Turning Point by Barbara Spencer Page B

till the weekend? What happened and why didn’t you call me.’
    â€˜A lot happened.’ Scott smiled gratefully. ‘And two in the morning was too late. Come on, it can wait till break.’
    Hilary’s voice rose to a squeak.
‘They were shooting at you?’
    â€˜No, that’s just the point,’ Scott frowned. ‘They were shooting at Dad – I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
    â€˜But you might have been killed,’ she spluttered.
    Scott shrugged, outwardly trying to appear calm and unconcerned, his pulse racing, thrilled that the possibility of his being killed had really upset Hilary. So she did care after all.
Damn Sean Terry and his veto
. ‘They obviously still want him dead – and if he gets involved again…’
    Heads nodded sympathetically, knowing how seriously injured Bill Anderson had been, escaping death by millimetres.
    â€˜But a secret entrance into the Embassy,’ Jenny added. ‘How cool is that?’
    â€˜Oh,’ Scott gulped, his expression uncomfortable as if someone had trodden on his toe. ‘I shouldn’t have come out with that bit – it’s not supposed even to exist.’
    â€˜Who are we going to tell?’ Jameson said. ‘A donkey looks over my fence most mornings until I feed it a carrot, and the neighbours live in France.’
    â€˜Honestly, Jay.’ Jenny poked him in the ribs. ‘This is serious. So what are you going to do, Scott?’
    â€˜Stop Dad going ahead with it,’ Scott said, glad he had spoken out. It didn’t come naturally though, not after years and years of keeping his thoughts hidden. It was nice to share and it made everything… Scott paused, trying to find the right words…
less intense, more ordinary
.
    â€˜Good luck with that.’ Jameson peered round the little group their feet bunched up against the wall, the three girls facing the boys. It was a tight squeeze for six but no one complained. At least it was quiet without class mates barging in and disturbing their private conversation.
    The previous year, Jameson had discovered a half-empty cupboard in the basement corridor. Realising its potential, he had immediately put a ‘
Hazardous Materials
’ sticker on the door then, swiping the key from the secretary’s office, had made a copy before replacing it on its hook.
    â€˜If anyone asks,’ he said when Scott questioned the wisdom of his action, ‘I shall freely admit to conducting an experiment into the unquestioning obedience of the great British public.’
    Scott groaned. ‘You’ll never get away with it.’
    â€˜Course I will,’ Jameson grinned. ‘I have a reputation for conducting strange experiments and no teacher is going to admit to being taken in, especially not Fallowes, our beloved leader. Besides, no one ever comes down here. Even Wesley hasn’t weaselled it out yet.’
    He’d been right, and they’d now had sole occupation for almost a year, something Scott considered quite unbelievable in a school strapped for space.
    â€˜Jenny, did you bring the cake?’ Jameson said now.
    Jenny nodded, carefully easing a chocolate cake from a plastic carrier bag.
    â€˜What’s it in aid of?’ Mary eyed the cake covetously. ‘That looks… oh! I could eat the lot, I’m starving; I didn’t have any breakfast.’
    â€˜Don’t you dare,’ Travers muttered. ‘Remember your poor starving boyfriend. Besides, I don’t want you developing strange bumps.’
    Mary blushed and kicked him with her foot. ‘So why the cake, Jenny?’
    â€˜Because,’ Travers broke in, ‘Jenny won the four-hundred and is now British Schools Champion.’
    A chorus of congratulations hit the air, Jenny’s face as red as a beetroot.
    When it had died down, Scott said, ‘How did you get involved, Jay?’ He nodded his thanks as Jenny