Part 2 (1/2)

'Is that an antique?' she asked cheekily.

'Shut up!' Dermot said with a smile. 'Just because my parents don't work in the software business. We're not that poor, you know,' he added, eyes fixed on the screen. 'There's just a lot of money tied up in Dad's cafe.'

Gina was glad when he kept on looking at the screen, because she could feel herself blus.h.i.+ng. She knew she wasn't supposed to notice how poor Dermot and his family seemed to be in comparison to hers, but the differences kept taking her by surprise.

Dermot fired the machine up, and with lots of whirring, wheezing and clunking, the screen finally came to life. Gina's blush deepened when she saw that his screensaver was a huge photo of herself in a bikini, holding a drink, with the bright blue of the pool behind her.

It all looked so bright, so vibrant and so totally at odds with this poky little room in the back of beyond that Gina felt a stab of homesickness pierce right through her; suddenly, just like Jane, she wondered what on earth she was doing here.

Then Dermot suddenly stood up, put his hands on her shoulders and brushed her cheek with his lips, reminding her that it wasn't all so bad.

'I think you should take a look at my photos,' he said.

'Your photos?' she wondered.

'Yeah.'

Gina looked about the room but couldn't see what he meant. Then Dermot directed her attention to the bottom bunk. All along the back wall were quirky shots and landscapes.

'Did you take those?' she asked, craning down to see.

'Yeah,' Dermot told her. 'It's OK, you can sit on the bed to get a closer look.'

'I can sit on your bed?' Gina asked with a teasing smile, feeling her stomach flip with excitement suddenly. She slid herself across the bed, propped her head up on her elbow and asked: 'Are you going to give me a guided tour?'

Not saying anything, not taking his eyes off her face for a moment, Dermot moved across the bed towards her. Then he was pressed in against her, warm, solid and excitingly unfamiliar. His hands were on the bare skin of her back and she was kissing him fiercely, feeling his breath against her face.

When she opened her eyes, she saw his dark lashes brus.h.i.+ng against his cheek. She put her hand up to touch his face and was surprised by the p.r.i.c.kliness of his jaw, but also by the softness of his cheek.

He was running a finger over the dip in her waist and it felt teasing and ticklish and- 'Maybe you two should go out! Show Gina the neighbourhood!' came Jane's shrill voice from the other side of the door, so loudly that they sprang apart in shock.

'Yeah . . .' Dermot cleared his throat. 'Good idea,' he added.

With a parting kiss on the tip of Gina's nose, he rolled off the bed and headed out of the door, telling her, 'I'll keep the dragon at bay see you in a minute.'

Slowly, feeling almost dizzy, Gina got to her feet. She smoothed down her hair, fastened a blouse b.u.t.ton that had come undone and looked around for a mirror.

Her eye fell on the computer screen. Dermot had left the doc.u.ments list open and she scanned down it. Bio Proj 1, 2, 3 and 4 were listed; then came lots of photo files; then her eye fell on SCARLETT, a file name picked out in capitals.

Without even thinking about whether she should or not, she put her hand on the mouse and clicked the file open. Well, Scarlett? Could any girl have spotted a name like that on her boyfriend's computer and not have wondered who it referred to?

The file opened and Gina saw a page packed with typed words: Lovely, lovely Scarlett, she read, so smooth-skinned and so kind, please just give me hope that one day you'll be mine . . .

'Gina?' Dermot called up from the hallway. 'How about we go out for a bit?'

With an unsteady hand, Gina clicked the file shut, tried to blank out the shock she was now feeling and walked quickly out of the room.

In the weeks leading up to this date, this first proper date with Dermot, Gina had imagined all sorts of little scenes. She and Dermot in Edinburgh's beautiful Prince's Street Gardens, licking ice creams and joking together; she and Dermot running up the many stairs to the very top of the Scott monument and kissing, breathless, at the top; she and Dermot walking hand in hand through the historic cobbled streets of the Gra.s.smarket . . .

Not one of her daydreams had included the tour she and Dermot now took of this dull bit of suburban Edinburgh.

Past a lackl.u.s.tre row of shops, Dermot pointing out his large gla.s.s-and-concrete high school in the distance, then left into a graffiti'd play park.

When Dermot had said it was boring round here, he hadn't been exaggerating. This was the most boring place in boring land. Where was everyone for a start? Even though the sun had come out, the park was empty.

All the time, Gina was listening to Dermot talk and saying very little; she just wanted to shout out: Who is Scarlett? But she was too . . . too what exactly? Too nervous? Too scared? She was half-convinced that it was nothing something she'd misread or misunderstood but then she was also half sure that Scarlett must be the girl Dermot really wanted to be with but couldn't.

Dermot pushed his swing closer to hers, took hold of her swing chains and pulled her in towards him. 'Take me away from all this!' he said melodramatically. 'I can't believe I brought you out here! It was just because of the bags-'

'And because I wanted to come. I asked to see your home . . .' Gina reminded him.

'And now you've found out I live in a dog toilet and you're going to dump me. Please don't dump me!' he pleaded.

'Shut up, Dermot!' she insisted.

She liked him; she really did like him. But she felt all stirred up inside, and not just with the unspoken angst about Scarlett. Dermot was so different from her and all her friends. Without even mentioning it, he made her realize how rich her family and her friends' families were. Before, she'd never given it much thought; now she felt strangely uncomfortable about it.

Although Gina had dated a few boys from her school back home, that had just been like kissing school friends she'd known for ever. Getting to know someone new like this . . . It was so different, so nerve-racking. She didn't know yet if she could even commit to being with Dermot. All she could see ahead were complications: feeling jealous and confused about Scarlett, feeling too rich, feeling uncomfortable, feeling nervous and uncertain . . .

'Wel . . . it was fun while it lasted,' Dermot said with a teasing smile, his face right up close to hers.

She was looking deeply into his blue eyes, which were startling now that there was no curtain of hair for them to peep through.

Then his lips were touching hers again, and somehow when he kissed her and she closed her eyes, it was just Dermot, and everything was OK again. When he kissed her, Scarlett and swimming pools, teeny family houses and nerves didn't matter any more.

When Gina finally remembered to look at her watch, she was panic-stricken to see that the time was 3.45! What? 3.45!

'OhmiG.o.d!' she cried out, springing up from her swing. 'I have to go. I have to go right now should have gone ages ago. I have to be back at the boarding house by four at the latest, or I am in so much trouble!'

Chapter Four.

It didn't matter how quickly they'd run back to Dermot's house, how important they'd made it sound when they booked the cab or how speedily Gina had urged the driver to get there. When she pulled up at number 9 Bute Gardens it was 4.49. Late. Late! Being late was something they took very seriously at St Jude's. She shoved some notes towards the driver and hauled her pink bags out of the car as quickly as she could.

Already there were no longer any parents' cars in the driveway. The usual collection of estates, four-by-fours, glitzy saloons, BMWs and Mercs was all gone. To Gina's surprise, the only thing parked outside the imposing stone boarding house was a police car. What was going on?

She stumbled along as best she could, weighed down by the bags. Only a hundred metres to the front door, but then a set of stone steps ahead of her.

Gina yanked the bags up behind her, arms burning with the effort. She decided to take one first and then the other. She was just reaching the top of the steps with her second bag in tow when she looked through the big gla.s.s pane in the door.

Two women police officers in hats and thick bulletproof vests, batons and cuffs hanging from their belts, were deep in conversation with the housemistress, Mrs Norah Knebworth.

Now, Mrs K may have been quite stout and quite short, even in her two-inch, block-heeled, s.h.i.+ny patent pumps, but she was formidable when her towering blonde beehive loomed up at you. Yes, somehow she did manage to loom up at people, in much the same way that taller, more frightening women could loom down. When she fixed her beady eyes on you and drew her lips into a thin line, crossed her arms underneath her terrifyingly solid bosoms, then yes, she was a force to be reckoned with.

There wasn't going to be any sneaking in late here, Gina realized. She was thinking fast . . . Could she say her plane was delayed? Could she say she met someone in town for lunch an old family friend, or one of the school's day pupils and plead that she'd lost track of time?