Love Lessons (14 page)

‘But it's true, we can't.'

‘That's
our
business. You shouldn't go round blabbing about our finances,' said Mum, red with mortification.

‘I don't
blab
,' I said. ‘This was a private conversation with my art teacher. And do you have any idea how awful it is to be the only girl in the school – well, apart from Grace – not to be wearing a proper uniform? I can't stand wearing this awful dress—'

Grace gasped. Mum looked stricken. I had always pretended I liked my terrible outfits so as not to hurt Mum's feelings. But what about
my
feelings?

‘I'm sorry, I don't want to be rude—'

‘Then
don't
,' said Grace.

‘But it
is
awful, having to wear little girly dresses. They were fine when we were small, Mum, but now we just look eccentric and old-fashioned.'

‘Well, I can't kit you out in a whole new set of clothing just because you feel embarrassed to be wearing my home-made clothes,' Mum said. She tried to sound cool and dignified, but there were tears in her eyes.

‘I know, I know. That's why I want to earn some money babysitting,' I persisted.

‘You don't know anything about babies.'

‘It's not a
tiny
baby. She's sitting up, probably crawling around. And the little boy's three going on four. Anyway, they'll be in
bed
. All I have to do is be there, just in case they wake up and want a drink or whatever.'

‘You might have to change a nappy,' said Grace. ‘You won't like that. You practically throw up if you step in dog poo.'

‘Shut up!' I said, my stomach heaving. I'd even manage dirty nappies if it meant being at Mr Raxberry's house.

‘How will you get home?' said Mum. ‘I'm not having you walking the streets at night, but we can't afford a taxi.'

‘Mr Raxberry is going to drive me home.' I said it calmly, though my blood fizzed at the thought. Mr Raxberry and me, alone in the car, driving home in the dark . . .

‘I still don't like the idea. And goodness knows what your dad will say,' said Mum. She suddenly nodded triumphantly. ‘What are we thinking of? You can't go, Prue, you'll be visiting your father at the hospital.'

‘I can take one evening off,' I said. ‘Just
one
.'

‘He'll wonder where you are.'

‘You can tell him I'm babysitting.'

‘I can't say it's for your
teacher
. Your dad will have another stroke if he knows you're going to school.'

‘He'll have to know
some
time, Mum.'

‘I know, I know. But not yet, when he's still so poorly,' she said.

‘Well, I'm still going babysitting on Friday, Mum, no matter what you say. I'll see Dad tonight; I'll see him every single night except Friday.'

‘He'll fret about it.'

‘I can't help it. I'm the one who has to sort him out and teach him and go over stuff. It's OK for you and Grace, you just sit there.'

‘I know, dear. I'd be happy to take my turn, but I just don't seem to have the knack for it.'

‘I
certainly
don't,' said Grace.

‘It's so hard, and I keep getting behind with my homework and getting into trouble at school,' I whined.

‘You could try explaining that you're having to help out with your dad,' said Mum guiltily.

‘I don't want to talk to them about Dad,' I said, sensing Mum was weakening. ‘I just want to help out, Mum. I want to help Dad. I want to earn a bit of spare money. I know we're horribly in debt, I've seen all the bills.' I paused. ‘I feel especially bad about that sixty pounds. I just didn't realize. I'd take the underwear back but I've already worn it. I've
got
to earn it back, then I won't feel quite so bad.'

‘Oh lovie, all right, all right. I understand,' said Mum, patting my shoulder.

Grace understood more fully. She waited until we were in bed.

‘What's this thing with old Rax, Prue?' she whispered. ‘Why do you really want to babysit?'

‘I
said
, I want to earn some money.'

‘Yeah, but you're so
keen
.' She thought about it. ‘Are you keen on
Rax
, Prue?'

‘Of course not,' I said hurriedly.

‘You're always hanging round the art block. And you always go pink when he says hello to you.'

‘I do not!'

‘Yes you do. Yeah, you've got a thing about him, haven't you?'

‘No, I haven't. For goodness' sake, he's a boring old
teacher
.'

‘Yes, but he's not really like the others. He's much more laid back and casual. Of course he's not really good looking—'

‘Yes he is!' I said.

‘What, with that weird little beard? Iggy and Figgy and me think beards are so gross. And then he's got this earring. Iggy says it means you're gay if you just wear one earring, though I suppose he can't be if he's got a wife and two children.'

‘I don't care if he's got a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or a beard like Father Christmas. I just want to do some babysitting to earn a bit of extra cash, that's all,' I declared. ‘Now shut up and go to sleep.'

She did shut up. I thought I had her convinced. But later, when she turned over, she mumbled, ‘You
do
so fancy him. You can't fool me, Prudence King.'

I told Mr Raxberry I could babysit on Friday. I announced it as casually as I could, leaving it right to the end of the art lesson, acting like I'd almost forgotten about it.

‘Oh, thanks,' he said, equally casual, as if it was the most ordinary everyday thing in the world. Maybe it was. Maybe half the class already babysat for the Raxberry household.

He told me his address and told me his road was on the number 37 bus route.

‘Fine, no problem,' I said.

I wondered if he expected me to bus home after all? He
had
said he'd drive me home, hadn't he? Or had I just made that bit up? I couldn't help imagining Mr Raxberry in my head, the way I'd always imagined Jane and Tobias – but I didn't get muddled with them, because they weren't real.

Tobias insisted he
was
real, materializing as I walked across the playground.

I was supposed to be on my way to the Success Maker centre for an hour's maths coaching, but I was wondering whether to skip the class. I'd discovered that the special tutors there didn't always follow it up if you failed to put in an appearance. In fact they always greeted you with extreme enthusiasm, as if you'd passed a difficult exam simply by setting foot inside their glorified Portakabin.

I looked longingly in the opposite direction, towards Mr Raxberry's art block. I imagined myself on his map, running along the little red road.

‘You can't go there. He's busy teaching,' said Tobias, pulling me back. ‘Talk to
me
. We haven't spent any time together for ages. Please, Prue.'

‘Oh go away. I'm not in the mood,' I muttered.

‘You be careful. If you keep ignoring me I'll go away altogether, and then where will you be when you're lonely?' said Tobias. ‘Watch out. I'm fading a little already.'

I looked at him. His beautiful face was blurred, his golden curls tarnishing to fawn, his blue eyes barely there.

I felt a pang, knowing that he was right. All my imaginary friends had faded away as I'd gradually grown out of them. I could barely remember the strange companions of my little girlhood: the white rabbit as tall as my waist, the flock of flower fairies, the tame green dragon with crimson claws, the black and white jumping cow who flew me over the moon . . .

Even Jane was fading now, though she had been my constant friend for years. I tried to conjure her up in a panic, but she pressed herself against the corridor walls, her back to me, refusing to show me her face.

‘You see,' said Tobias. ‘Watch out, Prue, or you'll lose me too. I'll go for good, I'm warning you.'

His attitude was starting to irritate me. He was a figment of my imagination. What made him think he could threaten me like this?

‘Go then,' I said rashly. ‘See if I care. I can always make someone else up.'

I turned away from him – and the Success Maker. I started marching back across the playground. I decided to hide in the girls' cloakrooms until the bell went. I had a book in my school bag. I'd be fine. I didn't need Tobias.

‘Hey, Prue,' he called after me.

I heard him running – and then he caught hold of me. His hand was on my shoulder, clutching it. I turned. There he was, his fair hair tousled, a smile on his face, a real boy, so real I could see the freckles on his nose, smell his shampoo, feel the warmth of his body.

‘Tobias!' I blurted, like an idiot.

‘Tobias? No, I'm Toby,' he said.

Of course it was only that Toby from my class, Rita's boyfriend, the one most of the girls fancied.

‘Oh, sorry,' I mumbled.

‘Tobias!' he said, in a pseudo-posh voice, mocking me.

‘Yeah, right, I know,' I said. I tried to act cool and casual, but sounded like a sad member of the Iggy-Figgy-Piggy club.

‘You're going the wrong way,' he said. ‘The Success Maker's that way.' He gestured over his shoulder.

‘Yes, I know.'

‘Aren't you supposed to be going for the maths session?'

‘I don't feel like it right now, OK?'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Can't say I blame you. I've just been for an English session and it's doing my head in. Tell you what, let's skip everything and go for a smoke.'

I stared at him. I didn't want to go with him at all. I wasn't even sure what ‘going for a smoke' really meant. Was it some sort of euphemism? But Rita had been particularly mean to me that morning, making stupid remarks, and when I'd tried to ignore her by reading my book she'd snatched it from me and thrown it in a corner, tearing the dust wrapper and crumpling several pages. I'd felt like slapping her, but she was bigger than me, and Aimee and Megan and Jess would start on me too. Going for a smoke with Rita's precious boyfriend seemed an easier way of getting my revenge.

‘Sure,' I said. ‘So. Where are your cigarettes, then?'

‘Not
here
. Behind the bike sheds,' Toby hissed.

In every school story I'd ever read the rebellious children got up to mischief
behind the bike sheds
. I looked at him sharply, wondering if this was some elaborate wind-up. He was certainly behaving theatrically, putting his finger to his lips as we walked stealthily past the classroom windows.

I followed him, walking normally. I hummed under my breath to show him he couldn't boss me about. He shook his head at me, but waited until we were away from the classrooms, approaching these infamous bike sheds. I thought he'd tell me off, but he seemed impressed.

‘You are so cool, Prue. You just don't care, do you?'

I shrugged.

‘Is that why you're here? Did you get expelled from your old school?'

‘I've not been to school, not for years. I went when I was little, but then my dad kept me and my sister at home.'

I peered at all the bikes in the banal little shed. It didn't really seem like a Den of Iniquity. Toby leaned against the ripples of the corrugated iron wall and fished a squashed packet of cigarettes and a box of matches out of his back pocket. I felt hugely relieved.

I'd never smoked before and inhaled warily when he lit one for me.

‘You smoke then?' Toby said.

‘Yeah,' I said, blinking because my eyes were starting to water. I held my chest muscles rigid, determined not to cough.

‘Rita's always nagging me to give up,' said Toby.

‘Well. Rita's always nagging, full stop,' I said.

‘Yeah, I can't stick that in a girl. They go on about how they're mad about you and then they end up mad
with
you, bossing you about all the time, trying to get you to change.' He paused. ‘Have you got a boyfriend, Prue?'

I felt my face getting hot.

‘You're blushing! Come on, who is he?'

‘There's no one, really.'

‘Yes there is!'

‘No. Well, there's someone I
like
.'

‘Ah!' said Toby. He inhaled deeply and then blew expert smoke rings.

I tried to copy but couldn't quite get the hang of it, though he did his best to show me how to shape my lips and tongue. I started feeling dizzy from inhaling. I leaned back against the wall myself, shutting my eyes for a second.