Secrets at St Jude's: New Girl (28 page)

NEW GIRL

through university and a job she was never allowed to escape from, except in the school holidays.

When the car arrived, Gina’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. It was a long, sleek black limousine. A driver in a peaked cap and gloves got out, took her luggage and loaded it effortlessly into the boot.

‘So we’re off to the airport, Miss Peterson?’ he asked her.

‘Well . . . erm . . .’ Gina checked her wristwatch: there was still plenty of time. Time enough to make the little detour she’d planned. ‘Can we just head into town first?’ she asked.

‘Anywhere you like, miss. Your wish is my command!’ he answered with a smile.

In the back seat of the car, Gina opened the mini-bar and saw that it was stacked with cans of fizzy drink, bottles of water, and crisps. She set two cans of Coke out on the table, alongside two glasses, and opened some crisps.

With a thrilling mixture of terror and excitement, she re-dialled the number on her cell phone, which had been handed back to her that morning.

As the limo pulled up in the narrow cobbled street, Gina could see an astonished face looking down from 321

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the upstairs window, then a hand waving at the sight of her.

A few moments later, Dermot O’Hagan cast off his white apron and, with his dad’s permission, took two hours out from his shift. He ran out of the café, taking the stairs three at a time.

Gina waited in the car, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He was lovely! And he was so into her.

Wasn’t he? Of course he was . . . He was rushing down a flight of stairs to get to her. She hugged herself. This was going to be wonderful . . . wasn’t it?

‘Oh. My. Lord!’ Dermot said when the driver opened the door for him and ushered him into the back seat beside her. ‘I take back everything – every single word I ever said about never going out with girls like you. Do you always come here by driver? Why did I not know this?’ he went on nervously, taking a seat, running his hands over his hair and smelling just a touch too strongly of toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant
and
shaving cream.

‘I’m just an ordinary girl, Dermot,’ Gina assured him as the driver got back into the front seat and started up the engine. ‘Look – it’s Coke and crisps all the way, not champagne and caviar.’

She poured out the drinks and they clinked glasses 322

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as the car set off out of town towards the airport.

‘I’m really glad you could come,’ she said, feeling a little shy now that he was really here, nestled into the black leather seat beside her. ‘I just had to share the car with someone! Isn’t it great?’ She used one of the little buttons to whiz the window down, then back up again.

‘Well, I’m so glad to be that someone,’ Dermot said, his cheeky grin in place again.

Then a heavy silence descended and Gina frantically wondered what to say next.

‘Oh no, awkward silence time,’ Dermot joked. ‘Oh my God! Here we are: we’ve been thinking and thinking about this, and now we’ve got absolutely nothing to say. I’m sorry – do you want me to talk about the café? What’s been going on there? Or shall I tell you about what happened the last time I got on a plane . . .

Which is quite a funny story, but it might put you off flying and I’m not sure that’s what you need right now, is it? Or should I just try and shut up and not drive you demented before we’re even on the ring road? Or how about—?’

‘Shh!’ she interrupted him.

‘See, I
am
going to drive you demented—’

‘Shh!’ she interrupted again. ‘Dermot! Stop it! I 323

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think you’re very nice,’ she added, surprising herself and blushing furiously.

‘
Nice!
Oh no! No one ever tells James Bond he’s

“nice”. I don’t think it’s a good sign. I really do not think this is a good sign at all,’ he babbled anxiously.

‘Dermot!’

Gina moved along the seat just a little so she nudged up against him. He
was
nice. He was in his blue shirt again – the one that made his blue eyes leap out at you. And she liked the fact that he was nervous and jumpy and had obviously over-prepared in the bathroom for this meeting.

‘So . . . busy afternoon in the café?’ she asked, because it was all she could think of, even though right now she couldn’t have cared if the café was on fire.

‘Oh, you know . . .’

She noticed that his arm had moved down from the top of the seat and was now round her shoulders, but she didn’t mind. Not in the slightest; no, she liked it. It felt warm and heavy against her. Not even the tiniest bit tentacle-like.

He turned to look at her. ‘I’ve been told not, under any circumstances, to kiss you,’ he blurted out.

‘Huh? Who told you that?’

‘Your friend – the skinny one – everyone calls her 324

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Smelly or something, but I’m hoping that’s just a nickname.’

‘Niffy? She told you not to kiss me?’

‘Yup, she said you’re allergic to kissing or something . . . which is, you know, interesting. I think.’

Gina looked closely at Dermot: he had a wide mouth and strong white teeth with a little gap between the front two. She thought that she’d never wanted to kiss anything more than she wanted to kiss Dermot’s mouth.

‘Will you stop talking?’ she asked, although really she was interested to hear what Dermot had to say about everything: very, very interested.

‘On one condition,’ he said.

But she didn’t wait to hear what the condition was, because she’d leaned up to meet his mouth with hers.

She just knew she was ready for this. Ready to kiss Dermot, yes; but ready for so much more. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to talk to him, know what he thought about things. He wasn’t just going to be a fumbly snog or an awkward experience. He was going to be her friend, her first real
boyfriend
.

Whatever Niffy had said about kissing – Gina couldn’t quite remember it, because she was a little bit lost and smudgy and fuzzy about the edges right 325

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now – but whatever it was, it had been about right.

When that magical, wonderful first kiss was finally over, Dermot looked into her eyes and said, ‘I am so, so sorry you’re going back home. I think I’m going to cry at the airport.’

This only made her smile because, with her heart so happy at her big decision, she told him, ‘It’s just for the holidays. I’m coming back to St Jude’s in August.’

She’d not walked out onto the stage on Speech Day.

She’d decided that her English teacher, Mrs Parker, and some of the other St Jude’s teachers, were going to be more useful to her than the ones at her old school.

She’d decided she was going to get much, much better GCSEs than her mother – if it killed her. She’d also decided she wanted to spend a lot more time hanging out with Dermot. And most importantly of all, she’d decided that, right now, Amy and Min needed her more than Paula, Ria and Maddison did.

So yes . . . in the hope that California would always be there to go home to, she’d decided she was definitely, definitely coming back to Scotland next term for more.

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Acknowledgements

There are two people without whom
Secrets at St Jude’s
would never have come about: my fabulous agent, Darley Anderson and Random House Children’s Books Fiction Publisher, Annie Eaton. For your many suggestions, kind encouragement and enthusiasm, I am truly grateful.

Julia Churchill at the agency has also been a star, reading early chapters and generally cheering me on! Thank you so much. To Emma, Maddie, Zoe and Ella: I hope you all know how much I appreciate your hard work on my behalf.

An enormous thank you to Kelly Hurst for being such a sensitive, thoughtful and all round brilliant editor, it’s been a pleasure! Likewise, to copy-editor Sophie Nelson: many, many thanks. I am hugely grateful for the effort and enthusiasm of so many lovely RHCB people.

I have to mention my own teen gang, remembered very fondly while I was writing this: loads of love (and don’t worry, names have been changed!). All my very best to John Elder – although he’ll want his pupils to put this book down and go and read something much more serious instead!

Finally: TQ, I owe you, as always. S and C . . . I’m so looking forward to hearing what you think!

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About the Author

Carmen Reid is the author of several bestselling adults novels. Secrets of
St Judes’s: New Girl
is her first novel for young adults.

After working as a journalist in London she moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where she looks after one husband, two children, a puppy, three goldfish and writes almost all the rest of the time.

Visit her website at www.carmenreid.com 331

Document Outline

• Front Cover
  
• Frontmatter
  
  • Title
    
  • By the Same Author
    
  • Title page
    
  • Epub Copyright Page
    
  • Copyright page
    
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Chapter Twenty-Two
  
• Chapter Twenty-Three
  
• Chapter Twenty-Four
  
• Chapter Twenty-Five
  
• Chapter Twenty-Six
  
• Endmatter
  
  • Acknowledgements
    
  • About the Author