A Royal Match (17 page)

Word that Honey was the culprit of the Rough-and-Tumble photographs spread through Saint Augustine’s and Eades like spilled nail varnish.

I didn’t even get time to miss my parents. I had been sad to see them go, even though they had invited all my friends to LA for a couple of weeks in the summer. I had almost melted into the ground with embarrassment.

‘We’d love to have you visit. Calypso gets a bit bored during the vacation, don’t you, sweetheart?’ Bob had declared.

‘Thanks, Bob, that sounds really cool,’ Georgina replied. ‘I’d love to come to LA, check out all the stars and do the shopping malls. Wouldn’t that be fab, darling?’ she trilled, grabbing my shoulders as if she really meant it. Clemmie and Arabella jumped about excitedly.

‘I’d definitely come,’ Star agreed in a more subdued sort of way … no doubt casting her mind back to all the
stories I’d told her of my life in Los Angeles – the unglamorous version.

She looked at me sympathetically while Georgina, Clemmie and Arabella danced about. I could just imagine what Georgina
et al
. would make of my tragic LA house, with its new furniture and lack of pool and helipads and horse. What would they say when they saw my bedroom with its tragic single bed? And then there was Jay, my fake boyfriend, to discover … It was all just too horrendous for words. Also, even though darling Bob hadn’t realised it, I knew that from the girls’ perspective, his invitation meant that he had actually offered to pay to fly my friends out – first class, of course. As Georgina and Honey always said, ‘Never turn right, darling – only plebs do that!’ (People who fly first class turn left when boarding a plane.)

My only hope was that they’d forget all about it before term ended.

Before Sarah and Bob went home they took me to a pet shop in Windsor and bought me a baby rabbit – a tiny black one, with the softest, biggest ears and the sweetest little golden eyes.

When Georgina saw it she kissed its little nose. ‘Oh, darling, she’s so sweet. What are you going to call her?’

‘I thought, maybe, Dorothy Parker … ?’ I replied.

‘Oh, darling, I love it – and I’m sure Tobias will too!’ She kissed little Dorothy on the nose again.

‘That’s brilliant,’ I told her, ‘because I was hoping we could share her … I mean, that she could be
our
rabbit. I
mean, well, I can’t exactly take her back to Los Angeles with me, can I?’

‘Are you serious, darling?’

‘Yaah!’

And then she wrapped Dorothy Parker and me in the biggest cuddle. ‘I’m so glad we ended up sharing a room together this term.’

‘Me too,’ I agreed. And I was.

Star came round the corner and gave little Dorothy a pat. ‘I still think you should have got Bob and Sarah to get you a rat. They are
soooo
intelligent. Also, that way I could have taken her home with me in the holidays.’

‘I’ve asked Georgina to share her with me.’

Star nodded. ‘I hope you’re not planning on carrying her about in one of those sad LVT carrier bags,’ she warned Georgina in a mocking way.

But I was secretly hoping she would.

‘No,’ Georgina agreed. ‘But we should get something cool, though.’

‘Or you could decorate one in art class so that it looks cool,’ Star suggested.

‘We are not having a black pet bag for a black rabbit,’ Georgina insisted – to which we all laughed.

For a second, my thoughts flashed back to the first day of term, to our initial mutual dread of sharing a room with Georgina. But after everything we’d been through, it seemed like ages ago. Underneath all her grandeur and away from Honey, Georgina was actually really kind. I
suppose Ms Topler was right – she was always babbling about there being ‘more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio.’

Or, as Sister Regina would say, ‘Diddley-dee.’

Even the excitement of having my own pet was overshadowed by the school’s reaction to Honey. Every dorm room – including Honey’s – was burning with gossip.

Everyone in the entire school wanted her sent to Coventry. I’d first heard the term used by some girls in the Upper Sixth. There was a rumour that one of them had stolen another girl’s boyfriend, and everyone had voted to send her to Coventry.

It was when no one looked at you or spoke to you at all: not in class, not in dorms, not walking down the corridor, not in canteen, not in sports and not even during that part of Mass where you shook people’s hands as you offered them the sign of peace.

And at boarding school, where there was no respite, being sent to Coventry was a million times worse than having Post-it notes slammed on your back.

Even Poppy – her own sister – wasn’t speaking to her. Which was how I came to find myself in the unlikely situation of being Honey’s only ally. I use the term in the
loosest
sense.

I did actually feel genuinely sorry for her, though.

Her parents had been summoned and were informed that if Honey was given so much as a blue they would have
to find alternate schooling for their daughter. As it was, she had been suspended for a week and gated for the rest of the term. A gating meant you couldn’t go home on exeat weekends – sort of like boarding school in the old-fashioned days. Sort of like boarding school for me.

And then I received a letter from Freddie. It was a formal letter, written on palace paper, apologising in the grandest way for his inappropriate behaviour! I read it, and reread it, and my stomach turned with the formality of it all. The tone of it left me feeling worse about Freddie than I did before, so I didn’t show it to anyone, not even Star. Just the same, I carried the letter around in my pocket.

We had other things to discuss. Star and I were in the fencing salle having a practice bout when I first explained to her why I thought it was too mean to send even the horrible Honey to Coventry.

Star said she sort of agreed too. ‘I know Georgina and the others are cool with us now, but they did put us through absolute hell for ages!’

‘I suppose,’ I agreed as we lugged our gear back to the armoury.

‘Don’t you remember how evil they were to us?’ Star said. ‘I didn’t really give a shit, personally, but I think you did … although you never said anything.’

‘But that’s what I’m saying. Even though she is the most horrible, meanest, nastiest, psycho toff at Saint Augustine’s …’

‘Honey will bounce back. She always does,’ Star said.

‘Maybe you’re right, but still …’

‘Well, I hope you’re not suggesting that either of us should become a Honey friend?’ she gasped.

‘No!’ I laughed. ‘I just think that we shouldn’t be part of the Coventry thing.’

‘Mmmm. Not convinced. I think it might do her a bit of good, actually. Maybe she’ll become all saintly and wonderful like us,’ Star teased, nudging me in the hope of breaking my serious mood. ‘And let’s face it, she basically ruined your night with Freddie.’

While we were hanging our kits back in the armoury, I showed her the letter.

‘Well, obviously someone at the palace wrote it for him.’ She passed it back.

‘But he signed it.’

‘I told you I thought he was a jerk for believing all those evil things Honey said about you. Forget him.’

I shrugged. ‘Yaah. Besides, I’m totally over him,’ I replied brightly, even though I so totally wasn’t.

After that we rounded up the rest of our writing salon and went along to Sister Constance’s office to discuss the launch party for
Nun of Your Business
.

We had to wait for her to finish her conversation with Father Conway and it wasn’t long before our talk turned to Honey and sending her to Coventry.

‘I don’t know why you’re so bothered about it. Honey’s always hated you!’ Georgina reasoned.

Star gave me a meaningful look, as if to remind me that
it wasn’t so long ago that Georgina had hated me too.

Clemmie and Arabella agreed. The irony of it all didn’t escape me.

Clemmie added, ‘It’s true, she deserves Coventry.’

‘No one deserves anything,’ I snapped irritably, which made everyone shut up.

We sat in silence after that and my thoughts turned to Freddie and his royal apology for inappropriate behaviour. Did he mean kissing me? Did he think that kissing a common girl like me was inappropriate, was that what he was saying? He’d signed off, wishing me well. Wishing me well! What was I – a leper?

Star’s fury with him over his behaviour the night of the social now seemed spot on. How could he have believed a girl like Honey over a girl he’d just shared his mouth with for ten minutes? Still, I couldn’t help wanting to relive that kiss in my mind, and I did, over and over, and over again. Only I didn’t share this with any of the others.

‘So what do you think Sister will say?’ Arabella asked.

‘What, about sending Honey to Coventry?’

‘No, about
Nun of Your Business
!’

‘Piss off?’ Georgina replied. ‘Let’s face it, darlings, after the fiasco of the Eades social, she’s hardly going to allow us to use the hall and invite the Eades boys from our year.’ I slumped down in my seat … I was the ‘fiasco of the Eades social.’

‘I suppose not,’ Clemmie agreed dismally.

‘On the other hand, it is for charity,’ Star pointed out,
as Father Conway walked out of Sister’s office.

‘Oh well, here goes nothing,’ Georgina whispered, smoothing her uniform as she knocked softly on the Gothic old oak door.

Sister’s voice was as clear and neutral as ever. ‘Enter.’

Sitting behind her desk, straight-backed, her arms resting in her lap, she looked imposing enough, but with Christ looming over her on his cross the effect was just plain scary.

‘Good afternoon, Sister,’ we trilled.

‘Girls.’ She nodded to indicate we could proceed.

I nudged Georgina. We’d elected her as our spokesperson earlier.

Georgina nudged me back. Obviously she’d decided to back out. So I nudged Star. One of us had to step forward and it wasn’t going to be me. Or Star, apparently, who then nudged Clemmie.

‘Stand still, girls. This is not the appropriate setting for a vaudevillian tumbling act,’ she warned. ‘You have something to say. Speak.’

So I spoke. ‘Erm, well, you see the thing is, Sister. Well, you know we’re hoping to have the launch for our, erm, magazine thingamy and that sort of thing. Well, we were thinking. That is, if you say it’s OK with you, we’d quite like to hold it in the hall,’ I stuttered.

‘And invite loads of boys,’ added Clemmie.

‘Or not,’ I added hastily. ‘I mean, we appreciate that you might not feel that is appropriate.’

Sister Constance had a special fondness for the word
‘appropriate,’ so I was hoping the mere use of it might soften her.

‘On the contrary. I feel it is extremely appropriate, if not imperative, that we open up the hall to as many paying guests as possible. I’ve discussed the matter with Mr Raymond, the Headmaster of Eades, and he feels as I do that this magazine launch party is the perfect opportunity to put last week’s unpleasantness behind us.

‘Quite separately, but no less important, is the cause for which we are raising money. I’ve suggested a ticket fee of twenty pounds. Initially Mr Raymond felt this was a little steep, but as I reminded him, all proceeds of the launch will be going to the Children of the World.’

Star interrupted, ‘You’re kidding, Sister?’

But we all knew Sister Constance wasn’t much of a one for kidding.

Georgina said, ‘I need a fag,’ and started fanning herself.

Not even that could wipe the smug smile off Sister’s face.

I remembered that when Bob and Sarah had dropped me off on their way to the airport, Bob had remarked, ‘She’s a swell gal, your Sister Constance.’

Thinking of that made me smile and realise something. I missed Bob.

Actually, Bob was a bit swell himself.

That night the Lit Chick Salon (Clemmie, Arabella, Star, Georgina and I) decided to go for a moonwalk.

Moonwalking was a Saint Augustine’s tradition that went back further than anyone remembered – even Sister Francis, who was a hundred and two years old, couldn’t remember how far back the girls of Saint Augustine’s had been moonwalking. But then I suppose the nuns weren’t really meant to know about it, otherwise everyone would have been rusticated (suspended).

Now that the security men and the guard dog numbers had been cut back to normal, we’d decided that a party in the woods under the light of the full moon was the perfect way to celebrate our victory over Sister Constance – or was it her victory over us?

Armed with torches, blankets, fags, Febreze, tuck and, of course, Body Shop Specials, we snuck downstairs and
out through the sash window of the bursar’s room, which for some reason was never locked.

Our dash through the bluebells of Puller’s Woods went smoothly, without any of us being devoured by guard dogs.

As we entered the woods, we looked back at the gabled roof of Cleathorpes illuminated by the moon. In a little bluebell glade, enclosed by the ancient woods, we lay out our blankets and booty and looked up at the ceiling of stars above us. The early June air was still and smelled of spring. I have always loved springtime at Saint Augustine’s; there was electricity in the air, a sense that anything could happen.