Girls, Guilty but Somehow Glorious (12 page)

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21

MONDAY 3.52 p.m.

Fatal distraction . . .

We spent ages in the Cosy Dive. We gave several men two out of ten for sex appeal, and then we changed the game.

‘Instead of marks for sex appeal,’ Tamsin suggested, ‘we should try and identify which animal or bird is their familiar – like in the Philip Pullman books. We can do that with women too.’

We ordered two more hot chocolates from a waitress who was, in some secret essential way, in league with a hedgehog.

‘You’re a darling,’ said Tamsin. ‘You’ve made me feel a zillion times better. I’ve started to believe that I can really take control of my life.’

‘OK, but listen up: these hot chocolates are £1.20 each. We’ve had four. That’s uhhh . . . £4.80. A jar of instant hot choc is what – £2 or something? For that you can have ten hot chocs back in your room.’

‘God! I take back what I said about you being a darling,’ scowled Tamsin (but playfully). ‘You are, in fact, a tedious, preachy old toad.’

A bespectacled lecturer-type man entered the cafe, accompanied by a tarty girl wearing a leopardskin jacket.

‘The owl and the pussycat have entered the building,’ I whispered. Just at that moment, my mobile rang. I jumped like somebody woken up suddenly from a wonderful dream.

The caller ID number flashed up. Oh no! Somebody was calling me from home! I had totally forgotten to ring between two and three to leave a message that I was staying with Chloe. It was now nearly four o’clock!

‘Hi?’ I said, trying to sound cool and normal, although my heart was hammering like mad.

‘Hi, Zoe!’ Phew! It was Dad. Though the poten- tial for disaster was still huge, he was at least not Mum. ‘Just wondered if you could get some sausages on the way home. Mum’s got to stay in Birmingham tonight, so I thought we could have a secret orgy of saturated fat.’ I looked at my watch. Back in the real world, I would indeed be on my way home from school.

‘Listen, Dad,’ I said. ‘I was just about to ring you. I’m sorry, but I need to stay over at Chloe’s tonight. We’ve just been told we’ve got to do a big assembly tomorrow, and we’ve got to spend all evening working on it.’

‘Why don’t you come over here?’ Dad asked with infuriating cheerfulness. ‘Chloe would probably love some bangers and mash, too.’

‘No!’ I said. ‘Thanks, Dad, but she wouldn’t. Chloe’s a proper vegetarian now. She won’t eat anything that has ever been alive.’

‘Vegetables would have something to say about that,’ said Dad with irritating playfulness. ‘If they could speak.’

Oh, stop trying to be entertaining, Dad
, I thought,
and just ring off.

‘What’s the assembly about?’ he asked with exasperating curiosity. I tried to think of something Dad would never ever be interested in.

‘Politeness,’ I said. God, it sounded dull. I had hit the jackpot here.

‘Politeness!’ exclaimed Dad with delight. ‘What a fabulous idea! It’s almost disappearing from our society.’

Shut up, Dad
, I thought in desperation.

‘Do you remember when Mum came home from that trip to New York?’ he went on. ‘She said the most amazing thing was how polite everybody was, in the shops and cafes and stuff. Polite and yet not obsequious. Do you know what obsequious is?’

‘Yes,’ I lied.

‘It’s a really interesting subject,’ mused Dad. ‘Politeness . . . uhhhh, it’s about personal space. It’s about respect. It’s about democracy . . . Would you like me to give you some help?’

‘NO!’ I yelled. ‘I mean, no thanks, Dad. We really have to do this ourselves, yeah?’

‘OK,’ said Dad sadly. ‘Looks like I have to get through a lonely evening on my own, I suppose.’

‘Go for it,’ I urged him. ‘Get some beers in. Have a pizza delivered. Watch football for hours without your womenfolk complaining.’

‘OK,’ said Dad. He sounded as if he was getting into the idea. ‘Fine. Yes. Hope you do a great assembly. See you tomorrow, then.’

‘Yes!’ I said firmly. ‘Love you. Have fun! Bye!’

I rang off and did a huge PHEW sigh at Tamsin. She grinned and did the thumbs-up.

‘So we’re in business, then?’ she asked.

‘Totally sorted. Mum’s in Birmingham.’

‘OK, I suggest we go back to my room, have a shower, get changed into fabulous outfits, go to the bar and play pool all evening with Ronnie and Art.’

Ronnie and Art are Tamsin’s gay friends. Ronnie is short for Ronaldinho, like the footballer. He tells people his dad is a drugs baron but actually he just boringly works in a soap factory.

We went back to Tamsin’s room, drank some more water, renewed our poverty-chic vows, and then dolled ourselves up for our cheap night out. We had vowed to drink only water all evening but Ron and Art took pity on us and bought Tamsin a beer and me a lemonade. I have this strange disability. I just hate the taste of alcohol. Any alcohol. I’m such a nerd.

Still, I was dressed like a film star in one of Tamsin’s posh frocks. Luckily we have exactly the same size feet, so she’d lent me a wicked pair of scarlet high-heeled shoes. Nobody who’d seen me in my nerdy travelling outfit this morning would have recognised me as the hunchback in the baseball cap.

I kept losing at pool, but Ronnie and Art were completely charming. And when I told them about Chloe and our project to find beaux to take us to the Earthquake Ball, Art said, ‘We’d take you – wouldn’t we, Ronnie?’

I was just thinking for a mad moment how cool it would be for Chloe and me to be escorted to the Earthquake Ball by a couple of weird Latin American homosexuals, when my mobile rang again. Oh hell! This time the ID flashing up was Mum’s mobile!

My blood ran cold. I held the mobile at arms’s length.

‘It’s Mum!’ I cried. Tamsin looked alarmed. ‘What shall I do?’

‘Ignore it! Ignore it!’ she said. ‘No! Switch it off! No, ignore it!’ I threw it on a nearby seat, where it thrashed away to itself for a few more seconds, and then was still.

‘It’s died,’ said Tamsin. ‘Switch it off, for God’s sake, Zoe. It’ll ruin our evening.’

I was so tempted. But I sort of knew I really had to keep it switched on, because if there was any problem back home about where exactly I was, I needed to know about it. After a minute or two I tiptoed up to my phone. There was a message on my voicemail. I checked it out.

‘Zoe!’ It was Mum. And oh, my God, she was in Anxiety Overdrive. ‘Zoe! Where are you! What’s going on? Ring me, please, as soon as you get this message! We know you weren’t at school today, and we know you’re not at Chloe’s! We want to know what the hell you think you’re playing at!’

Hmmm. It seemed the poo was about to hit the ceiling.

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22

MONDAY 8.33 p.m.

Disaster . . .

‘My cover’s totally blown!’ I screeched. ‘I’ll have to ring her! What can I say? What can I say?’

‘Don’t mention me!’ said Tamsin, going pale. ‘Don’t tell her you’re here with me!’

‘Well, where the hell can I say I am, then?’ I wailed. ‘They know I’m not at Chloe’s – they know I wasn’t at school.’

‘Say you’ve been kidnapped by a cocaine gang,’ suggested Ronnie.

‘We could
really
kidnap you if it would be any help,’ said Art. ‘Hey! How rich is your dad? This could be a smart career move, Art!’

‘Our dad is penniless,’ said Tamsin crisply. ‘It’s our mum who’s rich. Anyway, this isn’t a joke, guys, so unless you’ve got any sensible ideas, shut
up
!’

‘I’ve got to ring her now,’ I said. ‘Or she’ll be on the phone to the police. I can’t lie any more.’

‘Say you and Chloe are at somebody else’s,’ said Tamsin.

‘Look, she knows I wasn’t even at school. I’ve got to come up with something
like
the truth. I’ll say I talked to you and you sounded low, so I got worried and decided to come up and see you.’

‘Don’t mention the money, though!’ hissed Tamsin. ‘It can’t be money! It can’t be! What else? What else?’

‘It can’t be an illness,’ I said. ‘You know they’re both total hypochondriacs.’

‘Heartbreak?’ suggested Ronnie. ‘Some guy dumped you?’

‘Brilliant!’ said Tamsin. ‘Brilliant! Yessss! Heartbreak! I was crying!’

‘Wailing!’ I added. ‘Down by the river! You were planning to throw yourself in!’

‘He was a total bastard!’ said Tamsin, role-playing like mad. ‘His name was . . . what was his name?’ Tom, her most recent boyfriend, was evidently ancient history.

‘Henry? Brad? Gladstone?’

‘
Gladstone?
What kind of a name is that? OK, his name was Henry. He was a posh git.’

‘He was a posh git rugby player.’

‘He was a posh git rugy player with fabulous blue eyes and the body of Mr Universe, though,’ said Tamsin anxiously. ‘Or why would I have gone for him in the first place? I’m not a total loser.’

‘She might think you’re emotionally unstable if you can’t even deal with being dumped without getting suicidal thoughts,’ said Art.

‘I don’t care! I don’t care!’ cried Tamsin. ‘As long as she doesn’t know I’m in debt!’

I dialled Mum’s number. My hands were shaking. She answered right away, before it even rang properly, and her
voice
was shaking. The whole world seemed to be shaking.

‘Zoe! Where are you?’

‘I’m with Tamsin,’ I said. ‘It’s OK, I’m fine.’

‘It is NOT OK!’ screamed Mum. ‘I’ve been beside myself with worry! Whatever possessed you?’

‘I talked to Tamsin last night,’ I said, my voice sounding brittle and thin, ‘and she was really upset about this guy. She was walking down by the river, and I was afraid she might do something silly, so I thought I’d better come up and see her right away.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ demanded Mum.

‘Tamsin didn’t want to worry you,’ I said lamely.

‘Didn’t want to worry me?’ shrieked Mum. ‘I’ve been eating the bedspread here! Let me speak to Tamsin!’ I handed the phone over. Tamsin listened, cringing.

‘No, Mum – really – I didn’t know Zoe was going to come up . . .’ Blaming me, then. Nice one. ‘She just kind of appeared . . .’ More listening and cringing. ‘Of course, of course. I told her it was stupid.’ I clenched my fists. I might just have to hit Tamsin as soon as Mum hung up. More listening. ‘Oh he was just – you know, a bastard . . . Harry . . . A rugby player . . . I know. I know. I really really liked him, though . . . I know. I know.’

Eventually it seemed the hurricane of Mum’s fury had blown itself out. Tamsin said goodbye to her and handed the phone back.

‘Now, listen, Zoe,’ said Mum. ‘First of all, tell Chloe to ring her mother. Her parents are obviously frantic, too.’ A gulf opened beneath me. Should I admit that Chloe was not with us? Or should I cover for her? If she was answering her mobe, I could ring her right away and get her to call her parents.

I didn’t have to actually lie to Mum about Chloe being with me, because Mum kind of swept on.

‘I’ve told Tamsin to put you on the next train home,’ said Mum. ‘And I’ll tell Dad to meet the train. You have got to be in school tomorrow, do you hear?’

‘OK,’ I said dismally.

‘I want you to ring me from the landline when you’ve arrived back home, no matter how late it is.’

‘All right, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’ll be the death of me,’ Mum said crisply, and rang off. It was quite a horrid way to say goodbye.

‘I’ll get the train times,’ said Tamsin, picking up her mobile. I called Chloe. Thank God! She answered.

‘Zoe? Whassup?’

‘Listen!’ I said. ‘Our cover’s blown. My mum knows I wasn’t at school, and she knows I’m not at your house, and she thinks you’re here with me and Tamsin, and she’s ordered us to come home on the next train.’

‘Zoe, you idiot!’ yelled Chloe – with diabolical unfairness. ‘How the hell am I going to sort this out?’

‘Where are you anyway?’ I said. ‘With Beast Hawkins, I presume?’

‘What if I am?’ demanded Chloe angrily. ‘OK, so I am with him. But it’s not like you think. I’m just having a totally innocent night with him, for charity.’

‘What?’ I asked irritably. ‘Snogging for Oxfam? Well, ring your mother. That’s all I ask. Because if you don’t, you’re going to end up on the news tonight as a Missing Person.’

Chloe sighed and rang off, without saying goodbye. As if I’d got her into
her
mess as well as getting myself into
mine.

And her mess was frankly, ludicrous. I was amazed at her stupidity. Spending the night with Beast Hawkins? On a weekday? For ‘charity’? Who was she trying to kid? Where was all her famous intelligence and restraint? Up till now Chloe had been the most strait-laced, sensible girl in the class. Now she was behaving like some kind of demented slapper. Maybe Beast had plied her with horrid drugs! Maybe what was happening was date rape!

I shuddered with horror. Still, I couldn’t sort out Chloe’s problems. Trying to sort out Tamsin’s had got me into one huge mess. I heaved a sigh, and took off the red high heels. They were suddenly starting to hurt.

‘Better go back to your room and change,’ I said sadly.

‘There’s a train at 9.25 p.m.,’ said Tamsin. ‘You’ll be back there by 10.30 p.m. I’d better ring Dad.’

As we walked back to her room, she called Dad and told him what time I would arrive. Then apparently he asked to speak to me.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ I said guiltily. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’

‘Promise you’ll never do anything like that again,’ said Dad. ‘I have torn out most of my remaining hair.’ He sounded so much more relaxed and friendly than Mum, though. ‘Promise you’ll never lie to me, as well,’ he said. ‘All that stuff about the Politeness Assembly was total fiction, too, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh no,’ I assured him hastily. ‘That was all true.’ I so
had
to arrange to do an assembly on politeness, as soon as possible, just to make Dad happy and prove to him I hadn’t been lying about that bit.

‘And what was all that about my farm?’ said Dad. My brain reeled sideways.

‘What?’ I asked. ‘Your f-farm?’

‘That’s how we knew you weren’t at school today,’ said Dad. ‘Some guy rang up and asked if he could work on my farm. What was his name? Oliver?’

‘Oliver Wyatt,’ I said with a sickening, collapsing feeling spreading through my entire tum.

‘That’s right, Oliver,’ said Dad. ‘He said he’d wanted to fix up some work for the hols, and because you weren’t at school today, he’d decided to give us a call.’

Oliver Wyatt! Oliver Wyatt had actually phoned while I was away! And spoken to Dad about his ‘farm’!

‘What did you say?’ I asked, sinking into deepest misery.

‘Well, I told him I didn’t have a farm, of course, you idiot,’ said Dad. ‘We’re not all hooked on lying, you know.’

Oliver Wyatt knew I’d lied to him about Dad having a farm. He must now think of me as the most pathetic, lame, nerdy idiot in the entire school. And from tomorrow at 9 a.m. I would be in constant danger of bumping into him round a corner, and hearing his diabolical, mocking laugh. Oh, and I had to borrow £800 off my friends to stop my sister being arrested for debt. Apart from that, life was just dandy.