Blue Lavender Girl (5 page)

Aunt Maisie still wakes me up with a cup of tea every morning and I really love that. It makes me feel like a lot of stuff from home is getting fixed, like I am getting enough attention for now and for then.

I got the leftover blue lavender paint and two brushes and put them in a bag along with the tin of oatmeal cookies.

Jackson and Jenny were already sweeping when I got there, and I got busy so that they get that I am serious about this. I know back home I am really lazy, but that’s just because there is nothing I want to do. Here I want to do things even if I don’t know what they are.

Jackson said, ‘That colour really suits you’, and I
just gave him a look because I was all in black as usual so I guessed he was being sarcastic. I bet he was just trying to sound all charming in front of Jenny. But about an hour later I caught my reflection in a newly-washed window and saw that I had got a big streak of lavender paint on the side of my face from when I opened the can to see how much was in there. There was some on my hand too, so I must have touched my face and it wiped off. It least I didn’t pick my nose and leave that all painty, but still I felt as big an idiot as that time I sat on a chewing gum paper and had it stuck to my arse for a full day in town. Dee swore she didn’t see it but Kira told me in a game of truth or dare that she did and that everyone told each other not to tell me.

Anyway, I was feeling embarrassed and didn’t talk to Jackson much after that, I just pretended I was too busy to notice when he said something funny or asked a question. Even when we stopped for a half-dozen cookie-breaks, I made myself all distant, and said I was ‘tired’ or ‘thinking’ whenever Jenny asked. A guy would never ask you how you are feeling unless you had trained him really well.

It was amazing now much we got done. The floor was spotless, the chairs, tables and windows
washed, and we’d made a start on stripping off the old peeling paintwork on the wooden window frames. We were just deciding how much of the room to paint in lavender, when Mr Walsh rushed in. He had a look on his face like he’d eaten a vat of chillies, his mouth open and a red fire in his cheeks.

He was so obviously trying to sound in control, but not really doing that great a job when he roared, ‘What is going
on
here?’

Jackson didn’t even look at him and said really calmly, ‘We are cleaning this place up because Bob and I have decided we want to hang out here this summer. Grandfather is fine with it, and it’s his tearoom, no-one else’s.’

I had no idea who Bob was, and thought that the idea of Jackson having an imaginary friend at his age made him seem so much more interesting.

‘Your grandfather hasn’t the capacity to make those sorts of decisions,’ Mr Walsh was practically spitting by now.

Jackson answered, still calm, ‘Well, then I’ll ask my uncle, after all he’s the heir. In fact, he’ll be here briefly tomorrow evening and I’ll ask him then. Will you be wanting to meet with him, Mr Walsh?’

Mr Walsh just made a face and walked away. He is
so rude, I’ve never met anyone like him. Oh, except I said that about Jackson who turned out to be more sappy than awful.

‘You can’t just set up camp anywhere you want. This Park is a business,’ Mr Walsh shouted from half way across the lavender field.

‘And a home, and at least for the summer it’s my home,’ Jackson boomed back, sounding like Mr In-Charge.

I didn’t know he had it in him!

Mr Walsh had been way too angry for what was going on. After all, the place had been locked up for years. I wonder if he bought the extra paint so he could do the tearoom up by himself? And then sit there drinking tiny china cups of earl grey tea all day and letting the Park and Big House crumble to the ground!

It was after 6p.m., and we couldn’t believe we’d been working for
seven hours
with only cookie breaks. We decided to leave the painting for another day, that way (as Jenny and Jackson agreed) Bob could help too. I wanted to ask them who Bob was, but it was kind of hard to do as I couldn’t work out how to stop cold-shouldering Jackson without it seeming odd.

Luckily, us girls had already made plans to watch a movie in Jenny’s bedroom.

Jackson looked a bit sad that we didn’t invite him, but when we explained it was a girls’ night in, he looked relieved not to be involved, and practically ran off.

Once he’d gone I could get the info that Bob is Jackson’s cousin who is seventeen and hasn’t been over for the last four summers. Apparently he is short, loud and annoying and keeps doing silly things like tipping food into people’s laps or making fart sounds under his armpit to get attention. Jenny says that she hopes his last four years have made him understand that something is only funny when both people are laughing. Then, because she always has to see the good side, she said she’s sure he is very changed and will be fine to hang out with.

‘Yes Jenny, maybe he’s grown a foot taller and been in a Swiss finishing school for the last four years, majoring in the social graces.’

‘Anyway, if he’s completely unbearable we can gang up on him and throw him in the lake,’ she said miserably, which means that he must be pretty hideous.

While Jenny and I sat there getting toast crumbs
on her bed I somehow told Jenny that I was really jealous of the way that she dresses and laughs, and the way she is so whirling and happy. Then I was amazed when she told me that she was really jealous of the way I say funny things, and the way I am so daring, like I don’t let other people dictate my life. We agreed to help each other, and Jenny said she will nudge me whenever I start to look miserable so I can remember to smile. And I am going to encourage her every time she says or does something daring, something that is not meant to make someone else happy.

I feel really good after that chat and I think that Jenny is now my best friend, even though I don’t know her for nearly as long as I know Kira and Dee. I think sometimes you just click with people, and it doesn’t matter how long or short a time you’ve known them.

Nanny Gloria let us bring the TV and dvd player up to Jenny’s room and we watched this really old movie where the man and the woman were fighting all the time, but it was as if, each time they danced together, they fell in love in spite of themselves. The man wasn’t my type, probably not anyone’s type, all skinny and a pointy chin, but when he was dancing
you thought he was really handsome. It was brilliant.

I had to cycle quickly because I was quite late because we were having such a laugh afterwards, acting out the scenes from the movie.

Aunt Maisie said that my mum called and said they won’t be visiting this weekend as planned, but that she asked did I need anything.

‘Parents, I need parents,’ I mumbled, and made my way upstairs.

I am not sure if I am now in a good mood or a bad mood.

I’m going to be the best dancer in the world. That is my goal. No up-to-date stuff either, only the romantic dances like that lady in the movie last night. The trouble is that I need someone to teach me, and someone to dance with.

I wonder if you can do that for a career, dancing like they did in the olden days?

‘Hello, I’m a doctor’, ‘Hello, I’m a lawyer’, ‘Hello, I’m a long-dress-type dancer, like in black and white films.’

I practised waltzing around the garden because Aunt Maisie was out for the morning. Sometimes I did it as Rose Red, sometimes as the girl in the film last night, and sometimes as me. I wish I could get it
right, I know that there is complicated stuff you can do that looks better. Problem is that if I ask Jackson to help me then he will think he is great and that I fancy him. So I’ll maybe go to the supermarket at a quiet time and see if the manager is free (joke!).

This afternoon when I was walking past the lake on the way to the tearoom, Jackson was standing there (in a
very
unfortunate pair of loafers) as if he was waiting, and when he saw me said he had a surprise. I guessed he had got something for Jenny and wanted to see if I thought she’d like it. Instead of going to the tearoom we turned towards the little hut. It’s tiny, about the size of an ordinary garden shed, but it’s a hexagon shape and made of stone. Inside it also has loads of flowers and angels and seashells carved on the stone and a bench that runs right around the edge. The door is the best. It’s made of wood and has iron fancy bits that look like ivy all over it. Anyway it was totally empty except for a cardboard box with a grey baby rabbit inside. Jackson seemed at a bit of a loss for how to explain it.

‘I caught these kids trying to put it in the lake to see if it could swim. And when I yelled they just ran off and left it there on the bank. I’ve been feeding him
water and grass, but I don’t really know what to do. Jenny is usually the one who’s good in these situations.’

Suddenly I wanted to prove to Jackson that I was every bit as caring as Jenny so I scooped up the rabbit (luckily it let me and didn’t bite me or anything!) and fed it one of the carrots Jackson had put on the bench.

‘It’ll be too dangerous around here for the poor little thing, what with foxes and dogs, so you’ll need to keep him in your bedroom,’ I said.

‘I’ll need to sneak the box past Mr Walsh and Grandfather.’

‘Or just keep him in your pocket and make him a bed from a t-shirt once you’re in there. Is your grandfather hard of hearing by any chance?’

‘Completely deaf. This morning I asked him what he wanted for breakfast, and he answered that I was under no circumstances to swim until the weather got warmer. His nurse says you have to shout right up close if you want him to hear.’

‘Great, then he won’t hear this little thing scratching about.’

Jenny has no such hearing problems, and she heard us talking while on her way to the tearoom and
came over to the hut. She squealed a lot when she saw the baby rabbit and asked what its name was. And because Jackson is in love with her he asked her to name it, so now it is called Cutie-Pie, or just Pie for short, and travels around in the large front pocket of Jackson’s jacket.

We needed some soft things to sit on, to make the tearoom more comfortable for hanging around in. The plan was that we would all go up to the Big House and then Jenny and I would wait on the lawn below Jackson’s bedroom window and catch blankets and pillows as he threw them down.

They were not blankets and pillows like in any other house, but really heavy and fancy throws and velvet embroidered cushions.

‘Good catch Jenny,’ Jackson shouted from above and I remembered his grandfather is deaf so we could do that.

‘Thanks,’ she yelled back as he ducked back in to fetch more.

I wanted to yell, ‘Bum!’, or something much worse, as loud as I could because it would have been so out of keeping with where we were, but I remembered my goal to be a great dancer and great dancers don’t do things like that.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly blurted out, ‘You don’t have a thing for Jackson do you?’

‘God, no!’ Jenny said.

I was very pleased to hear that. There’s no way I could hang out with them if they got together, they are sappy enough as friends, both so nice all the time. Imagine if they got all loved-up as well!

One of the pillows had gone flying so I went to fetch it back to the pile and saw Mr Walsh in the distance. He seemed to be on his knees at the door of the fancy hut (I bet there’s a proper word for it, I must ask Aunt Maisie.)

I have worked out what is wrong with Jackson, he is too polite and formal even when he is very relaxed. He also has no pride for being so obvious about Jenny when she isn’t into him. Also, he doesn’t care that he isn’t cool in
any
way. Also, there are other things that I haven’t got exactly the right way of describing yet.

We spent the rest of the day in the tearoom, hanging out, doing a bit of arranging and also fussing over Cutie-Pie. Mr Walsh came past, but as soon as he saw us he turned around and back across the lavender field.

‘That man is up to something,’ Jackson said.

‘Definitely,’ we agreed. And it felt like we were better friends because we all didn’t like Mr Walsh.

Just as we were finishing the last bits, someone else arrived.

At first Jenny and I didn’t have a clue who it was. He was very tall, basketball-player tall, and had brown curly hair that sort of flopped into his eyes. He dressed in the same style as Jackson, way-too-old-gentleman-sportsmen-go-casual, jeans and a golf shirt turned up at the collar. Jenny suddenly said, ‘Oh my God,’ and looked like she was about to pass out.

It all became clear when Jackson said, ‘Bob, you remember Jenny don’t you?’

Bob seemed equally shocked and asked Jenny where her braces had gone. He kept staring at her like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Today is the sad day that our good friend Jenny officially turned into GOOP. This is the most exact word to describe how she lost the run of herself the second Bob started talking to her. She usually giggles at what you say, but she usually waits until you’ve said it. She has also now developed this habit of pushing back her hair even if it is already pushed back. When Dee and Kira get like this it really
annoys me, but with Jenny it is so sweet. He had better fall for her, that’s all I can say, even if it does break Jackson’s heart.

Jackson whispered, ‘No more coffee for Jenny,’ to me, as we all tackled the very last bit of paint stripping together. Bob and Jenny got nothing done; they were talking at a machine-gun pace about God knows what. What I like about Jackson is that he is calm.

It’s weird to think that one day Bob will be the owner of the Park and the Big House and the tearoom. ‘Bob’ is not the name of a person who is going to be lord of a manor, or squire or whatever the term is. Bob is a name for a guy who lifts things for a living. It’s a perfectly good name, just not if you know how to tie your own cravat. He’s probably called Robert Lionel Jeremy Forsythe and is just going through a phase. I bet his mum never calls him Bob. God, what is with me and guys’ names? Like I convict them before we’ve even got to know each other. I’ll give him a chance. After all, Jackson turned out not to be so bad.

Anyway, Bob thought it was hilarious to have a rabbit called Pie, even when we explained that it was short for Cutie-Pie and not some sick joke about us having a plan to eat him.

I stayed up late and made flapjacks and the ones towards the middle of the pan taste great.