daffodil.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MISS BALLANTYNE WAS handing back essays. She was moving slowly round the classroom, dishing out comments along with the marked pages.

  ‘Quite nice, Willow, but a little short. I’d liked to have seen more.’

  ‘Suzie, your spelling is atrocious – if you can spell that.’

  ‘Penny . . . a lovely piece of work.’

  As Gina’s essay flopped down onto her desk, she could already make out the bright red circled C on the top page. The only subject at St Jude’s in which Gina seemed to be making any progress was English.

  ‘Some effort is going to have to be made, Gina Peterson, or you will be seeing a list of exam results just like your mother’s,’ came the stern rebuke.

  ‘Like my mother’s?’ The disbelief in Gina’s voice was obvious.

  ‘Indeed.’

  Miss Ballantyne was already moving on, next essay in hand, next comment at the ready.

  ‘My mother was a straight-A student,’ Gina said defiantly. ‘You must be confused.’

  She heard one of those disdainful ‘humph’ sounds that the St Jude’s staff seemed to specialize in. Miss Ballantyne raised her eyebrows, sniffed, then slowly, and for maximum effect, said witheringly, ‘I suppose that’s what she told you, is it?’

  This produced a flurry of giggles around the class, and Gina, blushing furiously, decided to back off. What was going on? There were many things in her life she couldn’t be sure of, but the fact that her mother was brilliant and had done amazingly at school and university was not one of them. That was a definite. Miss Ballantyne was wrong. Miss Ballantyne was a bitter old cow. Miss Ballantyne . . .

  Amy nudged her. ‘Don’t believe a word she says,’ she whispered. ‘She’s mental. A founder member of Morningside Ladies Say No To Homosexuals, apparently. They outed two vicars.’

  The idea of the respectable ladies of Edinburgh’s Morningside ganging together against vicars with Miss Ballantyne at the fore was just enough to make Gina’s eyes stop swimming.

  All at once the feeling she’d had for a little while now – the feeling that maybe she could fit in and get along here – was gone. Now, all she could think about was how much she missed home – and her family too. When the history lesson was over, there would be no going home to hide in her room, stretch out across her bed or turn the music on loud. She wouldn’t be running a luxuriously deep bath, or trying on different outfits, calling her best friends or going over to one of their houses. No. When school ended today, she would hoist her school bag onto her back and trudge over to the boarding house, where she would be surrounded for the rest of the day with the chatter and babble of other girls she still didn’t know really well. If she wanted any peace and quiet in the boarding house, she would have to retreat to the large study room and do her homework.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Mrs Knebworth sighed as Amy, Gina, Niffy and Min came into the front hall. ‘Couldn’t help noticing that you’ve been invited to a party – such a shame you won’t be able to go.’ There wasn’t the slightest sympathy in her voice though.

  ‘The cow has been reading our mail!’ Amy shouted in fury as soon as the Neb was out of earshot. She went over to the hall table where all the letters to the boarders were laid out, and spotted the postcard addressed to ‘Amy, Niffy and the Yank’. Turning it over, she read the elaborate copperplate writing out loud: ‘Charlie Fotheringham is at home from eight p.m. Please come – it’ll be cool.’

  ‘The Yank?’ Gina exclaimed. ‘God, he’s such a jerk!’

  ‘Penny’s already told me she’s going – along with just about everyone else in the entire year,’ Amy added. She didn’t repeat the really annoying thing Penny had said to her: ‘Oh, you won’t be there? Shame . . . Maybe Jason will turn his attention to someone else then. Isn’t he quite the ladies’ man?’

  Min saw the thin blue airmail envelope addressed to her lying on the table and snatched it up. Without saying anything, she rushed off to the dorm to read the contents in private.

  As soon as Niffy opened the dorm door, she could see that all was not well with Min. Her friend was lying across her bed with the airmail letter scrunched up in her hand and tears running down her face.

  ‘Min! What is it?’ Niffy demanded, rushing over, Gina and Amy hot on her heels.

  Min wiped a hand across her face and just handed Niffy the page. Struggling with the cramped, squiggly handwriting, Niffy began to read aloud:

  ‘Dearest Asimina, Your father and I were . . . shacked?’

  ‘Shocked,’ Min corrected.

  ‘Shocked to get your last letter. Not do biology A-level? There is no question of this, Asimina. No question. Why are you not working harder at your studies? We have always planned for you to follow our family’s proud medical tradition . . .’ Niffy looked up from the page. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I think we know where this is going.’

  Min burst into a fresh bout of tears.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Amy insisted, sitting down beside Min and patting her on the shoulder. ‘We’ll think of something. Honestly. My dad always says there’s no problem that can’t be solved. You’ve just got to step back and look at the bigger picture.’

  ‘I need to be a doctor!’ Min wailed. ‘I need a really good biology A-level to be a doctor and I know I’m not going to get that.’

  ‘Do you want to be a doctor, Min?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Of course!’ Min hissed.

  ‘But the sight of blood makes you either puke or faint,’ Niffy reminded her.

  ‘That’s just . . . that’s just . . . a minor detail!’ Min spluttered, but then dissolved into another flood of tears.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ALTHOUGH IT WAS close to 10 p.m., late June in Edinburgh meant there was no sign of the daylight fading yet, so Amy and Niffy sat out on the fire escape, still moaning about having to spend Saturday night in the boarding house while everyone else they knew was at Charlie’s house party. They were each holding a tooth mug containing the remains of a half-bottle of M&S dessert wine, bought from Sideshow Mel at an inflated price.

  ‘This is just so mince!
’ Amy complained. ‘Jason is going!’

  ‘How do you know?’ Niffy asked. ‘Do you think this wine is meant to taste slightly minty? Or did I not rinse the mugs out enough?’

  ‘He emailed,’ Amy said, turning to Niffy with a secretive little smile.

  ‘He sent you another email? Good grief! It must be love,’ Niffy exclaimed. ‘What did he say this time? Hi, Whats your name, could you be at Charlie’s party in case I decide to drop by and need someone to ignore?’

  ‘Shut up, Nif! Why do you always have to put him down like this?’

  ‘Dunno, Amy! Why do you always have to build him up to god-like status? He’s just another dorky sixteen-year-old who just happens to have won the lottery in the looks department. Doesn’t make him any better than the rest of them.’

  ‘Oh, listen to you, Miss Mature.’

  ‘Neb alert.’ Niffy pointed down to the housemistress’s bedroom window, where a curtain was being drawn.

  ‘Thought you said she couldn’t see us?’

  ‘Don’t think she can,’ Niffy replied. ‘But it’s much lighter now.’

  ‘Well, she can’t tonight, believe me.’ Amy’s secretive smile crossed her face again. ‘I’ve taken all her spectacles.’

  ‘All of them?’ Niffy stared at her incredulously. ‘All?’

  ‘Oh yes, every single one of her four pairs,’ Amy said triumphantly.

  ‘Even the pair she was wearing? When and how did you do that?’

  ‘Well’ – Amy leaned back, enjoying the confession – ‘I rounded up the three spares in the course of the afternoon.’

  ‘You went into her rooms?’ Even Niffy sounded shocked.

  ‘Uh-huh – then, tonight, when she had her little evening snooze in front of the telly, I got hold of the last pair.’

  ‘And where are they all now?’

  ‘In the one place she won’t look.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Min’s chest of drawers.’

  ‘Does Min know this?’

  ‘Actually, she does. She said I could use it for one night only but I had to give them back tomorrow. That was my plan anyway: sneak them all back into strange places. Make the Neb think she’s losing her marbles.’