Pride and Premiership (10 page)

I shook my head. “I’ve only eaten one thing today – an apple.”

“What time was that then?”

“Lunchtime,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling a right twot.

Manager Harry Lewis looked at his watch. It must have been about eight o’clock.

“Oh, right. That will be it then,” he said, clearly relieved that my fainting had nothing to do with anything I’d eaten at the Milkshake Bar.

“A bloody apple? Is that all you’ve had?!” Spencer exclaimed.

When he took me home, Mum and Dad couldn’t thank him enough. They made a real fuss of him. Anyway, he’s just gone and I’m hoping that maybe this has happened for a reason, and Mum and Dad will make up (nothing like almost losing a daughter to bring people back together!) and now one of them will bring me some dinner and a nice cup of tea because I need some Tender Loving Care.

“How could you be so bloody stupid?” asked Mum. (So much for the TLC.)

“I’m not stupid,” I said. “I was just so busy, I forgot to eat.”

“Nonsense. You did it deliberately. Do you want to end up a bloody anorexic?”

“Anorexic?” I said, choking back a laugh. “Chance would be a fine thing.”

“Right, so there you go. You’re practically admitting that you WANT to be one.”

“Mum, not eating for a couple of days isn’t gonna make me anorexic. All right? Stop falling for the hype.”

“It’s HYPE until you end up in hospital. And then guess who’s going to have to take time off work to look after you? You’re so selfish! You can’t see further than the end of your bloody nose.”

I don’t understand what it is with me and Mum. I knew she was only angry because she was worried about me, and I also knew I’d been stupid – it just bugged me to hear it from her. “Oh, I’m selfish, am I? Can you prove that?”

“Well,” she replied, “I can guarantee that you haven’t even thanked Alan for the money he gave you. And it’s been over a week.”

Trust Mum to pick the one thing that’s actually true. Is she bloody psychic or something?

“Yeah, well … that’s only because I didn’t want to email him. I wanted to CALL him. And he wrote his new number in the card but YOU went clean-up mad and threw it in the bin.”

“No, I didn’t,” she snapped.

“Who else would have chucked it?” I replied. “It’s probably lying there now – UNDERNEATH DAD’s DINNER!”

“I tell you what bloody well happened,” Mum shouted back at me. “Your—”

“That’s enough,” Dad interrupted before she could say another word. I hadn’t even noticed that he was standing in the doorway, holding a plate of pasta in pesto sauce (my favourite). I was a bit embarrassed about him hearing how rude I was being to Mum. And Mum looked mega embarrassed too.

“I was just trying to get her to see how selfish she’s being,” she explained.

“Yes, I heard,” Dad replied, looking at her with a mean look I’d never seen on his face before. Then Mum said she had some washing up to do, and when she left they both twisted their shoulders to avoid any chance of touching each other.

Wow, do they hate each other that much?

Dad stayed in my room and watched me eat every bit of my pasta. “A little bird told me that Tara Reid has been bullying you,” he said.

I didn’t answer. I was too busy thinking,
I’m going to kill that Kellie
.

“And trying to make you believe you’re fat,” Dad continued.

“I’m practically an adult, Dad. I can deal with it.”

“Not by starving yourself, you can’t.”

I stared down at my empty plate. I knew he was right.

“I’m not letting her get away with this,” he said.

I smiled, partly because he sounded like a superhero and partly because I wished I’d let him know when I was still at school so I could have seen him in action. There’s nothing he can do about it now. End of.

Malibu came into my room and gave me the Sermon Part Two.

I told her I didn’t realize she cared so much.

“Well, who else am I gonna boss about if you’re dead?” she joked, and we giggled for a bit.

“Anyway, I’d worry about Mum and Dad if I were you, not me,” I said and told her how they can’t even bear to be in the same room as each other.

Malibu shrugged. “I’m already prepared for the worst.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why?”

I thought she had some inside information, but out came another Malibu theory. This one was called “They’ve let themselves go”.

She talked about how slim and gorgeous Mum used to be when we were little. And it’s true – whenever I used to watch Mum getting ready to go out with Dad, I’d think,
I want to look like THAT when I grow up
.

Now she hardly ever wears make-up, and the only time her hair looks good is when Malibu washes and blow-dries it. But even that only lasts for a day, then Mum goes back to dinner-lady mode and pulls it back into a crappy hair elastic. (Duh!)

“OK, I can see your point with Mum,” I admitted. “But not Dad.”

“Come off it,” she scoffed. “What about the photo at Granny Bennet’s house?”

I remembered the photo on our granny’s fireplace. The one that made us gasp when she said it was Dad. He was muscly, with a mop of brown hair, and dressed in tight jeans with piping down the side and a black bomber jacket. You could tell he was cool back then. Then I pictured him now, leaving the house in his P & R Bennet overalls with his belly filling out the middle of them as though he’s six months pregnant.

“Yeah, I see what you mean.”

“Thing is,” she went on, “when a man and woman let themselves go, it means they’ve got complacent. And THAT is the beginning of the end of a relationship.”

Malibu and her bloody theories.

I hope she’s wrong, because I still remember how miserable I was when Mum and Dad broke up before and Dad moved out for a while. Can’t let it happen again.

Decided that now was the perfect time to email Godfather Alan, for two reasons:

1. Mum was right and I should have thanked him for my card and present.

2. Thinking about Mum and Dad’s break-up when I was ten made me remember that Alan played a huge part in getting them back together. He was their mediator – which can’t have been easy, because although he was Dad’s best friend, he had to advise Mum as well. On top of all that, Grandma Robinson (who came over most nights to give Mum her “motherly” advice) absolutely hated him. I think she was used to telling Mum what to do and couldn’t stand the fact that Mum was having none of it any more. But despite Grandma Robinson’s interfering, Alan cracked it – in the nick of time, too, because he emigrated to Australia a few days after Dad came back home.

Anyway, I’ve just sent him this email:

Dear Alan,

Thanks for the card and money. I bought two lush dresses with it.
[Thought it best not to mention throwing the LBD in the bin.]

You’re the best godfather ever,

Remy x

PS I think Mum and Dad are on the verge of splitting up again. You were brill at getting them back together last time, but now that you’re on the other side of the world I suppose that’s going to have to be my job. Any suggestions? He–eeeelp!!

Can’t remember falling asleep last night. And I was that knackered, I must have slept through my alarm. Probably would have slept through an earthquake. An avalanche. An alien invasion. Everything except my text-message alert going off just now. I grabbed my phone from my bedside table and read:
Princess I tried to call last night. Holla. Robbie x

That woke me up big time! I blitzed back a text:
Sorry, was dying to speak to u but fainted! In the middle of Milkshake Bar! Sooo embarrassing. Xx

My phone rang straight away. “Princess, you all right?” he asked, sounding tipsy but genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” I said, grinning just to hear his voice.

“What caused it?” he asked.

“Um… I dunno… I think… Low blood pressure.”

“Yeah? Well I’m gonna have to take care of you when I get back,” he slurred.

My smile got even bigger. “Sounds like YOU’RE having a good time. You just getting in?”

“Yeah, leaving an after-hours club. But it’s not as good as usual,” he said. “I’ve got somebody on my mind. And the lads are gonna cane me for calling her.”

That’s what I like about him – he’s got the gift of the gab but he never ever makes it sound corny.

I blushed and giggled. “Why are they gonna have a go?”

“It’s just one of the rules. No phoning our girls back home. First one to break has to buy all the drinks. But you’re worth it.”

I blushed again. Good thing he couldn’t bloody see me. Then I heard the sound of drunken lads shouting out in the background, so I told him to save his reputation and said goodbye.

OMG. “Our girls back home” – that means he’s taking me seriously, right? Or am I being a mentalist?

“I don’t think you’re being a mentalist,” said Kellie.
Yay!

“But…” she continued, “I don’t think you should get your hopes too high, either.”

I came crashing back down to earth.

We were in Nando’s because Kellie had decided to meet me for lunch – which was a big honour, seeing as her life has been one big sleep-in since she took her last AS exam. (Why, oh why didn’t I stay on for sixth form?) I reckon she was just trying to make sure I ate something. (Probably hired by my dad.) But there were no worries there – I couldn’t wolf down my peri-peri chicken fast enough.

Kellie bit a chunk out of her half chicken extra hot and said, “Damn, I love this shit,” then turned her attention back to me. “I mean, you know what boys are like,” she went on between chews. “They’ll say anything to get us weak and then before you know it, our knickers are ankle-warmers.”

“Speak for yourself!”

“You know what I mean, though, don’t you?” she said.

Yeah
, I thought,
that there are plenty of Ray “user” Pearsons out there.
I knew exactly what she meant, but it didn’t mean I liked it. All I want is for Kellie or Malibu to be positive about Robbie. Just ONCE. I know what they’re thinking:
He’s a footballer, he’s in Ayia Napa, he could charm paint off walls.
But I don’t want to hear it. Sometimes it would be nice to repeat something he’s said to me and not have it be torn apart or made out to be a lie.

I didn’t say that to Kellie, though. Instead I said, “Anyway, forget about Robbie, you big GRASS.” And I watched her squirm as she tried to justify telling Dad about the drama with Tara (spit, spit) Reid.

It basically came down to her being worried. So I forgave her. Then we spoke about Spencer for a bit and I told her I was confused because of the way he looked after me last night.

“But I just don’t fancy him,” I finished.

And by the time she’d explained why I should string him along anyway, it was time for me to go back to work.

I’m going to get Malibu’s opinion on having Spencer as my fail-safe one more time. (Even though I’m 99% sure what she’s going to say.)

Malibu had her back to the door when I walked into her bedroom. She was wearing the killer red dress that we call the Boy Magnet. So I said, “Bloody Nora, where’s he taking you this time?” Assuming that Goldenballs was treating her again. But she spun round like a demon and thrust her finger to her lips, and that’s when I noticed she was on the phone – she was using the loudspeaker and talking into it walkie-talkie-style.

She pressed the button to end the loudspeaker mode, put the phone to her ear and said, “OK, then, see you in about twenty minutes,” in a girly voice I haven’t heard her use since I can’t remember when. But it instantly changed once she’d ended the call. “KNOCK BEFORE YOU COME IN MY ROOM. ALL RIGHT?”

So I stormed straight back out in a huff. And now she’s gone out without even apologizing!

I bloody hate living here at the minute. My sister’s a schizo, and as for Mum and Dad – well, Dad hasn’t even come home from work yet. And it sounds like he hasn’t called to let Mum know where he is, either, which means: (a) they’re still not talking, (b) he wants to bring on World War bloody Three, or (c) both of the above.

What he doesn’t know is that Mum didn’t make him dinner anyway, which technically means she declared war first.

I think I’m more adult than all of them put together.

Spencer just called. He asked me how I was feeling. And I think hearing his concern felt especially good because Malibu had just treated me like crap. Anyway, whatever the reason, it made me like him a bit more.

“Much better, thanks,” I told him.

“OK, then let’s try this again,” he said, “as I didn’t have a chance to ask you what I wanted to last night. What’re you doing tomorrow? And I promise that this time I won’t be taking you to the Milkshake Bar.” He chuckled.

But I didn’t laugh. I took a deep breath and said, “Spencer, I can’t do this. I don’t think it’s right.”

I made a big speech – from my heart, but if I summed it up, it was basically the old classic “It’s not you, it’s me.” And I ended up telling him that I really wanted us to stay friends.

He said he’d have to think about it. And sounded really pissed off.

Now I definitely know my parents’ marriage is doomed. Because not only did Mum come into my room and apologize for being hard on me when I fainted, but before she left she turned to me and said, “You know I love you, don’t you.”

LOVE?! Mum doesn’t do that Disney stuff.

This can only mean one thing: Dad isn’t coming home.