really resist? And what if it came to the attention of the teachers, as things almost always did by the mysterious telegraph that connected pupils to staff? Would Sophie and Martha be expelled? It wasn’t expressly forbidden, but it was obvious that it would be treated as a transgression. How could it not?
They were all silent for a while, smoking and not catching each other’s eye. Then Imogen said, ‘Well, as long as we’re all agreed. We won’t tell. No matter how much of a bitch Sophie is. After all, Martha isn’t half as bad, and she’s bound to get caught up in it if we do.’
‘I wasn’t going to tell!’ protested Allegra again, looking sulky.
‘Good. So there’s no problem,’ Romily said lightly.
I mustn’t let Allegra think we’re against her
. ‘Who knows what the hell Martha sees in Sophie anyway?’
‘I wonder how they got together.’ Imogen grinned, obviously wanting to lift Allegra’s mood. ‘Maybe they had a revelation in the games cupboard or something.’
‘Maybe she tickled her fancy during choir practice,’ Romily put in.
‘Oh, Martha, you’re not quite hitting that top E – perhaps this finger in
here
would help?’ joked Imogen, making Allegra smile, as she always could.
Allegra said, ‘Maybe they had a
Ghost
moment in pottery – Martha’s hands over Sophie’s as they rubbed a nice greasy wadge of clay together.’
They all laughed.
Just then there was the unmistakable squeak of the door to the stairs opening. They froze, staring at each other in horror: they were all out of bounds, all holding cigarettes, there was no mistaking their guilt. They were making too much noise – they must have left the door ajar, and Myers, on patrol for once, had spotted it.
Oh, shit!
thought Romily. Her skin prickled with horror.
This is it. We’re going to be expelled
.
Light footsteps came up the stairs – too light for Myers’, now she thought about it – and then a voice said, ‘So this is what you all get up to! I knew there was something.’
Sophie Harcourt emerged from the stairwell.
Romily’s stomach turned icy cold: the sight of their enemy appearing in front of them was terrifying. She felt so vulnerable, not only because of the cigarette she had in her hand but because Sophie looked like a predator in her dark pyjamas, the same ones she was wearing the night they saw her with Martha Young. It was impossible not to remember her as she was that night: turned on, hungry, greedy for sensation.
Sophie stood with one hand on her hip, her chin thrust out and her eyes mocking. She looked at each of them in turn. ‘And smoking too! I’m surprised at you, Imogen. I always thought you were far too timid and goodie-goodie for that. But I suppose you’re copying Allegra, as usual. Word of advice, darling – try to get a personality of your own sometime.’
Imogen looked ill even under her coating of night cream, staring at Sophie, unable to say a word. Romily wanted to say something herself, something sensible and grown up that would defuse the tension that had just skyrocketed, but she could think of nothing. Then Allegra stood up, stubbing out her cigarette.
‘And what are you doing out and about, Sophie?’ Beneath her confident tone there was a nervous tremor in her voice.
Sophie blinked innocently. ‘I heard talking. I came to see what was happening and … oh, dear. I seem to have stumbled on the school’s favourite princesses all being very, very naughty!’
Romily saw with sudden awful clarity that she had to mollify Sophie, get her on side and stop her telling. And she had to do that before Allegra was tempted to try and frighten Sophie into silence with what she knew.
If Sophie gets any hint that Allegra has something on her, this will spiral quickly out of control and we’ll be in the headmistress’s office first thing, all landed in the shit
. She stood up as well, smiling. ‘Yes, you’ve caught us. Thank goodness it was you, Sophie, and not Myers. I
They were all silent for a while, smoking and not catching each other’s eye. Then Imogen said, ‘Well, as long as we’re all agreed. We won’t tell. No matter how much of a bitch Sophie is. After all, Martha isn’t half as bad, and she’s bound to get caught up in it if we do.’
‘I wasn’t going to tell!’ protested Allegra again, looking sulky.
‘Good. So there’s no problem,’ Romily said lightly.
I mustn’t let Allegra think we’re against her
. ‘Who knows what the hell Martha sees in Sophie anyway?’
‘I wonder how they got together.’ Imogen grinned, obviously wanting to lift Allegra’s mood. ‘Maybe they had a revelation in the games cupboard or something.’
‘Maybe she tickled her fancy during choir practice,’ Romily put in.
‘Oh, Martha, you’re not quite hitting that top E – perhaps this finger in
here
would help?’ joked Imogen, making Allegra smile, as she always could.
Allegra said, ‘Maybe they had a
Ghost
moment in pottery – Martha’s hands over Sophie’s as they rubbed a nice greasy wadge of clay together.’
They all laughed.
Just then there was the unmistakable squeak of the door to the stairs opening. They froze, staring at each other in horror: they were all out of bounds, all holding cigarettes, there was no mistaking their guilt. They were making too much noise – they must have left the door ajar, and Myers, on patrol for once, had spotted it.
Oh, shit!
thought Romily. Her skin prickled with horror.
This is it. We’re going to be expelled
.
Light footsteps came up the stairs – too light for Myers’, now she thought about it – and then a voice said, ‘So this is what you all get up to! I knew there was something.’
Sophie Harcourt emerged from the stairwell.
Romily’s stomach turned icy cold: the sight of their enemy appearing in front of them was terrifying. She felt so vulnerable, not only because of the cigarette she had in her hand but because Sophie looked like a predator in her dark pyjamas, the same ones she was wearing the night they saw her with Martha Young. It was impossible not to remember her as she was that night: turned on, hungry, greedy for sensation.
Sophie stood with one hand on her hip, her chin thrust out and her eyes mocking. She looked at each of them in turn. ‘And smoking too! I’m surprised at you, Imogen. I always thought you were far too timid and goodie-goodie for that. But I suppose you’re copying Allegra, as usual. Word of advice, darling – try to get a personality of your own sometime.’
Imogen looked ill even under her coating of night cream, staring at Sophie, unable to say a word. Romily wanted to say something herself, something sensible and grown up that would defuse the tension that had just skyrocketed, but she could think of nothing. Then Allegra stood up, stubbing out her cigarette.
‘And what are you doing out and about, Sophie?’ Beneath her confident tone there was a nervous tremor in her voice.
Sophie blinked innocently. ‘I heard talking. I came to see what was happening and … oh, dear. I seem to have stumbled on the school’s favourite princesses all being very, very naughty!’
Romily saw with sudden awful clarity that she had to mollify Sophie, get her on side and stop her telling. And she had to do that before Allegra was tempted to try and frighten Sophie into silence with what she knew.
If Sophie gets any hint that Allegra has something on her, this will spiral quickly out of control and we’ll be in the headmistress’s office first thing, all landed in the shit
. She stood up as well, smiling. ‘Yes, you’ve caught us. Thank goodness it was you, Sophie, and not Myers. I
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