‘I reckon Nat would like them,’ I say. ‘But I’m still not clear how we’re going to make sure she goes to the gig so we can get into the newsroom. I could invite her to go with me while you raided the newsroom, I suppose …’
‘You inviting her is absolutely not what I had in mind.’ Harriet sounds panicked by the thought. ‘The invitation has to come from Amelia, obviously.’
And there it is: the spinning silver has landed on smart. I smile. There’s no way Nat will pass up an invitation from Amelia Westlake.
Chapter 18
HARRIET
On Saturday night I shower early and dress by six. Arthur has sound-check at seven and I have offered to drive him to the venue. That way I can park, find some dinner nearby and return in time for their set.
It is usually Dad who goes to Arthur’s shows – venues won’t normally let him in without an accompanying adult, even when his band is the lead act, and anyway, Dad rather enjoys it. In his pre-dentist days he had his own band. He likes to boast they almost made it big. How truthful this is, given they mainly played Doors covers, I don’t know. But tonight Mum and Dad have a teeth-related function to attend.
I have a couple of essays due that I should be working on instead. I have already missed a recent Biology essay deadline because of Amelia Westlake. But I have no option other than to attend Arthur’s show to ensure the success of Operation Newsroom. My presence at Deep Fryer will mean that if and when Natasha Nguyen shows up I can let Will know the coast is clear.
A little after six I am in the kitchen preparing a pre-outing snack of balsamic-glazed pecans with rosemary and sea salt when Mum comes in.
‘Goodness, Harriet. What on earth are you wearing?’
I look up from the stove. ‘You’ve seen this shirt before.’ It is black with a few deliberate tears in the lower stomach region held together by oversized safety pins. ‘Arthur lent it to me. I’m going to his concert tonight, remember? I need to blend in.’
Mum frowns and opens the fridge door. She takes out a tub of hummus and a carrot. ‘That friend of yours. The one I met on Thursday. Will she be there?’
I shift the pecans in the pan with my wooden spoon. ‘Will Everhart? No.’
Mum lays the carrot on the chopping board and slices it down the middle. ‘I haven’t seen Edie for a while,’ she says.
‘She’s been very busy.’
‘Edie is a lovely girl, Harriet. And she’s a perfect friend for you while you’re finishing school.’
‘We’re a little more than friends, obviously.’
‘Mmm,’ says Mum, chopping the carrot carefully. ‘Being a teenager is a very intense time. And experimentation is a healthy part of the maturity process.’ She dips a slither of carrot into the hummus. ‘Edie is such a good role model for you. Not to mention your best chance to win Tawney. It’s not like you have the talent to win the Singles event. Really, you are lucky she chose you to be her partner. Very lucky. Which is why I wouldn’t want to see you taking your experimentation in another … direction.’ She looks at me intently. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’
To be honest, I am not a hundred per cent sure. Is she talking about experimentation in the bedroom? How embarrassing! She has no cause for concern, though. Edie and I have already agreed to keep things at second base until the Tawney Shield and exams are over. We are both of the view that it is important to avoid unnecessary distractions in the lead-up to the competition. I am fine with this arrangement. I can wait. I tip the pecans from the pan into an earthenware bowl. ‘Don’t worry Mum, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Mum pats my hand.
After dropping off Arthur at Deep Fryer I walk to the restaurant strip around the corner. I have just ordered some rice paper rolls and a prawn crepe in a sweet little place halfway down the block when a shadow looms across the tablecloth.
‘Harriet Price.’ Natasha Nguyen leans her palms on the table. ‘What a lovely surprise.’
She is dressed in a leather jacket and drainpipe jeans. Her jacket is covered in zips. The metal studs along the sleeves look sharp enough to puncture a bike wheel. I nervously dab the corner of my mouth with my napkin. ‘Natasha! What are you doing here?’
She looks around. ‘This is a Vietnamese restaurant. Where else would I be on a Saturday night?’
‘Oh,’ I stammer. ‘Right!’
Natasha’s expression darkens. ‘That was a joke, Price. I could probably tell you my father runs this place and you’d believe that, too. Because what else could a Vietnamese refugee do other than run a restaurant? For your information, Dad’s a management consultant and his spring rolls taste like shit.’ She rolls back on her heels. ‘The bigger question is, what are you doing here? Alone? Wearing – oh my – a retro-punk T-shirt? Off to the opera, are we?’
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to see The Sphere at Deep Fryer tonight,’ I say calmly.
‘Is that right.’
‘Yes. It is.’
‘What an amazing coincidence.’
‘Are you seeing them, too?’ I ask, feigning surprise.
Natasha smirks. ‘Like you don’t already know.’
‘Why on earth would I already know?’
Natasha straightens her shoulders. Leather creaks. ‘Christ, Price, you’re a piece of work. Just come out and say it. Isn’t that why you asked me here? For the Big Reveal? Or have you changed your mind?’
Why didn’t we think of this? Natasha thinks my presence here has something to do with her invitation from Amelia Westlake! ‘I didn’t ask you anywhere. I have no idea what you’re talking
