Part 12 (1/2)

As they went past the gla.s.s doors of the gallery shop, Gina was stopped in her tracks by the sight of Amy looking through the racks of posters.

Except that just then the blonde head turned in her direction and Gina saw that it wasn't Amy, it was Rosie. Her hair was bundled up on her head, just like Amy's today, plus she was wearing a leather jacket, just like Amy's, red leather boots and tight jeans . . . just like Amy's.

As soon as Rosie saw Gina, she smiled and waved.

Gina smiled back and prepared to walk on, her hand still cosy and snug in Dermot's, but Rosie beckoned her over.

'There's someone I know in there who wants to say h.e.l.lo,' Gina explained to Dermot.

'No problem,' he replied, and followed her in, still not letting her hand drop.

'Hi, Rosie,' Gina greeted the younger girl. 'Buying something for your wall?'

'I'm so glad you're here. Now I can ask you: is this the poster that Amy has hanging above her bed? Or is it this one?'

Rosie flicked the rack open at one bright blue Matisse print and then again at a second. It didn't take Gina a moment to point out the right one, because her bed was opposite Amy's, so she had spent a lot of time looking at the painting.

'Are you buying it for someone?' she asked.

'Yeah, myself,' Rosie said. 'I want it to hang above my bed too. I think it's gorgeous. Amy's got such great style, hasn't she?'

Gina looked at Rosie carefully, taking in the hairstyle, the jacket, the jeans, the boots, even the little handbag Rosie was carrying: they were all exactly the same as her friend's.

'Yeah,' she answered, 'she does, but everyone has to do their own thing . . . I guess.'

Rosie just smiled back and didn't seem to take this as any sort of comment or criticism. 'So . . . Jason . . .' she asked next. 'Is Amy still seeing him, or is he now . . .?'Her question tailed off.

'Available?' Gina asked accusingly.

Rosie coloured up a little at this. 'No!' she said quickly. 'That wasn't what I meant.'

'I hope not,' Gina told her. 'Jason means a lot to Amy too much really.'

'Yeah, I suppose,' Rosie replied.

Once Gina had said goodbye to Rosie, she and Dermot walked out of the gallery. As they were strolling through the peaceful green sculpture gardens, a worrying thought came into her mind. If Rosie was trying to copy Amy in every single way, could she have taken . . . well, maybe just 'borrowed' Amy's precious necklace?

'That's a very serious face,' Dermot told her. 'You're not thinking of chucking me again, are you?'

'No!' She gave him a quick smile so he would know that he didn't need to worry about that.

'Good,' he replied, then turned and with his forefinger drew her chin gently up so that her face was tilted towards him.

When he moved in to kiss her, everyone else in the sculpture garden seemed to melt away, and for a few precious moments it was as if Gina and Dermot were the only people in the entire world.

But finally they had to break off, and after glancing at his watch, Dermot reluctantly said that he really would have to go. He swung his rucksack off his shoulder, telling her he was going to write down the names of some of the Californian artists she'd been talking about, so he could look them up.

That was cute, she couldn't help thinking as he rummaged in his bag and brought out a scruffy little diary. He was so into her, he was going to look up things she'd been talking about!

He opened the diary and pulled a stubby little pencil from its spine. 'Now, Lloyd Wright . . .' he began. 'How do I spell that?'

Gina looked down at the page he was balancing on his knee and began to spell. As her eye travelled to another entry written in red right across one of the dates, she saw something that made the words she'd intended to say next Dermot, do you want to come to our Halloween party? die in her mouth unspoken.

Quite clearly in his diary, Gina could read the scrawled words: Scarlett tonight.

Chapter Twenty-two.

When Gina arrived back at the boarding house that afternoon, she rushed to find Amy.

This wasn't to talk about Scarlett. Scarlett was something so private and awful and hurtful and confusing that she didn't think she'd ever be able to mention it to anyone. How could Dermot look at her with so much affection, kiss her so amazingly, sound so desperate to see her again and yet have an evening date with Scarlett? How could that be?

And anyway, Amy would tell her to do the perfectly obvious thing, the one thing she couldn't bring herself to do . . . Amy would say: Stop messing around, you dimwit. Ask him who the h.e.l.l Scarlett is!

But then it was so easy to give other people advice, wasn't it?

Gina would quite like to tell Amy to stop being such a dimwit herself. Jason was not worthy. No way!

Amy was in the common room, where she'd managed to s.n.a.t.c.h some time to catch up on her email on one of the school computers.

'Hi! How are your dad, Niffy and Jason?' Gina asked, guessing that this was who Amy was getting in touch with.

Amy greeted her friend with a smile. 'Had a nice little date, have we? Had a nice little smoochy-woochy in the arty gardens?'

'Yes thank you,' Gina said simply, hoping she looked as happy as she should.

'My dad is fine,' Amy replied, leaving out details of the argument she was still having with him about Jason. 'Niffy is in Edinburgh next week for a team practice, but it's on Wednesday so I doubt we'll be able to get out to see her. But her mum's doing well . . . And Jason, hah!' she groaned. 'Busy this weekend, of course, but he's going to try and come to the Halloween party and he says he'll definitely meet me during the afternoon before it . . . so, you know, another week goes by.'

'Where does he want to meet?' Gina asked.

'I said the Arts Cafe, so I won't look like a total spod when he's half an hour late. You'll come too, won't you?' Amy wheedled. 'To see your lover boy again.'

'Don't call him that,' Gina told her, but couldn't stop the blush from creeping up her neck. 'Anyway, I'm here because there's something I want to talk to you about.'

'Yeah?' Amy swivelled back on her desk chair, then hopped up and headed over towards the kettle. 'Tea?' she asked.

'No, thanks,' Gina answered, letting herself drop into one of the squashy sofas. 'I've had enough caffeine and adrenaline for one day.'

'So . . .' Amy busied herself with the whole mug and tea-bag thing. 'What's up?'

'Have you noticed how much Rosie is copying you these days?' Gina asked.

'Erm, well . . . not really, I don't think,' Amy said, but this was a fib. How could anyone not have noticed?

'Amy!' Gina protested. 'I b.u.mped into her today. She had your hairdo, your jeans, your jacket, your boots . . . in fact I thought it was you.'

'Nah . . .' Amy shrugged, feeling embarra.s.sed.