Seven For a Secret by Judy Astley Page A

chickens from someone’s back garden hen-run. A note pinned to its kennel had warned that it was ‘lively’, which she took quite rightly to mean that, given its freedom, it would take off, deaf to any commands, and turn up two days later on the other side of Oxford. She’d chosen it because it was so pretty, its fur was flowing and blonde, brushed to gleaming show-standard under Margot’s doting care. Secretly, as she was hauled energetically round the village pond while the dog attempted a hopeless chase of the ducks, she thought the pair of them made a rather gorgeously complementary couple: both long-legged and slim, both with flowing golden hair. Perhaps Shane Gibson’s older brother Darren and his less attractive, jeering mates would realize how stunning she was, and in a desirable class way above the slaggy bus-shelter girls. Unfortunately, Darren was nowhere to be seen that day, and by the time she’d strode several times round the council estate, through the woods (nervously, in case of stray lone men) and across the recreation ground, where he might be smoking on the swings, she and the dog were both trailing their feet and drooping their flaxen heads.
    â€˜Rather a stunning pair of blondes,’ A smooth, appreciative (at last) voice could be heard saying in the orchard as Kate unleashed the dog and sent him, exhausted, to the water bowl in his kennel. Kate shoved her hair out of her face and smiled up at Margot and the man with her. She assumed he must be one of the actors – he had the craggy, over-large features that look so good on the screen. She could just imagine him playing the sort of rather dated ruthless spy who never failed to lure beautiful women to his bed. She could feel herself glowing under the smiling warmth of his all-over scrutiny of her, as he looked her up and down in a frankly sexual way. He was too old, way, way too old, even the fully ripe Margot looked quite spring-chickenish beside him, but she was happy to have him inspecting her like that, as if he could spread her on toast and nibble her like an expensive, savoury delicacy. The most she could have hoped for from Darren was a brooding glare from under the shadowy peak of his baseball cap. She thought of this as good practice for later – learning how to react without either girlish simpering or a tarty reciprocal leer.
    â€˜This is Kate – she lives along the road and comes to walk the dogs for me. Little holiday job till school starts again,’ Margot explained.
    Kate thought that was catty, but managed not to scowl with fury and retort, childishly, that she wasn’t going back to school but on to college. Margot might then explain that it wasn’t
real
college, just sixth-form, for A-levels – or at least she would if, as Kate suspected, she fancied the man herself. And who, of that ancient age group wouldn’t, she thought condescendingly.
    â€˜She’ll be coming to your party, won’t she Margot, if she’s a neighbour? I do like to have the young ones around on social occasions, so enlivening,’ he said.
    Kate squirmed with glee, loving being discussed as if she was a pretty piece of desirable confectionery.
    Margot grinned at her. ‘Of course. And her parents, we’re great friends – you must meet them.’
    Kate skipped off home feeling that all her insides were tingling. Too letchy and old, practically grandfatherly, she thought, not what I’m looking for at all. She stared in useless hope across the rec to see if Darren was lurking. Surely he’d notice how
glowing
she was feeling? How lovely, how delicious to be noticed, she thought.

Chapter Six
    On his way to the kitchen Tom wandered past the phone, looking at it sideways and willing it to ring. He didn’t want to call Hughie, that would look eager, but he very much wanted to know if Hughie was still interested enough to call
him.
Really, this sort of thing should be kept for