The Ivy Lessons (Devoted, Book 1) Read online

  We take the lift up to the first floor – a floor I usually avoid, since it has all the shops with clothes I can’t afford.

  ‘Look, there’s a sale on in that shop,’ I say, pointing. I have a good eye for sales.

  ‘Forget the sales today,’ says Jen. ‘They’ll be selling off summer stock. You need the new season stuff. Clothes that’ll keep you warm in autumn. And make you look hot enough for Marc Blackwell to fall madly in love with you.’

  ‘I’ll pass on that one,’ I say. ‘Honestly, Jen. If you’d met him, you wouldn’t be saying that. He’s really arrogant.’

  ‘Come on,’ says Jen. ‘I know exactly where we should go.’

  She takes me into Brickworks, a beautiful boutique store that smells of essential oils and has just a few rails of clothes dotted around a huge, white floor space.

  I see a forty-something woman with cropped, platinum-blonde hair and black sunglasses leading around a beautiful, long-thin girl who I assume is her daughter. They both have armfuls of clothes, and I wonder what it must feel like to be so rich you can buy whole wardrobes in stores like this. I guess I’m about to find out.

  Jen is already loading jumpers and dresses into my arms. ‘This one is over-sized, off-the-shoulder. Look at that green. It’ll go perfectly with your eyes. I’d love to have brown eyes. This is your season, you know. Autumn.’

  I smile at her. ‘You and your seasons.’

  Jen is obsessed with colours, and matching different colours to different people. Apparently I’m an autumn, which means I can wear oranges, soft greens and yellows. Jen wears cool colours, like silver and very pale pink.

  ‘And these jeans – wow. You’ll look so hot in these.’ Jen throws a pair of skinny jeans, all tastefully ripped, and the most beautiful grey colour, over my arm. ‘And jewellery! I love the jewellery here. This necklace will go perfectly.’ She loops gold hoops of crinkled, beaten metal around my neck.

  Jen hurries me towards the fitting room, where an attendant opens a door for us and hangs the clothes on artfully twisted metal hooks.

  ‘May I suggest a draped t-shirt that would go great with those jeans,’ she says. ‘You’re a size eight, right?’

  ‘She is, the lucky thing,’ says Jen. ‘And she still thinks she’s fat.’

  The assistant brings us a hanger of smooth, draped fabric in a buttery, fawn colour.

  ‘That is just perfect for your skin tone,’ says Jen.

  ‘But what about the green jumper?’ I say. ‘I like that too.’

  ‘Soph, my love. You’re forgetting. Today you don’t have to decide between things. You can buy both of these.’

  ‘Right.’ I nod and smile, realising it’s true.

  ‘Did you notice our autumn boot collection?’ the assistant says.

  ‘No, I ...’

  ‘She’ll try on whatever boots will go with skinny jeans,’ says Jen, ‘and some high heels for this dress.’

  ‘But I never wear heels ...’

  ‘Soph, you don’t have to be totally practical today. You can buy some things that are a bit silly. Things you might only ever wear once in a blue moon.’

  ‘But I have nothing to wear high heels to.’

  ‘My mother always says, buy the outfit and the event will come up.’

  ‘Okay, fine.’ I give in.

  I try everything on, and as usual Jen has a perfect eye. The soft, blue dress she’s picked out sparkles under the store lighting, and clings to my waist in a way that’s both classy and sexy. The high heels make my legs look terrific. I feel like I’m someone else – someone who won’t look out-of-place at Ivy College.

  ‘It all looks great,’ I breathe, putting everything carefully back on hangers. I check the price tags. ‘Yikes. Jen, I don’t know ...’

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Jen. ‘You’re taking the whole lot. New wardrobe, new life. If you don’t buy it, then I’m buying it for you.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Jen is always threatening to buy things for me. She knows I’d never let her, but she still tries. ‘Fine. I’ll buy it.’

  ‘All of it?’ Jen asks. ‘Jewellery too?’

  I notice the sales assistant leaning in keenly.

  I sigh. ‘Yes. Everything. Belts, boots and jewellery.’

  Jen and the sales assistant both clap their hands.

  ‘Great!’ they say in unison.

  Chapter 6

  Seven stores later, and I’m weighed down with paper bags. I’ve watched countless beautiful pieces of clothing being lovingly folded and packaged in tissue paper. One store even sprayed the paper with lavender oil, and offered to carry the bags to our car. I’m used to clothing with red sale stickers on, scrunched into polythene bags.

  ‘There’s something else you need before I take us for coffee,’ says Jen.

  ‘I’m taking you for coffee,’ I say. ‘It’s the least I can do. You’ve bought nothing on this trip. It’s all been about me.’

  ‘Soph, all the times you’ve traipsed after me while I’ve tried things on, and gone home with nothing yourself. This is a treat for me. I love seeing you getting new stuff. You deserve it more than anyone. You work so hard.’

  ‘You’re such a good friend,’ I say, taking her arm. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without you when I’m in London. I’m going to miss you so much.’

  ‘I’ll come down and see you all the time,’ says Jen. ‘I’m only ever a phone call away. Anyway, I recon you’ll have a whole set of new friends within minutes, and forget all about me.’

  ‘Never,’ I say.

  She steers me towards the end of the shopping mall, where all the men’s shops are.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  She leads me towards the bright lights of the Apple Store, its white interior glowing with tablets, laptops and computers.

  ‘I thought this would make you happy,’ says Jen, squeezing my arm.

  I’ve always been a bit of a cyber geek, and love computers and gadgets. Not that I’ve ever been able to afford many of them, but I’ve always enjoyed helping Jen chose a new mobile phone or computer.

  Inside the store, I approach a line of white laptops, all as thin as a paper notepad.

  An assistant in an Apple t-shirt comes to stand beside me.

  ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Are you interested in a laptop?’

  ‘That’s an understatement,’ I say, running a hand over a perfectly smooth Apple logo on a bright white laptop case.

  ‘What’s your budget like?’

  ‘Um ... well, I guess ... I suppose I don’t have a budget.’

  ‘Oh. Well, we have credit plans –’

  ‘No. I mean ...’ I feel my cheeks going red. ‘Price doesn’t matter.’ I feel embarrassed, like I’m showing off. ‘At least, not today.’

  He looks at me curiously, no doubt wondering how a twenty-something girl, in scruffy converse and a bobbled sweatshirt can afford to say that price doesn’t matter.

  ‘Well, is there any model that takes your interest?’

  I move along to the newest Mac laptop. It’s as light as a paperback novel, with a battery that lasts all day. It’s so weird to be heading towards the highest-priced item, rather than the lowest. Usually, I scan prices to find the cheapest thing. It doesn’t matter where I am – a restaurant, cafe or department store. I’m hardwired to look for the lowest price. It’s hard to break the programming.

  ‘She’ll take this one,’ says Jen, following my gaze. ‘It’s the best one, right?’

  ‘I would say so,’ says the assistant. ‘It literally just came out last week. There have been waiting lists for it, but we restocked today and we’ve got two left.’

  He goes to a back room and returns with a smooth, flat white box. ‘Here it is.’

  ‘If she’s buying at full price, what else can you throw in?’ says Jen, her eyes sharp.

  The man swallows. ‘Well. I suppose ... a laptop case?’

  ‘What else?’ says Jen, tapping her foo
t.

  ‘And some virus software.’

  ‘And one of those ... what are they called? Mice? Is that what you’d call them all together?’ says Jen.

  ‘You want a mouse with it?’ the assistant asks.

  ‘Yes. Add a mouse and we’ll shake hands.’

  The man looks uneasy, but he’d be pretty stupid to argue with Jen in barter mode, and I think he knows it.

  ‘Deal,’ he says.

  ‘Great!’ Jen leads me to the till.

  We leave the store with me clutching my laptop like a new baby. I love it, I love it, I love it.

  Jen sees the grin on my face, and puts an arm around my shoulder. ‘This has been the best day.’

  Chapter 7

  When Jen drops me off at my annex, I see Dad in the doorway of the cottage, waving at us. He comes to the car window.

  ‘Christ almighty. Another shopping trip, Jen? How much did this little lot set your dad back?’

  Jen looks at me, and we share a quiet understanding that neither of us will tell him just yet that all the shopping is mine. Dad gets really anxious about money. If I were to tell him I’d just been given a huge cheque for clothing and university supplies, he’d want me to put it in a bank account and buy a few pieces from a charity shop. Which is very sensible, and exactly what I’d usually do. But I’m glad Jen forced me to live a little.

  ‘Would you girls like a cup of tea?’

  I glance at the cottage, trying to work out if Genoveva is home. It sounds bad, but sometimes I avoid going in if she’s there because she’s always bossing me around. If it’s just my dad and Samuel, then that’s fine. I’d never admit to Dad I feel that way. It would break his heart if he thought we weren’t all best buddies.

  ‘Is Genoveva home?’ Jen asks, always straight to the point.

  Dad scratches his hair absentmindedly. It’s black and grey now, and totally bald at the back. Genoveva has bought him this hair thickening stuff he puts on sometimes, that turns his scalp black. He’s been bald since he was in his early twenties. It never bothered my mum. I know the other taxi drivers tease him about it sometimes, but he can put up with teasing.

  ‘She’s taken Samuel to have his photo taken with a friend of hers,’ Dad says.

  ‘Didn’t know she had any friends,’ Jen whispers.

  ‘I’d love a cup of tea,’ I tell Dad. ‘But don’t worry. You look tired. I’ll make it.’ My dad is the sort of person who makes a mess. He doesn’t mean to, but I know if he makes tea, they’ll be hot water and sugar over the counter, and it’s me who’ll end up either clearing it up, or he’ll get snapped at by Genoveva.

  ‘Thanks, but I have to get on home,’ says Jen, turning to me. ‘Can I have your opinion about some of these clothes before I leave?’ Her eye twitches, and I know she wants to talk to me alone.

  When Dad goes inside, she says: ‘Do you think he’ll be upset?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I pull curls of my hair down, and feel them ping back up again. ‘I mean, it was always on the cards that I’d move out this year, but I don’t think he’d expect me to go so far away. I think they’ve sort of come to rely on me for childcare and that sort of thing.’

  ‘He’ll cope,’ says Jen. ‘They both will.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘And once I’m out of the annex, they can rent it and make a bit of money. So the sooner the better, really.’

  ‘Exactly,’ says Jen. She takes my shoulder. ‘You will tell him today, won’t you? I don’t want you putting it off, then changing your mind about the college.’

  ‘I will.’ I take a deep breath. ‘It’ll be hard, but I’ll do it.’

  ‘Good. Your dad’s a soppy old so and so, but I think he’ll take the news just fine. You’ll see.’

  She starts the engine and drives away.

  I go into the house, and hear the kettle rumbling.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Do you want one of your camomile jobbies?’ Dad asks.

  ‘You sit down. I’ll do it,’ I say, going to the cupboard and taking out mugs. There’s no need to ask Dad what he wants – it’s always tea, made exactly the same way. Very white with two sugars.

  ‘You always make it better than I do anyway,’ says Dad, smiling and taking a seat at the dining table. The cottage is old, but Dad took out a lot of walls when he first bought the place, and everything is open plan. The kitchen and dining area open right out into the living space, and there are black wooden beams running along the ceiling. It’s three times the size of my annex and always warm and cosy.

  I’d never tell Dad, but the annex gets freezing at night and my bed sheets always feel damp.

  ‘Soph – I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but is there something on your mind?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ I say, a spoon of sugar hovering over his mug.

  ‘It’s just ... you seem a bit distracted.’

  ‘Oh.’ This is the perfect opening to tell him. But for some reason, I just drop the sugar into the tea and start to stir.

  ‘How are things with Genoveva?’

  Dad laughs. ‘Oh, you know. She likes a row now and then. Nothing different than any other couple, I expect.’

  Mum and Dad never used to row. They were both so agreeable, there was nothing to row about.

  ‘But you’re okay? Generally?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Dad, staring out the window. ‘Generally okay. I wish I could let you stay in the annex for as long as you liked, but -’

  ‘Dad. Come on. Not this again. It’s fine. You’ve got Genoveva and the new baby to look after now. You need the rent from that place. I’m a grown up. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I don’t deserve to have a daughter as good as you,’ Dad says, taking his mug of tea from me. ‘There are some custard creams in the tin.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I love custard creams, but right now I don’t feel like eating. ‘Okay.’ I take a deep breath and let it out. ‘I do have something to tell you.’

  Dad puts his mug on the table.

  ‘Are you okay, Soph? Is there anything you need help with?’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Nothing at all. But I have news for you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dad tries to smile.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It’s great news really, in one way.’

  ‘Well. Let’s hear it.’

  ‘I’ve been offered a fully funded place on a post-graduate course.’

  ‘That’s fantastic news, Soph,’ says Dad. ‘Really, really fantastic.’ He breathes out. ‘Oh, that’s such a weight off my mind. I’ve been having sleepless nights, thinking about how you’re going to get a job in a village as small as this one. Without a car, and all that. I wish I could buy you a car, but – Soph, do you need to stay in the annex a while longer, then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So where are you going to live? Your university doesn’t have any accommodation for post-graduate students, does it?’

  ‘The place isn’t at my university,’ I say. ‘It’s at a college in London.’ I look into my tea, and see a grey teabag bobbing in brown water. ‘I just applied on a whim, actually. It was my tutor’s idea. I didn’t take it seriously at all. I never thought for a moment I’d be accepted.’

  Dad nods sadly. ‘London’s a little too far for you to come back at weekends, isn’t it?’

  I shake my head. ‘It’s only a few hours away. I can come back all the time.’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve already decided to accept, then,’ says Dad, with a gentle smile.

  ‘I have. At least, I think I have. It’s an amazing opportunity. Thousands of people applied. And I’m pretty sure Jen will kill me if I don’t take it.’ I smile.

  ‘She’s a good friend to you, that Jen.’ Dad takes a sip of tea. ‘Don’t worry about me, Soph. I don’t want you worrying about me at all. You go and enjoy yourself. Tell me about this college.’

  ‘It’s called Ivy College,’ I say. ‘It’s owned by a famous actor. Marc Blackwell. He teaches some of the classes.’ />
  ‘I’ve heard of him.’ Dad clicks his fingers. ‘From that film ... what was it ... the wheelchair one. He plays a basketball player in a wheelchair.’

  ‘The Windows of My Mind,’ I fill in. ‘He won an Oscar for that part.’

  ‘So is he in a wheelchair, then?’

  I smile. ‘No, Dad, he’s an actor. He was just playing the role. He’s able bodied. So able bodied, in fact, that they wanted him to do James Bond a few years back, but he turned it down.’

  ‘James Bond!’ Dad eyes light up. ‘You’re going to be taught by James Bond?’

  ‘If he hadn’t turned the part down.’

  Dad puts down his tea and throws his arms around me. ‘I’m so proud of you, petal,’ he says. ‘Truly. You’re the best daughter any dad could hope for. You go know ‘em dead at this place.’

  Chapter 8

  It’s the night before I’m due to leave for London, and Jen has invited me around for what she’s calling ‘the last supper’. She has some news for me, apparently. Some good news. And also hot chocolate, brandy, marshmallows and popcorn. Hopefully she’ll serve the popcorn separately, but with Jen you never know.

  I buzz her intercom five times – our secret signal – and she releases the door mechanism to her apartment block. I call her apartment the big brother house, because there are cameras everywhere. She lives in one of those brand new glass and metal blocks that are built like fortresses.

  When Jen left sixth form, she didn’t bother with university. Instead, she got a well-paying job in PR, and moved into this place. Her dad was furious, but Jen is always her own person. Her plan is to have her own PR agency one day.

  I tried to grow some things on Jen’s glass balcony so she’d have something of a garden, but they all died. Jen has many talents, but she’s not green fingered.

  I’m a little sad as I reach Jen’s blonde-wood front door. The thought of leaving her makes me feel homesick. We’ve known each other long enough to practically be sisters, and shared everything. First sips of cider in the park, first crushes, first kisses, first boyfriends ... everything.