Expecting to Fly (14 page)

‘What did you think of the beautiful Finn?’ asked Charlotte, as she headed along the A4 out of Bath.

‘Er . . . yes, he, um, seemed very nice,’ I said, as I looked out at the rain that had started up. Nice was an understatement. I couldn’t get him out of my mind – his
wide smiling mouth, the denim-blue eyes, his perfect heart-shaped face.

‘He
is
nice,’ she said. ‘So good-looking, isn’t he? He’s always getting scouts from modelling agencies stopping and begging him to join their books. His one
flaw though is when it comes to girls. Isn’t that right, Joe?’

Joe just laughed.

‘Why’s that then?’ I asked.

‘Oh, he knows he’s gorgeous and he uses it to great effect. He has been known to play around with girls’ hearts,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Cora is always having to
console weeping girls who phone or turn up only to find that he has moved on.’

‘Yeah. He’s in a league of his own when it comes to girls,’ said Joe. ‘Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great bloke but he can be a tad ruthless. I’ve seen
it, he likes to make the conquest then he gets bored.’

Thank God, I didn’t do or say anything to give away how I felt, apart from blushing,
I thought.
I would have looked so foolish and would have been just another girl on a long
list.

For the rest of the journey, I gave myself a telling off. First Tyler, then Bruno and now Finn. He kept popping into my mind but I told myself to blot him out. He was a non-starter. Not only did
I have a boyfriend, but Finn was Joe’s cousin and he was a player. He’d have made mincemeat out of me.
What is wrong with me?
I asked myself. I had the loveliest boyfriend so why
did I keep fancying other boys?
Slut,
said a voice in my head.
I am so not a slut,
I argued back, but I did spend the rest of the journey wondering why I kept looking at other boys
when I should have been happy with the one I had.
I am soooo not ever going to look at another boy ever ever,
I told both the voices in my head.
I am going to be a one-boy girl.
That’s me. Faithful. Focused. Not Finn’s.

‘We’ve invited our neighbours for a late lunch,’ said Mum, after Charlotte and Joe had dropped me home. ‘They’ll be here in half an hour. James
and Clara, they’re from the Caribbean so we will have plenty to talk about.’

‘Shame about the rain,’ said Dad as he looked out of the window. ‘We’ll have to eat in the kitchen.’

‘But I have a ton of work to catch up on,’ I said. ‘I took it to Bath but didn’t look at my books once.’

Dad put his arm around me. ‘Ah, but you have been having experiences. The school of life – you can’t beat it! There will be time later for your homework. I insist, first we
eat, later you study. Getting along with neighbours is all part of moving to a new area, building good relationships.’

He wouldn’t take no for an answer and I was given instructions to set the table. I put on the bright red-and-white gingham tablecloth, cutlery and napkins and went out on to the patio to
see if the heavy clouds showed any signs of blowing over. Like the house, the back garden had been transformed. Dad had borrowed a lawnmower from the neighbours on the right-hand side and the lawn,
although patchy, was now neat and tidy, the furniture that had been dumped there and in the front was long gone. Mum and Dylan had been busy planting pots full of tulips and already they were
showing a riot of red, yellow and pink flowers. Sadly the rain showed no sign of letting up, so I went back inside where Dad was busy cooking up one of his famous risottos and the kitchen smelled
delicious, of onions, garlic and herbs.

‘Can you get that?’ asked Dad when we heard the doorbell ring.

I went to answer the door to find a dark-skinned couple about the same age as Mum and Dad standing there with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine. Despite the rain, under an umbrella, the
man was wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt with parrots and leaves on it and the woman had a canary-yellow sundress on, both were tall and slender and looked like they could be fun. I introduced
myself and invited them in.

‘The twins are right behind us,’ said James.

‘Great,’ I said, ‘we have twins in our family, too.’

I led James and Clara through and Mum and Dad made them welcome so, when the doorbell rang again, I went to answer. Standing at the front door was a handsome black boy. He looked about
Joe’s age – tall, fit and dressed in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

‘Oh hi,’ I said. ‘Er . . .’

‘I’m Karl, er . . . we’re invited for lunch?’

I nodded and beckoned him in. ‘I thought there were two of you? Twins?’

Karl nodded and, at that moment, another boy appeared at the gate and waved. He was Karl’s double and every bit as handsome.

‘Marcus,’ said Karl.

Two of them. Absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. The boys looked taken aback.

‘What’s so funny?’ asked Karl.

‘Nothing, no, come in, go through.’

‘Not until you tell us why you’re laughing,’ said Marcus.

‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I was expecting . . . I don’t know what I was expecting. Younger twins, I don’t know why. Maybe because my nieces are twins. Younger.
Girls. Silly really. Er . . . not as good-looking.’ I realised that I was babbling. ‘Yes. Sorry. Um. Do you ever feel like God is having a joke with you?’

The boys looked at me as though I was mad and then at each other.

‘How come I haven’t seen you about?’ I asked.

‘Uni,’ said Marcus.‘I’m at Manchester, Karl’s at Exeter. Home for the break.’

‘Course. Why didn’t I think of that? Um. Yes. OK,’ I said. ‘Go through. Out the back. Be with you in a mo. I just have to send an email.’

I raced upstairs to email Leela, Zahrah, Brook and Erin.

Five minutes later, I got an email back from Erin:

I went to MSN where she was waiting for me.

‘India Jane Ruspoli,’ said Wendy Cadman, a prefect in the Sixth Form. I was waiting to see Mrs Goldman for our start of term assessment. Part of me was dreading
it.

I knocked on the door.

‘Come,’ said Mrs Goldman.

I went inside and she indicated that I should sit down. She glanced at her papers then looked up. I felt nervous.

‘How are you doing, India Jane?’ she asked.

‘Good. Um. I am trying to keep up. I know maybe . . .’

Mrs Goldman looked back at her papers and shook her head. ‘I have been looking over your progress, India Jane.’ She paused. ‘Not good, India Jane, I am sorry to say. Not
good.’

The knot in my stomach tightened. ‘I have been working, honestly I have. And —’

Mrs Goldman held up her hand as if to quieten me. ‘It’s not a question of us doubting that. All the staff agree, you’re bright, you’re making an effort but it’s
just not enough, India. As you know, study leave starts soon for last exams, but I wonder if it’s going to be enough. You’re not going to get through.’

I felt like I was going to cry. ‘I don’t know what else to do, unless I stay up all night.’

‘I am going to make a suggestion and that is that you do less not more.’

‘Less?’ A feeling of dread hit.
Please don’t say I have to repeat the year,
I prayed.

Mrs Goldman nodded. ‘There are a few subjects that you should be strong in, but they are suffering because I think you are spreading yourself too thinly. I am going to suggest that you
drop a couple.’

‘Drop?’

‘History and music.’

‘But . . .’

‘Your coursework has to be in at the beginning of May then, as you know, lessons stop apart from science, so that everyone can concentrate on revising and practising for orals, in your
case in French. The staff have talked it over and I think your best chance is if you focus on eight subjects, not ten.’

‘But everyone else is doing ten.’

‘And everyone else has been here since the beginning of the syllabuses. If you want to go ahead and do the ten, India Jane, then I won’t stop you but I fear that, on what I have seen
so far, you will get ten mediocre results and possibly even fail in some subjects, which is why I have suggested that you let go, focus your efforts, and get eight good results instead of ten weak
ones. What do you say?’

I didn’t have to think about it very long. Just the idea of it made me feel lighter. ‘I think that’s a great idea. Course I’ll have to check with Mum and Dad but
—’

‘I think they will see the wisdom of it. Would you like me to speak to them?’

I nodded, but I already knew what they’d say and that was yes. They were both always on about not overdoing it and getting a balance in my life.

I left Mrs Goldman’s office feeling like a weight had lifted. It was still going to be hard work but, somehow, now it felt more like a challenge than a losing battle.

‘Options,’ said Zahrah. ‘That’s what it’s about.’

‘Are you talking about boys or school?’ I asked as I joined Brook, Leela and Zahrah, who were sitting on a bench outside the library enjoying the good weather that had arrived as
soon as we had started back after the holidays.

‘School,’ said Zahrah.‘How did it go with Goldman?’

I filled them in on her suggestions and they all agreed that I should indeed drop two subjects. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea because history and music were my worst
subjects.

Later that night, the word ‘options’ kept playing in my head, over and over. Options, options, boys, subjects, boys, subjects. I quickly texted Erin and asked her to go to MSN. She
texted back that she would.