Jealous Girl Page 13

  'Looks like a trainer,' someone else said, bending down to get a closer look.

  'So he could sneak in quietly, then run away quickly,' the Neb concluded. 'The coward!' she added fiercely.

  Not one of the girls doubted that if the prowler were to suddenly appear in the garden before them, Mrs K would knock him down with her golfing umbrella, which was very comforting. There was no need to be nervous when the boarding house and all its inhabitants were protected by a fearsome Edinburgh battleaxe like their housemistress.

  Just then they heard a car pulling into the driveway and saw the flash of blue lights on the grass. The police had arrived on the other side of the building.

  'OK – inside, everyone,' Mrs Knebworth instructed them. 'I'd better take the officers to the scene of the crime. Upper Fifths!' she added. 'It's after nine thirty – straight upstairs to your dorms.'

  Back in the Iris dorm, Amy had to let Min and Gina know what bad news the prowler was.

  'It's not just that it's creepy having some guy wandering around looking in the windows,' she began, turning her back to them as she undressed. 'Don't be surprised if the Neb really does her nut about it. What I'm worried about is if she now thinks she has an excuse to cancel the party—'

  Just then there came a sharp rap at the door.

  'Here she is,' Amy hissed. 'Come to give us our goodnight kiss.'

  The door opened with a slow creak and then the housemistress came into the room.

  The Neb got straight to the point of her visit. 'If anyone knows anything about the person who was in the grounds this evening, they'd better come and tell me as soon as possible. Any delay will just make things much worse. The police are involved, so if anyone has even a suspicion, they'd better come to me as soon as possible.'

  She added the most crucial, not to mention devastating, bit of information almost as an afterthought: 'After all this, I can't allow boys to come to the Halloween party. We'll just have to make our own fun.'

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Mrs Parker was sitting on her table in front of the class. She'd perched her reading glasses on her nose and seemed to be looking though the papers scattered across the top of the desk for something in particular.

  'OK . . . time to stop writing, girls,' she announced. 'I'd like you to finish off whatever you've not managed in class as your homework for tonight. Now, there are just a few minutes before the bell, so I wanted to make an early announcement about the drama competition.'

  Several expectant faces looked up quickly.

  'The four plays have been chosen from the ninety-five entries we received from girls right through the senior school. Mrs Bannerman will announce the winners at assembly tomorrow – those whose plays will be performed by each house – but I just thought you might like to know that one of them is by someone in this class.' Mrs Parker smiled at the group in front of her.

  'Oh no!' Amy whispered under her breath at Gina. 'What are we going to do? Are we going to tell her that Penny's been cheating?'

  Gina was gripping the pen in her hand so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

  'Don't worry, you don't have to—' Amy began, but she was interrupted by Miss Parker's announcement:

  'Gina Peterson, well done! Your one-act play, Seeing Scarlett, was an absolute delight.'

  As applause broke out in the class, both Gina and Amy looked at one another in astonishment. Amy was totally amazed that Gina had never even mentioned she was entering. Gina just couldn't believe that all her secret hard work completed in the study room stints after her homework had paid off.

  'That's brilliant!' Min told her. 'I wondered why you were spending almost as much time in the study as me.'

  'You are a dark horse, Gina Peterson,' Amy teased.

  'Penny?' Mrs Parker was asking, and Amy and Gina glanced quickly at one another. Had the B-H really dared hand in her copied play? 'I was surprised you didn't enter,' the teacher went on. 'I'd have thought you'd have come up with something good.'

  Penny glared furiously in Amy and Gina's direction before replying: 'Well . . . I tried but I just couldn't come up with something really . . .'

  'Original?' Amy chipped in.

  In the afternoon Amy spotted Rosie in the dining room in a little huddle of Year Fours.

  For half an hour after school, the dining room and part of the kitchen were opened up to the boarders so they could make themselves enough toast and tea to keep them going until supper at six thirty.

  'Rosie?' Amy began.

  'Hi, Amy, how are you?'

  Amy saw the happy, smiling face turned in her direction and suddenly she had no idea where to begin the conversation about stolen pop socks and copy-cat outfits and secret photos of Jason.

  'Fine, fine,' Amy answered. 'I just wondered if . . .' Well, she would at least mention the necklace again, she decided. If Rosie was hiding it, she wanted to prick her conscience. 'If you'd had any more bright ideas about finding my necklace. It's still missing and I'm really upset about it. My dad is going to have a fit.'

  Rosie patted the bench beside her and urged Amy to sit down so they could both have a think about it. 'Have you heard the prowler latest?' she added. 'It's good news and bad.'

  'Oh, God,' Amy groaned. 'What new ways to make our lives miserable has the Neb come up with now?'

  'Everyone not coming back to the boarding house straight after school has to come back in a group of three,' Rosie said.

  'But what if you're the only boarder?'

  'You have to arrange for a group to come over and get you,' Rosie explained.

  'You're joking!'

  'And we all have to carry torches and she's even thinking about rape alarms!'

  'Why not just kit us out with mace! Does this prowler even exist?' Amy wanted to know. 'Is there any proof that they weren't just seeing . . . I dunno . . . Mel searching through the bushes for her lost knickers or something.'

  'The police have taken details of the footprint. It was a size ten trainer, apparently,' one of Rosie's friends added.

  'What's the good news then?' Amy wondered. 'What possible good can have come of this?'

  'Well, there is hope,' Rosie assured her. 'Someone has suggested a male guest list at the door for the Halloween party—'

  'Yesss!' Amy broke in.

  'Hand-selected, Mrs K-approved names only,' Rosie said. 'A list that she can tick off, to make sure that only the "nice young men" from St Lennox and the like are allowed in. Apparently she's thinking about it.'

  'I have to go.' Amy sprang to her feet. 'I have to email Jason!'

  'Jason?' Rosie exclaimed. 'Do you think he will come?'

  It was the excitement in Rosie's voice that suddenly filled Amy with a surge of anger.

  'Look,' she said quietly but firmly, right up against Rosie's ear. 'If Jason is going to go out with anyone at St Jude's, then it is going to be me. Not you or anyone else, just me. And,' she went on, deciding that now she'd started, she might as well get it all off her chest, 'I can't believe that you've bought exactly the same jacket as me, the same jeans, even the same flaming handbag! You've got my poster above your bed, you're wearing your hair in my kind of ponytail and you've even got exactly the same hairclip! You are a total copycat, Rosie! An ID thief!'

  At this Rosie burst into tears and ran out of the dining room.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Amy was in town, in one of her favourite shopping streets, alone. She couldn't believe she had managed it!

  It was all because she'd originally ordered her special Halloween costume from this fancy dress company in London. She'd been all set to hire this amazing ghostly ball dress from Phantom of the Opera. But then, yesterday, she'd opened up an email informing her that 'due to unforeseen circumstances . . . etc., etc.' The costume wasn't just delayed; it wasn't coming at all!

  After going to Mrs Knebworth in a state of distress, she pleaded to be allowed into town on her own this Saturday morning because every single one of her friends was too bu
sy with party or costume preparation and she had to go and get something or she really would have absolutely nothing to wear . . .

  Once the bus pulled to a halt in George Street, she bounced happily down the steps and out onto the pavement.

  George Street was long and broad, with beautiful grey stone buildings. Its shops were of the chic and expensive kind. Perfume, old-fashioned stationery, high fashion, luxury bags – these were the items for sale here. At the far end of the street was St Andrew's Square and the high temple of girl shopping: the northern outpost of the fashion department store, Harvey Nichols.

  Despite their recent disagreements about Jason and Gary, there was one thing on which Amy and her dad could agree: Amy's generous allowance. Amy got more pocket money per month than any other girl she knew at St Jude's. Even though she had now broken the news about her lost diamond necklace to her dad and had listened to his agitated lecture about money and how it 'didn't grow on trees', she knew that there was still a very comfortable amount in her bank account today.

  As she went through the department store's rotating glass doors, Amy surveyed the beauty and make-up counters in front of her. Well, it wouldn't hurt to wander around here for a while before she rode the escalators upstairs and had a look through the amazing dresses for something just Halloweenish enough to get away with.

  It was as she was applying a third, ever so slightly different shade of lip gloss that Amy caught sight of someone reflected in the mirror behind her.

  The person quickly dipped back behind a column and she thought she must have imagined it. But she put the lid back on the gloss, turned on her heel and walked quickly over to the column.

  There was no one there. But as she looked about her, she caught a fleeting glimpse of copper leather jacket. With a flash of anger, Amy began to march in the jacket's direction. Rounding the corner, she walked straight up to Rosie, grabbed hold of her arm and demanded, 'What are you doing here? Are you now following me?'

  A rush of emotions played across Rosie's face: shock, embarrassment, regret.

  'What are you doing?' Amy repeated. When Rosie just shook her head nervously, she asked, 'Are you here on your own?'

  'Yes,' Rosie replied.

  'How did you get permission?' Amy demanded.

  'I said . . . erm, I said I was going with you,' Rosie said timidly.

  Amy let go of Rosie's copper-brown leather jacket, which was just like her own; she looked at Rosie's jeans, the same brand as hers; Rosie's boots, again the same; Rosie's ponytail, just what Amy had chosen today; even Rosie's dinky little shoulder bag was Marc by Marc Jacobs, exactly the same pricey and unusual choice as Amy's.

  'Couldn't you at least have tried to stop copying me!' Amy burst out. 'And now you're spying on me! You've got to stop it! Look at you, you're like my clone! This is ridiculous! Please stop! People at school are laughing at us!'

  Rosie flushed a deep red with embarrassment and Amy could see that tears were springing up in her eyes again.

  'And stop crying!' she snapped.

  'I didn't mean to copy—' Rosie began.

  'Yes you did!' Amy exclaimed. 'You're wearing all these things on purpose! You came here on purpose!'

  'I just wanted one or two things like yours . . .' Rosie began. 'And . . . I don't know, I got a bit carried away. I didn't think you'd mind,' she added in a very quiet voice, then looked down at her feet and started to sob. Right there in the Mulberry handbag concession! Oh, good grief, this was so embarrassing. Amy looked around and saw heads turning in their direction.

  'Go away,' Rosie blurted out, wiping a hand across her face. 'Please go away!'

  For a moment Amy was tempted to do just that – turn and walk away as quickly as she could.

  'Just leave me alone!' Rosie insisted, her face still in her hands.

  But then Amy remembered all the time Rosie had spent listening to her Jason sorrows. Rosie had only wanted to be nice; had only wanted to be her friend!

  So instead, feeling a pang of regret, Amy went and put an arm round Rosie's shoulder.

  'You have my old pop sock in your bedside cabinet,' she said, but with a hint of kindly meant teasing.

  'Oh no!' Rosie spluttered in astonishment, trying to pull away. 'I didn't want you to know about that!'

  'I think you've gone off your trolley,' Amy soothed, 'but it's OK. I'm flattered really – you're my very first stalker . . .'

  Rosie began to sob freely now, so Amy pulled her towards one of the make-up counters, where she'd spotted a box of tissues.

  'Shhhhh . . .' She tried to calm the younger girl. 'You'll get me banned from Harvey Nicks and then my life just won't be worth living. It's all right,' she insisted. 'Everyone does daft things – I know I've done—'

  Amy broke off mid-sentence, because she'd now seen something really worrying. She ducked down behind the make-up counter mirror, but then couldn't resist taking a furtive little peek.

  Was that Jason? Had he just walked in through the front door . . . with another girl?

  Amy put her hand on Rosie's arm and ushered her quickly round the corner at the foot of the escalators so they wouldn't be spotted.

  'What's the matter?' Rosie asked, realizing that something other than having a devoted fan was on Amy's mind.

  'Shhh – tell you in a minute,' Amy whispered. She was too busy trying to take sneak peeks at her supposed 'boyfriend' and the girl he was with to be able to give a full explanation right now.

  She'd seen this girl before – the tall, enviably lovely-looking one. It was the gazelle, wasn't it? It was the girl he'd kissed on the cheeks that day at the café. Well, here he was all cosied up with her. Look! They were holding hands and he was guiding her upstairs. On the escalator, he slid his hand into her back pocket and he must have squeezed her bum because she gave a little shriek.

  Amy quickly turned away and hid behind a handbag display.

  They were probably going up to the top floor together to sip cappuccinos while gazing into each other's eyes, she thought. Or maybe they were going to wander through the racks of clothes, picking out lovely things for each other to wear on all their many future dates . . .

  'What's the matter?' Rosie asked with concern. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

  'Yeah!' Amy replied bitterly, feeling a lump at the back of her throat. 'The ghost of my supposed relationship.'

  'That was Jason, wasn't it?' Rosie asked next.

  'Yeah.'

  'He's so good looking,' Rosie told her admiringly. 'Who was that g—?'

  Before Rosie could finish her question, Amy said emphatically, 'Yeah, soooo good looking, but such an arse.'

  'Are you OK?' Rosie wondered.

  'I'm fine, I'm going to be fine,' Amy replied, trying to pull herself together. 'How about you?'

  'Yeah – not too bad.'

  'I'd suggest a coffee, but I really need to get out of here and I still have to get something to wear to the party tonight. Shall we go somewhere else?' Amy offered with a smile.

  Rosie smiled back. 'Yeah,' she agreed.

  'C'mon then, stalker,' Amy added – well, she couldn't resist.

  It was 2.15 when they walked into the Arts Café, Amy weighed down with the bulging bag containing her costume. She hadn't heard a word from Jason, so if he was still going to show up for their date, she wanted to make sure he'd have a nice long wait for her, so she was a full thirty minutes late.

  Sweeping her eyes around the busy room, she could see Gina, she could see Min, both waving in her direction. She could see Dermot rushing towards a table with a tray full of drinks. But no sign of Jason.

  If Jason had been here, well, then, there might have been a chance that the gazelle wasn't anyone important. That maybe she was a friend – or his best friend's sister, or— Ha! Who was she trying to kid?

  Jason wasn't here because he was with the gazelle. You'd have to be a complete idiot not to work that out. And Amy was not an idiot. Definitely not.

  'Hi, Gina! Hi, Min.' Amy stuck
her most cheerful smile onto her face and walked over towards their table.

  'You're so late,' Gina complained. 'We'll have to go in about five minutes to get everything ready. Wait till you see my bugs!' she added.

  'Hi, Rosie!' Min said, surprised that Amy had come with her Year Four friend.

  'What bugs?' Rosie asked, settling into a chair.

  Gina delved in her handbag and brought out a small plastic tub. She lifted the lid and, to Rosie and Amy's horror, revealed a selection of dead insects: fat black beetles, a gangly-legged spider, a centipede.

  'Eeuww!' Rosie exclaimed, jerking back from the tub.

  'They're not real,' Min explained. 'Gina spotted them in this deli.'

  'Liquorice,' Gina confirmed. 'So I'm not eating one, but I thought we could decorate the food with them – have a beetle or two in the slime soup.'

  'Disgusting . . . but brilliant,' Amy had to admit.

  'So where is Jason?' Gina asked, putting her tub away. 'He's not coming then?'

  'Jason who?' Amy asked, pulling up a chair. 'Forget it!'

  Just then Dermot appeared at her elbow. 'Jason?' he repeated. 'Uh-oh. Invasion of the posh boys due to happen any minute now then, is it? I'd better put on my flat cap so I can bow and doff it at them properly.'

  'Oh, very funny,' Gina told him.

  'Is he still coming to the Halloween party tonight?' Min asked Amy, wondering why Gina was pulling such a horrified face.

  'Not if I can help it.' Amy was desperate to talk about something else. 'You've got to see Rosie's new bag,' she enthused. 'It's gorgeous! I helped her pick it out and it's subtly different from mine!' she teased lightly. 'Then there's my costume for the Halloween party, which is totally fantastic!' She pulled her shopping bag up onto her lap.

  'Halloween party?' Dermot was craning over Amy for a little more information now. 'Party?' He looked at Gina. 'At your school?'

  'Yeah,' Amy answered. 'At the boarding house. Gina's one of the organizers. Gina, you said you'd invited Dermot,' she added, not realizing what a blunder she'd just made.