The Summer of Telling Tales Read online

  PJ’s smile falls off his face.

  ‘I haven’t done nothing!’

  ‘Double negative makes a positive. Lampoon. L–A–M–P–O–O–N. Look it up in the dictionary. From the library, if you don’t possess one.’

  Miss Turner turns and glares coldly at me once more and I feel as if I’m going to be sick any second.

  ‘So, Miss Smith; what am I to make of you?’

  I breathe deeply as I take in her stony-faced expression. I desperately want to explain that I’m not being rude but I can’t, so she reads my silence as yet more defiance.

  Four more seconds tick slowly by, until thankfully I’m saved by the bell. As everyone gets up to go to their first lesson, I turn and quickly follow them.

  ‘I’ll be on your case, Miss Smith,’ I hear Miss Turner call after me. ‘Make no mistake.’

  Ryan is outside the classroom, waiting.

  ‘Still alive?’ he asks.

  I look at him, grateful he tried to stick up for me.

  ‘Even the Head’s scared of her. Rumour is, she eats one little Year Seven kid for lunch every day then spits out the gristly bits in a bucket under her desk.’

  I can’t help smiling at his gruesome picture as I take out my timetable. Ryan glances at it.

  ‘Set Two for maths with Mr Harris – me too. Come on.’

  I follow him down the corridor.

  ‘Hairy Harris is pretty harmless. Unless there’s a full moon of course . . .’

  Chapter 19

  Ellie

  Grace and I have been at school just over a week now and I’m not sure what Grace thinks because she hasn’t said much, but I’m loving it to bits. I have friends! Real, true, lovely, funny, brilliant, wonderful friends! Out of them all, I still like Cait the best; she’s so totally cool. She reminds me a bit of Lauren back home – except Cait’s miles prettier and loads more fun. Everyone wants to be her friend, but since I’ve been here we’ve just clicked. We’re best mates now – with Abs and Ruby, of course, and we always hang out together and giggle in class, sharing secrets – well, theirs not mine – but best of all she’s invited me over to her house on Saturday. I can’t wait!

  This lunchtime, as usual, I’m sitting with them all on a bench in the playground, boy watching. I don’t mention I’m not that interested in boys yet, except for the gorgeous PJ maybe. Anyway, most of the boys at my last school were just spotty oiks or complete aardvarks, but Abs says that some of the Year Nine boys here aren’t bad, especially one in particular. She’s bound to mean PJ; he’s really popular but when he smiles at you it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

  ‘Shut up, Abs!’ says Cait, pushing her slightly and grinning madly.

  ‘Well, he is really cute,’ Abs tells me. ‘All the girls fancy him. Not just Cait. . .’

  ‘Abs, I don’t fancy him!’

  She doesn’t, she’s mad about some boy called Ryan.

  ‘Yeah, but he fancies you too,’ Ruby chips in. ‘Daisy Millar says he’s going to ask you out.’

  ‘In your dreams!’ says Cait with a big grin.

  ‘He is too!’ Ruby insists.

  I’m just about to say I think PJ’s really cute too, when Cait suddenly turns around and pulls a dramatic face.

  ‘Oh no!’ she says, her eyes widening. ‘He’s over there! Don’t look! Don’t look! By that big tree!’

  I peer over towards the tree and immediately spot Grace, with a tall blond-haired boy. The famous Ryan.

  ‘Who’s she?’ demands Cait, her mouth drooping.

  Shocked, I don’t answer.

  ‘She’s new,’ Ruby says. ‘Daisy told me she doesn’t talk to anyone. I saw PJ try to chat her up yesterday but she just looked through him like he wasn’t there.’

  I shuffle uncomfortably from foot to foot. Although I think maybe I should say something, I’m angry with Grace. Why can’t she just be normal for goodness’ sake?

  ‘Well, she’d better keep her paws off Ryan. He’s taken,’ giggles Abs.

  Grace and the boy disappear around a corner.

  ‘Come on, let’s spy on them,’ says Abs, getting up. On tenterhooks, I glance at Cait.

  ‘Don’t be such a saddo,’ she says, as I breathe a secret sigh of relief. ‘Anyway I want to go to the drama auditions. You coming, Elle?’

  ‘Yeah, OK,’ I say casually, desperate to get away.

  ‘We’re doing Princess Caraboo,’ says Abs, as we all walk down to the hall together. ‘Mrs Mulligan wrote it.’

  ‘She totally ripped off the film,’ Ruby adds dismissively.

  ‘No she didn’t!’ protests Cait. ‘It’s a true story. It’s about a beautiful, mysterious girl who turns up one night at this posh mansion and doesn’t speak any English. She persuades everyone she’s a foreign princess, but really she’s just some servant girl called Mary Baker who’s broke and starving.’

  ‘Cait’s going to be Princess Caraboo.’

  ‘Except I haven’t got the part yet, Abs.’

  ‘Oh come on, like Mad Mulligan doesn’t think the sun shines out of your rear end. Bet you anything it’ll be your name top of the cast list next Monday.’ Abs turns to me. ‘She played Annie last year in the musical we did. She was in the paper and everything.’

  As we reach the hall, we pass PJ leaning against the corridor wall, chatting with his friends.

  ‘Hey, Caitlin, you coming to Dalti’s party Saturday night?’ he asks with that grin.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ asks Cait all casual.

  ‘Well, if you wear something halfway decent so you don’t look like a drag queen for once, I might just take you.’

  I look at him in surprise. His mates laugh and for a second Cait seems flustered and blushes bright red. PJ catches my eye and winks. Now I’m flustered too.

  ‘She wouldn’t go with you, if you paid her,’ giggles Abs, grabbing Cait’s arm and pulling her through the hall doorway. ‘She’s going with Ryan Baxter.’

  ‘She paying him then?’ PJ calls after us, setting off a fresh load of sniggers from his friends.

  ‘Cheeky monkey!’ says Abs.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of him,’ says Ruby.

  ‘As if I ever would!’ Cait retorts, with a toss of her head.

  As we walk up to the stage, and I’m trying to figure out PJ, we’re greeted by Mad Mulligan herself, and I get the tiniest clue where her nickname came from. What is it with drama teachers? Why do they always look like they’ve got style tips from the high security establishment they’ve just escaped from? She’s wearing purple dungarees, tucked into red boots, and a long-sleeved shirt in a fetching lime green. The whole look is set off by her scarlet lipstick and lashings of black kohl around her eyes.

  ‘Just in time, ladies,’ she says, ushering us towards a small group of girls waiting in the wing of the stage.

  ‘I want to get our lovely Princess done and dusted before I sort out all the other parts. So who’s this?’ she asks, looking at me.

  ‘Elle Smith, Miss,’ I say.

  ‘Her dad’s a film actor in America.’ Cait says.

  ‘Really! Well, bit of competition for you lot then,’ she says jokily, before I can explain that I wasn’t actually intending on auditioning.

  ‘You’ve got to have a go, Elle,’ Ruby tells me. ‘She’s got to have a go, hasn’t she, Cait?’

  ‘Course,’ says Cait generously.

  We take it in turns to read out one of Princess Caraboo’s speeches. Some of the girls, including Ruby, have no idea and don’t put any meaning or the slightest bit of feeling into the words. They could be reading a bus timetable or names from a phone directory, but Cait is truly amazing and Mad Mulligan beams at her when she finishes.

  ‘Glorious, Caitlin! Well done,’ she says, pursing her red lips together and scribbling something down on her clipboard. Abs nods to me, and mouths ‘Sorted’.

  Soon there’s just Abs and me left. Abs is not what anyone would call a natural actress and she knows it. She gets unc
ontrollable giggles on her second line, sets everyone else off and Mad Mulligan ends up stopping her.

  ‘Good try, Abigail,’ she says. ‘OK, time’s getting on – have a quick go, Elle, then we’ll move on to all the other parts.’

  As I step out onto the stage and begin reading, there’s something about Princess Caraboo’s situation that cuts straight to my heart. I know exactly what’s going through her mind. Underneath all the confidence and blag she’s totally fragile. She’s plain Mary Baker, walking a tightrope, living a lie to survive.

  There’s silence when I finish. I look at Cait, Ruby and Abs’ blank faces staring up at me and give an embarrassed shrug. I didn’t think I was that bad.

  ‘Thank you, Elle,’ Mad Mulligan says, scrutinising me through her dark-lined eyes, then glancing back at Caitlin. ‘OK. Right . . . well, I think that’s Princess Caraboo in the bag. Let’s move on to all the other parts.’

  Chapter 20

  Grace

  ‘Detention, Miss Smith!’ snaps Miss Turner.

  Our relationship hasn’t exactly blossomed since we first met. In fact, it’s got steadily more pear-shaped over the last week, probably because I’m in her history class as well as registration so there are double the opportunities for her to pounce on me.

  ‘You will take part in discussions the same as everyone else in this room,’ she insists, glaring at me. Like a little grey-haired terrier with sharp pointy teeth, she just won’t let go. She’s been on at me throughout the whole lesson. The whole class is watching and waiting. No one’s heard me say a single word so far.

  ‘So, Grace, give me one method the Suffragettes used to try to persuade the government that women should get the vote. One method.’

  If only I could speak I could give her ten. They:

  Marched.

  Petitioned.

  Heckled.

  Protested.

  Disrupted.

  Scuffled.

  Burned.

  Bombed.

  Starved.

  . . . and a few of them died too.

  But I stay silent. My face is burning but I keep my head bowed and sneak a glance at my watch. My heart sinks as I see it’s still ages till the end of the lesson.

  ‘Deeds not words, Miss,’ I hear Ryan call out from the back of the class.

  ‘Don’t shout out, Baxter!’

  Ryan shoots his hand in the air. PJ and a few others grin or mumble under their breath, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Miss Turner.

  ‘I’m not interested, Baxter – put your hand down.’

  ‘But Miss, that was the Suffragettes’ slogan. Deeds Not Words. You gave Grace an A for her essay so maybe it doesn’t matter whether she says anything in class.’

  ‘Yeah, let’s face it, wouldn’t matter if she turned up at all, would it?’ PJ calls out.

  Miss Turner purses her lips as sniggers erupt around the room.

  ‘If you’re both so concerned about your fellow pupil, you may join her in detention tomorrow,’ she snaps.

  ‘Oh, Miss, come on, that’s not fair!’ retorts PJ.

  ‘Life’s not fair, Jacobs. And nor am I. We’re both nasty, short and full of disappointment. Get over it.’

  I bite my lip. If only I’d stuck to my usual tactic of dumbing down my work, Ryan couldn’t have said what he did, PJ would have kept his mouth shut too and Miss Turner probably wouldn’t be so interested in hearing my opinions.

  I glance at Ryan and see to my surprise there’s the trace of a smile on his face. I’ve spent most of the week trying to avoid everyone, especially PJ, but like Miss Turner, Ryan doesn’t seem to want to give up on me.

  ‘Don’t let her freak you out,’ he whispers the following afternoon as I follow him into the detention room, ‘Just imagine her naked or on the loo.’ He pulls a face. ‘Actually, don’t. Really. Don’t. It’s horrible. Not that I’ve ever seen her,’ he adds quickly. ‘I’m going to stop right there . . .’

  I can’t help but smile. Ryan looks at me, his face serious for a change.

  ‘I love it when you do that,’ he says. ‘That thing with your lips . . . upwards . . .’

  Reddening, I quickly turn away and sit at a single desk in the corner well away from PJ who hisses my name and pats the chair next to him. Miss Turner comes in, sets us all work, to be done in complete silence, then opens her laptop and starts furiously tapping away on it. I keep my head down and try to concentrate on the essay question in front of me but my mind’s in a whirl and I can’t stop thinking how Ryan is so different from all the other boys I know. Before I can stop myself, I’m scribbling a list on a scrap of paper.

  Ryan

  You’re funny.

  You stuck up for me.

  You’re thoughtful.

  Kind.

  Pretty smart.

  But are you for real?

  Suddenly, I catch him glancing over at me. Embarrassed, I quickly tuck the list inside my pocket, bow my head and hurriedly write my essay.

  An hour later, after a long lecture on rudeness and how she’s never yet let a pupil slip through the net, Miss Turner lets us go. I check my watch, relieved I’ve still got loads of time before Mum leaves the café. I made Ellie promise not to tell her I had a detention, because I know she’d be mortified.

  Ryan catches me up and walks alongside.

  ‘You all right?’ he asks.

  I nod, blushing slightly, as I remember the list in my pocket. PJ, hovering by the school gates, stares hard at us as we pass.

  ‘Good . . . don’t ever let Turner get to you, will you?’ says Ryan.

  We walk on up the road in silence.

  ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to talk to me,’ he says after a few minutes. ‘I’m not going to make you.’

  We take the road that leads up to the shortcut through the stones, and he tells me about a small cove further up from the main beach that can only be reached by boat, where he and his dad have fished for mackerel.

  ‘There are seals too,’ he says. ‘I saw three pups this year. They were born in one of the caves that stays dry at high tide. Now they’ve grown, they swim out all the time. Proper little mermaids.’

  I think about the seals we saw on our first morning, swimming around the rocks and wonder if they’re the same ones.

  ‘I could show you the place, if you like,’ Ryan says as we approach the shortcut and see two girls sitting on a garden wall, their legs dangling. I recognise them both. They’re Ellie’s friends.

  ‘Hey, Ryan, you going to Ben Dalton’s party?’ one of them calls.

  The other girl digs her friend in the ribs, making her jump and smother a squeal.

  ‘Yeah, course, he wants the band to play a few songs,’ Ryan replies.

  ‘We’re going too, aren’t we, Cait?’ says the first girl, with a nod.

  Cait gives a casual shrug.

  ‘Might be,’ she says, giving me a dismissive glance. ‘Haven’t decided yet.’

  She looks up and smiles at Ryan, then twirls a strand of her long brown hair around her fingers. The other girl asks Ryan if he’s asked anyone to go with him, and the three of them start chatting easily together. Feeling out of place, I take the chance to quietly slip away.

  As I head down the path to the stones, Ryan calls after me. I turn and wave but now he’s sitting on the wall between the two girls who are laughing and hanging on to his every word. Suddenly I feel a dull flat ache inside, different to anything I’ve felt before. Is this what jealousy feels like? I wonder. As I reach the stone circle, I distract myself by counting the stones, noticing the tallest one is leaning slightly backwards, as if the maid had been looking up to the sky when she was transformed. I tell myself I’m getting as bad as Ellie with her crazy imagination. Seventeen. Two more than last time. Puzzled, I start counting again when I hear a voice behind me call out.

  ‘Hey!’

  Thinking it’s Ryan, I spin around, but I’m shocked to see PJ.

  ‘Don’t you know this place is haunted?’ he as
ks.

  I turn to go but he blocks my way. He’s a lot taller than me and about twice as heavy.

  ‘Everyone thinks you’re weird cos you don’t speak,’ he says softly. ‘Some people think you can’t, but that’s rubbish. It’s all a big act, isn’t it?’

  He takes another step towards me.

  ‘So what’s your game?’

  Unnerved, I take a step back but stumble against one of the stones, losing my balance and scraping my bare arm on its cold, rough surface. On seeing the thin dribble of red blood trickle down my wrist, PJ smiles that lopsided smile of his.

  ‘Well, you’re not alien, then,’ he says, looking straight into my eyes. ‘No green blood.’

  I scramble to my feet, push past him and leg it.

  ‘Maybe you’re a ghost,’ he calls after me. ‘They don’t talk either. Weird stuff happens here. But then you’d know that already . . . wouldn’t you?’

  Chapter 21

  Ellie

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ I ask Grace as she hurries in.

  ‘Detention. I told you.’ She’s out of breath like she’s been running. She drops her bag, bends over Bruno so I can’t see her face and gives him a cuddle.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘They’re only supposed to keep you an hour,’ I remind her. ‘What happened to your arm?’

  ‘Scratched it on one of the stones.’

  She grabs a tissue from the box on the table and dabs off some blood from the back of her hand.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Just did. I was counting them.’

  I can tell by her voice and the way she avoids my eye that she’s hiding something. But unlike me she’s a rubbish liar.

  ‘Ellie . . . Stay away from that boy . . . PJ,’ she says suddenly.

  ‘Why?’

  Her cheeks flush bright red. They always used to do that when Dad asked her a question and she didn’t want him to know the answer.

  ‘I don’t like him.’

  ‘You don’t like anyone.’

  ‘I mean it. There’s something about him.’

  ‘He’s just a bit of a lad. I think he’s quite funny, actually. And he’s really good-looking. Probably the best-looking boy at that school.’