Suddenly, a cushion hits my face.
“Hey!” I shout.
“We hadn’t finished our conversation, Ruby,” my dad says, deadly serious. “Get involved.”
“No, Dad, I can’t sing, and no, I’m not auditioning for any show just so you can laugh at me.”
“Hmm,” he says, looking pensively at me while Mum gushes with delight. “Such a little girl with such a great voice!”
“There are other ways to win a talent show. If the sewing machine isn’t an option, you could learn juggling together.”
“If you’re so keen on the idea, then you can apply yourself,” I say dryly.
“You know what? Maybe I will,” Dad says, in mock defiance.
“And what would you do?” Mum asks absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“How about…”
Danny Jones, one of the jury members, presses his button, and his chair starts to revolve. Mum cheers, and Dad raises his arms euphorically.
Ember and I look at each other and laugh.
“Do we have anything going on tomorrow?” I ask, once the girl has left the stage and things have calmed down a bit.
Dad shakes his head. “No, why?”
“We’re planning a Halloween party at the moment and need costumes. One of the boys has come up with some, and he wants to know if we can pick them up in London tomorrow.”
“That’s a two-hour drive. Is this ominous boy going to drive, or will you go by train?” Mum asks.
I hold up a finger to tell her to wait a moment. Then I type my reply.
OK. How will we get to London? RB
I hope he’ll get that my initials are meant as a joke.
My chauffeur will pick you up about 10. OK? JMB
I snort and feel Ember’s inquiring eyes on me.
For a moment I consider googling James to find out what the “M” stands for, but I don’t. Googling him would also be crossing a line. I don’t want to know everything it says about him on the web. There are hundreds of rumors just at school. I could have a lifetime supply of James Beaufort gossip.
“Apparently, this boy has a chauffeur,” I reply belatedly.
“A chauffeur?” Ember exclaims. “So he’s one of the poshos then?”
“His family owns Beaufort’s.”
“You’re planning to drive to London with the Beaufort boy?” Dad asks. His tone is both surprised and suspicious.
I nod slowly. “Yes. We can borrow some clothes from their archive.”
Dad frowns. “And it’ll be…the two of you?”
“Come on, Angus,” Mum says. “Leave Ruby be.”
“What? If Ruby has a date, I want to know.”