Secret Schemes and Daring Dreams (4 page)

MOST OF THE GANG WERE ALREADY SITTING AT THE BAR
or strutting their stuff on the neon-lit dance floor by the time Emma and Lucy arrived. And within seconds, Lucy was draped all over Adam and indulging in some interesting lip aerobics. Emma, while being as open-minded as the next person, had no real desire to be an up-close spectator, and certainly was not going to succumb to the banal come-ons of Simon and his drooling mates. She glanced around the dimly-lit club in the hopes of spotting someone she knew with whom she could have an intelligent conversation.

‘Isn't that Harriet?' she murmured, nudging Serena who was queuing with Tabitha at the bar. ‘Over there in the corner?'

Serena peered across the room. ‘What on earth is she doing here?' she muttered. ‘Pretend you haven't see her – she's probably with the rest of the saddos from Mouldy Hill.'

Emma glared at her. When Mole Hill Secondary, the
worst sink school in town, had been the target of an arson attack, Deepdale Hall had offered to take Harriet and the few other sixth formers so that they could finish their A-level studies. As Mrs Goddard, the elegant and charismatic principal, explained to her privileged pupils, it behoved them all to share their good fortune with those to whom life had dealt a raw deal. (She failed to mention that since the Government had only recently declared that all independent schools should use their expertise to assist failing secondary schools, she was certain of highly favourable headlines in an assortment of national newspapers as well as a very useful financial reward.)

The Mole Hillers had stood out like sore thumbs among the self-confident, affluent students of Deepdale Hall and most of Emma's friends had pointedly ignored their existence. Even Emma, who prided herself on her ability to talk to anyone, realised on reflection that she could have been a bit more welcoming. So when she had overheard Mrs Goddard mentioning to the head of Sixth Form that Harriet Smith had been through ‘a particularly trying time in the last few years' and muttering something about ‘if you read it in a book, you would be hard pressed to believe it,' her curiosity had been aroused and she had decided that the poor girl needed befriending.

In the short time she had known her, she had discovered that Harriet, who was extremely pretty in a chubby, Rubens-maiden kind of way, was really very sweet. She was softly spoken, with the faintest Welsh lilt to her voice, and she had neither nose ring nor tattoo;
and her gorgeous chestnut hair did not come out of a bottle. Sadly, she had no self-confidence and wore clothes that were
so
last season. To her credit, she was hugely grateful to Emma for taking notice of her and was perfectly happy to answer all her questions. Within half an hour of their first meeting, she had discovered that Harriet had once been a pupil at Oak Lodge private school but, following family problems, she had left and gone to Mole Hill three years before.

‘Problems?' Emma had rested a hand lightly on Harriet's arm to instil confidence and encourage her to spill the beans.

‘We lost all our money,' Harriet had told her quite openly. ‘My dad gambles. Big time. And when he loses, he drinks.' She sighed. ‘And then Mum – well, because of all the stress, she's ended up in Lady Chichester Hospital.'

Emma had been very impressed by Harriet's honesty; most people would have stuck with the wayward father and avoided mentioning a mother in a psychiatric hospital.

‘That must be hard for you,' Emma sympathised.

‘Thank you.' It was the simple sincerity with which Harriet spoke that had made Emma's mind up. She might be poor, her jeans might be badly cut, but she had potential. All she needed was someone with style, savvy and street-cred to sort her out. Which was clearly why Fate had sent her to Emma's school.

She had meant to start at once with a makeover – but revision and exams had spoilt her good intentions and, since Harriet was doing environmental sciences and
music, and Emma was studying psychology, art and business studies, they hadn't exchanged more than a few words for at least six weeks. Now was clearly the time to put that right.

‘You're not going over, are you?' Serena demanded as Emma picked up her drink. ‘She'll only want to tag on with us all evening and she is
so
boring.'

‘You really think she'd choose to hang out with a snob like you?' Emma remarked, turning her back and heading over to where Harriet was sitting.

‘Hi, Harriet, how are you?' As she squeezed into the seat next to her new friend, she realised the question was a pretty unnecessary one. Harriet had clearly been crying; a couple of crumpled tissues lay discarded on the table, the whites of her eyes were distinctly pink and she was staring miserably first at her watch and then at her mobile phone.

‘What's happened? Has someone stood you up?'

‘How did you know?' Harriet asked incredulously.

‘Call it a wild guess,' Emma said, smiling. ‘Come on – who is it?'

‘Rob,' Harriet said, sniffing. ‘The guy I told you about over lunch that day?'

‘Did you?' Emma had no recollection of either a shared lunch or a love element in Harriet's life but didn't think this was the time to say so. ‘I mean – yes, yes, Rob. And?'

‘He was supposed to meet me here – well, at least I think it was here – at eight o'clock, or it could have been nine, but anyway . . .'

‘You're sure his name is Rob?' Emma teased.

‘Of course I am,' Harriet replied, missing the joke completely. ‘We're – well, we're not anything really, well we are sort of . . .'

‘OK,' Emma said, her patience finally beginning to run out. ‘Give me your phone.'

She didn't wait for a response but picked up the bright pink mobile, scanned the phone book and gestured to Harriet.

‘Is this him? Rob Martin?'

Harriet nodded. ‘Yes, but what are you doing? You can't —'

‘Watch me!' Emma replied sternly. She began keying in a message.

Am at Mango M's. R U coming? If not am going on 2 a party. Harriet.

She read the message back to Harriet.

‘Emma, no, you can't . . .'

‘Too late,' Emma announced cheerfully. ‘Done it!'

‘But I'm not going to a party—' Harriet began.

‘No, but he doesn't know that,' Emma explained. ‘You have to do this with guys – let them think that you've got better things to do than wait for them, right?'

Harriet chewed her lip and said nothing, eyeing her phone as if it was about to explode.

‘So come on, tell me about him,' Emma said. ‘What's he like? How long have you been an item? What's the low-down?'

‘He's Libby's brother,' she said. ‘Libby's my best friend – my only friend – at Mole Hill. She's doing media studies – you know, she's the one with the strawberry streak in her hair and the butterfly tattoo on her ankle?'

Bad start, thought Emma, but kept smiling encouragingly.

‘I've been staying with her for a couple of weeks, ever since they repossessed our house . . .'

‘What? Someone took your house away? Why?'

‘It's what happens when your father doesn't pay the mortgage for months on end,' Harriet replied, ruefully. ‘Libby's mum said I could sleep on the sofa bed till things got sorted. 'Course, Dad's doing his usual head-in-the-sand stuff and disappeared off to recoup his losses – which means he might win enough to rent somewhere for a month or so before he loses it all again at the races – and . . .'

‘Harriet, that's awful.'

Emma was genuinely distressed. The thought of not having your own bedroom and bathroom and chilling-out space was just too horrific. So horrific she changed the subject.

‘So you and Rob are an item?'

‘Well, not an item, exactly,' Harriet admitted. ‘I really like him and he told Libby he thought I was kinda cute and, the first night I was there, we went out in a foursome with Libby and her boyfriend.' She sighed. ‘And then yesterday I went to the Sea Life Centre – that's where he's working for the summer – and he was there and he said “hi” and I said “hi” . . .'

Without doubt, thought Emma, their conversation would make the front page of the
Sun
seem intellectually challenging.

‘And then he said let's meet for a drink on our own – he said “on our own”, Emma, and that must mean . . .
well. Anyway, I said great, and he said – well, I think he said to come here tonight. But now I'm wondering whether it was somewhere else. See, I was so nervous . . .'

‘Nervous? Of him?' Emma asked.

‘No silly, I was nervous because I was there for an interview for a job. Only I didn't get it.'

It was as if a flash bulb had gone off in Emma's brain.

‘A holiday job? For the summer? And you didn't get it?'

Watch it, she told herself sharply. You're starting to sound like her.

Harriet shook her head. ‘They said I lacked experience. Which is true, but I so need the money.' She swallowed hard. ‘Last week, I couldn't even afford to take Mum her favourite chocolate bar. And I've had to ditch my piano tuition. I'll do anything. Only jobs are thin on the ground. I guess I've left it too late.'

Emma thought fast. This was her chance: OK, so Harriet wasn't exactly overflowing with confidence and social graces but she'd be grateful and work hard; and, more importantly, Emma could help her get back with the sort of people she used to know before her useless father ruined her life.

‘And you'd do anything? Like making beds? Or waitressing?' she asked eagerly.

‘Sure, but I've tried all the hotels and they're full of Poles and Estonians who are there for the long haul,' Harriet said. ‘The job I was after was perfect; it was in the gift shop at the Sea Life Centre. I wanted to be near Rob, you see.'

Her voice faded plaintively.

‘Harriet, forget Rob. Forget the Sea Life Centre. Your problems are over.' She squeezed her friend's arm. ‘How would you like . . .?' she began and then paused as Harriet's phone bleeped.

‘It's him!' Harriet snatched the phone, scanned the message and then dropped it into her lap. Emma seized it.

Sorry. V. busy. Enjoy party. Rob.

One look at Harriet's distraught expression did away with the last vestige of doubts about her grand scheme. What Harriet needed was a fresh start with people who were clued up about priorities.

‘How would you like a job somewhere really swish – and starting immediately?' she asked.

Harriet's pale blue eyes widened.

‘It's at Donwell Abbey.' She paused, realising that someone like Harriet probably hadn't a clue what that was. ‘It's a country house-hotel-type place in my village.' She paused as Harriet's chubby face turned pinker by the second. ‘And forget sofa beds! You can stay at my house – it's next door to Donwell. And don't worry, you'd have your own room and bathroom.'

Harriet's mouth dropped open and Emma couldn't help thinking she resembled one of the fish in the Sea Life tanks.

‘It's not mega bucks, but better than a lot of jobs and there are loads of perks,' she pressed on, assuming that money was, quite naturally, a major issue for her friend. ‘And you'd get at least two days off a week so we could do loads of stuff together.' Like remodelling you, waving two fingers to your father . . . Emma thought.

Harriet clamped her hands to her mouth and stared at Emma.

‘Harriet, there is just one condition to this job – you have to speak,' Emma teased. ‘Yes or no?'

‘Oh my God!' Harriet gasped. ‘Me? With you?'

‘Harriet!'

‘Yes, yes, yes!' Harriet cried. ‘I can't believe it! I mean, I've never been anywhere that posh in my entire life. Not even when we had money. No slot machines for Dad to bash, I guess,' she added with a sigh.

‘Just keep that fact to yourself, OK?' Emma begged her. ‘And do as I say, right?'

‘Of course.' Harriet nodded eagerly. ‘Just wait till I text Rob . . .'

‘Harriet, no way!' Emma gasped. ‘He has just stood you up – keep him guessing. Don't get in touch till he comes grovelling.'

‘But what if he thinks I'm going to the party with a boy? What if—?'

‘All the better,' Emma declared firmly. ‘You mustn't be too available. Trust me, I know about these things.'

‘Oh Emma, thank you, thank you.' Harriet's eyes were actually glistening with unshed tears and Emma felt a huge wave of compassion for her friend. mixed with the satisfaction that, yet again, her perception and charity was about to make life better for another human being.

Catching sight of Lucy and Adam entwined around one another on the dance floor, she smiled to herself. She'd done it before and she could do it again. Harriet didn't only deserve a decent summer job. She deserved to be rescued from the pit into which her father had cast
her; she deserved more than a guy who put lobsters before love.

She made a vow there and then that, by the time the summer was over, Harriet's life would be changed for ever.

‘So I'm off the hook? You won't keep looking at me like I've caused World War Three?' Lucy teased, after Harriet had left the club to go and tell Libby and her mum that she would be leaving and Emma had filled her in on the job situation.

‘You're forgiven,' Emma said, smiling, still basking in the warm glow of doing a good turn. ‘Harriet's a more deserving cause than you ever were.'

‘Good,' Lucy replied. ‘Because Adam and I need your help.'

‘You didn't look as if you needed anyone's help a moment ago,' Emma said. ‘Talk about full-on snogging.'

‘Stop it!' Lucy blushed and glanced across to the bar where Adam was getting drinks. ‘It's about Freddie.'