Ramsay’s one tiny criticism of life on Wragge, which was otherwise perfect, was the lack of new faces. It was reassuring to know and be known by everybody on the island, to be safe wherever you went day or night. She hated the way people lived in cities; squashed together in their little boxes, not talking to the neighbours, frightened to go out after dark. But sometimes Ramsay wondered what it would be like to walk into a roomful of strangers: people who hadn’t already made up their mind about her because they knew her parents and her grandparents and had watched her grow up. It would be nice, just once in a while, to go to a party and not be absolutely certain that she would know every single person there.
Visitors from the mainland or abroad were a rarity – like her friend Georgie’s cousin Josh who came for Christmas. He had been at all the parties, but she’d hardly spoken to him because he was always surrounded by a crowd of admirers. Although more than once she’d caught him staring at her. Then at the New Year’s Eve fireworks at Port Julian she found herself next to him when the countdown to midnight began, and he had grabbed her hand and in the confusion of everyone saying “Happy New Year” and hugging each other he’d pulled her around the back of the war memorial and kissed her. It was the best moment of her life. You could still see the crushed poppies where she’d stumbled and stuck her foot through the wreath. The next day he went back to the mainland and she never saw him again. He’d be eighteen now, she supposed. At university or off travelling somewhere.
As she sang, Ramsay made a mental list of the known facts about the new occupants of The Brow. Their name was Milman. The mum had inherited the cottage from old Mr Ericsson. (She knew this because her dad was Mr Ericsson’s solicitor, and had witnessed the will.) There seemed to be no dad around. Someone in the house was an artist, because there was an easel in one of the upstairs windows which wasn’t there when Mr Ericsson was alive. Mrs Milman smoked Benson & Hedges and drank Bombay Sapphire Gin and someone in the house was a vegetarian, according to Ellen, who had a Saturday job at the grocer’s shop. She’d overheard Kenny the handyman, their nearest neighbour, telling the school cook he’d seen the kitchen light burning through the night – that they sometimes didn’t go to bed before 3 a.m. It painted a slightly odd picture of family life that made Ramsay curious to know more.
“But come you back when summer’s in the meadow,” the choir warbled, mechanically, “Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow…”
“You’re bringing tears to my eyes, girls,” the music teacher called out as she laboured away at the piano, “for all the wrong reasons.”
Chapter 6
OVER THE NEXT few days when he was out walking Chet, Daniel often found himself drawn in the direction of Stape High. He would stand at the edge of the field looking at the rows of silhouetted figures at their desks. It gave him a buzz to be outside and free, while others were stuck inside working. Since Lissmore he couldn’t stand being shut in.
If it was break or lunchtime and there were students out on the field then he would walk straight past without slowing down. He didn’t like being stared at either.
Sometimes he would see shuttlecocks or basketballs flying to and fro through the high windows of the gym. That wasn’t such a good feeling. Sport was one of the things he missed. Louie was no good as an opponent; she could hardly catch a ball without falling over, and never cared whether she won or lost. Swimming was OK, because you were competing against yourself, but only team games gave you that sense of belonging. Already, the novelty of ‘home education’ was wearing off, and he was bored with his own company.
Another reason for choosing this route was the possibility of seeing the girl from the café. He hadn’t gone to the party on the beach and regretted it almost immediately. Now people would think he was stuck-up or unfriendly or just a recluse, and there would be no more invitations. He kept on looking out for her, although he wasn’t sure he would recognise her in a crowd. Her face had become confused in his memory with a girl back in London who used to catch his bus. She was much older and never even glanced at him, but he’d fancied her like crazy. Once, when there were no other spaces upstairs, she’d sat in the empty seat beside him, and immediately turned her back so she could talk to her mates. When she leant forward her T-shirt rode up and he could see the top of her thong showing above the waistband of her jeans. It amazed him that he could find this tiny T-shaped bit of elastic so exciting. Now her face was a blur too, all mixed up with blonde plaits and green teeth.
It was Chet who indirectly brought Daniel into much closer contact with Stape High and its occupants. On one of their walks Daniel had let the dog off the lead as soon as they came down off the moors into the village and Chet had been trotting happily along at his side.
As they passed the boundary of the school grounds Chet’s ears pricked up. He had noticed something interesting in the distance – a cat or a squirrel – and before Daniel could grab his collar he took off across the field, straight through the middle of a five-a-side football match, barking joyfully.
“Chet! Come here!” Daniel bellowed, as he chased after the runaway dog, skirting the pitch to avoid the players, who’d abandoned the game and were staring after him. In the classrooms overlooking the field heads turned at the commotion.
Chet vanished around the side of the building, and as Daniel caught up, he was horrified to see the dog bounding in through the automatic sliding doors of the front entrance.
Sweating with embarrassment, Daniel followed, smiling apologetically at the flustered receptionist who had emerged from behind her desk.
“Sorry,” said Daniel. “Can I go and get him?” He pointed down the long carpeted corridor leading out of the lobby, from which distant barking was clearly audible.
“Please do,” said the receptionist faintly.
“Has somebody lost a dog?” a voice said, and a woman appeared from one of the corridor’s many doorways. Although she was smartly dressed in a suit and had her hair twisted up and fastened in a clip, it was unmistakably the same woman he had met on the cliff path. She had one hand hooked under Chet’s collar; with the other she was tickling him behind the ears. She didn’t seem remotely annoyed. “I thought I recognised those muddy paws,” she said, smiling at Daniel. “Hello again.”
“Hello,” mumbled Daniel, hastily clipping Chet’s lead back on. “Sorry. He was chasing something.”
“No harm done. It was probably the caretaker’s cat. He loves a scrap.” She looked at Daniel with interest. “How are you getting on?”
“Er, OK, thanks.”
“I’ve been meaning to call round.”
“Oh…” said Daniel without enthusiasm. The last thing they needed was someone pressurising them to come to school.
“I didn’t mean an official visit. I was just going to say hello. See how you were getting on.”
“We’re OK. My mum’s teaching us at home, so…” It was difficult to find a way to tell someone to back off that didn’t sound rude.
“In that case I won’t disturb you,” Mrs Ivory said, smoothly. “I only wanted to say that you and your sister are very welcome to come in and use our facilities any time. We’ve got computers and a swimming pool and a gym and a lovely grand piano that doesn’t get nearly enough use.” She smiled encouragingly, and Daniel wondered how she knew that he had a sister. Information travelled like smoke on a breeze here.
“You mean walk in any time?”
“Well,
