“Who does, then?” asked Grayson angrily.
Anabel smiled gently. “To be honest, Grayson, I won’t claim I didn’t have plans for you all, but … no, I really never thought of making Liv’s sister go sleepwalking.”
It was crazy, but I believed her, in spite of the mad gleam in her eyes and the expression of gleeful triumph on her face. And before she could suddenly disappear, no doubt because a furious Senator Tod came storming into her room at the hospital, she added, “Well, think it over. Couldn’t there be someone else who has a score to settle with Liv?”
23
HENRY LIVED IN a detached redbrick house with several bay windows, lots of white-painted lattice windows, and a green front door with a semicircular fanlight. It was hidden behind brick walls to shoulder height, and didn’t look at all like the gloomy, neglected, depressing house of horrors I’d imagined. The front garden was well tended; the garden gate was obviously well oiled. I did have to skirt around a child’s play car and a basketball on the way to the front door, but that made the house seem homey, like the tabby cat asleep on the doormat next to a pair of brightly colored rubber boots. What surprised me even more was the fact that it had taken me exactly twelve and a half minutes to get there. On foot. Without running. Imagine it: I’d been in a relationship with this guy for months, and I’d had no idea that he lived only a twelve-and-a-half-minute walk away from me. One more reason to feel annoyed with him.
All the same, I hesitated for a moment before ringing the bell—I mean, I could always just pet the cat and go away again without losing face. Then I pulled myself together. After all, he was the one who had sent me a text thirteen and a half minutes ago, not vice versa. It had made me forget all about last night and my worries over Mia and Anabel. All it had said was: We must talk. I’d asked Grayson for Henry’s address the next minute.
And I guessed he was only too right about that.
“Okay, so we’ll talk,” I said out loud just as Henry opened the door and stared at me in astonishment. I tried to make sure I had a neutral expression on my face, which was terribly difficult, because my heart had sunk what felt like a good couple of inches. Would just seeing him ever stop hurting? Would I be able to be in the same room as him someday without feeling I was about to die of longing?
But at least no other member of his family had opened the door to me. Secretly, I was extremely relieved about that. And it helped me to stay in control of myself a bit when I saw that Henry was having difficulty doing exactly the same thing.
“I … what…?” he stammered. As usual, there were deep shadows under his eyes, and his skin was almost transparent, which would have looked unhealthy in anyone else, but not Henry.
“This text came from you, didn’t it?” I held my cell phone out to him. “So what did you want to talk to me about?” Up to this point I’d kept really cool. Unfortunately I had to go on chattering and spoil the effect. “Lovely house, by the way. Lovely windows. Lovely … er … green bush. Lovely door. Lovely cat. And lovely rubber boots and…”
“Yes, all of it is just lovely,” agreed Henry, and a tiny grin lifted the corners of his mouth before he frowned again. “Listen, Liv, this isn’t a good moment.”
“You sent the text,” I reminded him, with a lot of emphasis on the word you.
“Yes, I did. But I didn’t expect to see you here a minute later. We do have to talk, but not now.”
“Because?”
“Because…” He looked anxiously down the road, which seemed very peaceful in the light of the setting sun. There was almost no traffic here on a Sunday afternoon. “Because it doesn’t happen to be a good moment.”
I bent down to pet the cat. “Well, since I’m here, can’t you at least take the opportunity of telling me what it’s about?”
Henry hesitated briefly. “It’s only … I was thinking about what Anabel said.”
I abruptly raised my head. Anabel? He wanted to talk to me about Anabel?
“I know she tells lies right, left, and center, but in this case I’m more or less sure that—” He stopped short. A swanky cross-country vehicle turned the corner at high speed. The engine roared in the afternoon silence, and as it screeched to a halt outside the garden gate, Henry rolled his eyes. “It would be a really good idea if you left now, Liv. If possible before anyone sees you who … oh, shit.”
Apart from the fact that I had no idea how to disappear through the garden gate without being seen by whoever had just parked right in front of it, it was too late, anyway. A tall man got out of the passenger side, a man in his late fifties, maybe older, even though he still seemed to have all his hair. He was suntanned, his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and when he opened his mouth and began talking, I saw a flash of snow-white teeth.
“Find your mother,” he told Henry without any other greeting. “I must have a serious word with her. Milo’s been stealing again. He denies it, but Biljana saw him.” He opened the back door of the car and helped a little girl out of her child seat and down to the sidewalk. She was wearing thick striped tights, a short red skirt, and a flower-patterned quilted jacket, and she beamed, wide-eyed, at Henry. It was his four-year-old sister, Amy. I already knew her from her dreams, where Henry and I had sometimes met. They were colorful and sweet as sugar. A boy climbed out of the car after her. I’d have known him anywhere as Henry’s little brother—he was kind of the narrow-shouldered mini-edition of Henry himself. He had the same double cowlick on his head that made the hair stand out in all directions, and the same intensely bright gray eyes. However, he didn’t seem as self-possessed as his brother; in fact, he looked miserable.
“I didn’t steal anything,” he told Henry with his lower lip jutting. “She’s lying just to make me seem bad. She probably took it herself. Ouch!”
His father (at least, I supposed it was his father) had grabbed him by the back of the neck and was holding him tightly, like a naughty kitten. Amy opened the garden gate and skipped over to me.
“I don’t steal things,” she said, looking curiously at me. “Milo doesn’t steal things either. How about you?”
Well, maybe a stupid trapper’s cap, but that was all.
Henry groaned. “What’s been st … er … what’s gone missing?”
“Grandpa Henry’s rococo snuffbox,” said Henry’s father, pushing Milo through the garden gate ahead of him. “The one from the J. P. Morgan collection. It’s no joke, and no silly boy’s prank. Go on, call your mother, will you?”
“She’s … she’s not in,” said Henry. “Let go of Milo.”
Only now did the driver’s door of the car open, and a woman got out. “That rococo snuffbox is very valuable,” she said in an Eastern European accent, rolling the letter r.
Up to now I’d been standing perfectly still on the steps up to the house, wishing I could make myself invisible. It seemed to have worked, too, because apart from Amy, no one had taken any notice of me. But the sight of the woman put an end to my invisibility. A gasp escaped me. Or a groan. Or a mixture of both.
It was B! The mermaid from the whirlpool. She looked staggeringly lovely, just like in the dream, although she was wearing a fur coat that, if it was genuine and I was not much mistaken, had cost several jaguars their lives, making it an offense against the protection of endangered species agreement. And against my dignity as well—I felt almost personally insulted. A jaguar coat? Seriously? How symbolic could you get?
My gasp had attracted the attention of Henry’s father. “And who have we here? Is this your little girlfriend, Henry?”
“Little ex-girlfriend,” I corrected him.
“I said let go of Milo.” Henry was frowning angrily. With three strides, he was beside Milo, freeing him from his father’s grasp, only to grab him by the nape of the neck himself next minute.
“Ow,” said Milo. “I really didn’t do anything.”
“No, he didn’t,” Amy piped up. She was sitting in her play car now, looking around at us all, wide-eyed. “But I did a wee in my pant
s, and Biljana was cross.”
With a deep sigh, Henry let go of his brother, and the relieved Milo rubbed the back of his neck.
Their father smiled at me with his dazzling white teeth, offered me his hand, and said, “Ron Harper.”
“Er, Liv Silver,” I muttered in confusion as he shook my hand vigorously.
“Pleased to meet you, little ex-girlfriend.” Ron Harper’s eyes twinkled as he looked at me. Oh my God! Was he actually flirting with me?
I let go of his hand as if I’d burned myself.
“Ronald! The snuffbox!” B reminded him. She was standing there stretching the way she’d stretched in the whirlpool.
“Yes, of course.” Henry’s father looked back at Milo, who was already halfway to the door. “This time there will be serious consequences. Apart from which, I am deeply disappointed in you.”
“Same to you,” said Henry’s brother, taking another couple of steps back and almost colliding with me.
“We could call the police,” said B, taking out her cell phone. “Or simply search his things.”
I noticed Milo’s hand moving toward his anorak pocket, and felt almost sure that he’d put the snuffbox in there. Because although I could see his face only from the side, it looked as guilty as if he had a confession hanging around his neck. I felt terribly sorry for him.
“Milo, whatever you’ve taken, just give it back,” said Henry, suddenly sounding incredibly tired.
“But I don’t have that silly box,” said Milo, taking his hand out of his pocket again and putting it behind his back, clenched into a fist. It couldn’t have been clearer.
In his place, I’d probably have tried to get rid of the thing much sooner, maybe by just dropping it unobtrusively into a flower bed. But it was too late for that now.
“Oh dear, it’s nearly dark,” I said, making up my mind. “I’ll have to get home, or there’ll be trouble with my—oh, look there! A squirrel!”
And as they all looked the way I had pointed, and Amy said, “Where? Where?” I reached for Milo’s fist and let the thing he was hiding there slip into my hand.
I was astonished that the cheap squirrel trick had worked so well.
With great presence of mind, Milo kept his hand behind his back and didn’t bat an eyelash.
“I can’t see any squirrel,” said Amy.
“I’m afraid it ran away,” I said regretfully.
“I hate squirrels,” said B.
Yes, very likely, because it would take hundreds of them to make a whole fur coat.
“See you later, Henry.” I strolled to the garden gate deliberately slowly, digging my hand into my coat pocket, and turning back once more.
Henry’s father was sighing. “Milo, let’s have that snuffbox.”
“Why do you always have to believe her?” Milo said accusingly. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear it. It was her! She’s probably planning to sell the box on the sly.…”
“You brat!” B tapped her long fingernails on the roof of the car. “I saw it with my own eyes!”
“Come along, Milo.” Henry rubbed his forehead. “Give him the snuffbox, and let’s get it over and done with.”
“I haven’t…”
“That will do!” His father took Milo’s arm, dragged him over, and forcibly bent his fingers back. When he saw that Milo’s hand was empty, he looked surprised. “Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “You wanted it this way. We’ll just have to search you from head to foot.”
By this time, I’d reached the garden gate and was out on the sidewalk. At close quarters, I was sorry to see that B still looked amazing. Except maybe for her lipstick, and surely her forehead could only be that smooth if she was injecting Botox into it.
“Is your coat real jaguar?” I asked.
B raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows in surprise. “Why, yes! Most people confuse it with leopard.”
“I know.” I couldn’t resist turning back once more to look at Henry. He hadn’t condescended to favor me with a glance since his family arrived. But now he was smiling at me—a sad, resigned smile. I couldn’t possibly return it.
His father was busy with Milo’s body search. He was already pulling off the child’s anorak, swearing quietly. Milo himself, however, no longer looked such a picture of misery. He glanced at me over the brick wall—and winked!
High time I got out of there.
“What I really need is a snow leopard coat,” B was saying behind me, and I turned one last time to look at her.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “The only one who really needs a snow leopard coat is the snow leopard itself.”
TITTLE-TATTLE BLOG
The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, with all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals from our school.
ABOUT ME:
My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know all your secrets.
21 January
This isn’t exactly breaking news, but still, you could say it was news about breaking, ha ha ha. ☺
Emily Clark and Grayson Spencer have broken up.
Liv Silver and Henry Harper have also broken up.
Hands up, everyone who suspects a connection between those two events. ☺
But to be honest, the end of the relationship could be foreseen in both cases, and it won’t surprise anyone, will it? Emily says she had to make a break because Grayson was too immature for her, on account of being short of ambition, vision, and masculine self-assertion.
Grayson isn’t saying anything. But if you ask me, he doesn’t look like someone with a broken heart. And Grayson got the highest score on the English exam last week, finishing just above Emily—maybe if you’re a genius the ambition isn’t so important.
As for the reasons why Henry and Liv split up, I can only make my own assumptions, but I guess sex is top of the list. Also the fact that outside school, Liv is under the same roof as a very attractive new singleton by the name of Grayson.…
And now to the real breaking news of the day: Jasper Grant has changed his relationship status on Facebook from “It’s complicated” to “In a relationship.” Unfortunately he forgot to give a link to the girl concerned, but it’s my bet that I wouldn’t be wrong to say she’s one of his forty-four new Facebook friends, or more precisely one of the twenty-eight new female friends. Anyone fancy a guessing game? Just click your way through the profile and add your comments, so I’ll know which of those French girls you think Jasper fancies. I’ll give a prize to whoever is the first to guess right. Oh yes, and while you’re at it, you can tell me why they all look like film stars. And why all their names begin with L. Lola, Lilou, Lucy, Louise, Louanne, Lilly, Léa, Lina—there’s something not quite right about all those French girls.
See you soon!
Love from Secrecy
24
WHEN I ARRIVED at school the next morning, everyone but me—as usual—had read the Tittle-Tattle blog, and they were all staring at me. However, there was sympathy in their eyes for a change. Too bad. So the news about the end of my relationship with Henry had finally filtered through to Secrecy.
“Oh, Liv, how mean of Henry! But never mind, now we can console each other!” Persephone flung her arms around me and drenched my school uniform with tears. As far as I could gather from the remarks she sobbed into my shoulder, Jasper had found a new girlfriend over in France.
“But I thought you and Gabriel…?” and/or Eric—Persephone spent the lunch break flirting with both of them for all she was worth.
She took her head off my blazer and sniffed. “Gabriel? He’s only to take my mind off things! So that I can survive Jasper’s absence! Jasper was, is, and will always be my one great love!” With a sweeping gesture, she mopped her tears away, and I surreptitiously examined my blazer for traces of snot. “Like Henry is yours!”
I really did wish she’d keep her voice down a bit, but she wasn’t about to oblige me by lowering it. On the contrary: she grabbed hold of my
hand and announced, as if she were declaiming something on stage, “Let’s found a Broken Hearts Club!”
Sure, why not? But only over my dead body.
Feeling rather melancholy, I thought back to the time before Henry. When I’d still been like Mia and immune to boys. What had happened to me? It was pathetic, the way I’d spent last night staring at my cell phone and biting my nails, hoping that Henry would call me. Which he hadn’t.
He didn’t call even though I was in possession of a snuffbox worth $25,000. I’d had quite a shock when I Googled “rococo,” “snuffbox,” and “Morgan Collection.” Milo had stolen a little treasure. A tiny little treasure, now lying in the top drawer of my bedside table along with Charles’s trapper’s cap. I really didn’t want to give Milo away, but I could hardly keep the snuffbox. For that reason alone, I’d have been glad if Henry had phoned.
And I’d have liked him to explain about B. Although what was there to explain? It made things no better that the woman he fooled around with in that whirlpool by night was his father’s girlfriend. If you stopped to think about it, that made things worse.
Why did he send me a text if he didn’t want to talk to me? I had reached for my cell phone about seventy times to ask him that very question, but then I didn’t call him after all. It was bad enough that he’d opened his front door to find me standing outside. I wasn’t the sort of girl to stalk her ex-boyfriend, to keep on phoning him, and refuse to accept that it was all over.… No, I was only the sort to stare at her cell phone and cry nonstop.
Oh God, and that made me perfect for Persephone’s Broken Hearts Club.
“Maybe Grayson will join too,” said Persephone.
“Grayson?”
“Yes, boys can have broken hearts as well!”
“But…” Oh, nothing was going to come of all this. I snatched Persephone’s phone from her hand and looked for Secrecy’s blog. And when I’d read it, I felt, if anything, worse. “See you in chemistry,” I whispered to Persephone, and made for the lockers to find Grayson.