This is a test, not a punishment. Now, go. I flick open my towel with new resolve, expose my bare body once again. My towel is in my hand just in time...for Rupert to look up. I think he had spotted me through the window. He seems not to notice Petra make her way past him and down the steps. I avoid his gaze as I pass through the French door. I’ll look anyone in the eye, but not him. There is a mix of mentors and gents on the terrace. Miss Jackson is out here too. “Good afternoon, Emma,” says. It was morning no one had turned into a pumpkin. She could stay. Greg could stay. It sent a ridiculous surge of happiness through her. No matter what Julie’s brain or sensibilities told her, she wanted to believe in this. She wanted it to be real. And at this stage of the game, the fact that they were both lying in bed the following morning with no pressing commitments was almost as good as proof. Greg was sleeping on his back, one hand under the pillow behind his head, the other folded across. More

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