Midnight Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

she said, her dark brown eyes worried. ‘Look at Allegra, I haven’t seen her so cheerful in ages.’
    ‘I know.’ Imogen gazed at the ground. ‘It’s because of what we’ve found out. I think she wants to use it.’
    ‘I don’t think she should,’ Romily said urgently.
    ‘Nor do I.’ Imogen couldn’t help noticing that her friend wore even her games kit with her customary sense of fashion: her tartan kilt was a little more rakish and stylish than the others, her initials stitched on to it in flowing pink script.
    ‘If Sophie gives Allegra any reason or provokes her, she’ll use it to get her revenge,’ said Romily. ‘She won’t be able to help herself. It’s bound to get out somehow, and it’s going to cause a terrible scandal. Poor Sophie. I know she’s a bitch, but I can’t help feeling sorry for her. It will be so, so embarrassing. How will she face everyone? It will ruin her life here. And Martha’s too. They’ll have to leave.’
    They stared at each other.
    ‘Can we stop Allegra?’ asked Imogen at last.
    ‘All we can do is try and persuade her to go easy,’ Romily said. ‘I’m sure she’ll listen to us.’ The games mistress returned then with Allegra, whose arms were piled high with bibs. ‘Come on. We’d better go and warm up.’
    It felt strange for Imogen to be sharing a confidence with Romily. Allegra had always been their leader, the other two her close lieutenants with their first loyalty to her rather than each other. And Imogen had been at Allegra’s side even before they came to Westfield, two girls from Scotland anticipating their grand English boarding school, Imogen with nervousness and Allegra with unbridled excitement.
    They had first met when Imogen was almost ten years old.
    ‘What an amazing coincidence!’ her mother had marvelled as she dressed Imogen in her smartest clothes.
    ‘What is? Where are we going?’ she’d asked while her mother brushed out her hair and tied it in a ribbon.
    ‘My old school friend, Selina Garrett … all this time she’s been living ten miles away and I never knew!’ Imogen could sense her mother’s excitement. ‘Who would have thought it? I met her quite by accident in Edinburgh and it turns out that she’s only gone and married Ivo McCorquodale, the eldest son of Lord Crachmore, and they live at Foughton, that magnificent old castle on the edge of the loch. I can’t believe how many times I’ve driven past it, and all the time Selina’s been living there! We were very best friends at school, though we lost touch afterwards when she went abroad. We’re going to visit today, and you’ll meet her daughter who is the same age as you are. I’m sure you’re going to be friends, just as we were!’
    They seemed to drive for ages, out of town and into the countryside, and finally down long, twisty, overgrown roads that led to a beautiful, crystal blue loch, with Foughton standing craggy and impressive at its side. It was amazing, like something from Imogen’s favourite storybooks, a castle where gorgeous princesses danced in satin slippers and where good fairies and wicked witches flew among the grey stone turrets and battlements.
    I would love to live here
, she thought at once, her imagination alight.
It’s so much more exciting than our boring house in our boring road
…
    She watched as her mother fell, screaming with pleasure, into the arms of her old friend, followed dutifully as they were led through the endless dark corridors and listened as her mother said what an incredible place it was, but her friend said it was a bore to live in something so big and that it was freezing in the winter and how difficult it was to find people to work there – and all the other adult problems that seemed so dull. Who cared, if you could live in a castle like this? And then, they came out into an enormous sitting room and suddenly they were in the light again. Huge windows opened on to a stone terrace edged with what looked like