Secrets at St Jude's: New Girl (24 page)

‘I hope you’re right,’ Niffy replied, crossing the fingers on both hands and hugging herself for luck.

‘How did your long jump go, by the way?’ Amy wanted to know.

‘Pants, total sandy pants!’ Niffy replied, and when Amy pulled a puzzled face, she explained gloomily,

‘Did a cracking jump, but fell backwards instead of forwards. Now my pants are full of sand, and Suzannah from Year Five – who can do a Fosbury Flop, by the way, and is going to win the high jump – won.’

‘Oh dear . . .’ Amy would have added something more sympathetic but the crack of the starting pistol sounded and the six girls taking part in the 800-metre race were away, setting off down the straight in a close group. By the time they rounded the first corner, three 273

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had broken away slightly, and the girls could see that Min, with her long hair streaming out behind her, was among the front runners.

‘Come on, Min!’ Niffy screamed at the top of her voice as the runners tore past them, on their way to completing the first lap.

‘Go, Min, go!’ Amy shouted above the cries of support for Lucy, Lauren, Willow and the others.

‘Louisa’s going to do it!’

They all turned at the sound of Penny’s voice behind them.

‘She’s already logged the best time of the term – just watch,’ she told them smugly.

Amy dodged quickly through the crowd to get away from Penny, Gina and Niffy on her heels.

‘Come on, come on!’ Niffy said, but to herself, as Lauren, Louisa and Min began to widen the gap between themselves and the three other runners.

Louisa and Lauren were hugging the inside lane: if Min was going to get past them, she would have to overtake on the outside, losing precious seconds. As they rounded the final bend, Louisa and Lauren began to pull ahead.

‘Come on, Min!’ Gina shouted, caught up in the race. ‘
Go, GO!
’

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Min launched herself out of the inside lane, pump-ing her arms and legs like pistons to build up the speed needed to overtake on the outside.

The final 100 metres or so lay ahead of them, and all three girls were racing hard, arms pummelling, lungs fit to burst.

Gina held her breath, terrified that someone was going to trip or stumble, bring Min down by mistake and take this chance away from her.

It was too close: Lauren and Louisa were neck and neck, Min still fractionally behind. But then some unknown power seemed to sweep over Min. In a surge of acceleration, her legs pumped faster, carrying her past the others and over the finishing line a clear metre ahead. But as soon as it was over, she collapsed in a heap onto the ground.

‘Min!’ Niffy exclaimed. ‘Is she OK?’

The three girls rushed towards her, but were held back by one of the PE teachers manning the line.

‘Give her a moment,’ she instructed.

One of the other teachers Min brought a drinks bottle. She helped her into a sitting position and poured some of the liquid into her mouth.

Min spluttered; she was gasping for breath and 275

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waving the drink away. But the PE teacher was reassuring her and offering another mouthful.

For several long minutes Min’s friends watched as she slowly got her breath back, took long restorative mouthfuls of the salt and glucose fluid and finally got up onto her exhausted, wobbly legs.

Only when the tannoy announced, ‘The eight hundred metre winners are: first, Asimina Singupta; in second place, Lauren Gaitling; Louisa McKay, third; and we have a new school record,’ did a smile spread across Min’s face.

‘Come on!’ Niffy rushed down to the edge of the track as Min wobbled towards them. ‘Let’s help her get her trophy, then’ – exchanging a significant look with Amy – ‘it’s time for the famous boarding-house tea.’

Gina’s stomach suddenly began to churn with worry.

‘Oh my God!’ Niffy exclaimed. ‘There’s my mum and dad! No! It can’t be. My mum and dad?’ she asked, sounding puzzled and pointing at a couple still some distance away across the playing field. ‘Is that them?’

She shaded her eyes with her hands to get a better look. ‘It’s just I can’t remember the last time I saw them walking along arm in arm. The last time I 276

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saw them—’ But she broke off because it wasn’t a particularly pleasant memory.

What she saw now was a middle-aged couple walking closely together. They were talking and her dad was looking at her mum with kind concern. Niffy could not remember when she’d last seen anything like this between them.

Mr Nairn-Bassett, in his tweed jacket and panama hat, looked every inch the country gent, while Mrs N-B looked quite alarmingly like Niffy. If Niffy wanted to know what she’d look like in her forties, here was the flash forward.

Mrs N-B had the same gangly arms and legs and unruly mop of brown hair, although hers was run through with grey. She was wearing a faded red summer dress which hung a little baggily round her flat chest and skinny frame. Even her sandals seemed large and loose on her feet.

‘Mum!’ Niffy shouted out finally. ‘Dad! I’m over here!’

‘Lu, darling!’ Mrs N-B came over, wrapped two bony arms round her daughter and hugged her tight.

‘And Amy!’

As Niffy hugged her dad hard with a look of unmistakable relief on her face, Amy was treated to Mrs 277

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N-B’s embrace and a kiss on each cheek, then Min, then a surprised Gina.

‘I’ve heard so much about you – the Yank!’ Mrs N-B told her.

Niffy rolled her eyes and scolded, ‘Mum! Look at you, you’re so thin! Are you OK?’

‘Oh! Don’t be silly – just rushing about like a mad thing, as usual,’ Mrs N-B replied. ‘So, Min, well done.

Are we going to watch you get your gong then?’

‘I think we’ll have to help her up onto the podium,’

Amy said. ‘She’s still so shaky.’

‘I’ll be fine – just a few more mouthfuls of the magic stuff ’ – Min waved her drinks bottle at them –

‘and I’ll be right as rain.’

‘You know that saying, “to die trying”,’ Gina added;

‘it’s just a saying, Min! You’re not supposed to actually kill yourself on the race track.’

The cream tea, laid out across the top table in the dining room, was so perfect, so
English
, so photogenic, it didn’t quite look real. It was the kind of spread set out at five-star country house hotels, or for the pages of glossy lifestyle magazines. In short, it looked far too good to actually eat.

Three beautiful Victoria sponge cakes filled with 278

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thick cream and jam, lightly dusted with icing sugar, took centre stage, surrounded on all sides by heaps of raisin-studded scones, fresh from the oven. Then there were platefuls of strawberry tarts, with crisp pastry and crème pâtissière, the perfect pointed berries shiny under a layer of pink glaze.

‘Come in,’ Mrs Knebworth trilled at the groups of parents and girls filtering in through the big front door. ‘Welcome! Straight into the dining room – help yourselves, make yourselves at home.’

Gina, Niffy and Amy all exchanged glances. Mrs Knebworth looked so happy, so proud and pleased with herself.

She was going to
die
! Gina couldn’t help thinking.

The Neb was going to die of mortification. Her beautiful tea was ruined! She and the others had spoiled the whole thing.

Gina watched in horror as the first parents filed towards the laden table. Slim and elegant mother number one accepted a cup of tea but turned down the offer of a cake. Gina was relieved. Maybe everyone was full . . . Maybe no one would take a salted scone or a slice of garlic cake . . .

‘Oh, that looks fantastic, yes please!’ The father next in the queue picked up a plate and asked for some 279

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cake, then took a tart and squeezed it onto the plate too.

Amy and Niffy were giggling.
How could they?

‘This is going to be terrible,’ Gina whispered to them. ‘The Neb is going to cry; she’s going to be utterly heartbroken.’

‘It’s too late now,’ Amy whispered back. ‘Short of rushing up and knocking the table over, what can we do?’

They watched the people crowding round the spread.

Gina really had considered sweeping everything onto the floor by ‘accident’, but as Amy said, it was too late now.

‘Mrs Bannerman!’ Niffy hissed, spotting the headmistress. ‘Over there! The Banshee’s joining us!’

‘Good grief!’ Even Amy looked worried now. ‘The Neb’s humiliation will be complete. Oh dear . . . I wasn’t expecting quite so many people . . . I thought it would be a bit more low-key.’

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Niffy suggested.

Gina looked up to see the father who’d already got his food dig his fork into the strawberry tart. As he lifted the first piece towards his mouth, she rushed for the dining-room door.

The three girls stood outside in the hall, waiting for 280

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the sounds of coughing or gagging, the murmurs of complaint to begin.

This was big. This was a big, big mistake. They were going to be in so much trouble. Not for the first time, Gina imagined herself packing her bags and heading home early in disgrace. Not that she was the only one who would have lots of explaining to do – she
still
hadn’t said a word to her mother about the mysterious exam results. Lorelei wasn’t exactly easy to talk to if you weren’t telling her what she wanted to hear.

‘Girls!’ Mrs Knebworth’s head came round the dining-room door. ‘What are you doing out here?’ she asked sharply.

‘Erm . . . well . . .’ was all Niffy could manage.

‘Come in.’ The Neb beckoned. ‘Let me sort you out at once!’

Reluctantly, the three headed into the dining room once again. To their surprise, everything seemed astonishingly normal. Parents and girls were sitting at the tables, chatting, drinking tea and . . . eating! Eating happily! Forks were spearing at pieces of cake; the gorgeous strawberry tarts were being devoured greedily.

The three girls sat down at the end of one of the tables, looking at each other uneasily.

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‘Is everyone being really polite?’ Amy wondered.

‘Surely not!’ Niffy shook her head.

‘Maybe we didn’t use enough stuff?’ Gina asked.

But at the thought of the onion being smeared back and forth across the butter, the garlic paste swirling round the cream, the spoons and spoons of salt, she suspected this could not be the answer.

‘Here we are!’ Mrs Knebworth set three plates before them with a large slice of cake on each. ‘You deserve it!’ she trilled.

There was no denying it: the cake looked fantastic.

The sponge was light and fluffy, raspberry jam and cream oozed from between the layers.

‘It’s a mystery then,’ Niffy said, picking up the cake with her fingers and preparing to bolt down a big mouthful.

Suddenly Amy and Gina felt ravenously hungry too. They loaded their forks and put substantial pieces into their mouths.

There was a moment’s pause; it took a split second for the shock to register. Then the coughing and gagging began.

The salt! The garlic! The disgusting flavours mingled in their mouths with the sponge, cream and jam.

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Aaaaaargh! Amy and Gina turned red and attempted to swallow the vile mouthfuls. Niffy un-ceremoniously spat the offending cake back out onto her plate.

Min arrived at their side, a half-eaten scone laden with cream and jam in her hand. Taking another bite, she said through her mouthful, ‘What’s up with you lot? This is Mrs K’s best spread yet.’

Suddenly the Neb was at their side again, not looking quite so friendly this time. In fact she was frowning and her mouth looked mean and thin.

‘I have had to bake the entire tea twice,’ she snapped. ‘Do you have any idea how much work that involved? Even worse, a great deal of perfectly good food has gone to waste because of you selfish, silly little girls. You are on washing-up duty until the end of term and you will never, ever meddle in my kitchen again,’ the Neb declared, before turning, expression set back to welcoming smile, to the parents behind her.

Gina could feel her toes curling in her shoes at these words; Amy hung her head and even Niffy didn’t seem to be shaking with the need to giggle.

‘I think we should go upstairs,’ Amy suggested.

Both Gina and Min nodded in agreement but Niffy reminded them that she had her parents to look after.

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*

*

*

‘Are Niffy’s parents really going to take us all out for dinner?’ Min asked, once they were back in the peace and quiet of the dorm.

‘That’s the plan,’ Amy replied. ‘They’re just having a cup of tea in the sitting room – I think there’s something Niffy’s mum wants to talk about in private.’

‘In private?’ Min wondered.

‘I know,’ Amy said. ‘Sounds ominous, doesn’t it?’

‘Did you know that she thinks her parents are having real problems?’ Gina had to ask.

Amy just sighed. ‘I think it’s been like this for years.

But maybe it’s got worse lately. She’s been worried about them all term – worried there’s something going on that they won’t tell her about.’

‘What are you going to do about Mrs K?’ Min asked from her bed, where she was lying flat out, trying not to doze off after her strenuous afternoon.

‘Maybe we should buy her a bunch of flowers?’

Gina suggested.

‘Oh God . . .’ The reluctance on Amy’s face was obvious. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. Otherwise she’ll never, ever let us forget about it.’