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  I picked up the thermos and ran a third of the way down the steps, sat down and unscrewed the lid. By the time I’d poured out some tea and taken a sip, he was beside me. “Will this be a good memory?” I asked, waving my arm around to take in the scene, the mist making the beach colours more muted than usual, and a dog leaping around by the water’s edge, his owner out of sight but whistling furiously. “Having me in it too, obviously?” I raised my eyes.

  “Of course,” he said. “Classic showreel material.”

  We were definitely flirting.

  We took it in turns to dunk the Oreos in the tea. It wasn’t warm enough to sit for long, so after we’d finished the biscuits, we had a race to the bottom of the steps. I won easily, and Monro said it was because he was carrying the thermos, which was the most pathetic excuse I’d ever heard.

  “I’m in such a good mood, I feel like singing,” I announced. I demanded a song request from him, pushing him for more until he came up with one I knew all the words to. It was liberating to sing as loudly as I wanted into the wind, for my audience of one, who grinned as if I was mad, but also as if he liked it. We picked our way along the beach where the stones nestled in the damp sand, but the waves didn’t reach our trainers.

  The beach café was closed, but I could see a light on at the back and Kipper’s bicycle chained up down the side.

  I stopped singing and said, “Kipper gives me the shivers.”

  “Stay away from him,” said Monro.

  I laughed at his earnest face. “Don’t worry, M. I like that you care, though!” I’d called him M, like I occasionally heard Veronica do. It gave me a strange feeling, as if I’d stepped on something I hadn’t noticed and might have crushed.

  We walked up the zigzag path and across the car park to check nobody had broken into Monro’s car.

  “You wouldn’t believe how much I love this car,” said Monro, touching the bonnet.

  “You’re literally stroking it,” I said. “I can’t watch.” I walked off towards Pankhurst and he caught up, putting his arm round me for a brief, surprising second and squeezing me, before removing it as we walked the last couple of hundred metres home.

  Clemmie paid me a visit the following evening on the third floor.

  “I thought I’d drop by,” she said as she slipped into my room, arriving so quietly at my door she made me jump. I had been struggling with an essay about Shakespeare’s use of language in Macbeth at my desk, and Meribel and Lo hadn’t clocked her coming in. She was dressed in pink silky pyjamas, and her blonde hair was piled high on her head. Her face was gleaming, like a sweet little YouTuber who’d just filmed a skincare routine.

  “I hope you haven’t been talking about things you shouldn’t have,” she said now. “Calding pulled me out of a Spanish class today to speak to me about Sasha.”

  I bit the end of my ballpoint pen as she spoke. When she’d finished, I removed it to say, “She spoke to me too. Sasha’s dad wrote my grandmother a letter.”

  “Oh,” said Clemmie. Her face relaxed a little, and then tightened. “Because I have the perfect place to post my photo of you before your operations if you change your story.”

  She walked out and banged the door, and I dropped my head to my hands. If people saw a photo of me when I was little they would gawp and laugh, and it would never be over.

  I’d become a new version of myself, and I was ashamed how much I liked it. I was Kate Jordan-Ferreira, effortlessly beautiful and therefore powerful at this school. I couldn’t let anything change that. I picked up my phone and searched for the old number I still had in my contacts for Sasha, and texted: Don’t come to the Pankhurst party.

  CHAPTER 17

  The day of the party I woke feeling uneasy, but I went downstairs with Lo for breakfast anyway, as a distraction, even though it was Saturday and I didn’t need to.

  There’d been no reply from Sasha. I hoped she’d changed her number, and hadn’t received any of Lo’s texts, or mine.

  Sitting next to Lo, and hearing her say how excited she was at the possibility Sasha might turn up, made me incapable of eating my Saturday pancakes and maple syrup.

  Most students seemed to know about the party even though only a fraction of them had been invited. Zeta wished me luck as we left the hall, and I almost told her she should drop by the beach house later to see it.

  We waited until my godfather had forwarded us the code for the beach house’s key safe before we woke Meribel. As we left Pankhurst with bulging shopping bags of decorations and party food, Calding stepped out of her office. She was with the Furball, who did random shifts when the Ghost wasn’t around. The Furball often had a hacking cough, hence her name.

  “Morning, girls.” Calding eyed our bags. “What on earth have you got there?”

  We’d thought of our answer in advance, but it made us sound like we were from the eighteenth century when Meribel said it. “Picnic stuff and art things. We’re going up on the cliffs.” We opened the bags to show her. The decorations were hidden at the bottom; the fireworks were being delivered by Bernard and Tessa, and the alcohol by Monro.

  Calding glanced into them briefly. “I see. Have a good time.”

  “It’s marvellous you girls are getting some fresh air,” said the Furball.

  Bernard and Tessa were waiting for us outside the beach house, next to a large cardboard box that was covered in FRAGILE stickers.

  “The deluxe assortment,” said Bernard with pride, as if he’d given birth to the fireworks.

  “Just make sure you don’t blow up the house,” said Meribel.

  Bernard tutted.

  “This is so exciting,” squealed Tessa.

  I fumbled with the code on the key safe, my hand shaking a little. If I couldn’t get to the keys, everything would be an utter disaster. The box sprung open, and a single key on a plain grey keyring sat there. It slid into the lock smoothly, and the door opened into an empty hall with white walls and light wood flooring. I let out my breath and hoped nobody had seen how tense I’d been.

  The house had the thick, stuffy smell of a space that needed airing. Meribel went ahead of me, opening doors, exclaiming loudly at the size of the place and the stripped-back style, telling us it was going to look incredible in everyone’s photos.

  The large living room led to the kitchen in a big open-plan area. Everything was white, metal or smoothed driftwood. The Airbnb people had left a grey vase of white roses on the central island and two champagne flutes. In the American-style fridge was a small bottle of Moët. Nice touch.

  We dumped our bags by the huge bi-fold doors. The garden looked even prettier from this viewpoint, with the dark-green cliff foliage behind it, and then the sea. The water was pale today, merging with the unsettled sky. Instead of opening the doors to the garden, we raced upstairs to the two double bedrooms and Bernard did a running jump on to one of them and told us to join him for a group hug. Tessa was the only one who did, and Bernard took a selfie of them together against the white pillows.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go downstairs. We’ve got to put up the decorations and the lights, and Monro will be here soon with the wine.”

  In the kitchen we lifted the shopping bags on to the central island to unpack. Tessa opened each cupboard and told us what it contained, which grew irritating very quickly. “We could put things on actual china plates! Make it really civilized?” she said.

  I shook my head. This beautiful house felt like an enormous responsibility, and that feeling was only going to get worse as it filled up with people.

  Lo said, “We’ve got paper plates, Tessa, and napkins. That’s all we need.”

  I shot her a grateful look as the doorbell rang, and I rushed to answer it. I checked through the peephole first before flinging open the door to Monro and Veronica. Between them they had three wheel-along suitcases, carry-on luggage size.

  “Two of these have alcohol in,” said Monro.

  “And the third one’s mine,” said Veronica. �
��Can I leave it upstairs for tonight? I want to get changed here after the Autumn Party. I’m giving a speech so I’ve got to wear something sensible to start off with.”

  “It looks as if you’ve come to stay,” said Bernard.

  “I’ve got a few outfits to choose from,” said Veronica.

  Meribel nodded. “Ah. Same. I have to wait and see what mood I’m in. Come on, I’ll show you the bedrooms.”

  The rest of us led Monro into the front for the view.

  “Ooh, nice,” he said, pressing his face against the large glass doors.

  “You’re leaving smear marks,” said Bernard. “Aren’t you going to unpack the alcohol?”

  “It’s fine, Bernard,” I said. I nearly added, Leave him alone, but I thought Monro didn’t need me to stand up for him.

  Monro acted as if he hadn’t even heard. As Veronica came into the kitchen and joined him at the window, she said, “This place is fantastic, Kate.” I caught the admiration in her voice, and I tucked it away to savour later.

  The two of them eventually stepped away from the view and unloaded the bottles on to the central island. “We’re happy to stay and help with whatever needs doing for a while,” said Monro, as he zipped up the empty suitcases.

  Bernard said, “We’ve got it covered.”

  “That would be great,” I said. “I need help putting up the indoor lights.”

  “Sure,” said Monro. His eyes met mine and my stomach flipped. He made my body do that just by looking at me. Bel and Lo would laugh if I told them how I was starting to feel about him.

  “Veronica, d’you want to help me and Tessa put tea lights in those jars?” said Lo.

  Meribel said she’d sort the sound system, and Bernard announced he was going to decide where to launch the fireworks from.

  “Fireworks, huh?” said Monro.

  “For midnight,” I said. “I’m entrusting Bernard with them.”

  “You think it’s wise to trust him?” said Monro. He was checking the joints of his hand, but looked up at me at the end of his sentence.

  “Of course she does,” said Bernard. He unlocked the end of the bifold doors and stepped out. He called back, “I think we’ll cordon off that corner by the path.”

  I took the box of fairy lights from the work surface. “We’ll start in the living room, on the far wall. I’ve got drawing pins and tape.”

  Monro picked up a stool from under the central island and carried it to the corner of the living room.

  The stool wasn’t very stable, so we took it in turns holding it for each other, until Veronica found a stepladder in a cupboard.

  “Here you go,” she said, as she opened it up and took the stool away.

  “You’re such a mum,” said Monro, flicking her ponytail.

  After we’d finished, and gathered everyone to admire the lights, Veronica said, “We have to go. We’ve got things to do, haven’t we, Monro?” and I was absurdly jealous of the look that passed between them. It was secretive, and not at all maternal.

  Later, when we’d finished placing the tea lights outside, I went upstairs to see what was in Veronica’s suitcase. Something felt off about it. She wasn’t the sort of person to have multiple outfits for a party.

  The suitcase was tucked under the bed. I had to lie on my stomach to reach it, and when I dragged it across the thick carpet, it was heavy. I didn’t want to explain what I was doing to the others if they came upstairs so I fumbled quickly for the zip and tugged.

  It was locked. I grimaced with embarrassment. Did Veronica guess I’d be nosy?

  Bernard called me from the hall. “Come and see how I’ve decorated the garden for you.”

  I shoved the suitcase back. “I’m coming down,” I shouted. At the top of the stairs, I said, “Shall I block off the bedrooms to stop them being trashed? They don’t lock from the outside.”

  “Chill,” said Bernard. “It’s all going to be OK.”

  It would be. I came slowly downstairs, reminding myself that this party was going to be the best Mount Norton had ever seen.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Autumn Party took place, as all termly parties did, in the main school assembly hall. The multiple sets of French doors had been opened on to the old stone terrace. Waiters and waitresses circulated with trays of canapés, non-alcoholic punch for students under eighteen, and alcoholic drinks for anyone lucky enough to be issued a red wristband. A few outside adults, to do with the local council and various businesses that had links to the school, had been brought in for us to make polite conversation with. It was considered good training for life.

  An hour or so into the evening Veronica made a speech about the school’s glittering achievements in the previous term. She wore a gold jumpsuit, and her nervous energy made her more intense than usual. Hugo, representing the fifth-formers, revealed how much had been raised for charity in the same time period. He looked gorgeous in his suit but sounded smug. Had he always been so full of himself, or was it a recent thing?

  “He’s got worse,” said Lo, reading my thoughts. “He used to be quite nice. What a waste of humanity.”

  I placed my arm round her shoulder and pulled her towards me with affection. “Couldn’t agree more, Lo!” She looked incredible tonight with her copper hair piled on top of her head, wearing her cleverly altered dress with the beaded neckline. She and Sasha had made a stunning couple when they’d dressed up. I could almost feel Sasha’s presence next to us, with her sharp haircut, endless legs and the mini-dress she’d worn to the rooftop party. I let go of Lo’s shoulder.

  Soon, the old people would be carted off for a formal dinner, the band would start up in the dining hall, and platters of less-fancy nibbles would be brought out. If you were a first- or second-former, it was grand and exciting. Otherwise it was so dead.

  It was easy to disperse once the band started playing, as most of the teachers drifted off at that point, leaving core staff who tended to chat to each other by the entrance, to make sure once people left they didn’t come back in. They also walked groups of students back to their boarding houses at set times, but fifth and sixth-formers were allowed to walk back on their own. The critical thing was signing back into your boarding house. And of course there were certain students with a talent for forgery who would sign anyone in for payment.

  But Lo, Bel and I needed to leave far earlier; we would take the over-the-fence route. I had to be first to my own party, and I had another five minutes before I needed to leave. The problem was Calding. She was standing at the edge of the hall like part of the security team, watching everyone. She’d misjudged the dress code. While students dressed up, staff tended not to, and as a result she stood out in her seaweed-green shift dress. She’d done her make-up differently, more heavily, and combined with the try-hard dress, it made her seem much younger and more awkward.

  The three of us stood by the open doors faking interest in a third-former’s magic trick. I’d been standing still so long, I was beginning to feel cold.

  “Yo!” said a voice in my ear. Monro. Veronica was nowhere to be seen. “I’m surprised you lot are still here.”

  I let out a sigh of frustration. “If Calding doesn’t stop watching us, we’re going to have to create a distraction.”

  “It’s like she knows what we’re up to,” said Lo, pulling at a curl of escaped hair from her loose bun.

  “That woman is a nightmare,” said Meribel. “What is wrong with her?”

  “Well, let’s separate. Make it harder for her,” said Monro. “I’ll go outside with Kate and be her cover. We’ll look as if we’re going for a romantic wander. See you two later at the beach house.”

  “What?” I said.

  He took my hand and led me outside where a school string quartet was playing show tunes. I didn’t turn to see what anyone else thought. I went with him.

  “Where’s Veronica?” I asked.

  “Phoning her mum,” Monro said. He kept hold of my hand. The electric feeling of his skin agains
t mine radiated up my arm and through my body.

  We didn’t speak as we walked towards the fence, past the little floodlit stone fountain, where it was customary for couples to have photos taken. There were lots of students milling around. It felt natural, walking hand in hand with Monro. We checked behind us before climbing over the fence in an area shielded by trees, and it was as easy as it had been the previous year.

  It would have been weird to have held hands again on the other side of the fence. There wasn’t a purpose to it any more. It would have meant something. The start of the coastal path was darker than I’d thought it would be, and we needed our phone torches to see. Monro tripped over a tree root, and as I went to grab him my right foot went sideways in my heels and I shrieked.

  We laughed, and clung on to each other a moment.

  “I wish I’d got to know you sooner, Kate,” he said as we walked along at a slower pace, watching the ground more intently. “I always thought you were quite intimidating before … and I guess I heard things from Clemmie’s side.”

  “Intimidating, huh?” I said.

  “And overwhelmingly beautiful,” he added. “Maybe those things are connected. And maybe that’s why Clemmie is bitter.”

  I shook my head as if to say let’s not have this discussion. I had an urge to tell him the truth – about me, and about what Clemmie had done, and what I hadn’t done – but he was still part of her home crowd, and his parents knew hers. I couldn’t be sure of him.

  As the path curved we saw the lights of the beach house. We hadn’t left any candles burning, but we’d kept the fairy lights on, and the little lights embedded in the decking outside. It looked magical.

  I gave a whoop. “Come on,” I said and broke into as much of a run as I could in my heels. On unlocking the door I went to open the bifold doors on to the garden. The whoosh of the sea below the cliff seemed louder from here than it had when we were walking. I needed to light the tea lights in the jars we’d placed round the edge of the decking, but for a moment I wanted to lean against the door frame and breathe in the dark and light, and the feeling that I was Kate Lynette Jordan-Ferreira, for whom anything was possible, including throwing an illegal party in a romantic beach house with one of the best views in the world.