Ashleigh found a smile she hoped was convincing. ‘I love you too.’
Remy
Remy wasn’t very good at lying. Her dad said her face gave it away every time, and she knew this to be true, feeling the red flush of dishonesty mark her whenever she voiced an untruth.
‘Who took my last Malteser?’he had asked as he proffered the empty box.‘Was it you, Remy?’
She had shaken her head, but he knew.
‘Which one of you little rascals has run over the wet kitchen floor? There are footprints leading to the fridge. Was it you, Remy?’
She had pointed at her sister, but her mum wasn’t fooled.
This was no different.
As she spoke, she felt the spread of crimson on her chest and neck, picturing it like ink dropping into water, marking her out as dishonest.
‘Where the devilisshe?’ Miss Delaney almost shouted, her face screwed up, eyes combing the playground, as she looked at her watch and scanned the horizon again.
‘I don’t ... don’t know!’ A hot, clammy sensation engulfed her.
Tony always said she’d be a hopeless poker player or adulterer. Aged ten, she’d had to look up both poker and adultery in the dictionary. It had been fascinating. Tony, as ever, knew a little bit about everything. The result, no doubt, of having an older brother like Gregory, who spoke and acted freely in front of his younger sibling. Tony had even smoked, and seen three pictures of boobs torn out of a magazine, which he said he didn’t get, unsure what all the fuss was about, as his older brother and his mates went into raptures about the milk balloons, as he called them, sitting rather limply on the chest of a woman in an undone negligée.
‘Well, she can’t have just disappeared! Did she not have lunch with you?’ Miss Delaney sighed and huffed at the same time, indicating she was doubly mad.
Remy shrugged.
It made her feel bad. She knewexactlywhere her sister was, but wasn’t about to rat her out. That wasn’t the way with sisters. And certainly not the way with twins. Identical twins.
‘Well.’ Miss Delaney stared at her with a look of pure frustration. ‘I’m now going to have to go and inform Mr Gerald, who will have to spendhislunch hour looking for her, and the minibus is not going to wait. It’s unfair if her going AWOL makes you, William and Rukmal late, it’s all stressful enough as it is.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She felt it wise to apologise, even if it wasn’t really her fault.
Miss Delaney shook her head, and she felt the disappointment shower down on her like the dandruff that clustered on the shoulders of her teacher’s black jumper. It was always this way, the collective praise, anger, or judgement directed at either one or both of them, as if everyone was aware that they were one person, split in two, and therefore it felt justified.
‘Get on the bus. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ Miss Delaney sighed again, as she shepherded the three of them on to the minibus where the engine was already running. ‘What a silly girl!’ was her parting shot, before leaving the three of them to sit amid the aged interior that smelled of diesel, sweat, and cheesy plimsolls. It was gross.
Remy wished she could open the windows.
Choosing a seat in the middle, she put her bag on the seat next to her to stop one of the others taking it. Inside nestled her ink pen, pencils, ruler, eraser, an apple which she was under strict instructions to eat on the way there, and a note from their mum that read:
My clever little dove! You can do this, just keep your eye on the prize; this amazing school! And if you don’t pass,don’t worry – either way, you are wonderful and your whole future awaits! We are proud and we love you! X
She knew the same note and a similar apple would right now be nestling in her sister’s bag, which was probably doubling as a seat as she hid in the mower shed on the edge of the playing field.
Miss Delaney came back, her face red, eyes small, mouth thin.
‘Thank you, driver, let’s go!’ she said as she sat down hard at the front of the bus. This was really happening: they were leaving without Ashleigh! And in that moment, Remy felt seven different types of sickness and nervousness! What would happen now?
Remy stared at the low red-brick building as the minibus rumbled out of the gates on to the main road and headed towards town, where St. Jude’s was located, and she felt her heart flex for her sister. It had been horrible to see her so distressed, so scared.
She looked back at the rather nondescript squat design of their school, the mobile classrooms tacked on to the side to cope with the ever-expanding population. The vast metal dumpsters at the back of the dining hall which gave off the foul odour of Spam fritters and grey mashed potato.
She’d studied the glossy brochure they’d been given about St. Jude’s Academy. It was pretty, no doubt, with snaking plants that hung over the doors, neat hedging, science labs, lecture theatres, tennis courts, a swimming pool, and its very own music studio! A school that was a world away from this little place that was crammed in among the 1930s housing estate where parking was a nightmare. St. Jude’s had a wide gravel car park. Even the litter bins were pretty!
‘Right.’ Miss Delaney turned to face them all. ‘I am so sorry for the last-minute disruption.’ Remy felt this was directed at her, and her face coloured accordingly. ‘I want you all to keep calm.’ Her fast-paced speech and slight pant suggested she’d be better offtaking her own advice. ‘You have worked so hard for this, and you are more than capable! Enjoy it!’ She gave a wide, false smile. ‘It’s a chance to see this fabulous school up close and its lovely facilities. We’re all rooting for you. I know you can do it. And remember, if you don’t pass, if you’re not offered one of the scholarships, it will still be a valuable experience and you will all thrive, no matter what happens, so, no pressure!’ The teacher swallowed and wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘Relax, and do your best. Does anyone have any questions?’
William put his hand up.
