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As Gina stood in this cramped room, glancing out of the window at the doll-sized, identical house on the other side of the road, gloomily lit by the greyish light, it seemed kind of crazy to her too.
'Dermot showed us all your holiday photos,' Jane went on; she was still standing, like Gina, who didn't want to sit without being offered a chair. 'Is that your house – the enormous white one with the pool? It looks wonderful. It must be like going on holiday, just going home. Does every house in California have a pool? Just like we all have lawns, do you all have pools?'
'Mum!' Dermot broke in. 'I think you'll find there are all kinds of people and all kinds of houses in California, just like anywhere else.'
'Is that right?'
'Well . . . yes,' Gina confirmed. Although, it occurred to her, she only knew people with pools. And that was probably a bad thing. One of the reasons why California was so boring to her.
'Tea? And sandwiches?' Jane asked again.
'Yes, fantastic, thanks. I've not had a cup of tea for eight whole weeks – but that would be perfect,' Gina replied.
'I suppose it's iced tea in California,' Jane said, 'to keep you cool. Bit of a different story over here.'
The tea and sandwiches were served at a small table, just big enough for four chairs, in the little dining room next to the cramped kitchenette. Gina had been in bigger trailers. Well, it was true, she had.
She couldn't help thinking of the kitchen in her home: a vast, shiny white and marble space, lit by the sunlight which streamed in through the huge windows. Her mom was only in there at the weekends though, because the rest of the time they had a house-keeper. Something she didn't think she'd ever want to mention to Dermot or his mum.
Dermot seemed so quiet – sheepish almost – while his mum went on about California and declared that if she lived there she certainly wouldn't be leaving to come to some school in Scotland.
'I suppose it is a very good school though, isn't it?' Jane asked her, but carried on without waiting for a reply. 'Your parents will be wanting you to do really well in your exams. Get some good Scottish qualifications. Stand you in good stead when you finally go back home. So how long are you going to be here for?' She fixed her blue eyes on Gina.
'Gee . . . I'm not really sure . . .' Gina hesitated. 'I don't think we've really planned it out. I was supposed to come for a term, but then I kinda liked it, and now I'm maybe gonna stay for the whole school year and sit my S Grades . . . and after that . . . well, I guess we'll see.'
'So you'll have to make the most of her, Dermot,' Jane said to her son, which seemed to have a strange effect on him. He shrugged a bit, blushed a little, then choked slightly on his tea.
Once the mugs were empty and Gina had asked about Jane's job and listened to the baby rapture she had been warned about, Dermot interrupted and said he had to show her his new computer.
'I've finally got an upgrade. The old one was taking about ten minutes to download your photo files, so I've been on eBay, getting a sleek new – well, new to me – mean machine. C'mon,' he insisted.
Gina followed him up the narrow staircase and turned left. There was a bathroom at the top of the stairs, then a corridor with two doors ahead of them. Just two other rooms? Gina wondered to herself, incredulous.
She followed Dermot into the room on the left and found herself in a bedroom so filled with a bunk bed, a wardrobe and two desks that she had to stand close to him in order to fit in.
'Welcome to our room. Cosy, eh?' Dermot tried to sound cheerful, but the astonishment on Gina's face was obvious. 'I know, it's a bit titchy, isn't it? But it's funny how you get used to stuff. Our entire family is pathologically tidy – no bloody wonder: you'd only need to open a box of matches to cause complete chaos in here.'
And it was true: the room was gleamingly tidy and packed with ingenious storage. Under the bunk bed were large plastic boxes; at the end of the bed was a shelf stacked with DVDs and CDs and a tiny stereo system.
'My computer . . .' Dermot turned and began to tap at a keyboard on one of the small desks.
Compared to the shiny, silver, blinking, bleeping netbooks Gina's mom and stepdad carried about, this thing looked about a hundred years old. It was like Edinburgh: heavy, grey, solidly constructed and probably Georgian.
'Is that an antique?' she asked cheekily.
'Shut up!' Dermot said with a smile. 'Just because my parents don't work in the software business. We're not that poor, you know,' he added, eyes fixed on the screen. 'There's just a lot of money tied up in Dad's café.'
Gina was glad when he kept on looking at the screen, because she could feel herself blushing. She knew she wasn't supposed to notice how poor Dermot and his family seemed to be in comparison to hers, but the differences kept taking her by surprise.
Dermot fired the machine up, and with lots of whirring, wheezing and clunking, the screen finally came to life. Gina's blush deepened when she saw that his screensaver was a huge photo of herself in a bikini, holding a drink, with the bright blue of the pool behind her.
It all looked so bright, so vibrant and so totally at odds with this poky little room in the back of beyond that Gina felt a stab of homesickness pierce right through her; suddenly, just like Jane, she wondered what on earth she was doing here.
Then Dermot suddenly stood up, put his hands on her shoulders and brushed her cheek with his lips, reminding her that it wasn't all so bad.
'I think you should take a look at my photos,' he said.
'Your photos?' she wondered.
'Yeah.'
Gina looked about the room but couldn't see what he meant. Then Dermot directed her attention to the bottom bunk. All along the back wall were quirky shots and landscapes.
'Did you take those?' she asked, craning down to see.
'Yeah,' Dermot told her. 'It's OK, you can sit on the bed to get a closer look.'
'I can sit on your bed?' Gina asked with a teasing smile, feeling her stomach flip with excitement suddenly. She slid herself across the bed, propped her head up on her elbow and asked: 'Are you going to give me a guided tour?'
Not saying anything, not taking his eyes off her face for a moment, Dermot moved across the bed towards her. Then he was pressed in against her, warm, solid and excitingly unfamiliar. His hands were on the bare skin of her back and she was kissing him fiercely, feeling his breath against her face.
When she opened her eyes, she saw his dark lashes brushing against his cheek. She put her hand up to touch his face and was surprised by the prickliness of his jaw, but also by the softness of his cheek.
He was running a finger over the dip in her waist and it felt teasing and ticklish and—
'Maybe you two should go out! Show Gina the neighbourhood!' came Jane's shrill voice from the other side of the door, so loudly that they sprang apart in shock.
'Yeah . . .' Dermot cleared his throat. 'Good idea,' he added.
With a parting kiss on the tip of Gina's nose, he rolled off the bed and headed out of the door, telling her, 'I'll keep the dragon at bay – see you in a minute.'
Slowly, feeling almost dizzy, Gina got to her feet. She smoothed down her hair, fastened a blouse button that had come undone and looked around for a mirror.
Her eye fell on the computer screen. Dermot had left the documents list open and she scanned down it. Bio Proj 1, 2, 3 and 4 were listed; then came lots of photo files; then her eye fell on SCARLETT, a file name picked out in capitals.
Without even thinking about whether she should or not, she put her hand on the mouse and clicked the file open. Well, Scarlett? Could any girl have spotted a name like that on her boyfriend's computer and not have wondered who it referred to?
The file opened and Gina saw a page packed with typed words:
Lovely, lovely Scarlett, she read, so smooth-skinned and so kind, please just give me hope that one day you'll be mine . . .
'Gina?' Dermot called up from the hallway. 'How about we go out for a bit?'
With an unste
ady hand, Gina clicked the file shut, tried to blank out the shock she was now feeling and walked quickly out of the room.
In the weeks leading up to this date, this first proper date with Dermot, Gina had imagined all sorts of little scenes. She and Dermot in Edinburgh's beautiful Prince's Street Gardens, licking ice creams and joking together; she and Dermot running up the many stairs to the very top of the Scott monument and kissing, breathless, at the top; she and Dermot walking hand in hand through the historic cobbled streets of the Grassmarket . . .
Not one of her daydreams had included the tour she and Dermot now took of this dull bit of suburban Edinburgh.
Past a lacklustre row of shops, Dermot pointing out his large glass-and-concrete high school in the distance, then left into a graffiti'd play park.
When Dermot had said it was boring round here, he hadn't been exaggerating. This was the most boring place in boring land. Where was everyone for a start? Even though the sun had come out, the park was empty.
All the time, Gina was listening to Dermot talk and saying very little; she just wanted to shout out: Who is Scarlett? But she was too . . . too what exactly? Too nervous? Too scared? She was half-convinced that it was nothing – something she'd misread or misunderstood – but then she was also half sure that Scarlett must be the girl Dermot really wanted to be with but couldn't.
Dermot pushed his swing closer to hers, took hold of her swing chains and pulled her in towards him. 'Take me away from all this!' he said melodramatically. 'I can't believe I brought you out here! It was just because of the bags—'
'And because I wanted to come. I asked to see your home . . .' Gina reminded him.
'And now you've found out I live in a dog toilet and you're going to dump me. Please don't dump me!' he pleaded.
'Shut up, Dermot!' she insisted.
She liked him; she really did like him. But she felt all stirred up inside, and not just with the unspoken angst about Scarlett. Dermot was so different from her and all her friends. Without even mentioning it, he made her realize how rich her family and her friends' families were. Before, she'd never given it much thought; now she felt strangely uncomfortable about it.
Although Gina had dated a few boys from her school back home, that had just been like kissing school friends she'd known for ever. Getting to know someone new like this . . . It was so different, so nerve-racking. She didn't know yet if she could even commit to being with Dermot. All she could see ahead were complications: feeling jealous and confused about Scarlett, feeling too rich, feeling uncomfortable, feeling nervous and uncertain . . .
'Wel . . . it was fun while it lasted,' Dermot said with a teasing smile, his face right up close to hers.
She was looking deeply into his blue eyes, which were startling now that there was no curtain of hair for them to peep through.
Then his lips were touching hers again, and somehow when he kissed her and she closed her eyes, it was just Dermot, and everything was OK again. When he kissed her, Scarlett and swimming pools, teeny family houses and nerves didn't matter any more.
When Gina finally remembered to look at her watch, she was panic-stricken to see that the time was 3.45! What? 3.45!
'Ohmigod!' she cried out, springing up from her swing. 'I have to go. I have to go right now – should have gone ages ago. I have to be back at the boarding house by four at the latest, or I am in so much trouble!'
Chapter Four
It didn't matter how quickly they'd run back to Dermot's house, how important they'd made it sound when they booked the cab or how speedily Gina had urged the driver to get there. When she pulled up at number 9 Bute Gardens it was 4.49. Late. Late! Being late was something they took very seriously at St Jude's. She shoved some notes towards the driver and hauled her pink bags out of the car as quickly as she could.
Already there were no longer any parents' cars in the driveway. The usual collection of estates, four-by-fours, glitzy saloons, BMWs and Mercs was all gone. To Gina's surprise, the only thing parked outside the imposing stone boarding house was a police car. What was going on?
She stumbled along as best she could, weighed down by the bags. Only a hundred metres to the front door, but then a set of stone steps ahead of her.
Gina yanked the bags up behind her, arms burning with the effort. She decided to take one first and then the other. She was just reaching the top of the steps with her second bag in tow when she looked through the big glass pane in the door.
Two women police officers in hats and thick bulletproof vests, batons and cuffs hanging from their belts, were deep in conversation with the housemistress, Mrs Norah Knebworth.
Now, Mrs K may have been quite stout and quite short, even in her two-inch, block-heeled, shiny patent pumps, but she was formidable when her towering blonde beehive loomed up at you. Yes, somehow she did manage to loom up at people, in much the same way that taller, more frightening women could loom down. When she fixed her beady eyes on you and drew her lips into a thin line, crossed her arms underneath her terrifyingly solid bosoms, then yes, she was a force to be reckoned with.
There wasn't going to be any sneaking in late here, Gina realized. She was thinking fast . . . Could she say her plane was delayed? Could she say she met someone in town for lunch – an old family friend, or one of the school's day pupils – and plead that she'd lost track of time?
Maybe Mrs K, or the Neb, as everyone at the boarding house called her behind her back, would be too distracted by whatever was going on with the police to mind?
Anyway, what was going on with the police? People were only arriving back today. Maybe something had been stolen? Maybe there had been a break-in over the holidays?
Gina's hand was on the front door knob. Just as she began to turn it and push open the door, Mrs Knebworth's steely blue eyes swivelled away from the police officers and on to her. When they registered who was coming in through the door, dragging her bags behind her, she gave a screech of fury: 'Gina! Gina Peterson! I don't believe it! Where on earth have you been? Your mother called here to speak to you at midday. Everyone has been looking for you ever since then – we even called in the police!'
Oh, no! Surely not? Gina had expected a mild lecture for being forty-nine minutes late. She had not expected the launch of a full-scale police hunt. This was a catastrophe.
She swallowed hard. There were many sets of eyes on her now: Mrs Knebworth's boring a hole through her, the two police officers' looking at her curiously, and several girls' who'd heard Mrs K's raised voice and had come into the hallway to investigate.
'Where have you been?' Mrs Knebworth demanded once again.
'Erm . . .' Gina hesitated.
The eyes continued to glare at her. 'I've been trying to call your mobile,' the Neb went on. 'Your mother's been trying to phone . . . We checked with the airlines that you had definitely arrived . . . Good grief, Gina, we were all beginning to think something terrible had happened!'
'I'm really sorry. My phone battery died . . . I thought my mom knew I was going to meet, er . . . erm . . .' Stop hesitating! Gina told herself. Stop it or else she's going to know you're lying!'. . . a friend,' she finished.
'No!' the Neb replied furiously. 'Your mother knew absolutely nothing about this! Officers' – she turned to the policewomen – 'I'd better let you go. As you can see, this case has resolved itself. I am so, so sorry to have wasted your time on this silly little girl.' Glare, glare.
Gina suddenly felt a hard lump begin to form in her throat. Here she was on the other side of the world with this old bat shouting at her already; no one welcoming her back. So she'd spent a few hours with Dermot and his mum – big deal! So she was fifty minutes late getting in the door? Even bigger deal! Why had she come back to this? Why was she not still in California with all the people who loved her so much?
The policewomen disappeared and Gina was left in the hallway to face the full fury of the Neb. The mouth, she noticed, had been pulled into a line, the arms were folded under the bosoms; it wa
s going to be horrible.
Then someone rushed into the hallway at full tilt. A beautiful girl – tanned, with flying blonde hair, tight new jeans, multi-coloured silky top, jangling golden jewellery, smelling delicious and sparkly with glittery eye shadow and diamonds.
'Gina!' the girl shrieked with happiness. 'You're back!'
Then, regardless of Mrs K's stare, Mrs K's fury, Mrs K's looming lecture, Gina was caught up in a tight bear hug, with kisses landing on both of her cheeks.
'Grrrrrrrreat to see you again,' the girl said, rolling her 'r's as only a girl brought up on the west coast of Scotland can.
It was Amy. Oh! She'd totally missed Amy.
Chapter Five
'Welcome back, Gina, you're gated! This must be a new school record for the quickest ever gating. You didn't even make it out of the hallway and into the Neb's sitting room!' Amy, sitting cross-legged on her narrow school bed, was trying to make a joke of Gina's punishment.
The bed was littered with chocolate boxes and torn wrapping paper because the last twenty minutes had been a whirl of excited greetings, hugs and an exchange of the little presents and treats the girls had all brought back for each other.
Gina looked over at Amy, then across to her other friend, Min, before rolling her eyes. 'It's like I had lunch with the devil or something. I mean! His mum was with us practically the whole time. Eight weeks back home and I've forgotten what an alien species boys are supposed to be to St Jude's girls.'
Gina wrenched open the pink zip of her second bag and clothes began to spill out. First all the lovely new ones she'd bought while she was on holiday, which she was sure Amy would want to examine in detail; then the horrible St J's sludge-green uniform, which she'd had to put on for her friends back home, causing them to fall about with laughter.
'It's great to see you again,' she added, looking up at her room-mates with a big smile.
'Yeah!' Min agreed. 'The holidays seemed so long, but now we're back, it feels like only a few days since I last saw you. Strange!'