The Boy I Loved Before (21 page)

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Authors: Jenny Colgan

BOOK: The Boy I Loved Before
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‘Shh! Go now!'
I squeezed her on the arm and walked out boldly. Fallon was gazing angrily at herself in the mirror, even though she looked absolutely great. Her head whisked round as she clocked me. There was a short pause.
Then, ‘God. Can't go anywhere these days,' she sniffed. ‘Wouldn't you be better off in New Look?'
‘Just back from claw-sharpening class?' I said, and walked past her.
‘I'm getting ready for a party,' she said. ‘It's a thing popular people do at the weekend. You wouldn't like it.'
‘I'll see you there,' I said.
She whirled round in shock, and stomped towards me, wearing killer heels and a tiny black dress.
‘You're really not going to embarrass yourself by turning up?' she hissed.
‘You're really not going to embarrass yourself by wearing that dress, you skanky ho?'
I couldn't believe I was actually saying these things. Obviously the possibility of being vaporised really concentrated the mind.
Her face twisted up. ‘Who's the ho?'
‘Um, no one, skanky ho.'
Oh God, what was I trying to do, get myself killed?
She gave me an absolute top-class filthy look. ‘We'll see,' she said. And turned away. And I scarpered.
 
 
My heart was pounding and my face flushed as I reached where the Di Ruggerios and the Scurrisons were sitting in the food mall.
‘Hello, my dear,' said my mother. ‘Get anything nice?'
‘Where's my daughter?' said Stanzi's dad, making faces at the coffee. ‘You leave her for dead?'
‘She's just coming,' I said. ‘She's gone to the bathroom.'
Everyone stood up. ‘Well, I think we're about to head off,' said my mother. ‘Time's getting on.'
‘And miss the football?' I said.
‘There you are!' came a loud and familiar voice. ‘I keep forgetting you're smaller now. And that you have purple hair.'
Tashy had completely forgotten the potential of parental punishment; it had been too long since she experienced what it was like when your mum and dad make your life seriously difficult. She wanted a sticky beak, and she was doing this on purpose.
‘Mr and Mrs Scurrison!' she said. And even the haute-gushiness of her voice couldn't quite conceal her genuine astonishment. ‘You're looking so
well
!'
My parents looked at each other. Who was this elegant older person? She certainly didn't belong to their circles.
Tashy stretched out her hand to be shaken, manfully ignoring the fierce kicking on the ankle she was getting from me.
‘I'm Flora's new guidance counsellor.'
I raised my eyes as everyone else made those ‘Ooohh' noises.
‘Flora didn't tell us anything about you,' said my dad, unfairly directing a cross glance to me. Mind you, she wasn't a stranger, of course. My dad was giving Tashy throws in the swimming baths long before it became illegal for men to do that, and my mother let her sleep over whenever she wanted, although we only did it so I could stay at hers, with the constant television and fashion magazines.
‘Really?' said Tash, having a fabulous time. ‘That's very bad of her indeed. I've been at Christchurch since the start of term. I've been working very closely with Miss Syzlack.'
‘Is this because of the truancy?' said my mother, panicked.
‘Well, we just wanted to keep an eye on her. Don't worry, she's not in any trouble.'
‘She'd better not be,' said my dad.
‘I'm not!' I said.
‘We worried …' my mother lowered her voice, even though there were clearly at least five people actually listening to the conversation, ‘ … if there might be some kind of a man involved.'
Oh crap.
‘I can tell you,' said Tashy, in her best ‘getting on with grown-ups' voice, ‘because I know she wouldn't want to blow her own trumpet.'
‘Yes?' said my mother.
‘There was an older man who did ask Flora out.'
‘Oh God, I knew it,' said my mother. ‘Please, tell me it wasn't a teacher.'
‘No, it wasn't. But you'll be glad to know that Flora turned him down.'
‘Thank Christ,' said my mother, colour flooding into her face.
Tash gave me a look and I tried to convey my intense gratitude.
My mum came and gave me an enormous hug in the middle of the arcade.
‘Mu-um!' I grumbled.
‘You're not grounded any more,' said my dad gruffly, which was good because it meant I could stop creeping out.
‘Thank you,' said my mother, going up to Tashy and clasping her by the hand. ‘I mean, you must know how hard it is to get teenagers to open up and … you do a wonderful, wonderful joy …' She looked as if she was about to choke up. For heaven's sake.
Tashy patted my mother on the arm. ‘There there,' she said. ‘Listen, why don't I take Flora off for a cola?'
‘Oh, that would be so kind of you,' said my mother. ‘So kind. On your day off too.'
‘You're allowing me to go off with a stranger?' I said. ‘Just like that?'
‘You should be a bit more grateful to Miss … ?'
‘Miss Blythe,' said Tasha, grandly.
‘Can I give you some money for cola?' said my dad to Tash.
‘No, not at all.'
‘Come on, I know what you teachers get paid.' And to
my mortification and Tashy's obvious delight he pulled out a fiver and gave it to her. ‘I can't thank you enough for keeping our daughter on the straight and narrow,' he said.
‘She's a one!' said Tashy. ‘But we'll keep working with her. You know, as parents I think you're doing a great job.'
My parents gazed at Tashy like they'd fallen in love.
Stanzi came skidding towards us.
‘That beetch, she is in there so long I think I am going to die of suffocation!'
She clocked Tashy. ‘Her again! She is everywhere!'
Mr Di Ruggerio wasted no time. He gently cuffed Stanzi round the ear.
‘You give your teachers more respect than that, huh? She help your friend; I think we need to get her to help you, yes? Huh?'
And, wildly protesting, Stanzi was borne away with the rest of the party.
‘See you tonight then!' I yelled.
 
 
‘I am brilliant,' said Tashy as we were left alone.
‘You most certainly are not,' I said.
‘I'm a genius. And now you must call me Miss Blythe.
And
we have a fiver to spend. Woo!'
‘That could have gone really wrong,' I said.
‘What plan did you have?'
‘I was going to sneak away.'
‘Ooh, sneak away. How very sixteen of you.'
‘It could have gone wrong,' I repeated.
‘But instead I got you off the hook and off being grounded.'
‘Yeah.'
‘And, in fact, any time you want to thank me for dispelling the fact that you've been seen out and about with a thirty-five-year-old man, go ahead.'
‘Thirty-four,' I grimaced.
‘OK then.'
‘I'm going to call you Mum the rest of the day.'
‘You jolly well are not.'
‘Thanks, Mum.'
 
 
‘Oh bugger.' Tashy was back to grumpiness and wasn't enjoying watching me try on size eight bridesmaid's dresses. ‘Why didn't I get married when I was seventeen?'
‘Because you'd have been a dejuiced neurotic old crone with four kids and on to number three out-of-work mechanic husband by now.'
‘But I would have looked so fabulous.'
‘No you wouldn't. You'd have chosen an exact replica of the Princess Di dress, complete with humongous flouncy sleeves and you'd have looked like one of those dolls people used to use to cover their spare rolls of toilet paper in the guest bathroom.'
Tashy was getting a fitting at the same time. She looked fabulous in her ivory sheath column, but she was sighing nonetheless.
‘Tash, if it makes you feel any better, I have pimples all the way up the yazoo.'
‘Really? Your actual yazoo?'
‘No, my breastbone, but they're still pretty gross.'
‘Huh.'
‘And, like I keep telling you,' I took her hand, ‘you look beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.'
‘Really?'
I gestured at an enormous meringue in the window, which was corseted with crisscross gold thread, so it looked like some kind of wiring network. It had sleeves like hot-air balloons.
‘Try this one on just in case!'
 
 
‘I'd better get out of this dress,' I said eventually, when we'd gazed.
‘Oh, I know, I know. It's just – actually, I think it's depressing me more than anything else.'
‘I thought we were having fun,' I said. ‘And, you know, fun is a really rare quality for me these days.'
‘I'm just not …' She collapsed in a heap of tulle. ‘I mean, I'm not even sure I want to have sex with him for the rest of my life. Or even one more time!'
‘But, Tash, you've always seemed so happy; so suited.'
‘I know.'
‘I mean, before I came back …'
‘You too also seemed so happy, so suited.'
We looked at the ground.
‘Why do we do this to ourselves?' said Tashy sadly.
‘Because it's the grown-up thing to do?' I said unhappily.
‘Because this is all there is?'
‘Because family is the answer?'
‘Because Max was too cheap to buy wedding insurance?'
I stood up.
‘Your dress is perfect,' Tash said, grinning through the tears. ‘We'll take it. And now I have to go.'
‘Where?' I said. ‘What if I'm in need of some guidance?'
‘But I'm seeing Olly,' she said, ‘and he expressly said, and I quote, “If at all possible, could we meet without your juvenile delinquent?”.'
‘It's a step up from wolverine,' I said.
‘No, when I said “I quote”, I actually meant “I paraphrase without all the swearing”. Right, I'm going to try it.'
‘What?'
She stood up and closed her eyes. ‘I wish I was sixteen again!' she said, quite loudly.
‘Oh, that's a
great
idea!' I jumped up too. ‘Come back too. We'll have a brilliant time! You can come to Justin's party!'
She half opened one eye. ‘Tell me you're not going to a teenage party?'
‘Er, no.'
‘You bitch.' She pinched her thighs. ‘This isn't working, is it?'
‘Dunno,' I said.
She opened her eyes. ‘Can I come to the party anyway?'
‘Do you remember that Canadian school teacher who got sent to prison for cavorting with her charges?'
‘Bugger, bugger, bugger.'
‘Good luck with the happiest day of your life,' said the shop assistant as we both slouched out into the street.
 
 
Stanzi and I were being overexcited in my parents' kitchen. We had got ready together in the bathroom, and I'd introduced her to the delights of Nik Kershaw, which I'd discovered in my parents' record collection, shamefully enough. Stanzi had blue mascara on one eye and green on the other,
I was wondering how low I could get away with pulling my stripy top.
‘Do you think I can show a bra strap?'
Stanzi snorted loudly, rubbing extra blush over her round cheeks. ‘I've never heard of anyone who minded having a bra strap show.'
I guessed not. We danced around until we both looked fantastic (for trannies) and, leaving a trail of destruction across the bathroom – hey, if I wasn't a little thoughtless now and again surely they'd suspect something – we teetered downstairs.

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