The next morning I am on the verge of going crazy because I have no idea what to wear for the visit to Beaufort. I don’t know if there is a dress code there and if so, how chic I have to make myself. I also wonder if James will wear a suit. We’ve both never seen each other outside of school, which means we don’t know each other in anything other than the school uniform.
I finally decide on a black skirt, over-the-knee stockings and an ochre knitted sweater with a crocheted white collar and a black bow. I put on my black brogues, which I was able to get hold of a few months ago in Gormsey’s thrift store.
When it comes to fashion, I’m nowhere near as willing to take risks as Ember. I prefer to buy things that I feel confident in and that I know I can wear for a long time. But I still like to get dressed up and take time to look well-groomed – probably that’s also due to my penchant for order.
When I’m dressed, I go back to my sister as a precaution. She is already awake and sitting at her small desk by the window when I poke my head through the door.
‘What?’ she asks, without turning to me.
‘What do you say to this outfit?’ She turns to me in her chair, and I push the door all the way open so she can look at me.
‘Very pretty,’ she says after taking a look at me from head to toe.
‘Really?’ I ask, turning around once. When I look at Ember, she squints her eyes.
‘No date, huh?’ There is something teasing in her tone.
I roll my eyes. ‘Ember, I can’t stand the fellow.’
‘That’s clear,’ she replies and stands up. She goes to her closet, a small chamber built into the wall, and opens the door. Then she leans forward until she has half disappeared in it and begins to rummage. Carefully I step behind her and look over her shoulder. After half a minute she reappears and hands me a burgundy little bag.
‘My bag!’
‘Don’t act so indignant. You’re just walking around with your backpack anyway,’ she says defensively. She points to my outfit. ‘But it goes really well with that.’
‘Actually, I should ask for interest, because you have kept it for so long.’ I tap off the thin layer of dust that has formed on the imitation leather. I also bought this part in the second-hand shop in the village center. I walked around proudly with it for two whole weeks until our neighbor Mrs. Felton spotted me in Mum’s bakery and bragged loudly that the bag had once belonged to her fifty years ago. After that, I willingly lent it to Ember and didn’t want it back at first. But now that I’m holding it in my hand, I’m glad to have it back.
‘I’m not going to pay interest on something you didn’t even know was still in my possession,’ Ember replies.
The ringing of the doorbell freezes me. I take a look at the clock. It’s a quarter to ten. ‘He’s too early,’ I groan and run to my room to hastily move my phone and wallet from one pocket to the other.
‘Ruby!’ comes my mum’s voice.
As I go downstairs, I remind myself to stay calm. There is no reason to be excited at all. It’s nothing more than a trip for school—Lin and I have done this a hundred times before, and it will be no different with James.
I take a deep breath and take the last steps. Mum has already opened the door, and when I come into the hallway, she is talking to a man. My mouth opens.
First, James didn’t lie. He really has a chauffeur. And with uniform, cap and all the trimmings. Secondly, the chauffeur looks like Antonio Banderas. He has tanned skin, deep brown eyes and an expressive, almost sensual mouth. He is certainly in his forties and extremely attractive. If I interpret the blush on Mum’s cheeks correctly, she thinks exactly the same as I do.
‘Good morning, miss,’ says the Zorro chauffeur, raising his cap briefly in greeting.
‘Good morning—’
‘Percy,’ Mum helps me out and beams at me.
»… Percy,’ I finish with a smile and take my parka from the cloakroom. So, Mum. I’ll see you later.’
‘Have fun, honey. And take photos for us.’ Mum gives me a kiss on the cheek, and I step outside to Percy. The next moment, as if by magic, he stretches a huge black umbrella above my head.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘Gladly, miss. The car is right there in front.’
I follow his hand gesture and almost stop in amazement. On the street in front of our house is a Rolls-Royce. Shiny black and huge, it looks like a foreign body among the other cars parked on the side of the road – even to me, and I’ve gotten used to the sight of limousines and expensive cars by now.
Percy opens one of the back doors and holds the umbrella over me until I get in. I thank him, whereupon he nods and carefully closes the door behind me. Less than half a minute later, the car starts. Nervously, I smooth my skirt and check that nothing has slipped when I put it in.
Only then can I look at James.
He sits on the side bench, an unfathomable expression on his face. He looks like he doesn’t know what to make of the fact that I just got into his car. He wears a dark gray suit interwoven with fine threads, a white shirt and a dark silk tie with a tie pin. In one hand he holds a glass, which I fervently hope is apple juice, and I notice a silver signet ring on his left finger that I have never seen before. A coat of arms is depicted on it, certainly that of his family.
The longer I look at him, the more inappropriately dressed I feel in my pieced-together vintage outfit. Unlike me, everything about James screams money, from the top of his head to the tips of his shiny black leather shoes. I try not to be impressed by it – after all, I knew what I was getting myself into.
Only at second glance do I notice how tired James looks. His turquoise eyes are undermined in red, and dark shadows lie underneath them.
‘Good morning,’ he finally says roughly.
Maybe he just woke up. Or he partied through the night and didn’t sleep at all.
‘Good morning,’ I reply. ‘Thanks for picking me up.’
When he doesn’t reply and instead looks at me just like I did before, I look around in the limousine. The seats are made of leather, opposite James is a bar with glasses and a compartment with a door, which I assume is some kind of refrigerator. Between our area and the driver’s side is a dark partition.
As the silence between us threatens to become uncomfortable, I say with a nod in Percy’s direction, ‘Your driver could be a Hollywood star, by the way. I’ve never seen such an attractive man in his mid-forties.’
‘You flatter me, miss. I’m fifty-two,’ Percy’s voice sounds through a speaker on the ceiling.
Dismayed, I look at James. He starts grinning, from one ear to the other. An insane heat shoots into my cheeks.
‘If you say things like that, maybe you should turn off the intercom, Ruby Bell,’ James points out, pointing over himself. I follow his gaze and see a bright red light.
‘Oh.’
‘I’ll do it, sir,’ says Percy, and a second later it goes out.
I bury my face in both hands and shake my head. ‘In films, only the partition wall goes up. How am I supposed to know that you have to press an extra button for this?’
‘Don’t worry about it. Percy rarely gets such compliments from me. I’m sure he’ll be happy.’
I shake my head. ‘I think I have to get out.’
‘It’s too late for that now. You’ll be trapped here with me for the next two hours.’ I hear a soft clinking. ‘Here, for you.’
Slowly I take my hands off my face. James holds out a small blue cup to me.
‘Don’t say you really got me ice cream,’ I manage incredulously.
‘We still had some at home,’ he says simply. ‘Take it, or I’ll eat it.’
Without another word, I take the cup from him. James leans down to the refrigerator again, and the next second he’s holding a second Ben & Jerry’s mug in his hand. I watch him with interest as he peels off the foil and lifts the lid. Seeing him in this suit with the ice cream on my lap seems so unreal that I wonder for a moment if I’m actually awake or still asleep.
The ice condenses in my hand, and a cold drop lands on my lap. I look around for a napkin.
‘Up there on the right,’ says James, nodding to the bar.
I stretch, take one of the eggshell-colored napkins from the pile and spread it out on my lap. Then I lift the lid of the cup and take a first spoonful. I close my eyes with relish. ‘Mhhh. Cookie Dough.’
‘I had to guess which is your favorite variety,’ says James. ‘Was I right?’
‘Yes. Definitely cookie dough,’ I say with full conviction, but pause for a moment. Whereby. The new salted caramel is also really good. Do you know that?’
James shakes his head.
For a while, silence spreads between us. Then he says, ‘This is the best hangover breakfast I’ve had in a long time.’
So yesterday he was celebrating. ‘Did you have a long night?’
I regret the question immediately as he smiles ambiguously into his ice cream. ‘You could say so.’
‘So this part of the ominous James Beaufort rumors is true.’
‘Ominous James Beaufort rumors?’ he asks, amused.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Come on.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘As if you didn’t know that there are tons of rumors about you and your clique.’
‘For example?’
‘That you eat caviar in the morning, bathe in champagne, destroyed a waterbed during sex … and so on.’
He freezes with the spoon halfway to his lips. A second passes, then another. In the end, he shoves it into his mouth and eats the ice cream leisurely while pretending to think intensively. It seems as if he is gradually waking up. The dull veil has disappeared from his eyes.
‘Okay, then let’s clear up the rumors,’ he begins. I find the thought of eating fish eggs just disgusting. When I have breakfast, I drink a smoothie, usually poached eggs or muesli.’
‘In the smoothie?’ I grimace in disgust.
‘Not in the smoothie. And that.’
‘Oh, yes.’
Again he thinks for a moment. ‘The champagne thing isn’t right either. That means it’s not quite true. I once dropped a damn expensive bottle from Wren’s parents into the pool and then bathed in it. But that was not intentional.’
‘Wren’s parents must be big fans of yours.’
‘If you only knew.’ He smiles and continues to spoon his ice cream.
‘And… what about the waterbed?’ I ask hesitantly.
James pauses and looks at me with sparkling eyes. ‘You’re interested, aren’t you?’
‘If I’m to be honest, yes,’ I admit without taking my eyes off it. ‘I mean, waterbeds don’t break so quickly, do they? I’ve heard they’re totally stable.’
‘It wasn’t a waterbed, but a normal frame.’
I swallow dry. There’s something in James’ eyes that I’ve never seen before. Something dark, heavy that makes my stomach tingle.
‘How boring,’ I croak, but my voice belies me.
I don’t want to imagine James having sex.
Really not.
Unfortunately, I am now thinking about what he must have done to destroy his bed. And what he must have looked like. He showed me a bit of skin when he undressed in front of me. I know it’s well built. And I’ve observed often enough how agile he can move during sports. He certainly makes the women in his bed quite happy.
At this moment, I am grateful for the ice cream in my hands. I would love to dive into it with my face to come down again.
‘There is usually nothing or only a little truth to rumors.’ His knowing grin makes me fear that he knows down to the smallest detail what I was thinking.
I decide that it is time to tick off the topic of waterbeds now. ‘Then I’m glad there are no rumors about me.’
James puts his ice cream back in the fridge and puts the spoon down on the bar. Then he leans back in his seat and looks at me thoughtfully.
‘I don’t know if I want to know what people say about me,’ I say quietly.
‘Most people didn’t know you at all. And if they said anything, it wasn’t a bad thing.’
I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Really?’
James nods. ‘That’s why I was so suspicious of you. Someone with such a good reputation can only have dirt on him.’
I grimace. ‘I don’t have any dirt on my hands.’
‘Of course not.’ His gaze is amused, and he leans forward. ‘Come on, Ruby. Tell me something that none of our classmates know about you.’
I automatically shake my head. No. I wouldn’t take part in such a game under any circumstances. ‘Why don’t you tell me something that no one else knows about you?’
I expect him to protest, but instead he seems to be actually thinking about the question.
‘If I am not taken at Oxford, my father will kill me.’ He says it casually, as if he had long since come to terms with this fact. But his eyes tell me another truth.
‘Because he also studied there?’ I ask cautiously.
‘My parents both studied at Oxford. And their parents.’
I have always envied James and his friends that they have the best prerequisites to be accepted at a university like Oxford because of their origins. But now I realize that there is a second side. One that is associated with an incredible amount of pressure and that makes me understand James’ violent reaction in the study group a little better. I must have really hurt him with my words.
‘I’ve always wanted to go to Oxford. Ever since I can remember,’ I begin after a while. I suddenly feel like it’s okay to trust him with this part of me. After all, he just did, and it helped me understand him a little better. We’ve only argued since we first met. It can’t hurt if we try to get rid of the prejudices we have against each other, at least in part. ‘My parents always encouraged me, even though they knew it would probably remain a dream. My grades were always good, but that alone doesn’t qualify you for Oxford. But then they heard about the scholarships that Maxton Hall gives to a handful of students in England every year and signed me up for them. None of us expected it to work out, but I did something right during the interviews. Since then, the idea hasn’t been quite so insane, and I vowed to do everything I could to make it to Oxford. I want to make my parents proud. And myself, too.’
James is silent for a moment. He looks at me, and the sudden intensity in his blue-green eyes sends a shiver down my spine. ‘How long have you been at school?’
‘For two years.’
He growls.
‘What’s there to hum?’ I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders indecisively. ‘I just wonder how it can be that I’ve never noticed you before.’
My heart leaps. And at the same time, I pat myself on the back inwardly – apparently my don’t attract attention rule works perfectly. ‘I have the gift of moving through the corridors like a shadow and merging with the walls.’
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. ‘That sounds like you’re the in-house Maxton Hall ghost. Or a chameleon. But let’s get back to the topic: It’s your turn.’
‘With what?’ Perplexed, I look at him.
‘To tell me something about you that no one else knows.’
‘But that’s what I’ve just got!’
He shakes his head. ‘That doesn’t count. You only reacted to what I told you.’
I take a deep breath and slowly expel it again while I think about what I could tell him. The fact that his alert gaze is on me doesn’t make it any easier for me to think. On the contrary.
I shake my head resignedly. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ He leans back, both arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘Come on. You can’t just learn.’
But, it flashes through my head, I can. However, thankfully, another thought comes to me at the same moment. ‘I read manga.’
James looks at me for a moment as if he had misheard. Then he smiles. ‘That’s something. I wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘dirt on the stick’, but okay. What’s your favorite manga?’
I blink at him perplexed. I hadn’t expected an inquiry.
‘Death Note,’ I answer with a delay.
‘Would you recommend him to me?’
I have no idea how we went from ‘James destroys sex beds’ to ‘These are Ruby’s favorite manga.’ Really not a clue. Nevertheless, I nod slowly. ‘In my opinion, you miss an important part of your general education if you haven’t read Death Note.’
James looks shocked. ‘That would be terrible.’
The corners of my mouth twist without my intervention.
I have to grin.
James Beaufort made me grin.
When I realize that, I quickly turn away and look out the window, but I’m pretty sure he saw it. In his eyes, something like triumph has clearly flashed.
I wonder why.
