liked Sadie, and she was clever too – clever enough not to get caught doing stuff, and clever enough to ensure she did just enough work to keep out of real trouble. Nonetheless, Hannah sometimes felt that having Sadie for a friend was a bit like sharing your life with a wild animal: she might be exciting to be around but you never quite knew when you were going to get bitten. Sadie could be unpredictable and moody and, although she liked her, Hannah had to admit that she never felt quite at ease with her. It wasn’t a warm, friendly, giggly friendship like she used to have with Lena Hall and Caroline Hunt. They didn’t go round each other’s houses for tea all the time, or camp out in the garden or drink hot chocolate around the kitchen table or laugh with her mum any more; in fact Lena and Caroline hadn’t spoken to her since Sadie had told the boys in their class that they were lesbians.
There was still a part of her that thought that maybe Sadie wanting her as a friend was a big joke and that Sadie would turn on her, or worse. But Hannah wasn’t planning to tell her mum that.
Sitting beside her on the swings, Hannah realised that Sadie was staring at her, blowing out a long dragon’s breath of smoke. She looked disappointed.
Seconds later Simon and Tucker arrived running, whooping and laughing like baboons. Tucker leapt up and swung from the bar between the swings where the two girls were sitting.
‘So – what’cha doing, Hannah-the-spanner? Bring me and Sadie any vodka, did you?’
‘No,’ said Hannah, on the defensive, as Tucker hung one-handed and leered close up at her. ‘They hadn’t set up the bar before I left.’
‘There’s going to be a bar? Cool. You didn’t tell me there was going to be a bar at your party. How about we go back to your place and suss it out?’ said Sadie, slyly.
Tucker grinned as he dropped to the ground. ‘Sounds like a blazing idea to me, what do you reckon, Si? Back to Hannah’s place, grab us some booze and then – what? Back to your house, Sadie?’
‘Yeah, all right, if you like. My mum’s going to see her new bloke later on tonight so we should have the place to ourselves.’
Tucker grinned. ‘Sweet. I’m thinking party, party, parteee.’
Simon, who was standing beside the swings, nodded. ‘Yeah, sounds cool. I’ve got twenty quid. We could send out for some pizza and stuff.’
Sadie rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘Oh right, mister family man – we’ve got to eat, haven’t we? I can think of a lot of other things we could get with twenty quid . . .’
‘Oh yeah,’ Tucker whooped.
Simon looked hurt. Hannah glanced up at him, longing to offer support, but at the same time not really wanting the spotlight to fall on her. Although as it happened it was coming her way, like it or not.
‘So it looks like back to your place first then, Hannah?’ said Sadie, as she hopped off the swing.
Hannah hesitated for a second before nodding.
‘Sure, okay,’ she said, as casually as she could manage, although as they fell into step alongside her, Hannah wondered how she was going to get round this one. Home to her grandparents’ anniversary party really was the last place she wanted to take any of them.
Chapter Six
‘I was thinking we really ought to go and see the folly before we go home,’ said Fleur, moving aside cups and tea plates to make enough room to spread out a map of the stately home’s formal gardens on the picnic table. ‘I reckon if we go down that way—’ she pointed towards an impressive row of topiary arches, ‘and then turn right, that takes us down past the lake and out through the woods.’
‘Are you completely out of your mind?’ said Rose, finishing off a Danish pastry. ‘The bloody thing is miles away. When in heaven’s name did you ever want to see a garden folly?’
‘But you like gardens,’ protested Fleur. ‘That’s why we came.’
‘I know and I’ve had a really lovely time looking round this one, but my feet are killing me. We’ve been here all day. I’m dog-tired and to be honest I just want to go home now,’ said Rose.
‘Oh right, that’s it, it’s always what you want, isn’t it?’ snapped Fleur. ‘I’m only over here for a couple of weeks.’
‘So you keep telling everyone,’ said Rose with a theatrical sigh.
‘And it wasn’t cheap to get in.’
‘If it’s about value for money,’ said Rose, opening up her handbag and pulling out her purse, ‘please let me pay for me and Jack – that way you won’t feel as if you’ve been robbed.’
‘I don’t want your money,’ protested Fleur, holding up her hand. ‘It’s my treat.’ She said it with no grace whatsoever, making it sound more like a threat than a gift. ‘As I said, we don’t see each other that often and I’ve only got a few more days left before I go back and I didn’t know what else to buy you.’
‘And you’re telling me that your trip back to England won’t be complete without a walk down to this folly?’
‘It was built by the late fourth Earl and is designed to represent the ruins of a gothic fairy-tale tower,’ said Fleur, reading from the description on the map. ‘Complete with a spiral staircase, and one remaining stained glass window showing the slaying of the dragon by St George, it is considered one of the finest examples of architect Cornelius E. Fletcher’s early work.’
‘Really? Well, in that case you’d better go,’ said Rose sarcastically, waving her away. ‘We’re all right here, aren’t we, Jack? We’ll get ourselves another pot of tea and have a crack at the rest of the cakes. Don’t you worry about us. We’ll be fine. We’ll wait for you here. Knock yourself out . . .’
Fleur stared at her open-mouthed. ‘What?’
‘Well, you want to go and see it, don’t you? We’ll wait for you here,’ said Rose, glancing at her watch. ‘You’d better get a move on if you want to get a good look at it before closing time.’
Very slowly, Fleur got to her feet. Meanwhile Jack picked up the map and began to fold it up for her. He folded it carefully so that the route to the folly was uppermost. ‘There we are,’ he said smiling benignly. ‘You’ll be needing this . . .’
*
After checking her watch for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Suzie made her way across the garden towards the house. The guests should begin arriving soon. She had been hoping that Liz would have reappeared by now, all buffed and puffed and oh-so-beautiful, to act as the chief meeter and greeter for their guests. Suzie’s baby sister Lizzie had always had a natural gift for the kind of social handshaking and air kissing that made people feel as if they were the centre of the universe. And who wouldn’t want to be met by Lizzie Bingham, the golden girl off the TV? So far, however, there was no sign of her.
Suzie glanced around: there were drinks on standby, canapés . . . Mentally she ran through the checklist, working out what else needed to be done.
She glanced at her watch again; all this clock-watching was getting to be a nervous tic. She really wanted to
