Girls, Muddy, Moody Yet Magnificent (13 page)

.

.

25

‘Did you think she sounded a bit drunk?’ asked Mum afterwards.

‘No,’ I said diplomatically. ‘Just excited about the holiday.’

‘OK, OK, no more about Newquay, please,’ said Dad. ‘Can we get back to
Miss Marple
?’

.

On the bus to work next morning, I told Chloe all about Ed coming to join us.

‘It’ll be OK, Zoe,’ she said. ‘It’ll be fine.’

‘How can it be fine?’ I groaned in despair. ‘All the time he’s with us, his wife will think he’s somewhere else! He’ll have to be lying through his teeth! He might even drag us into it! She might find out somehow and turn up on our doorstep with a gun!’

‘Don’t be silly, Zoe,’ said Chloe. ‘People cheat on their wives all the time!’

‘Well, I don’t want to be part of it!’ I snapped, back in Victorian Governess mode. ‘It makes me feel scared!’

‘Zoe, chill out,’ said Chloe gently. She laid her hand on my arm and gazed right into my eyes, and she suddenly looked so fragile and appealing, my heart melted. She’d been badly hurt by that Beast business. She’d been a really good mate to me, always. She’d lent all her savings to me when Tam had got into financial difficulties at college. And now she was trying to rescue our hol from the chaos that Tam had pitched us into. Dear Chloe! She really is the
best
best mate in the world. ‘We won’t have to spend any time with him,’ she went on. ‘We can spend all our time on the beach. And maybe Brendan will be there.’

‘You bet he’ll be there!’ I cheered up at this thought. ‘I saw the way he was looking at you yesterday!’

Chloe blushed, and squeezed my hand. ‘It’s so hard to tell what he’s thinking,’ she sighed.

‘What about when you two went off and sat in that bush yesterday?’ I enquired. ‘I’d assumed the birdwatching thing was just an excuse to get his lips fastened to your face.’

‘No, no,’ said Chloe thoughtfully. ‘He really did seem to be into the birdwatching. Although he did sit right up close to me, I mean, touching and everything, but . . . that was all, really.’

‘Well, you weren’t really properly alone,’ I said. ‘Oliver and I were lurking nearby like a couple of disapproving old chaperones. Give him time. He certainly seemed interested in hijacking our trip to Newquay.’

‘Yes.’ Chloe brightened slightly. ‘He did, didn’t he? Oh well . . . we’ll just have to take it day by day.’

I could see she didn’t feel like taking it day by day. I knew she wanted to rip Brendan out of his Land Rover right now and wrap her arms around him for eternity.

.

The next two-and-a-half weeks
felt
like eternity. First, disastrously, Oliver got the flu and was away for a week. This made the picnic lunches a lot trickier for me. Every day Chloe flirted determinedly with Brendan, and he flirted right back. I started to take a book to work with me, so I had something to read after lunch while they giggled and tickled and he taught her the names of flowers and grasses and stuff.

We did work separately sometimes. They had plenty of time on their own together: tying up bunches of beetroot, going off in the Land Rover to round up cattle that had got into the wrong field, inspecting sheep for maggots. Romantic opportunities galore.

But still Chloe had nothing to report. Well, nothing specific. There was plenty of hugging, because Brendan seemed to be a touchy-feely sort of person, but two weeks on, Chloe was still really in the dark about what he felt.

‘What star sign are you?’ she asked him one day, while we were out to lunch by the stream. Oliver was back, although he kept coughing in a picturesque way like some Romantic poet.

‘Gemini,’ said Brendan with a grin. ‘A two-faced Jekyll and Hyde, so watch your step, girls!’ We laughed, but it wasn’t a very nice thing to say. He should have said something like, ‘Born under the sign of Pepsi: faithful, loyal and fond of dog-owning redheads.’

He didn’t ask us what star signs we were. I suppose guys just aren’t interested in that sort of thing, but it seemed a bit rude. Chloe looked disappointed that he hadn’t asked her what sign she was. (Aries, actually: headstrong and naive.)

I hoped that she wouldn’t be too upset, because if she was, I’d obviously have to spend the afternoon nursing her ego and feeding her toffees. Supportive and fond of sweet things: Taurus, that’s me.

‘What star sign are you, Oliver?’ asked Chloe. This was tactful of her. She knew I couldn’t ask, because it would come across as too needy and interested.

Oliver looked as if he couldn’t quite remember what star signs were.

‘Er – Scorpio, I think,’ he said with a shrug.

‘Scorpio?’ yelled Chloe. ‘Wow – charismatic and enigmatic!’

‘And asthmatic,’ added Oliver. I loved him for being self-deprecating. But I was also struck by how very Scorpio-like Oliver seemed to be. Maybe there is something in this astrology business, despite what my dad always says.

At this point, Brendan jumped to his feet and yelled, ‘Paddling practice for Newquay! Shoes and socks off, pronto!’

I refused, but Chloe went for it, and they splashed about in the stream for five minutes, which required a lot of hand-holding and screaming.

‘Surf’s crap today!’ Brendan grinned. It made me long for Newquay so much. The thought of our fabulous luxury flat overlooking the sea was ace, though I was dreading the awkwardness with Ed. If Brendan came, but Oliver didn’t, I was going to be a double gooseberry: sitting around nerdily on my own while Brendan tickled Chloe and Ed frolicked with Tam.

By the time we went home that day, Chloe was as starry-eyed as ever. ‘Do you think Brendan’s really going to come to Newquay with us, Zoe?’ she asked. ‘He did say, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” But I can never get him to talk about details.’

I shrugged. I was beginning to feel really anxious, and sorry for Chloe, and guilty about encouraging her to go for Brendan. I was in almost as much suspense about Oliver’s holiday plans, but I had kind of managed to cool down a bit while he was away having his flu. I’d told myself sternly that if I expected him
not
to go to Newquay, I wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t, but it would be a fabulous surprise if he did.

The next day was the Saturday farmers’ market, and Martin had asked us to help out on the stall with Brendan and Lily, because Prozac and Silkvest were busy with the harvest. It meant an early start: we had to be in the market place by seven thirty. We arrived in the town centre to find Brendan unloading the van and Lily arranging the veg on the stall. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and her hair was in a ponytail. The resemblance to Scarlett Johansson was still striking, though.

‘Oh, hi!’ She smiled. ‘Zoe, would you mind tying the sign up to the canopy? Chloe, can you arrange the eggs in the middle, and put a clump of salad packs next to them – and the herbs in their bowls at the front?’ We hadn’t seen much of Lily at the farm, because she didn’t like eating with other people, and she tended to appear, grab a sandwich and retire to her room to be alone with her mobile and her laptop. I’d started to think of her as a bit of a
poseur
and a glamour puss, so I was surprised now to find how practical and energetic she could be.

Soon the market was buzzing with people and a long queue formed at our stall. We were rushed off our feet. ‘Hello, gorgeous!’ A middle-aged woman grinned at Brendan. ‘I’d like my usual two salad packs, six medium eggs and a lorryload of Irish charm and blarney!’

‘God, Marilyn!’ Brendan replied. ‘Have we got you out of those awful old jeans at last? A mini skirt is it? Well, you’ve got the legs for it, you could have been a screen goddess in a previous existence.’

Chloe tried to ignore Brendan flirting shamelessly with all his regulars, but her neck went red. It’s always a giveaway with Chloe: I knew she was suffering. But it wasn’t the customers she was really worried about. Every time Brendan wriggled past Lily he put his hand on her hips or smacked her bottom in a playful way. Lily just totally ignored him, but he was all over her like a rash. Or a puppy. Or a puppy with a rash.

‘’Scuse me, angel,’ he’d say. He even applied his lips to her neck one time, and blew a raspberry. Lily kind of shrugged him off and told him not to be gross. Did she mean it? It was hard to tell. Chloe just looked the other way. I felt really sorry for her.

Around midday the trade slackened off a bit, and Brendan went to get us all a coffee. Most people had bought their veg for the week and gone home. Then Toby and Ferg suddenly waltzed up, carrying a pile of flyers.

‘Can you put some of these on the stall?’ said Toby. ‘Give ’em out to people with their spuds and stuff?’

‘What’s that, now?’ asked Brendan, taking one.

‘It’s for that new bar in the high street,’ said Toby. ‘They’re having a Brazilian night next weekend.’

‘I’ll be there all right!’ said Brendan. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.’

‘Er – yes you will miss it, actually, Brendan,’ said Lily quite snappily. ‘Next weekend is the eighteenth. We’ll be in Edinburgh by then – remember?’

‘Ah, of course, what the hell am I thinking of?’ Brendan slapped his own head and grinned in an
I’m charmingly forgetful
kind of way.

‘You’re going to Edinburgh?’ I asked Lily, avoiding looking at Brendan. ‘That should be good.’

‘Yes, some mates of mine are doing a show at the Fringe . . .’ said Lily, sipping her coffee. ‘Brendan’s driving me up.’

‘How long are you staying for?’ I asked her.

‘Oh, just a couple of weeks. Brendan has to be back by the beginning of September to do another month for Dad, before uni – isn’t that right, Bren?’

Brendan nodded. He was eating a raw spinach leaf.

‘So you won’t be able to join us in Newquay after all?’ I asked slyly. Poor Chloe was stacking some boxes in a corner with her back to us. I could almost feel her anguish.

‘Ah, when was it you were going again?’ Brendan gave me an
I’m charming but disorganised
smile.

‘We go on Saturday the twenty-fifth,’ I said. ‘The Saturday after next.’

‘Ah, isn’t that just too bad!’ said Brendan, giving us a charming but ruthless shrug. ‘I’ll be in Edinburgh right enough as it turns out. Dammit! Never mind – you’ll just have to send me a postcard.’

I knew that at this very moment Chloe’s heart was breaking. I could literally almost hear it shatter. But I was distracted by my mobile ringing. It was Tam.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Sorry it’s a bit noisy. I’m at the farmers’ market.’

‘Zoe!’ Tam, alarmingly, was actually
wailing
. ‘Disaster! Ed’s dumped me! It’s all over!’

.

.

26

After we’d loaded the van up with all the empty crates, and Brendan and Lily had driven off, Chloe and I headed for the Dolphin Cafe. I grabbed her arm and held her close.

‘Are you OK?’ I whispered.

‘Totally fine!’ she replied between clenched teeth. She was as pale as death.

‘Let’s have a hot choc,’ I suggested, ‘served by our favourite waiter.’ I tried to sound cheery even though I was sickened by Brendan’s treachery.

It was sunny, and loads of people were sitting outdoors. There wasn’t a free table, so we went inside. There were only two seats at a table already occupied by a big bloke I recognised as Dave Cheng, one of Beast’s rugby team. He came to Tam’s eighteenth birthday party a couple of years ago and I think he’s at Durham Uni now. Actually I think Tam had a bit of a thing for him, once.

‘Do you mind if we sit here?’ I asked. Dave looked up with a dazzling smile. He has lovely teeth.

‘Yes, sure, fine,’ he said, moving his stuff away from our side of the table. It was a shame we had to share a table, because we obviously couldn’t talk about Brendan going to Edinburgh with Lily, or Tam’s hysterical phone call, or any of our other dramas. But Chloe looked so jittery, maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

‘Haven’t we met somewhere?’ asked Dave.

‘Yes, I’m Tam Morris’s sister,’ I said. ‘I think I saw you at her eighteenth birthday party a couple of years ago – at Luigi’s in the high street. And this is Chloe.’

‘Hi, Chloe!’ Dave beamed. ‘Yeah, that was it – Luigi’s. How are you? And how’s Tam? I haven’t seen her in a while.’

‘Tam’s fine,’ I lied. I was certain that, at the very least, Tam would be weeping uncontrollably. For all I knew she was slashing her wrists right now. Although I don’t think Tam would ever willingly hurt herself. Her ego’s too big. And anyway, red’s her least favourite colour.

‘Don’t you play for that rugby team – uh, the Antelopes?’ I asked. Chloe was staring sadly into space, but I hoped Dave wouldn’t take it personally.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘In the holidays, anyway. At uni I play for the college, of course.’

‘I can’t wait for the glam world of further education,’ I grinned, ‘but first we’ve got to get through sixth form without making total pillocks of ourselves.’

Toby arrived at our table, whipped out his notepad, flicked back the top page and licked his pencil.

‘OK, pillocks, what can I get you?’ he asked. Chloe stirred slightly in her seat, as if she’d been in a daze, and glanced at the menu.

‘A hot choc with cream, please, Tobe,’ she said.

‘What’s wrong, Chloe?’ asked Toby. He’s brilliant at body language.

‘We’re just tired,’ I said hastily. ‘We had a seven-thirty start, working on the farmers’ market stall. So we had to get up at six.’

‘Horror!’ exclaimed Toby. ‘How about a massive cake to boost your blood sugar?’

‘No, thanks,’ I said. ‘Just hot chocs.’ Toby minced off with our order.

‘So you work on a farmers’ market stall?’ asked Dave. ‘Sounds like fun!’

‘We work at the farm as well,’ I told him.

‘Any cuddly animals to look after?’ asked Dave, grinning.

‘We work mostly with the vegetables,’ I said. ‘Not quite as cuddly! Although some of the spring onions have amazing long blond roots. It reminds me of the days when I used to spend hours combing my Barbies’ hair.’ I tried to look as if those days were at least ten years ago rather than a mere five. ‘There’s a guy working at the farm who used to play for the Antelopes,’ I went on, suddenly realising this was a chance for more info. ‘Oliver Wyatt . . . ?’

Dave had been smiley and friendly up till now, but his face fell.

‘Oliver,’ he sighed. ‘What a waste of space that guy is.’ I felt shocked and giddy. Even Chloe suddenly focused on Dave, abandoning for a split second her feverish dreams about killing Brendan. ‘He just never turned up for training. In fact, he let us down big time by not turning up for a really important game.’

‘So Beast sacked him?’ I enquired gently.

‘Oliver sacked himself,’ said Dave. ‘He just stopped coming. Beast was very patient, actually. He’s so soft-hearted. He couldn’t sack a fly.’

‘What’s he like as captain?’ asked Chloe.

‘Brilliant. A legend. The best,’ said Dave. Chloe and I exchanged a quick glance. ‘Have you heard about his rock concert – Jailhouse Rock? In aid of Amnesty?’

‘Yes, we know about that.’ I nodded. ‘Amazing.’

Soon afterwards our drinks arrived, and Dave said he had to go.

‘OK, Chloe,’ I said quietly, ‘how are you feeling? Shall we kill Brendan on Monday?’

Chloe shrugged. ‘I couldn’t care less,’ she said. She seemed to have built a kind of wall around herself. She does this sometimes when she’s really, really badly hurt.

‘Brendan’s a heartless flirt,’ I said. ‘But he did kind of warn us he was two-faced – that stuff about being a Gemini.’

‘I never really expected him to come to Newquay, actually,’ said Chloe grimly. I knew she had been hoping he would, though. Hope is such a nuisance, sometimes.

‘Nor did I, to be honest,’ I said, shaking my head sadly. ‘And what about Oliver! I can’t believe all that stuff Dave said about Oliver not turning up to training. Oliver told me Beast sacked him because he wouldn’t join in all that macho stuff they get up to after a match. He said they were misogynists.’

‘What’s a misogynist?’ asked Chloe absent-mindedly. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘Somebody with no respect for women,’ I said grimly, looking round the cafe in case there were any misogynists present that we could spit at. ‘A woman-hater, I suppose.’

‘Well, I certainly hate men,’ growled Chloe, staring into her hot choc. ‘They are all basically losers, liars and wasters.’

‘There are some nice guys,’ I argued. ‘What about Toby and Fergus?’

Toby was flouncing in and out of the cafe carrying trays of stuff. He was working so hard, a sweet little moustache of sweat had started to gleam on his upper lip.

‘Toby’s a girl trapped in a boy’s body,’ said Chloe. ‘And Ferg is a cuddly toy.’

‘What about Fred Parsons?’

Chloe thought for a while, shook her head and sighed. ‘Fred Parsons is OK,’ she said. ‘We’ll just have to clone him. It’s the only hope for the human race.’

I was glad Chloe had managed a feeble joke. It showed she wasn’t totally devastated by Brendan’s treachery. But I gave her an extra hug as we said goodbye.

‘Hang in there,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t get upset. He’s not worth it.’

‘Who are you talking about?’ she asked wryly, raising her eyebrows. I was proud of her. But I knew she was on a knife edge. I’d have to keep monitoring her by phone and text all weekend.