I look over to the open double doors I came out from. A moment ago, I was boiling, but the cold out here reminds me that it’s mid-January. My sand-coloured dress may be floor-length and have slim sleeves, but it’s in a thin satin that has no warmth in it at all. I shiver and cross my arms as I step closer to Val. The low-cut back is definitely spectacular and was the clincher for buying this dress, but right now I’m wishing I’d gone for something warmer. I should go back in. I don’t smoke, and I could wait for Val in the warm. Or he could offer me his jacket, but the thought clearly hasn’t crossed his mind.
My feet hurt, I’m tired, and it’s not even midnight.Pull yourself together, Belhaven-Wynford. Last year you were on the dance-floor until gone one thirty, and you had the time of your life.Am I getting old? Is that it? Or has it got more to do with the fact that, back then, I was with Sinclair, Henry, Olive and the others, having way more fun? Where even are they? Val doesn’t look like he’d miss me if I joined my friends for a bit. I’m just about to go looking for them when I see more people emerging from the foyer.
Sinclair’s dug both hands into the pockets of his dark suit trousers, and he’s drunk. I can see it in the way he’s standing, even in the dim light of the lanterns and fire-pits set up out here. Flickering light on the courtyard walls, and the burning expression in my best friend’s eyes as he looks at me. I’m familiar with the sight of Sinclair in the dark blue Dunbridge uniform, and the blazer he loathes with such a passion that he slings it over his shoulder if at all possible, but the black suit, leather shoes and white shirt fit his slim body like a glove. I don’t know what he’s done to his blond hair, but this evening it’s falling extra casually into his face. He should be grateful to me for talking him out of going to the barber just before the ball.When he’s had a haircut, he always looks like a freshly clipped poodle. But tonight, he looks good, and he has no clue.
Emma and Henry are following him out. She spots me and gives me a wave, unwinds herself from Henry’s arm around her shoulders, and walks over to me. I’m pretty sure no one else would rock that skin-tight, dark blue dress the way she does. Emma’s the sportiest person I know, the most elegant too, and she and Henry – who’ll look like a bloody prince whatever he wears – make the ultimate power couple.
‘I’ll be right back,’ I mumble, turning away from Val and the cloud of smoke that’s wafting in my direction. I feel a bit sick, which isn’t just down to the cigarettes. I’ve been kind of tense all day, so I couldn’t swallow a bite of dinner. I’m still waiting for the nerves to calm down so I can finally enjoy the ball.
‘Hi, lads and lasses, how’s everyone doing?’ It’s amazing how cheery I can sound when I’m numb inside.
Sinclair’s eyes rest heavily on me as I try to suppress my shivers. He takes his hands out of his pockets and I know they’re warm. But I’m not going over to him and letting him put his arm around me just because we always do that and he’s the only lad who can touch me without it meaning anything. I stay where I am. Emma says something, but I don’t take in what it is. Sinclair’s avoiding my gaze. I try to smile but it’s hard because I can’t help wondering why things have been so weird between us for a while now. Why being here with Val, spending the evening with him and his friends instead of my own, makes me feel like a traitor. After all, it’s not like Sinclair asked me to be his date tonight. The same as every year, I waited, longed for him to, because when it comes to this New Year Ball, every last ounce of feminism leaves my body and I’m secretly desperate to be asked, like all the heroines in all the books. Byhim.Sinclair. Semi-ironically, of course – as friends, platonic, even though everyone would have read stuff into it. But Sinclairdidn’t ask me. Of course he didn’t. He asked Ellie Inglewood, who bragged about it to her friends. Now Sinclair’s danced with her a couple of times and spent the rest of the evening standing around with Henry and the others. Normally, I’d have gone with Gideon, or Omar. Someone I like, someone I know well enough to be sure he doesn’t want anything else from me. Ha, but this year, nothing’s normal because I’m here with Val, who definitely wants something else from me. After all, that’s what I like about being with him. Being wanted. Who wouldn’t want to be wanted by Valentine Ward, rugby captain and uncrowned king of Dunbridge Academy?
Emma’s fanning herself with her hand and giggling, so she’s probably a bit tipsy at least. Henry leans down and kisses her. That’s the only thing that bothers me about the New Year Ball. The sheer quantity of alcohol that gets smuggled in every year.
I look over to Sinclair, who slips off his jacket. There’s a deep frown between his eyebrows as he hands it to me. I hesitate.
‘You’re freezing,’ he says curtly. His voice sounds chilly, but there’s something in his pale eyes that makes me go weak at the knees.
Before I can even think about taking the jacket, I feel a heavy arm around my shoulders.
‘We going back in?’
I can smell the booze on Val’s breath and I want to turn my head away, but force myself not to. It’ll only piss him off if I embarrass him in front of his pals. He’s touchy when it comes to that kind of thing, as everyone knows. And he has his reasons, even if I wish he’d open up to me a bit about them. But I can count on the fingers of one hand how often Val’s spoken about his sister since we’ve been spending more time together. His relationship with her doesn’t seem to have improved since she left Dunbridge a few years ago to study at Oxford.
‘Sure.’ I nod, as Sinclair slips his jacket back on. His lips are pressed so tightly together that they’re just a thin line.
‘What’ve you done with Ellie?’ Val asks, in the patronizing tone that Sinclair’s absolutely allergic to. ‘Packed her off to bed? Or has she gone to play with her little friends from nursery?’
‘Val,’ I mumble, placating, trying to push him away. It’s the only thing that really annoys me. The way he and Sinclair constantly grate on each other, playing all these pointless little power games.
Sinclair clenches his fists. ‘Shut it, Ward!’
‘Enough of your shite, OK?’ says Val, taking a step towards him. He’s taller than Sinclair, and even if I don’t think they’re immature enough to start a fight here, I’m getting anxious.
‘Yeah? Or what?’ Sinclair hisses. ‘Gonna tell your arsehole uncle? Shame he doesn’t teach here any more.’
‘Watch it.’
‘Val . . . Let’s go.’ I pull Valentine back by the arm, but he shakes off my hand.
‘Does your mummy know you’re drinking at her New Year Ball?’ he asks.
‘No, but I’m sure she’d be glad to know where the booze comes from.’
‘Get tae fuck, Sinclair,’ Val growls. I sigh with relief as he finally lets me pull him away. It feels wrong to be heading towards the entrance with him, leaving Sinclair and the others behind. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, once we’re out of earshot of everyone else. ‘I know that was out of order and they’re your friends.’
I open my mouth, but I’m too surprised to speak. ‘That’s OK.’Is it, really?I don’t like the way he speaks to my friends. But it seems Val’s aware of that. And he looks genuinely guilty, as he shoves his hands into his trouser pockets.
‘This is just as fucked up as my mum’s stupid parties,’ he says, coming to a stop. ‘Everyone’s only here to be seen.’
I nod, thinking about Veronica Ward’s events, which my family regularly gets invited to. Val’s family live a forty-five-minute drive from my parents’ house. Our dads play golf together, any time they don’t have to partner our mums to some business dinner or other. Val’s mum is a big shot in property, while mine runs an art gallery, supplying high society with paintings worth about as much as a nice detached family house. They often work together. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, you could say. But the truth is that everyone in our circles likes to stay in their familiar cliques.
So I’ve known the Wards since I was a wean, and it’s the exact same with Val and the Belhaven-Wynfords. Clearly, we were always going to end up at school together too, because Dunbridge Academy is the obvious choice in this neck of the woods for posh kids to get a posh education. We’re actually the same age because Dunbridge occasionally offers its pupils the chance to retake a year, or to start a year later if you were one of those kids born over the summer or whatever. Basically, for the right kind of money more or less anything goes and the school is keen to give as much flexibility as it can to its students, their rich parents and their often-unusual circumstances. If you were being unkind, you could say such a system saves our parents the bother of bringing us up, but I can’t tell – this is all I’ve ever known. If I were a character in one of my novels, I’d probably hate life in this elite bubble on principle, but I genuinely appreciate the opportunities Mum and Dad are giving William and me here. It would be ungrateful not to, even if I sometimes feel the weight of my family’s social standing like a burden on my shoulders. And apart from my brother, Val’s the only person I can talk to about it. Most of the time, I’m glad my friends aren’tin this world. OK, so they all have rich parents, but their families’ lifestyles are so different from mine.
‘We could leave,’ I suggest. My faint hope is extinguished as Val shakes his head. Yeah, it was too much to wish for, a chance to take off these killer heels.
‘No, it’s fine,’ he says. ‘Besides, you’re looking too hot to bail out just now. I want everyone else to feel jealous a bit longer.’
