Part 8 (1/2)

'Now, Dad,' Niffy warned, 'you promised you weren't going to have a go.'

'I know, but' Mr N-B crinkled his face up with displeasure 'spinach and carrot juice?' he asked.

Mrs N-B nodded.

'Don't you think you need some protein? Something to build you up?'

'Dad . . .' Niffy said gently.

Protein and something to build it up were definitely things the chicken which was served as the next course had needed before it met its end. Amy looked at the thin, stringy strands of meat, the three green beans and two small boiled potatoes on her plate, and wondered how on earth Niffy and her brother Finn got to be the size they were if all their meals were like this. No wonder Nif loved boardingschool food so much.

'So how's your old man, Amy?' Mr N-B asked as he forked up his tiny helping of chicken with gusto. 'Does he own all the fleshpots in Glasgow yet?'

This was a really odd way of putting it, but Amy was now quite used to crusty old school types finding her dad's line of business not to mention way of life quite shockingly strange. Her dad's boyfriend . . . She wondered how she could work him into the conversation she'd quite like to see how Mr N-B coped with that one. She wondered if he would turn as purple as the beetroot and seaweed drink that Mrs N-B was now sipping as her second course.

Gina and Min had already sc.r.a.ped their plates clean and Min was wondering if it would be rude to ask for a piece of bread. It had been hours and hours and hours since lunch, and she knew that what she'd eaten so far wouldn't keep her going through the night.

Both Min and Gina came from bright, hot, blueskied countries; their homes were s.h.i.+ny white and clean, and lit all day long with suns.h.i.+ne. Both were secretly thinking how truly awful it must be to live in a place like this. Dark navy blues and browns; grim paintings hanging from the wall; and the cold, the damp, bone-chilling cold. No wonder the N-B parents were so miserable. At least Niffy had been able to come to school and escape from it all.

All the hopes that had been raised by the word 'pudding' were dashed as soon as Niffy walked in with the dish: a silver platter piled high with blackberries picked from the garden. There were green ones, light purple ones, then the odd bit of leaf and twig that suggested they hadn't even been washed.

When Gina bit into one, she pulled a face because it was so small, so gritty and so sour. She decided that, rude or not, she was going to have to leave the rest on her plate, swimming in the thin coating of single cream from the elaborate silver cow creamer.

After dinner there was coffee and some more polite chit-chat in one of the slightly more cosy sitting rooms. It had escaped no one's notice that instead of coffee Mrs N-B had produced a twig from the pocket of her cardigan and stirred it thoughtfully around a mug of boiled water before drying it carefully on a napkin and replacing it.

'Liquorice,' was all she said when her husband looked up at her and shook his head.

Anyway, once it was all over, including the clearing away, Niffy grabbed her friends by the hands and led them up several flights of stairs to the low-ceilinged former servants' wing where they were to sleep.

'Don't worry I've got radiators, hot-water bottles and even' her eyes twinkled with mischief 'an electric blanket.'

'Oh s.h.a.g, I thought you were going to say a large packet of duty-free f.a.gs,' Amy sighed. 'I think that's the least we can expect after a dinner like that. I'm sorry, but you people are mad. Haven't you heard of chips? Or M&S? Or even tinned soup? I'm sorry,' she repeated, 'but where did your mum learn to cook, Nif?' 'St Jude's,' Niffy, Gina and Min answered together.

'Well, she must have been bottom of the cla.s.s.' Amy sat down heavily on the saggy double bed in the middle of a room plastered in horse photos, posters, silver trophies and rosettes.

'We're in your room, I take it?' Amy asked Niffy.

'Yup. Make yourselves at home. I even have a telly.' She pointed to an ancient old set perched on top of a chest of drawers.

'No chance of cable all the way out here, though, is there?' Amy asked.

Niffy shook her head.

'Sky?' Amy asked, but she knew it was a long shot. 'A DVD player?'

When Niffy shook her head at both these suggestions, Amy couldn't help asking, 'What do you people do for fun round here?'

'We make our own, of course,' Niffy said, and with that she sprang up and went over to the chest of drawers. From the bottom drawer she carefully drew out a mammoth bar of chocolate, four paper cups, a corkscrew and a bottle of wine so dark it almost looked black.

As she set it down on the bedside table, Gina couldn't help noticing the layer of dust and the faded, brown, curling label. 'Jeez, that looks old,' she told Niffy.

'Yeah.' Niffy took a closer look at the label. 'Nineteen sixty-nine. Oops! It's from the cellar. I usually stay clear of any labels I recognize, but I thought you deserved something a little special.'

She turned the label towards Amy, who could be counted on to recognize the finer things in life. 'Chateau la Tour . . .' Amy read out hesitantly. 'Yeah . . . I think that's quite good.'

'Excellent!' Niffy exclaimed, and began to set to enthusiastically with the corkscrew.

'Niffy, are you drinking a lot of wine . . . up here, on your own?' wondered Min, who came from a family of caring doctors.

'No' Niffy shook her head 'you don't need to worry about me, honestly. I share a sneaked bottle with Finn whenever he's home, but no, I'm not sitting up here with my hot-water bottle drinking the cellar dry.'

Min smiled. 'Glad to hear it.'

Once all the paper cups were filled, the girls found seats on the bed or the battered sofa beside it, then raised their cups in a toast.

'Cheers!'

'Now,' Amy said, as soon as the first mouthfuls had gone down, 'let's talk about boys.'

Chapter Fourteen.

The paper cupfuls of wine, the cosy warmth now that the heaters were turned up full blast and the comforting chaos of the room itself all helped the girls to relax.

All four of them were together again; it was just like old times, familiar times. Suddenly it was easy to really talk and confide, especially for Niffy, who'd had no one to talk to properly for weeks now. Her older brother had not, like her, moved back home. He had exams to sit, so their parents wouldn't hear of him leaving his expensive boarding school, Craigiefield. They had only let Niffy come back because she had so stubbornly insisted.

'What's your new school like?' asked Gina, who had experience of moving from one place to another.

Niffy's reaction was to toss back the last of the wine in her cup before saying levelly, 'It's s.h.i.+t. But can we please not talk about that? Let's talk about Angus.'

'Angus?' Amy chimed in, making a mental note to ask Niffy all about her new school privately. 'What's happening with Angus?'

'Angus?' Min sounded mystified. She'd obviously forgotten all about the cheerful, jokey St Lennox boy who'd asked Niffy for a date at the end of the summer term.

'Oh yes, Angus!' Gina exclaimed. She remembered Angus well. 'Have you seen him?'

To their surprise, Niffy looked quite shy as she told them, 'He's got an aunt and uncle who live not far from here, and . . . well, let's just say he's been spending quite a bit of time visiting them recently.'

'Woo-hoo,' Amy teased. 'Is he providing a shoulder to lean on?'

'You could say that . . .' Niffy admitted. 'But he's not exactly handsome, is he?' she asked with a grin. 'I mean, he has a kind face but it's a bit . . . meaty.'

This caused the three others to crack up with laughter.

'But he's a really nice guy . . . and his bod!' she added, before anyone thought Angus was just a friend. Because he was definitely more than a friend.