Girls, Guilty but Somehow Glorious (9 page)

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15

SUNDAY 9.45 p.m.

Life is a horror movie . . .

‘It was a total disaster!’ cried Chloe, falling into my arms. I just hugged her till she stopped sobbing, even though she was sopping wet. Sometimes a major hug is required no matter what. When she’d stopped crying I led her to the sofa and found a towel for her hair. I was scared she had caught a chill or something. She was sort of shaking madly and her teeth were chattering.

‘I was at the Next Big Thing,’ she said in a shivery voice, ‘and this girl turned up, and was like, “
Who the hell do you think you are?
” And she started shouting and stuff about me not being a sixth former, but she was having a go at Beast really, you could tell, and the thing was, I think she thought she was going out with him, so she was like
mad with jealous rage
.’

‘Hmm, pants!’ I said sympathetically. ‘I’m going to make you a hot chocolate.’

‘Wait! I haven’t finished!’ Chloe clutched at my arm, and she felt just like the icy cold ghost of Cathy. ‘At first I thought she was just, like, in a strop, then I could see she was jealous of me being with Beast, but
then
she just kind of flew at me, and I realised she was
drunk.
She pulled my hair and kicked me and all sorts of mad stuff. Beast tried to reason with her and they pulled her off me, but I just ran. I ran and ran and ran to your house, and your mum told me you were here.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Listen. I’m going to be very boring now. I want you to go upstairs and have a hot shower. I’ll put your clothes in the tumble-dryer. You can wear Jackie’s dressing gown till your clothes are dry again. And I’ll make you that hot choc. And then you can tell me all about it again, in slow-motion action replay.’

‘Th-thanks, Zoe. Thanks,’ said Chloe, still shivering. She didn’t smile, but she had finished crying. I could tell.

‘And for God’s sake, don’t wake the twins,’ I said.

Soon my maternal plan was serenely in progress. Chloe was warm and cosy in Jackie Norman’s red velour dressing gown, her clothes were tumbling dry, and we were both sipping hot choc and trying to get back into
Wuthering Heights
.

‘I tried to read
Wuthering Heights
once,’ said Chloe, ‘but there were too many people called Cathy in it.’ I was relieved she was talking about something else apart from what a two-timing heart-breaking cad Beast was. Then there was a knock at the window and a shout outside – a masculine voice this time.

‘Oi!’ it said. ‘Open up!’

‘Who the hell’s that?’ I muttered, getting up and going to the window. I peeped through the curtains. Oh no!

‘It’s Beast and Donut!’ I gasped. ‘And another bloke who looks like a weasel!’

‘Don’t let them in!’ screeched Chloe, cowering feebly inside her dressing gown. I made Go Away gestures, but the guys just kept on yelling.

‘Open the door! The doorbell’s bust!’

‘I’ll just go and tell them to clear off,’ I said. ‘You stay here!’

I opened the front door, but unfortunately the Normans didn’t have a chain, so Beast, Donut and the weaselly person just kind of bundled in past me.

‘Stop!’ I yelled. ‘Nobody said you could come in!’

‘Where’s Chloe?’ demanded Beast, looking round. ‘Chloe!’ he bawled at the top of his voice.

‘Shhhh!’ I hissed. ‘You’ll wake the twins! – Chloe’s not here – oh!’

Chloe had appeared in the sitting room doorway. She looked absolutely furious.

‘You’ve got a nerve!’ she shouted. Just occasionally, when she’s totally fired up, Chloe can yell for England. ‘Asking me to the party when you’d already asked somebody else! How humiliating was that! Can you imagine – can you
imagine
how I felt when that girl started wrestling with me, for God’s sake? In front of the entire sixth form? What the hell were you playing at? It was a nightmare! I never want to see you or speak to you again!’

‘Sssssh!’ I whispered. ‘The twins!’

‘You look fabulous in that dressing gown, babe,’ said Beast, grinning evilly at Chloe. ‘Red is definitely your colour! And you’re so beautiful when you’re angry!’ The two other guys laughed. I turned on them.

‘What,’ I demanded, ‘are you two doing here anyway? This is nothing to do with you! And how did you find your way here?’ I felt indignant about so many things, I didn’t know where to begin.

‘He rang Chloe’s mum,’ said Donut, ‘and she gave us your phone number, and your dad said you were babysitting here.’

‘Listen, babe,’ said Beast, cocking his head on one side and approaching Chloe, ‘I know you’re mad at me. That girl is insane, though. She’s obsessed. She means nothing to me. She’s just my kind of – uh, stalker.’ The other guys laughed. Chloe backed off towards the kitchen.

‘I don’t care!’ she yelled. ‘I DO NOT CARE! Go away! Do you understand English? GO AWAY!’ She was starting to shake again.

Suddenly, disastrously, there was a wakeful wail from upstairs. Then the other one joined in. My blood ran cold. This was more terrifying than
Wuthering Heights
. More terrifying than the relentless cold-bloodedness of the Beast seduction technique. The twins had woken up!

‘Waaaaaaaaaagh!’ came one cry.

‘Waaaaaaaaaagh!’ came another.

Moments later they were standing at the top of the stairs, stark naked and whingeing for England in stereo.

‘God!’ said Beast. ‘Don’t point that thing at me!’ But it was too late.

‘Wanna wee-wee!’ wailed one twin, and disastrously, started to pee right there and then, in a horrid golden arc, right down the stairs and on to the guests and the very expensive carpet.

‘Stop!’ I yelled. ‘Jack! Ben! Go to the bathroom!’

Foolishly, I blundered forward and tried to rush upstairs without getting peed on. Mission impossible. Before I was halfway up the other twin had started to pee too. They were like dogs marking out territory. And I was the territory.

The guys down in the hall were cracking up, helpless with glee. And Chloe was still yelling at Beast, yelling at the top of her voice.

‘Go away!’ she screeched. ‘Don’t you understand plain English? GO AWAY!’ It was, in a word, pandemonium.

And it was at this moment that the front door opened and Mr and Mrs Norman stepped inside. They aren’t usually cross sort of people. In fact, if they had got cross with their own brats more often right from the start, the world would be a much more gracious place. Their inability to get cross or yell at their offspring was legendary. But this was different.

Their hall was full of large young men they’d never met before. One looked like a weasel, one like a pickpocket and one like an enormous and tasteless root vegetable. A random girl, naked except for Mrs Norman’s best velour dressing gown, cowered in the background. And the babysitter from hell (me) was halfway up the stairs, being urinated on by their entirely nude and grouchy children.

‘What the hell is going on?’ demanded Mr Norman. He doesn’t normally say much, which made his present anger all the more alarming. As the official babysitter, I felt it was my duty to explain. Their children’s pee was on my head. Normally this would have entitled me to some kind of apology, but I had the feeling that, in the present circumstances, it was just somehow further proof of my total incompetence.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. It seemed the best place to start.

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16

SUNDAY 11.18 p.m.

A daring escape . . .

‘You know Chloe . . .’ I faltered. ‘She came to babysit with me last time.’

‘Sorry about the dressing gown,’ said Chloe. You could see she was tempted to take it off guiltily, but that would have increased the number of nude people present to three. Mrs Norman wasn’t listening anyway. She was halfway up the stairs.

‘They’re sleepwalking again,’ she said. ‘The twins stared down at her like two statues. They had finished peeing now. ‘Get the carpet shampoo, Clive,’ she said. Mr Norman walked past us towards the kitchen. Mrs Norman hustled the twins off to the bathroom.

‘These guys were just leaving,’ I said to nobody in particular.

‘My clothes must be dry by now,’ said Chloe hurriedly. The tumble-dryer was out in the utility room, beyond the kitchen. ‘You go and get them!’ she whispered to me. She didn’t want to tangle with Mr Norman in the kitchen. I pushed past Donut, pausing only to hiss, ‘Get lost!’ to the guys.

Mr Norman was on his knees, ransacking the cupboard under the kitchen sink.

I tiptoed to the utility room and got Chloe’s clothes out of the tumble-dryer. She locked herself in the downstairs cloakroom to get changed. Beast hung about outside, whispering things through the door. I had to leave her to look after herself – there was other stuff to do.

Donut and Weasel were still hanging about in the hall, watching Mr Norman shampooing the stair carpet and sniggering unpleasantly.

‘For God’s sake!’ I whispered. ‘Get lost, can’t you? Just GO!’

Couldn’t they feel the atmosphere of embarrassment that hung heavy on the air? Weasel looked at Donut, shrugged and moved towards the door.

‘I’ll wait outside, then,’ he muttered.

‘You too!’ I insisted, pushing Donut towards the door.

‘We’ll wait in the car, yeah?’ Donut called to Beast.

‘Right!’ answered Beast. ‘We’ll be with you in half a second.’

We?
I thought.
Who’s he trying to kid?
Moments later, though, Chloe emerged, back in her own clothes and carrying Mrs Norman’s dressing gown, which she hung on the hall stand. It looked wrong there, but I could understand that she wouldn’t want to take it upstairs with Mrs Norman on the warpath up there.

‘OK, Chloe, babe,’ said Beast. ‘Let’s go.’

I turned in disbelief to Chloe. Earlier that evening she had said Beast was a complete and utter cad, and she never wanted to speak to him again. Only moments ago she’d been screaming at him. But it seemed all he had to do was whisper a few sweet nothings, and she was in his power once again. Even now she was following him to the door.

‘Chloe!’ I gasped. ‘I thought you were going to come back to my place!’

‘Oh, it’s OK, Zoe,’ she said. ‘The guys will give me a lift home. School tomorrow, yeah? Got to get an early night.’ And off they went.

I didn’t have much time to be flabbergasted. Mrs Norman was coming down the stairs, squeezing past Mr Norman, who was shampooing the stair carpet with a resigned expression on his face.

‘That’s got them back to bed,’ she said, staring accusingly at me. ‘I must admit I was surprised, Zoe, when we arrived back, to find the house full of people and the twins running around naked.’

I could have said so much in self-defence. But I suddenly realised it was my chance to get out of babysitting for ever. I need never wrestle and struggle with these nasty little oiks, ever again.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ I said. ‘I’m terribly sorry. It all went pear-shaped. In your position, I wouldn’t feel I could trust me ever again.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to . . .’

‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘It was a disaster. I’m sorry. I admit it. I can’t control your children and I feel I should leave it to somebody who can.’ I shot her an accusing glance here, because we both knew that thanks to her maternal incompetence, she couldn’t control them either. In fact, who could?

‘No, no, Zoe, the twins adore you!’ said Mrs Norman. She was on the back foot now. I had taken the initiative good and proper. It was a moment of triumph, pretending to be totally useless. I made a mental note to use it again, when I next needed an escape.

‘No, it’s been a disaster. Excuse me,’ I said, and dived into the sitting room to pick up my jacket. Mrs Norman followed me in.

‘Zoe, please don’t be upset . . .’

‘I am upset,’ I said. I was becoming upset, actually. Yes! I really was upset. My chin actually trembled. I could feel it go. ‘I’ve made a mess of it here and I don’t think it makes sense for me to babysit for you any more. Sorry.’

I walked to the front door. Mrs Norman raced after me, tugging at my sleeve and pleading.

‘Oh please, Zoe! Don’t say that! I don’t mind you having friends over! Of course not – just as long as you tell us first.’

‘I didn’t know they were going to come over,’ I said with what I hoped was simple saintliness. ‘I didn’t even know Chloe was coming. She just turned up, soaking wet – and the guys were looking for Chloe. It was nothing to do with me. But anyway, thanks a lot! Bye!’

I opened the door and strode out. I had rarely felt so terrific. Mrs Norman stood on the doorstep and actually wailed at my retreating back.

‘Zoe!’ she cried. ‘Wait! Don’t leave us like this!’

I turned by the gate and gave her a sad-but-plucky little wave. I also shrugged in a picturesque way. In the film of my life I would be played by Audrey Tatou. Although she’d have to put a bit of weight on first.

Soon I was comfortably out of sight of the Norman house. Mrs N had given up and, I suspect, was even now taking it out on Clive with a series of vicious kicks.

My mobile rang. It was Tam. Darling Tamsin! In the film of my life she would be played by Kate Winslet.

‘Tam!’ I cried. ‘How are you? Where are you? Are you feeling better?’

‘I’m in my room,’ said Tamsin. ‘I haven’t slept or eaten for two days. I’m seriously in danger of losing it.’

‘Well, at least you’re not at the bottom of the river!’ I joked, trying to jolly her along.

‘I’d never drown myself,’ said Tamsin scornfully. ‘When you drown your body sort of all swells up.’

‘Gross!’ I cried. ‘You wouldn’t want to look fat, would you, even if you were dead.’

There was silence at the other end. I hoped Tamsin wasn’t trying to work out a more stylish way of committing suicide.

‘Can’t you come up and see me?’ asked Tamsin. ‘Come tomorrow. Please, Zoe. I need you. You can sleep on my floor. No, I’ll sleep on the floor, you can have my bed.’

‘But tomorrow’s Monday,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to go to school.’

‘Bunk off,’ suggested Tamsin. ‘I did it all the time. Tell Mum and Dad you’re staying at Chloe’s. Just one night, Zoe. It’s only an hour on the train. You always make me laugh. Come on, Zoe, PLEASE! I’m in total panic.’

‘What’s the problem, Tamsin?’

‘I’ll tell you when you arrive.’

‘Promise me you’re not pregnant!’

‘God, Zoe – what do you think I am, an idiot? Just get your arse over here tomorrow and you can help get me out of this mess.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Mum and Dad about it?’

‘If you so much as
mention
the merest
hint of a hint of a hint
of this to Mum and Dad, I shall have to kill you. Sadly.’

It seemed I was going to have to go up to uni rather sooner than expected – in secret and possibly, in disguise.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it. But if I’m found out and get suspended from school and grounded at home, you’ll be responsible.’

‘Oh never mind all that!’ said Tamsin. ‘Just come!’

I promised her I would, and rang off. I was nearly home now. I was actually going up my garden path when I realised the Normans hadn’t paid me. I had flounced off without a penny. So how was I going to afford the train fare? My Holiday in Newquay Money was asleep in my post office account. It looked as if a little light burglary might be necessary.