Jealous Girl Page 7

  'Erm . . . yeah, I think so,' Gina answered casually, but really she felt excited. She was definitely going to give this a go. Her one really good subject, the one she felt totally comfortable with, was English. Or, more accurately, English with Mrs Parker.

  And anyway, Gina's most secret ambition, which she had never told anyone about, was to be a screenwriter – so yes, she had to at least give Mrs Parker's one-act play competition her best shot.

  'I hope you're not even thinking about writing a play on top of your heavy workload?' Amy had to ask Min.

  'Well . . . I—'

  But before Min could reply, Mrs Parker's voice cut across them: 'Giselle, could you bring the ball of paper that has just landed in front of you over to me?'

  When Giselle stared up blankly, pretending to have no idea what she could possibly mean, the teacher wasn't fooled.

  'Yes, that little ball of paper right there – the one that's just landed on your notebook.'

  Giselle paused, then her hand went gingerly to the rolled-up ball. 'I haven't read it, Mrs Parker,' she said meekly.

  'No? Good. Well, just give it to me.'

  'Uh-oh. This is going to be interesting,' Amy whispered just loudly enough for both Gina and Min to hear.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amy had woken the following Saturday to see the yellow curtains over the dorm windows glowing with early morning sunshine. As soon as her eyes were open, Jason was the first thought that came into her mind. She'd finally heard from him yesterday. He'd sent an email to say he wouldn't be able to meet her in town today (her suggestion, her emailed invitation – God, she could just kill herself for being so stupid as to invite him out again; how desperate did she want to seem?).

  I'm a bit tied up for school all day Sat, he'd informed her in his reply. Sunday no better, but I'll let you know ASAP if next weekend might work. J.

  J? J? This was someone who had held her very tightly in the darkest, cosiest corner of the nightclub and kissed and kissed and kissed her until she didn't think she would be able to breathe again. Until the only thing she could see, smell or think was Jason. In that corner, on the plush velvet sofa, set back from the throng, out of her dad's sight, Amy had practised snogging.

  She had finally begun to understand what all the fuss was about as she'd let Jason's mouth fix over hers and his hands pull her tightly towards her. Together, they had felt the surge of want. Big, breathless, fearless want. Kissing Jason, she'd felt as if nothing else mattered, not one single other thing in the entire world. When she'd kissed Jason then, she'd felt as if she'd have gone anywhere with him and done anything he wanted to do. She'd been aware of what a heady and slightly dangerous feeling it was.

  But that was six weeks ago. Since then nothing but long silences, brief texts, and now this email turning down a meeting and not telling her when another one might be on the cards. Amy could just scream with frustration. What was the matter with him? Hadn't they had a brilliant time? The best time ever?

  No, she wasn't going to let this carry on any longer. Today she was hatching a plan: she was going to find out what was really going on with Jason. What was he really up to today?

  Straight after breakfast, as soon as the girls were allowed out of the boarding house, she planned to set off for St Lennox's. She didn't know what excuse she was going to give. It was difficult to leave the boarding house on your own. But maybe she could say she had to buy more uniform and would meet up with her friends later, before they all returned to the boarding house for lunch.

  Amy dressed carefully: if she was going to spy on Jason, she couldn't wear anything too eye-catching, but then, if there was just the slightest chance of him seeing her, she couldn't look too bad. So she chose jeans, a black top, her very soft, very expensive copper-brown leather jacket and, for a little touch of colour that wouldn't announce her presence, her high-heeled red ankle boots.

  She brushed out her hair carefully and applied blusher, lip gloss and perfume.

  'Is there something we should know about happening today?' Min asked, her head emerging from the casual sweatshirt she was pulling on. 'I thought this was a quiet and boring weekend before the big trip to Blacklough next Friday.'

  'Next Friday?' Gina double-checked. 'That is so exciting!' The prospect of visiting Niffy in her weird ancestral home in the wilds of the countryside was definitely thrilling.

  'I will explain it all later. Once I know exactly what is going on,' Amy told them both, not taking her eyes off her reflection in the mirror. 'All I need you to do is cover for me – just for a few hours.'

  'Uh-oh,' said Gina, who was still in bed – she hated getting up so early at weekends (at St Jude's a lie-in was something that went all the way to 8.30!). 'Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with racey-Jasey?'

  'Don't call him that!' Amy snapped. 'And I'm not saying anything until later. All I need is for you two to go into town for a few hours this morning, then we'll meet up, maybe a little later than I'll be telling the Neb, and come back to the boarding house together.'

  Both Gina and Min sighed, but it was clear from the determined look on Amy's face that this was the plan.

  'Are you going off to meet him?' Min wanted to know.

  'Not exactly,' was all Amy would say.

  As soon as she'd signed herself out, convincing Mrs K that she was in dire need of a new games skirt and she'd be hooking up with her friends within the hour, Amy almost ran down Bute Gardens. At boarding school, being on your own was so unusual that when it happened, it gave an almost delirious sense of freedom.

  At the end of the street she took a right then a left turn, which brought her onto one of the busy roads leading into town. She wasn't going to town, but within a few minutes she had spotted what she was looking for: a taxi with its light on, ready to pick up a fare.

  Hailing it and jumping into the back, Amy instructed, 'St Lennox School on Macmillan Road please, but don't drop me right outside the gates.'

  Once she'd paid the fare and watched the cab rattle off into the distance, she wasn't so sure about her plan. The big, imposing gothic building took up almost the whole street. Yes, there was one main front entrance, but she couldn't just stand there hoping Jason would suddenly appear. What was she thinking? There were probably loads of different side gates in and out of the place. And anyway, there was nowhere to hang about unnoticed. She couldn't exactly crouch down behind this row of parked cars . . . could she?

  It was quiet though – no boys were coming or going out of the place yet. Maybe they had assembly on Saturdays . . . or church? Or even classes? She couldn't remember if any St Lennox boys had ever told her what happened on Saturday mornings.

  Standing all alone in the road, looking at the deserted gates, the deserted driveway up to the school, she felt overwhelmed by the task she'd set herself. How was she even supposed to find Jason, let alone spy on him?

  Disheartened, she turned away and began to trudge towards the road that led into town. Walking up the steep hill, she passed a little café and decided to go in, order a coffee and just think about the whole thing for a few minutes.

  When she was seated with her creamy latte at the table beside the window, she suddenly realized that, quite by chance, she'd ended up in a prime position. Wasn't this the most obvious route for St Lennox boys to take into town? If Jason was up to something far more interesting that meeting her, wasn't this the way he would come? And if he didn't walk past here, couldn't she at least think about believing that maybe he really was tied up at school for the day?

  She sipped her coffee and watched and waited.

  Time passed.

  Then time began to drag.

  Soon time was absolutely crawling along from one minute to the next.

  Amy had felt a rush of excitement when the first group of St Lennox boys – not in school uniform, but nevertheless completely obvious because of their off-duty gear of slim jeans, suede boots and cord jackets – had sauntered past, laughing and joking. But now s
he'd probably watched as many as ten groups like this go along the street – and still not a hint of Jason; not even anyone she recognized from Jason's year.

  This was pointless and hopeless. Checking her watch, she could see that she had wasted well over an hour of her life on this completely daft idea.

  What would her dad say to her if he knew about this: Stop kidding yourself! He's not worth it!

  Right. She would finish off her third cup of coffee and give up. Whatever Jason was doing today, she wasn't going to find out about it.

  She set down her coffee cup, picked up her dainty little designer handbag and stood up, but then what she saw on the other side of the window made her shrink back down into her seat. There, only a metre away from her, she was sure she'd seen him! He was walking quickly, on his own, but she'd recognized two distinct features: the swish of his dark hair and the light camel suede jacket he'd worn when she'd met him at Queen Street station in Glasgow.

  She was sure it was him. Fumbling with notes and coins in her purse, she paid her bill and then went carefully out of the café door.

  Scanning the pavement ahead of her, she just caught sight of the suede jacket as it rounded a corner and turned left. She ran up the hill to catch him and soon found herself following Jason at a distance of about thirty metres.

  She'd never done this before – it was terrifying. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she wondered what on earth she would do if he turned round: just one glance and he would surely know it was her. Obviously she'd have to make some excuse about why she was here in this part of town on her own . . . Visiting a day girl – that's what she'd tell him.

  Anyway, he was the one who ought to be feeling awkward if he saw her! What was he doing walking into town when he'd said he would be tied up at school all day?

  Amy tried to block from her mind the thought that Jason must be meeting another girl. But it kept coming back to nag at her. He was on his own; he was really nicely turned out . . . Where was he going?

  It was a steep, steep climb up the hilly streets towards the centre of town. Jason was walking very fast and Amy almost had to jog to keep up with him. Clearly, private detectives must wear trainers so they'd be able to run after suspects and sneak about quietly.

  Jason turned into George Street, which was busy with Saturday shoppers. For several moments Amy thought she had lost him in the crowd, but then she saw his dark head resurface like a seal's popping up in the water. At least she was concealed by the crowd too, but she now had to stay much closer so as not to lose him.

  All of a sudden he made an abrupt right turn into Café K. Amy stopped in her tracks. She didn't know what to do now. He was obviously meeting someone, but she couldn't go in and subtly spy on him from inside – he would see her. So what was she supposed to do? Just hang about outside?

  As if by some miracle, her phone began to ring. Mrs Knebworth had agreed that as the dorm girls were meeting up in town, they would be allowed to take their mobile phones out with them. A rare treat. Mobiles were usually kept in a locked cupboard in the boarding house.

  OK, at least Amy had a reason to stand still. She was on the phone, phoning . . . thinking hard about the call – so hard that she had to stay put, but with the phone against her ear she wouldn't look like a total idiot just standing there in the middle of the pavement.

  'What time are you going to meet us?' she heard Gina's voice asking her. 'We've been up and down Prince's Street, up and down George Street . . . We're a bit bored now.'

  'Ummm . . . something's come up. Major development. Can't come now,' Amy told her in a whisper, though she wasn't sure why – it wasn't as if Jason could hear her, now that he was probably shmoozed up to some new girl in the cosiness of Café K.

  'Go to the Arts Café,' Amy suggested. 'Chill out with Dermot and I'll be along in an hour or so.'

  'I don't think so!' There was an angry edge to Gina's voice.

  Amy didn't have time to discuss whether or not Gina should make up with Dermot or get over him – all the pros and cons and the ins and outs – because right then Jason, holding a takeaway coffee cup, stepped out of Café K.

  'Gotta go,' she told Gina and cut the call off abruptly.

  If Amy was surprised before, she was now even more astonished to see a graceful, golden blonde gazelle of a girl spot him, stop in her tracks on the pavement, lean towards him and kiss him on both cheeks.

  Look at her! She was beautiful and glamorous, and so swishily, elegantly dressed in her pristine black Uggs and her slouchy green cashmere wrap thing. Oh, good grief! This had to be the living, breathing, glamorously highlighted proof that Jason had a date!

  Jason and the gazelle smiled at each other and chatted. Amy could feel a great big crack forming in her heart: she was tempted to break cover, leap out and scream at him right here and right now. But then the cheek kissing broke out again – and the gazelle went one way and Jason began his purposeful striding in the other direction.

  What? Really? She was just a friend? They had just been chatting? She'd only bumped into him by accident! All at once Amy could have skipped, hopped and danced right up to Jason and planted a few choice smackers of her own.

  But he was walking off so quickly, not even breaking stride to sip at his coffee. She was almost jogging in her attempt to keep up – at a sensible distance of course.

  Down onto Prince's Street they went. Jason didn't bother waiting for the lights, he just scooted through moving traffic in a daredevil way which Amy had to copy just to keep him within sight.

  Now he was marching towards the really steep hill of The Mound. Where was he going? she wondered. Up at the top was the Royal Mile: tourist central – hundreds of shops selling cashmere, crystal and tartan tins of shortbread. Yes, there were flats, cafés, restaurants, museums and university buildings as well, but why would he want to come here? This was a part of town she and her friends rarely ventured into.

  Amy was beginning to pant. Her heart was thudding because she'd drunk too much coffee and done far too little exercise during the school holidays. A bit of swimming and disco dancing was hardly the same as all the dashing up and down hockey pitches and around tennis courts, not to mention the miles of cross-town walking she was used to during term time. The eight-week holiday had left her out of condition.

  Unlike Jason, who'd obviously spent the summer cross-country running or something.

  To get to the top of The Mound, there was a vicious flight of old Georgian steps built of solid grey stone; Amy knew he was going to hit those any moment now and she would have to follow on behind.

  As soon as Jason reached the Playfair Steps, he began to run up them! She watched in despair. After all this effort she was in serious danger of losing him, just as he was getting to wherever he was going. Amy's phone began to ring again, but seeing that it was Gina, she quickly switched it off. Then, taking a deep breath, she hurried up the steps as quickly as she could, heart pounding, breath rasping, deeply, deeply regretting all four of the cigarettes she'd smoked during the holidays. (God, if her dad found out he'd kill her. He had nothing but contempt for smokers: 'Sad losers. Addicts. Filthy coughers.' He didn't like to employ people who smoked and had even decorated several of his nightclub's outdoor smoking areas with skulls and crossbones.)

  Amy had her head down, concentrating on every step – surely not many more to go now? she thought. She glanced up, sure she would see Jason's figure way out ahead on the road above. But there was no one there. Oh no! She was way too slow! He'd already made it round the corner: unless she speeded up, she wouldn't be able to get up there in time to see which way he'd gone.

  Making a final, gasping effort to accelerate, head down, she stumbled up the last of the steps, clinging to the cold metal railing. To her surprise, she crashed straight into someone – someone tall and lean – but the first thing she felt was the velvety softness of suede.

  Too stunned to register it, to do anything other than hang her mouth open like a goldfish, she looked up
and saw that she had run straight into Jason.

  He was facing her and he was grinning – had he doubled back down the steps? she wondered. Then the thought struck her: had he been waiting for her?

  'Hello there, Detective Inspector McCorquodale. I had no idea I was so interesting,' were Jason's words of greeting.

  Amy could feel a blush rampaging up her face, so she hung her head and found herself looking at his shoes. Scruffy green and white baseball boots. Cool. He was always cool.

  'Hello,' he said, as if beginning again. 'It's really nice to see you . . . I think.'

  Then he wrapped his arms around her and she felt her head being pulled in against suede shoulders, and suddenly she thought she might cry. This was just too much. He was such a confusion! And so confusing!

  'Where are you going?' was the first thing Amy blurted out.

  'Why are you so interested?' Jason asked, but there was something of a laugh in his voice.

  'Where are you going?' she repeated, pulling away and staring at him angrily.

  'I need a new pair of rugby boots for my match this afternoon.'

  'And you can get those on the Royal Mile?' she asked, unconvinced.

  'No. Just off George Street,' he replied. 'There's a sports shop there.'

  'So why are you up here?' she demanded.

  A lazy smile crossed Jason's face. 'Wel . . . I spotted you coming up the hill behind me and then waiting for me to come out of Café K. When you didn't say hello, but just hid round the corner, I thought I'd—'

  'You've run me all the way up this hill for a laugh?' Amy was furious with him now. Flustered and red in the face, she didn't care what he thought of her, the stupid twit. She stamped her foot at him, swivelled on her red heel and began to stomp down the steps again.

  'Hang on!' Jason called out and began to follow her down. 'I think it's funny! I think it's very sweet of you.'

  This just made Amy speed up to get away from him.

  Now she was blinking tears away, head down, hands balled into fists, not wanting him to see how upset she was because of him.