Secrets of a Teenage Heiress by Katy Birchall (9)

‘Lord of the Flies,’ Mum read aloud, picking up the book from my desk and stroking the front cover. ‘I didn’t know you were studying this.’

‘Yep, got LOADS to do.’ I’d already put on my tortoiseshell glasses, to help with the studious vibe.

She nodded, scanning her eyes over the notes and books scattered around my laptop.

‘You look busy.’

‘They’re really piling on the homework this year,’ I explained, pointing at my ‘To Do’ list, which I’d quickly scribbled earlier. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to finish this essay – it’s due tomorrow. I’ll be stuck here working on it all night.’

‘Really? I love Lord of the Flies, maybe I can help. What’s the essay question?’

‘You’ve read Lord of the Flies? Isn’t it a bit young for you?’

She perched on the edge of the desk. ‘This was published in the 1950s, Flick. I read it as a teenager.’

‘Oh, right. Well, the essay question is really boring and complicated, you probably don’t want to bother with it,’ I mumbled quickly, glancing at the time. I didn’t have long before Skylar would be ready to pick me up.

‘Try me.’ Mum shrugged.

‘What are the important symbols in Lord of the Flies?’ I read out. ‘See? Really tricky.’

‘That’s a great question. Let’s see, you have –’

‘OK, thanks, Mum, I know you’re super busy and I wouldn’t want to keep you.’

She looked slightly taken aback at the interruption but then rolled her eyes and stood up from the desk.

‘All right, all right, I can take a hint. I’ve got to get to the other side of London for a book launch anyway. I won’t be back late.’

She planted a kiss on my head and ruffled my hair. I smoothed it back into place as she went to my bedroom door.

‘Flick,’ she said, turning back, ‘I know about tonight.’

‘What?’ I squeaked.

HOW COULD SHE KNOW? There was no way Skylar would have told her! Do all mums have some sort of secret antennae that can sense when you’re about to break their stupid rules? I thought to myself. How was I going to get out of this one? Distract her with something worse! THINK, BRAIN, THINK!

‘BLASTER!’

‘What?’

NOT YOUR BEST WORK, BRAIN!

‘The weapons the bad guys have in Star Wars. Blasters. They’re awful. Don’t you think?’

‘Um. OK?’ She looked more confused than ever.

ABORT MISSION!

‘I was talking about Ella’s party?’ she said, looking at me strangely. ‘It’s tonight, right?’

‘Oh. That.’

PHEW!

‘I am sorry, you know. That you’re missing out.’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it.’

‘Really, I mean it,’ she said seriously. ‘I appreciate that all your friends will be going but I hope you understand why I can’t let you go.’

‘Yeah, totally. I understand. Have fun tonight.’ I nodded, wishing she would just leave.

‘You’re being really grown up about this, Flick. I’m proud of you.’ Mum smiled before closing the door.

Wow. Could she have taken any longer to LEAVE? Old people really like to loiter.

As soon as I heard the ding of the lift doors opening in the corridor, I rushed over to my wardrobe, clumsily changing out of my pyjamas and pulling on one of my favourite mini dresses and a jacket to match. I put on some eyeliner and mascara as carefully as I could in a hurry, and then hunted down my black boots.

Fritz, who had been curled up in his basket, lifted his head and ears in interest as I trampled around my room – before stepping out and stretching, wagging his tail ready for a trip.

‘Not today, Fritz,’ I said, successfully locating one boot under my bed. ‘You’re going to have to stay here.’

His ears dropped and he sat forlornly.

‘Don’t be like that,’ I grumbled, kneeling down to rummage through the bottom of my wardrobe for my other boot. ‘I asked and Skylar said that dogs are not welcome at this show. Argh, where is my other boot?’

I sat back on my feet and scanned the room. I stopped when I got to Fritz’s basket.

‘Fritz,’ I said in a warning tone, ‘is that my boot in your basket?’

He blinked at me innocently. I reached forward to snatch my boot but as I grabbed it, Fritz lunged at the same time and gripped the boot in his jaws.

‘Fritz, this is not the time to be difficult!’

I stood up and lifted my boot with me so that he would let go, but his grip was strong and he refused to drop it, instead coming with the boot and dangling in the air. I quickly dropped it so he wouldn’t hurt himself and he triumphantly trotted back to his basket, plopping the boot in the centre and sitting on top of it.

My phone buzzed on the desk with a message from Skylar.

‘Fine,’ I huffed, marching into the kitchen and picking up Fritz’s dog bowl and bag of food. He plodded up curiously behind me. ‘You win. If I give you another supper, will you let me leave?’

He tilted his head in agreement.

‘There.’

I placed his bowl on the floor and he dived into it head first. I took the opportunity to rush back to my room, pull on my boot and shove my phone, keys and sunglasses into my pocket.

‘I won’t be long,’ I called to him as I closed the door. He didn’t look up once from his bowl.

According to the guests, there is one way to enter and exit Hotel Royale – through the large gold-plated revolving front door where a load of men and women wearing silly uniforms and top hats stand, greeting you and waving you off. According to the staff, there are three ways: the front door, a door that leads out from the kitchens into a back road for deliveries, and a door from the laundry rooms into a side road.

There also happens to be a fourth door. A secret door.

It was Cal’s and my greatest discovery when we had been playing one of our favourite games a few years ago: ‘steal-Chef ’s-hat-and-hide-it-where-he’ll-never-find-it’. We had been racing away from Chef, laughing our heads off as he thundered after us still holding a whisk in his hand, confident in the knowledge that he’d never catch us. Cal and I could be speedy when we wanted to be. Our usual route was through the kitchens, out on to the back road and then on to the main road where we’d give it to a very pleased tourist who happened to be passing by. But one day, our route was blocked by delivery men with ginormous boxes of food.

Chef had laughed victoriously, folding his arms and going, ‘No way out this time, suckers.’

Cal was all ready to hand back the hat and admit defeat but I wasn’t going to let that happen, so I yelled at him to follow me and then darted round the kitchen, cutting Chef off from a straight path to us, and pelted into the maze of corridors underneath the hotel. We just kept running, dodging the staff rushing around on their duties, until we reached a dead end next to a random storeroom full of boxes and old broken furniture. Never even knowing it existed, we coughed our way to the back of the room through the dust.

‘What now, genius?’ Cal had laughed as we stood catching our breath against the back wall. ‘Wait,’ he said peering past me, ‘what’s that?’

He pointed at a thin slit of light in the corner of the room, which appeared to be coming through the wall. We moved closer and his eyes widened with excitement.

‘It’s a door! A secret one.’ He moved his hands around the wall. ‘It completely blends in.’

‘Well, push it, dumdum.’

‘I’m not pushing it. We don’t know where it leads,’ he replied nervously.

‘You are such a chicken,’ I huffed, elbowing him aside.

I pushed on the wall with all my strength and the door creaked open, letting sunlight pour in. It led to a tiny porch-like walled area with what looked like a wooden garden door on the other side. Cal went through and lifted the latch of the second door, poking his head out and then beaming at me. ‘It’s the back road.’ He laughed. ‘This leads to the back road!’

It was our proudest moment, and we made the most of our new secret. We spent ages tidying up the back of the storeroom so it wasn’t so dirty – Cal’s terrified of spiders so guess who had to dust the gross cobwebs up? – and then we even weeded the paving of the courtyard (which took us all of five minutes considering how small it was). Cal had done some nerdy research, of course, into the architecture of the hotel, and discovered that the exit had been used as an emergency escape by staff during the war, but it had since been forgotten. We never told anyone about it and used it all the time to sneak out or play tricks. I hadn’t been there in years.

Until now.

I rushed through the hotel on full alert, careful not to let Audrey or Matthew see me. The hardest part was getting through the staff corridors unseen, but I got lucky with my timing: the chefs were all dashing about the kitchen sorting dinner and housekeeping must have been turning down beds for the evening. I managed to race to the storeroom without being noticed. I did a quick glance down the deserted corridor and slid through the door. Everything was exactly how it had been, except it was clean. Really clean. There were still stacks of wooden chairs and broken shelves dotted about the place, but it wasn’t dusty, which was weird. Maybe Matthew or someone had started using it again for storage and had cleaned the place up. It was brighter in there than I remembered, with light pouring in through a window at the back. But there was still a makeshift pathway weaving around the junk, which was handy. As I got to the end of it, I accidentally knocked my arm on a chair, nudging it noisily across the floor.

A voice came from the back. ‘Who’s there?’

I screamed and darted backwards, knocking my head on a wardrobe.

‘Careful! Are you OK?’

Cal appeared looking concerned.

‘What are you doing here?’ I hissed, rubbing the bump forming on my head.

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he replied, crossing his arms. I looked past him at where he’d been and saw his laptop perched on a big, cushioned armchair.

‘What the . . . What is this?’

I took in all the cushions on the armchair and the stacks of books lying around it. There were way too many books lying around for him to have brought them along in his backpack in one trip. He was not here on a one-off.

‘Wait a second, do you work down here?’

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah. I do.’

I looked up at him in confusion. ‘Since when?’

‘Most of last year, and when I was writing during the summer.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s loud at home,’ he explained. ‘Mum is always on the phone to her clients and our next-door neighbour is learning the drums. I can’t think there.’

‘So you just set up . . .  here?’

He shrugged. ‘I never get disturbed.’

‘You’ve made it kind of cosy, I have to say.’

‘Thanks.’ He smiled.

My phone started buzzing in my pocket.

‘Gotta go.’

‘Aren’t you grounded?’ he asked, suddenly looking me up and down. ‘You look dressed up.’

‘Good luck with the rest of your work!’ I said, kicking aside some of his books to get to the door. ‘I’ll need to get back in this way later, so if you could make sure the passageway is clear that would be great.’

‘Wait a second, you’re sneaking out?’

‘Good detecting, Sherlock. See ya.’

‘Flick, wait.’ He reached forwards and grabbed my arm. ‘You can’t sneak out! It’s a really stupid idea. Ella’s party is not worth the hassle.’

‘I’m not going to Ella’s party,’ I said, shaking off his hand.

‘Well, then, where are you going?’

I pushed open the secret door to the courtyard, noting it was nowhere near as stiff as it used to be. Cal must have greased the hinges. ‘Nowhere, just don’t tell anyone.’

‘Flick, would you just listen to me for one sec–’

‘Wait, what is this?’

I cut him off as I took in what the door had opened out to. What had once been a very small concrete courtyard, was now a mini garden. There was climbing ivy across the walls, and flower boxes lining the paving.

‘I did some gardening last year,’ Cal answered, coming to stand next to me and lean on the door frame. My phone vibrated again with another missed call from Skylar, and a message flashed up when I checked the screen.

I was about to put it back in my pocket when another message came through.

‘Hold on.’ Cal peered over my shoulder. ‘“Mom”?’

‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you it was rude to read other people’s messages?’ I huffed, taking a step outside.

‘The only American you know is Skylar Chase.’ Cal stepped out after me. ‘Flick, this is a really bad idea. You’ll easily get caught if you’re going anywhere with her. She’s hardly subtle. It will be in the Daily Post the minute you walk outside.’

‘So?’

‘So, your mum will kill you. Whatever stupid thing you’re doing, just leave it and go out next week.’

‘You are such a goody-goody.’

‘Fine,’ he said, his concerned expression disappearing as he stomped back inside. ‘Go ahead and be an idiot. I won’t try to stop you.’

‘Like you could,’ I sneered.

I opened the latch and peeked outside. A black car with tinted windows was waiting on the side of the road. The car horn beeped. I waved, and then turned back to Cal.

‘Leave the door propped open, will you? One of those heavy books will do,’ I said, before darting out without waiting for him to reply and jumping into the back of the car.

Skylar was sitting on the back seat wearing sunglasses and bright red lipstick. She leaned across to give me a hug.

‘You made it! Was it OK? Any problems?’

‘None whatsoever,’ I said smugly, whipping my sunglasses out my pocket and putting them on. ‘Let’s go.’