Secrets and Dreams

A whole bunch of us was dropped off at the station. Dad had wanted to come and pick me up, but I’d begged to be allowed to use the train. It felt more independent, plus it meant I could be with Rachel. It turned out she lived just three stops further down the line from me.

“I’m really going to see if I can board full-time next term,” I said. “I think I’ll probably be able to talk Mum round, but Dad’s funny. He didn’t really want me to come to boarding school at all. He’d prefer it if I was just a Day.” I didn’t add that Dad would actually prefer it if I hadn’t gone to St With’s in the first place. One of my grans has always said that Dad has a chip on his shoulder. I wouldn’t have wanted Rachel thinking that.

“How about your dad?” I said. “Or is he the one that decided?”

I was hoping she might be prompted to tell me something about herself. I couldn’t help being curious. I still didn’t know who she lived with – whether it was her dad, or her gran, or her auntie that she sometimes talked about. I didn’t know where she’d been to school, or anything at all, really. She was eager to talk about most things – just not about herself.

So when I asked the question, thinking I was being very clever and cunning, I wasn’t terribly surprised when she gave one of her great cascades of giggles and said, “It was me that chose!” It wasn’t a proper answer, in fact it wasn’t really an answer at all, but I didn’t like to push. I know sometimes I can seem a bit nosy. A bit what Mum calls intrusive. But I did find it difficult! I think it is only natural to want to know things about people, especially if they are supposed to be your friend. Your best friend.

“Honestly,” I said, “my dad’s like a mother hen. He doesn’t even like me taking the train! He wanted to come and pick me up. Of course it might just be cos he’s got this new car and it’s any excuse to go for a drive. That’s what Mum says. How about yours?”

I couldn’t help trying! But Rachel just giggled and said, “I like being on the train.”

Again, it wasn’t an answer. I asked her if anyone was meeting her at the station, and she said her auntie. I didn’t even know her auntie’s name. It was always just “my auntie”.

“So what about when we go to the theatre?” I said.

In a fortnight’s time the whole of our year was being taken to see a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was the play we were doing in class. The bus was going to bring us all back to school afterwards, which meant Dad could always drive over and collect me if he really wanted, but I reckoned Mum would stick up for me if I pleaded to stay overnight at school and come home on Saturday.

I said this to Rachel. “It would be fun if we could both stay over! Do you think they’d let you?”

Her eyes did that thing where they shifted away. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come.”

Not come to the theatre? “Oh, but you’ve got to!” I said. “Everybody else is.”

She was silent. She was hardly ever silent. Normally she was just as much a chatterbox as I am. Sometimes even more so, especially in the dorm after lights out. You’d be lying there trying to sleep and Rachel would be propped on her elbow talking at you in the darkness. It was worse than Tabs’s snoring. The other night Fawn had yelled at her to “Just button it!” But then other times, like now, she’d totally clam up.

I wondered if it would be rude to ask her why she might not be able to come. Sometimes, at my old school, people hadn’t been able to go on school trips because their mums and dads couldn’t afford it. Once in Year Seven there’d been a weekend in France and it was mymum and dad that hadn’t been able to afford it. Maybe Rachel was on some kind of scholarship and her dad, or whoever it was, didn’t have enough money to pay for extras. In which case it would definitely be rude of me to ask.

I contented myself with reminding her that she would have to decide soon. She said, “Yes, I know, it’s just—”

Too late! We had already pulled into the station and I could see Dad and Nat waiting for me on the platform. If only Rachel had got off before me instead of after, I might have had a glimpse of her mysterious auntie.

“Ask!” I said, as I jumped off the train.

Rachel nodded. “I will. I really want to come!”

Dad and Nat had spotted me. “There she is!” cried Dad.

“Back from St Beef’s!” That, needless to say, was Nat.

“Enough with the Beef’s,” I said, giving her a shove.

Nat pulled a face. “So what’s it like? Is it like Enid Blyton? Are they all posh?”

“Hold your horses,” said Dad, “she’s only just got here! She can tell us all about it when we’re back home.”

“Mum’s made a special tea,” said Nat, “just for you! She’s done chocolate cake cos she knows it’s your favourite. And pizza! It’s not really healthy, chocolate cake and pizza all in the same meal, but Mum said just for once. I s’pose at St Beef’s you have caviar and stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s a favourite,” I said. “But then for tea we have bread and marge.”

“Marge? Ugh! Yuck!”

“Plain and wholesome,” said Mum, when Nat told her about it.

“You’d think they could come up with something a bit better,” grumbled Dad. “I’m not paying all that money for my daughter to eat bread and marge!”

“Oh, Dad, it’s bread and butter,” I said. “And we have—”

I was going to say that we had jordgubbe jam to put on it, but Nat got in ahead of me.

“They have caviar for dinner!”

“Believe that and you’ll believe anything,” said Mum.

“No,” said Nat. “She said!”

“She’s pulling your leg. Lottie, get down, there’s a good girl.”

“Lottie’s house-trained.” Nat announced it, proudly. “She hasn’t done anything indoors for ages.”

Lottie wagged her tail so hard her whole body shook. She was still all rubbery and puppyish. I have to admit, Nat is really good with animals. She just has this irritating habit of totally annoying me! Like now.

“Who was that girl?” she said. “The one you waved goodbye to?”

“That was Rachel,” I said. “She’s in my dorm.”

“She looks peculiar.”

You see what I mean? Just, like, totally annoying.

“How does she look peculiar?” said Mum, sounding a bit annoyed herself. She knew about Rachel, cos I’d told her on the phone. She’d been pleased to hear that I’d already made a friend. “What’s peculiar about her?”

“She’s got white hair,” said Nat.

“That’s because she’s Swedish!” I snapped.

Mum told me later that I shouldn’t let Nat wind me up.

“Truth to tell, she’s a bit resentful of you being at boarding school. I know it sounds silly, when it was her choice to have Lottie, and we’re buying her a pony, but I think she’s secretly scared you’ll … how can I put it? Decide we’re not good enough?”

I said, “Mum!” That was ridiculous.

“It’s your dad as well,” said Mum. “He’s a bit of a worryguts. Give them time, they’ll get over it. Tell me about Rachel! Does she live round here?”

I said that she lived just three stops further down the line.

“That’s nice! So you could always visit each other if you wanted? Like in the holidays?”