By Midnight (25 page)
Caro held up one finger to stop Simon from saying anything inappropriate and turned to April. ‘All right. If it was me some boy hadn’t called, what would you tell me to do?’
April sighed.
‘Come on,’ prompted Caro impatiently.
‘I’d tell you to call him.’
‘Exactly! So why don’t you?’
April gave her a bleak look. ‘I don’t have his number. He said he’d call me, remember?’
Caro’s face fell. ‘Oh. I don’t have it either. Simon?’
‘Nope. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a phone.’
‘I thought you were the best-connected man in Ravenwood.’
‘Honey, I am, but I can’t force every pupil to join the twenty-first century. It’s hard enough getting some of them to join the twentieth.’
They all sat staring at the floor.
‘Well, can’t we just engineer a meeting?’ said Caro more brightly. ‘Couldn’t we stake out his house and then April could just conveniently bump into him?’
‘Oh yes, and she could be wearing a miniskirt and a studded bra!’
‘WHAT?’ chorused Caro and April.
‘Just in my mind,’ Simon sniffed. ‘I’m thinking of her as a kick-ass kind of woman, a real bad-girl vibe.’
Caro slapped him on the arm.
‘Well, okay, assuming for a moment I even have a miniskirt, where does Gabriel live?’ asked April.
Caro and Simon looked at each other.
‘No idea,’ said Simon.
‘Me neither,’ said Caro. ‘Now I think about it, I haven’t really seen him anywhere except school. And he’s not there very often.’
‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask about that,’ said April. ‘Why is he never in school? In fact, a lot of the sixth form seem to come and go as they please - am I missing something?’
Simon laughed and shook his head. ‘Uh-oh,’ he said, ‘don’t get her started on this one.’
April looked at Caro. ‘What does he mean?’
Caro shot daggers at Simon. ‘It’s nothing, A, honestly. He’s just stirring, he can’t seem to help himself.’
April looked back at Simon.
‘Hey, ask Miss Marple here, it’s nothing to do with me.’ Seeing that April wasn’t going to give up, Simon sighed and said, ‘Caro has a theory that the Faces and the rugby boys are all somehow linked to this massive conspiracy behind Ravenwood. She thinks they have some sort of agreement that they can sit around gossiping and doing their nails and that the school board will guarantee them sparkling Oxbridge-level results at the end of the year.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘For once, I think Caro’s got a point. You don’t see those rich kids doing any work and they do seem to turn up whenever they like.’
‘Maybe they’re just geniuses.’
‘You have met Davina Osbourne?’ Simon looked at his watch. ‘Oh God, is that the time? All this talk of dates and I forget my own.’
‘Who is it this time? A biker? A cowboy?’ said Caro cattily, but April knew she was masking her true feelings. She hadn’t missed the fleeting look of disappointment cross her face when he’d said ‘date’.
‘Ask me no questions,’ said Simon, tapping the side of his nose. ‘And I think I’d better escort you home too, young lady. The streets aren’t safe these days.’
They both hugged April and she saw them to the door.
‘Don’t worry, honey, he will call,’ said Simon as she closed the door. ‘Boys are only interested in one thing and believe me, you’ve got loads of it.’
April smiled as she waved them off, but she still couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in her stomach.
Her mother was sitting in the kitchen, watching a soap on the little portable TV on the corner of the breakfast bar.
‘Your little friends have gone, darling?’ she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.
‘Yes.’ April sighed, opening the fridge, seeing nothing she wanted, then closing it again with a thump.
‘That’s nice,’ said her mother vaguely, reaching for the glass of white wine in front of her. ‘Have a good chat?’
April glared at the back of her mother’s head. ‘No, we had a massive orgy and smoked a huge pipe of crack, thanks for asking.’
She waited for a reaction, but her mother’s eyes seemed glued to the screen.
Shaking her head, April turned on her heel in disgust and headed towards the stairs. As she reached the door, April heard a click as the TV shut off.
‘I hear what you say to me, you know,’ said her mother quietly.
April’s mouth was open as she spun back around.
‘All the jokes about axemen and drugs?’ said Silvia. ‘I hear it all. I’m not a geriatric quite yet.’
‘So why don’t you ever say anything?’
Her mother gave a hollow laugh. ‘I thought you preferred it that way.’
April bristled. She wasn’t in the mood for any of her mother’s games. The truth was, if her parents hadn’t forced her to move down to this horrible little village, April would still be happy. Mooning over Neil Stevenson, no doubt, but that was better than being assaulted in the toilets of some weird new school and being ignored by some strange boy who loved graveyards and couldn’t seem to make up his mind about her. When it came down to it, it was all Silvia’s fault.
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ said April angrily. ‘You really think I want a mother who ignores me?’
Silvia smiled and sipped her wine slowly. ‘I thought you preferred me to fulfil the role of the ignorant mother, so you can be the long-suffering daughter.’
‘No, I’d rather have a mother who talks to me and who seems to care what I do.’
Silvia put her glass down. ‘What makes you think I don’t care?’
‘Why would I? When have you ever said anything nice to me or encouraged anything I do?’
‘But you’re always so good at everything—’
‘That’s such crap!’ spat April. She knew she was being unfair, but she was spoiling for a fight. The Marcus thing, her father’s notebook, the dead fox, it had all been building up. And now Gabriel’s rejection, someone she’d been sure she’d made a connection with, was enough to make steam blow from her ears. ‘I bet you don’t even know what subjects I’m doing at school, do you?’
‘No, but your father was always the one who got involved with your schoolwork.’
‘See? See! You have no interest in your own daughter. I’ve always been a disappointment. I’m not pretty enough, not popular enough, I can’t even choose my own party dress.’
Silvia jumped to her feet and came across the kitchen towards April, her arms open. ‘Oh, darling, please don’t talk this way,’ she said, but April backed towards the door.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said, trying to duck her mother’s embrace. ‘Don’t try to pretend you care how I’m feeling.’
Ignoring her, Silvia pulled April into a tight embrace and she immediately burst into tears.
‘It’s not fair,’ April sobbed, ‘I try so hard to do my best but no one cares, no one sees that this is hard on me too, all you care about is going out and shouting at each other.’
Finally April cried herself out and collapsed on her mother’s shoulder. Silvia waited until her sobs stopped, then plucked a fresh tissue from a box on the kitchen counter and handed it to her daughter with a smile. ‘Come on,’ she said, rubbing April’s back, ‘I think this calls for hot chocolate.’ She sat her daughter down on one of the barstools and April blew her nose as her mother busied herself at the stove. By the time she had placed a steaming mug of thick hot chocolate in front of her, April had dried her eyes. She sipped the hot drink slowly and regarded her mother warily.
‘Why do you and Dad have to argue all the time?’ she asked.
Her mother gave a short laugh, then blew her cheeks out. ‘I ... I don’t know. He and I are too alike, maybe.’ She glanced at April and seemed about to say something, then shook her head slightly. ‘It’s complicated, darling. There’s some things your dad and I need to sort out, I suppose, but somehow life always gets in the way.’ She looked at April with a soft smile. ‘I know it can’t be easy for you, with the move and the new school and everything. I guess you could do without your dad and me arguing as well.’
April snorted into her chocolate. ‘You’ve got that right.’
Her mother nodded. ‘I’ll try harder. We both will, I promise. ’
They sank into an agreeable silence for a minute or two.
‘So, what else is bothering you?’ asked her mother softly.
April sighed. ‘How long have you got?’
Silvia smiled. ‘As long as you need.’
April still wasn’t in the mood to discuss her relationship disasters, especially not with her mother, who was completely beautiful and glamorous and - according to her grandfather at least - had dated princes and billionaires. Anyway, what was she going to say? ‘You’re way too good for that boy, forget about him’?
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Silvia.
‘Oh yes?’
‘You’re thinking, “What can this old hag know about men?” I mean, what with me being so close to death and all.’
‘Hang on, how do you know this is about a man?’
‘Darling, it’s
always
about men. Nothing else can get you so upset and confused. Why do you think I spend so much time arguing with your father? So who is he?’
always
about men. Nothing else can get you so upset and confused. Why do you think I spend so much time arguing with your father? So who is he?’
April thought for a moment.
Oh
,
what the hell ...
Oh
,
what the hell ...
‘His name’s Gabriel. He’s in my Philosophy class.’
‘Ah. And is he good-looking?’
‘Mum!’
‘What? I’m assuming you’re not going to get all weepy over some ugly troll.’
April giggled despite herself. ‘Yes, he is good-looking. Gorgeous, actually. And infuriating.’
‘Didn’t call when he said he would?’
April looked at her mother with new eyes. It was as if she could read her mind all of a sudden. Silvia reached out and gave her daughter’s hand a squeeze.
‘It’s not magic, darling. Men have been the same way for hundreds of years. Girls in crinoline skirts worrying why some dashing soldier hadn’t sent them a scented note. It’ll be the same for your daughters, too.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing.’
‘Okay, here’s what you have to do - positive visualisation.’
‘What?’
‘Come on, I know it sounds crazy, but humour me, okay?’
Silvia stood up and took April by the shoulders. She fixed her eyes on April’s and stared at her intently.
‘Mum,’ she complained, wriggling away.
‘Just close your eyes, okay?’
April smirked, but she did as she was told.
‘Right, now picture yourself looking super-glamorous. You’re the ideal version of April - even prettier and cleverer than the real you. The sexiest you can be.’
‘This may take a while,’ said April.
‘Don’t do yourself down, darling. Give it a chance. Okay, have you got it?’
April nodded. She was imagining herself as a femme fatale in a long black dress, her hair swept up, diamonds around her neck. A slight
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
vibe, if she was honest.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
vibe, if she was honest.
‘Right, where are you?’
‘On the Riviera, walking along the seafront, stopping traffic.’
Silvia laughed. ‘Excellent. Now there’s a man coming towards you - who is it?’
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