Free Hard Knocks by Zoe Sharp Page A

then I remembered Kirk. Of course, Sean was just protecting his interests. Keeping his conscience clear. “No problem,” I’d said, casual. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow evening, then?”
     
    “Charlie, are you OK in there?” Elsa’s voice, just outside the shower curtain, made me jump back into the present with a start.
     
    “Erm, yeah, fine,” I said, hastily rinsing shampoo out of my hair. “You head on down for breakfast. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
     
    I almost reached for the towel that I’d hung over the rail above me, just in case she pulled the curtain aside, but it wasn’t modesty that drove me.
     
    I’d been very careful so far to make sure that I dressed away from the view of the other women, keeping my neck and upper body covered. I knew that if I didn’t do so, I would have to answer awkward questions about the number of scars I possessed, and their origin.
     
    But how did I begin to explain about the one that curved a full five inches round the side of my neck from a point below my right ear to my Adam’s apple? How did I drop it lightly into the conversation that I’d got it fighting for my life against a madman who’d already committed murder and who’d been more than willing to do so again?
     
    I’d thought of lying, telling people it was from an operation of some sort, but the line of it was too ragged for that to be believable. And then they start to wonder what you’re really trying to hide.
     
    On the other side of the curtain I heard Elsa move away and close the bathroom door behind her. I sagged back against the tiles in relief, and wondered on the chances of getting through the entire two weeks at Einsbaden without having to explain what had happened to me.
     
    I could only hope so.
     
    ***
     
    When I arrived in the dining hall less than ten minutes later, I was alarmed to find the place almost empty.
     
    “Where is everyone, Ronnie?” I asked one of the cooks who was expertly flipping fried eggs on the hot plate.
     
    He grinned and jerked his head towards the front of the house. When I crossed to the window I saw a group of students and instructors clustered round a car that was just being unloaded from a transporter.
     
    Our first class after breakfast was down as vehicle security, then we were into the driving. I checked my watch, but according to that I still had half an hour to go. Dammit. Another of their switched timetables.
     
    I almost ran through the hallway, out through the front door and down the steps onto the gravel. I jogged across and nudged my way between the press of bodies.
     
    When I got through I found they were just standing around like a group of eighteen-year olds when the oldest buys his first second-hand Vauxhall Nova SR. Nobody was doing anything interesting to the car. It was the car itself they were looking at.
     
    I didn’t recognise the shape, but if it’s got more than two wheels any other details tend to pass me by anyway. Even your most amazing supercar can be out-dragged and outmanoeuvred by your most average superbike, at a fraction of the cost. I know where I’d rather spend my money.
     
    I had to admit that this one had a certain brutish charm about it. The car was big and squat, in a metallic shade that looked expensive enough to qualify as platinum, rather than silver. Not wanting to show my ignorance, I craned my neck until I could see the badging on the rear end.
     
    “But it’s a Nissan,” I said, and my voice must have well given away how nonplussed I was by this fact. I’d been expecting something a lot more exotic. Maserati at the very least.
     
    “Do you know nothing, girl?” demanded Declan, who was nearest. The reverential tone in his voice was slightly scary. “This is a Skyline GT-R R34 V-SPEC.”
     
    It was little more than an unlikely collection of letters and numbers to me. I shrugged. “What’s so special about it?”
     
    A couple of the others sniggered. Declan rolled his eyes.