joined the throng. Edouard ran off without a backwards look. Jess searched for Flora.
Suddenly Gerard appeared, looking vague and stylish. When he saw her, he grinned. Jess felt herself blush, remembering the dream. It was insane, but she almost felt as if Gerard knew about the dream – as if he might have had it, too.
‘Hi, Jezz,’ said Gerard.
‘Hi, Gerard,’ said Jess. She could see Jodie fighting her way through the crowd towards them, looking jealous. ‘Enjoy Oxford,’ she said. ‘Hope your day is not too bof .’
Gerard laughed. ‘You’re phoney!’ he said. Jess gave a parting nod and slipped away. At least ‘phoney’ was a step in the right direction. Maybe he’d manage ‘funny’ one day.
After registration, Jodie grabbed Jess and Flora. She looked round furtively as if she was about to reveal a big secret.
‘It’s on!’ she whispered. ‘But my auntie says there can only be six of us! So it’s going to be us three with Gerard, Edouard and Marie-Louise. There’s this amazing field just below her house, and there’s a fantastic stream running along the bottom of it, and she’s even got an outside loo, so we won’t have to go indoors.’
Jess was glad to hear about the outside loo. On a picnic once, she had retreated into a small wood and had an awful moment involving a nettle.
‘My dad says this rain is just a front going through or something,’ said Flora. ‘There’s still going to be a mini-heatwave at the weekend.’
At this point the bell rang for home economics, and Jess realised that she would be required to make a pizza, and that she had forgotten the ingredients. That was the unfair thing about cooking. In all the other subjects, she could kind of busk and blag her way through. But not even Jess could make a pizza out of half a pack of chewing gum.
Jess managed to get through home economics by shamelessly charming Mrs Ford and confiding details of her mum’s mercy dash to Granny’s last night, and the fear that Granny was being exploited by a ruthless and charismatic predator. Mrs Ford, who loved sensational confidences, forgave Jess for forgetting her ingredients and found some flour and cheese for her in her store cupboard.
‘You should be a defence lawyer when you leave school,’ said Flora. ‘You can wriggle out of anything.’
Lunch seemed more relaxed without the French people, and the rain had stopped, so Jess, Flora and Jodie took their baguettes to their favourite bench in the science quad. Two girls were sitting there. They were in the same year, but a different tutor group. Jess knew them by sight, but they had never talked. One was dark-haired and slightly spotty; the other was skinny, with ginger hair and a brace.
‘Hey! This is our bench!’ said Jodie. ‘Get lost, losers!’
‘And we mean that in the nicest possible way,’ added Jess.
‘It’s OK, leave it. We can go to the field,’ said Flora.
‘The field’s wet,’ said Jodie. ‘We always sit here. It is so famously our spot.’ The ginger-haired girl flushed red with anger so that, for a moment, her freckles disappeared. Her green eyes sparkled.
‘We were here first,’ she said.
‘Don’t pick a fight, Chloe,’ said the spotty girl. She turned to Jess. ‘You can sit here if you like. We were just going anyway. That assembly you did last term was amazing.’
‘It was in the worst possible taste, though,’ said Jess, charmed that this person should have enjoyed her recent performance.
‘Yeah, that’s what I liked about it,’ said the girl. ‘All those thin people in Manhattan. “Fifty pounds will keep a New York broker in cocktails for half an hour – please give generously.’’’ She laughed and got up.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Jess, amazed that her tawdry jests had, it seemed, been memorised. The red-haired friend was still sitting on the bench, and still glaring.
‘I’m Zoe,’ said the spotty girl. ‘And this is Chloe.’
‘Nice to have a friend who
Suddenly Gerard appeared, looking vague and stylish. When he saw her, he grinned. Jess felt herself blush, remembering the dream. It was insane, but she almost felt as if Gerard knew about the dream – as if he might have had it, too.
‘Hi, Jezz,’ said Gerard.
‘Hi, Gerard,’ said Jess. She could see Jodie fighting her way through the crowd towards them, looking jealous. ‘Enjoy Oxford,’ she said. ‘Hope your day is not too bof .’
Gerard laughed. ‘You’re phoney!’ he said. Jess gave a parting nod and slipped away. At least ‘phoney’ was a step in the right direction. Maybe he’d manage ‘funny’ one day.
After registration, Jodie grabbed Jess and Flora. She looked round furtively as if she was about to reveal a big secret.
‘It’s on!’ she whispered. ‘But my auntie says there can only be six of us! So it’s going to be us three with Gerard, Edouard and Marie-Louise. There’s this amazing field just below her house, and there’s a fantastic stream running along the bottom of it, and she’s even got an outside loo, so we won’t have to go indoors.’
Jess was glad to hear about the outside loo. On a picnic once, she had retreated into a small wood and had an awful moment involving a nettle.
‘My dad says this rain is just a front going through or something,’ said Flora. ‘There’s still going to be a mini-heatwave at the weekend.’
At this point the bell rang for home economics, and Jess realised that she would be required to make a pizza, and that she had forgotten the ingredients. That was the unfair thing about cooking. In all the other subjects, she could kind of busk and blag her way through. But not even Jess could make a pizza out of half a pack of chewing gum.
Jess managed to get through home economics by shamelessly charming Mrs Ford and confiding details of her mum’s mercy dash to Granny’s last night, and the fear that Granny was being exploited by a ruthless and charismatic predator. Mrs Ford, who loved sensational confidences, forgave Jess for forgetting her ingredients and found some flour and cheese for her in her store cupboard.
‘You should be a defence lawyer when you leave school,’ said Flora. ‘You can wriggle out of anything.’
Lunch seemed more relaxed without the French people, and the rain had stopped, so Jess, Flora and Jodie took their baguettes to their favourite bench in the science quad. Two girls were sitting there. They were in the same year, but a different tutor group. Jess knew them by sight, but they had never talked. One was dark-haired and slightly spotty; the other was skinny, with ginger hair and a brace.
‘Hey! This is our bench!’ said Jodie. ‘Get lost, losers!’
‘And we mean that in the nicest possible way,’ added Jess.
‘It’s OK, leave it. We can go to the field,’ said Flora.
‘The field’s wet,’ said Jodie. ‘We always sit here. It is so famously our spot.’ The ginger-haired girl flushed red with anger so that, for a moment, her freckles disappeared. Her green eyes sparkled.
‘We were here first,’ she said.
‘Don’t pick a fight, Chloe,’ said the spotty girl. She turned to Jess. ‘You can sit here if you like. We were just going anyway. That assembly you did last term was amazing.’
‘It was in the worst possible taste, though,’ said Jess, charmed that this person should have enjoyed her recent performance.
‘Yeah, that’s what I liked about it,’ said the girl. ‘All those thin people in Manhattan. “Fifty pounds will keep a New York broker in cocktails for half an hour – please give generously.’’’ She laughed and got up.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Jess, amazed that her tawdry jests had, it seemed, been memorised. The red-haired friend was still sitting on the bench, and still glaring.
‘I’m Zoe,’ said the spotty girl. ‘And this is Chloe.’
‘Nice to have a friend who
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