The music had come to an end but Louisa remained motionless on her bed, pensive and listless. She could hear someone moving around in the next room and she presumed that it was the girlfriend, making herself at home. For some reason, that thought stung her but she didn't want to dwell on the reason why.
Of course she knew what went on in private between adults, but she couldn't really imagine it, couldn't even really fathom it at all if she were honest. Simply couldn't bear to when it came to Martin and that woman. She gave an involuntary shiver. Her dad had always told her to ignore boys and think about her future, that she was too young and too clever to get herself knocked up when she was still a kid herself. He'd always said that she should wait until a man came along that treated her like the princess she was. It was just a shame, Louisa thought bitterly, that he hadn't seemed to give much thought to how he treated her, or she wouldn't be lying here now.
When they weren't talking about music or clothes, Louisa and her friends talked a lot about boys. Or rather Caroline talked, and she and Isobel listened. Caroline always seemed to get crushes on older boys, and pursue them relentlessly. Her current object of lust, Tommy, was a few years older than they were and, at lunchtime a few weeks ago, she'd whispered conspiratorially to Louisa and Isobel about what they'd been getting up to at the lookout carpark, in the back seat his two door Capri. Privately, Louisa had been a bit shocked. And, it made her think that her own crushes on unobtainable pop singers and movie stars seemed juvenile and embarrassing by comparison. At the time, however, she just couldn't imagine wanting to do to anyone ever what Caroline had boasted that she'd done with Tommy. It all sounded gross.
She thought about the boys she actually knew. Martin Farry was now a pimply, football-obsessed adolescent who had a makeshift goal set up in his garden and spent every spare minute practicing cross kicks and dribbling a ball around a line of stolen traffic cones. There was Danny Steele of course but everyone knew he was so far up himself, plus he always had his shirt tail hanging out, and his legs were ridiculously hairy since, well, puberty she supposed. Most of the boys in her classes were just revolting actually. Immature, unkempt and so puerile. They made her cringe.
There were a couple of older boys at school whom she quite liked the look of. They were quite cool and one of them was really good looking. Unfortunately, that meant that there was always a gaggle of more developed girls hanging around him. Plus he lived in Delabole which was difficult. The other boy was a prefect, and played cricket for the first XI which, if she were honest, Louisa found a bit off putting. He was always tidy and well groomed but she wasn't really interested in sport the way people who loved it were. Plus, in reality she'd never even noticed either of them give her much more than an appraising glance when she walked past them in the corridors, and she'd never even spoken a word to either of them so it all seemed a bit unlikely really.
Her train of thought had brought her back in a circle and she forced herself to think about why she had been so disturbed by the arrival of Martin's horrible girlfriend. Even in her head, it pained her to call her that, which was probably a clue in itself. It seemed to Louisa that, compared to everyone else she knew, Martin seemed so intelligent and sophisticated. Even during their brief conversation about her study options, she had been transfixed by his voice and the way he spoke with such self-assuredness. She felt like she could really trust his advice.
He'd even teased her about her acknowledged suit obsession. At least she thought he was teasing her but, honestly, he did make even well dressed villagers, like the Bradings and Colonel Spencer, seem scruffy by comparison. The cuff links, she thought dreamily. Oh my god, the cuff links. She thought about his car, and the fact that he was a doctor and, suddenly, she felt a wave of shame and humiliation wash over her. How dumb could she be? Of course he was going to have a girlfriend and an interesting life in London, and be successful and popular. She, Louisa Glasson, was just an awkward, deluded kid who had spent a day trying to wind him up and had behaved, well, like a stupid kid really, and he'd just humoured her because he was nice.
Which was a shame really because, as she realised with a feeling of despair, it was him being so sweet and kind to her that really made the arrival of the red headed woman hurt so badly. Her eyes started to swim and she bit down hard on her lip, determined once again not to cry. As she lay there, castigating herself for being such a dreamer, she heard the sharp sound of heels moving rapidly down the hall way. Involuntarily, Louisa felt her jaw set firmly and her eyes narrow.
"We'll see who's gonna bugger off, you spiky old cow." She growled and, hearing the footsteps disappearing down the stairs, she slipped through her door and ran lightly down the hall to the bathroom.
When she returned to her room a few moments later, face washed and hair brushed, she felt better, if not a little underdressed. Looking down at her pilled sweatshirt and mismatched socks, she decided to get changed into her best dress, a pretty sunfrock that her dad had bought her back from Truro a few months earlier after he told her he'd won big on a trifecta. It was the most grown up article of clothing she owned and, she'd never really had an opportunity to wear it. Unfortunately she only had a pair of green flip flops to accessorise with it, and she would freeze to death if she ventured outside but it would have to do. Just as she was about to head downstairs a thought struck her and she rushed back to her suitcase. Rummaging around at the bottom she felt the crispness of the tissue paper against her fingers. Gently, she removed the little folded up parcel and placed it on the bed, before carefully unfolding the protective layers. Inside was the delicate little red cardigan that Mrs Norton had given her a few years ago. She'd forgotten that she had it until she'd packed her things this morning. It had the most beautiful beading around the neck and cuffs, and Joan had told her that she'd worn it to dances in the fifties when she was just a girl. Louisa held it up to her nose and was relieved that it only smelt vaguely of Schiaparelli or some equally ancient fragrance. She slipped it on cautiously and, admiring it in the tiny mirror, acknowledged that it was perfect. The beading sparkled as she twisted around to admire it from all angles, and her heart soared just a little bit. Who'd have thought a vintage cardigan could do so much to lift an outfit, Louisa thought. Maybe it would be worth investigating the Wadebridge Charity Shops on her way home from school. She was going to have to be very creative with her clothing now she would be on an even more limited budget.
With a toss of her hair, and a last glance in the mirror, she opened her door and made her way to the top of the stairs, before pausing to take a deep breath. If she was determined that the Redhead was going to regret her nasty remark, Louisa needed all the self confidence she could muster.