Boy Trouble (9 page)
Authors: Sarah Webb
She has it all worked out. She gets her mum to make carrot, cucumber and celery sticks for the three of us every day, each little packet wrapped in layers and layers of clingfilm, like a caterpillar’s chrysalis, which isn’t very green of her. When I pointed this out she just made a face at me and said, “I’ll recycle it,
Amy
.” When she said “Amy” she stretched her mouth downwards and jutted out her chin. She looked just like a camel.
Me and Clover lick our ice creams and watch the penguins fire themselves into the water like bullets, glide smoothly along the bottom of the slightly murky pool and pop into the air again, like jack-in-the-boxes. It’s very soothing.
It’s funny how birds that swim so elegantly look so clumsy on land, waddling around like those plastic wind-up toys that move one foot in front of the other for a few seconds before falling down. Like Alex when he was just starting to walk.
“OK, Beanie?” Clover licks the stubby wooden Magnum stick and nips all the last shreds of chocolate off with her teeth. When it comes to ice cream and chocolate she’s always very thorough.
I nod.
“Let’s get to work.” She pulls out a green plastic document folder and shuffles through the A4 pages. She seems to be looking for something. She pulls out a sheet and stuffs it back in her bag.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She seems a little embarrassed.
“You’re hiding something from me.” I hold out my hand. “We’re supposed to be a team. Hand it over.”
She waits for a moment and then gives me a gentle smile. “You don’t need to read that one, trust me, Beanie. Please?”
“I want to read them all,” I say stubbornly.
She sighs, reaches back into her bag and passes me the crumpled sheet. “There are seventeen letters, Beanie. We don’t have to answer this one. There are plenty of other problems to deal with.”
I read the letter and then I flick through the other sixteen. Clover’s right, there are plenty of other problems, easy problems. How to tell your mum you need a bra; how to deal with spots on your chest and back; how to say no to a boy without losing him; how to deal with exam stress; but the one I want to answer is the first one. Because I know I can help.
Friday
Dear Clover,
My mum and dad separated eight months ago. I knew something was up – they were always arguing and shouting at each other, but I still can’t believe it. I keep going over and over everything. Did I do something wrong, did I cause them too much stress? Mum says I can be very moody sometimes.
The worst thing is, now me and Mum are moving in with her new boyfriend. He’s a butcher. His wife died a few years ago. He’s nice enough, but he has two sons who are older than me and it’s all so weird. What if they catch me in the shower or something?
I can’t tell my friends how I feel, their parents are all so normal. I’m afraid they’ll laugh at me. I feel like such a freak. And so alone. Can you help me?
Carrie, 12.
In the car on the way home I write my reply in Clover’s lined journalist’s notebook.
Dear Carrie,
I’m so sorry to hear about your situation. My own parents separated when I was nine and they’re divorced now. At the beginning it hurt like hell. Every morning I’d wake up and after a few seconds I’d remember and everything would seem sad and horrible. Mum spent a lot of the time crying. I used to catch her at it in the kitchen. She’d try to cover it up, saying she was cutting onions or there was a sad song on the radio. Dad moved into an apartment in the city centre. Like you, I kept wondering, was it something I’d done, was it my fault? But it really wasn’t, I see that now. They just couldn’t get on.
I’m telling you about my parents because you said you feel so alone. But I know for a fact that there are girls all over Ireland going through exactly the same thing. And it’s tough. But I have to tell you – it does get better. My mum and dad are both much happier now and they both have new partners.
I leave out the bit about the babies and the wedding. Oh, and Dave being a pain and Shelly being a nightmare – that’s too personal. Besides, I don’t think it’d be all that helpful.
It’s much better to have parents who are happy, even if it means that they have to live apart. I know it’s hard, but it’s important to remember that they both still love you and that none of it is your fault.
Try to get on with your stepbrothers. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m sure they’ll find sharing their dad and their house with you and your mum hard too. You never know, down the line you might even be friends. At the very least they might have cute mates! And don’t worry about things too much, just be yourself and keep the bathroom door locked. Ask them to knock before they come into your bedroom, and say you’ll do the same. If you all respect each other’s privacy it should be OK.
If you’re feeling really bad about all of this, try talking to someone, an aunt maybe or a teacher, someone who will listen. It makes everything seem a little brighter.
And finally remember that even though things are difficult for you at the moment, it will all get easier. Hang in there and remember you have friends and family who love you. I hope this helps.
All the best,
Clover XXX
When we pull up outside my house I pass the notebook to Clover.
“Do you think it’s all right?” I ask her nervously.
She reads it through and then says, “Hey, Beanie, when did you get so grown up? Can I print it in the magazine?”
“You really want to print it?”
“Sure, it’s perfect. And I think I’ll write an article about dealing with new step-parents. What about ‘Step-Up’ for a title? You’re great at titles, got anything better?”
I stare out the windscreen, lost in thought. A dog is peeing against a car’s tyre while his owner looks away and whistles.
Clover says, “I’m so sorry, Beanie. That was insensitive of me. I shouldn’t be using your life to fill mag pages. I’m a bad person. But it’s what journalists do, Beans. They mine their own lives for stories. I won’t do the article, OK?”
“It’s not that. I don’t mind about the article.” I pause for a second. “Clover. Be honest, do you think I’m overreacting?”
“To what?”
I shrug. “Dad and
her
. Getting married. The baby.”
She gives a breathy snort. “Hello? No way! It’s all pretty serious stuff. They defo should have told you about getting married. You’re part of their family.”
“Not their new family.”
Clover puts her arm round my shoulders. “Beans, things move on. Just because your dad is having a sproglet doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. Maybe it’ll make things easier between you and Shelly. She won’t have a clue. She can’t even light a fire or lift the bins out without your dad’s help. She’s hopeless. A baby’s going to completely floor her.”
I smile. Clover’s right. Shelly is pretty hopeless when it comes to practical things. “She’ll get baby poo under her expensive false nails,” I say. “She won’t like that at all.”
“And it’ll puke all over her cashmere jumpers. She’ll be in and out of the dry-cleaner’s like a yo-yo. She’ll so need your help, Beanie. They both will.”
“I suppose,” I say grudgingly.
She gives me a squeeze. “You know what would really get up Shelly’s perky little nose?”
“What?”
“Embrace this whole baby thing. Tell your dad how excited you are. That way she’ll have nothing to complain about. She’s probably sitting at home right now telling him how spoilt you are and how you’re just jealous. Be the bigger person, Beanie.”
I think about this for a second. “Pretend to be pleased for them? Even though I’m not.”
“You got it.”
A car pulls up just behind us. A very familiar car. My palms start to feel a little sweaty. He must be here to talk to Mum, to tell her his news before I do.
“Clover, will you come in with me? That’s Dad’s car. Don’t leave me on my own.”
She turns round and stares into his convertible Mercedes, squinting her eyes a little. “At least he’s left his secretary at home.” She means Shelly. I smile a little.
“Hey, Art,” Clover says brightly to my dad, stepping out of her Mini. “I’m just popping inside to say hi to Sylvie. See you in a mo’. Oh, and Amy has something to say to you.”
“Clover!” I hiss at her, but she’s at the front door by the time I climb out of the car.
Dad looks at me expectantly. I gulp and take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “About yesterday. And about dashing off this morning. I just got a bit of a shock. Now I’ve had time to think about it, I’m thrilled about the baby, really I am. Congratulations.” I throw my arms round him and give him a tight hug. He smells like a pine forest: it’s the expensive Italian aftershave he started wearing a few years ago. Mum hates it. “Eau de loo cleaner,” she calls it.
“I’m so relieved,” he says into my hair. “And I’m sorry too. For not telling you about the wedding. But Shelly—”
Something occurs to me and I pull away. “Does Mum know about the wedding?”
He shakes his head. Is it my imagination or does he suddenly look pale?
Jeepers, I think, I wonder if Clover’s—
“ART GREEN!” Mum is standing at the front door, her hands on her hips. She has a scowl on her face that would frighten a grizzly bear.
Clover is standing behind her and she looks at Dad and draws a finger slowly across her throat. I put my hand over my mouth to hide a nervous giggle. Dad is so dead.
His face drops. “Too late,” he mutters, walking towards the house.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” Mum screams as soon as he’s in the hall. I walk in after him. She slams the door behind us. Her face looks like thunder.
Clover grabs my arms and pulls me up the stairs. “You’d better stay out of the way, Beanie.”
“But—” I begin.
“Please,” Clover says, a serious look on her face. “Let me deal with this, all right?”
I nod and step into my room, but as soon as she’s gone back downstairs, I creep down the corridor so I can hear what’s going on. Mum and Dad are in the kitchen now, but they’re shouting so I can still hear them.
“Have you no respect?” Mum’s on a roll. “When were you going to tell me about the baby? At the christening? And I can’t believe you got married without telling me.”
I wince. Ah, so Mum knows everything. Quick work, Clover.
“Sylvie, just calm down for a second,” Dad says.
“Calm down?” Mum shrieks. “Calm down? Are you
serious
?”
“God, you’re impossible,” he says. “I don’t know how Dave puts up with it.”
“Can I just say something here?” Clover interrupts.
“No!” Mum yells.
Dad says, “Let her speak, Sylvie.”
“Look,” Clover says, “Amy’s upstairs and she can probably hear every word. Will you please stop shouting at each other? I know you’ve had a shock, Sylvie, and I’m sorry I told you like that, out of the blue. I only did it for Amy’s sake, so you could help her through it. Not so you could rip chunks out of Art in front of her. The pair of you should grow up. You can’t behave like this in front of Amy. You’ll damage her for life.
“Now, I’m going home and I’m taking her with me. After we’ve gone you can fight all you like. But you know something? It’s not fair. She’s had a hard enough time of it already. Can’t you both just get over your differences and learn to get on? For her sake?”
Silence. Then Mum starts to sob. “I’m so sorry. But it’s not me, it’s
him
. He’s the one who went and married his dolly bird in secret.”
“Just don’t, Sylvie,” Dad says. “I know you’re jealous—”
“Jealous? Yeah, right, Art. I’m just dying to run off to some stupid tourist resort and get married in a straw hula hula skirt.”
“Enough!” Clover says. “I give up.” I hear her march out of the kitchen. I close my door just before she whips it open.
“We’re getting out of here,” she says. “I’m sorry, Amy. They’re acting like children. I don’t know what to say.”
“Mum’s upset.” I feel like I have to defend her. After all, it’s Dad who’s in the wrong.
Mum and Dad are standing in the hall as I follow Clover down the stairs.
“Sorry, Amy,” Dad mumbles. He looks very sheepish. “I should have told you and Sylvie about the wedding weeks ago. I was too scared to be honest. Shelly said—”
“Can’t you forget about Little Miss Perky for just one minute?” Mum says. Then she cackles like a Macbeth witch. “Clearly not. After all, she’s having your baby now, isn’t she?”
“Mum.” I’m appalled. I know she’s upset but that’s not fair. She has two children with Dave after all. And they’re not even married.
“Sorry, Amy.” Mum puts her hands to her face. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
The front door swings open and Dave peers inside. “Oh, hi, everyone.” Alex is asleep in the buggy on the path behind him. “Why the long faces?” he asks.
“Art and Shelly are married and they’re having a baby,” Mum says.
Dave looks at Dad and smiles softly. “Congratulations, mate. I’m happy for you. When’s it due?”
Things are so simple for Dave. Black and white. I wonder about him sometimes.
“September,” Dad says.
Mum makes a funny little noise in the back of her throat and her face crumples.
Dave looks at Mum. “Life moves on, Sylvie,” he says gently.
Mum’s eyes well up and she turns on her heels and runs into the kitchen.
“Go easy on her, Art,” Dave tells Dad. “She’s a bit fragile at the moment. Evie’s being difficult.”
Dad nods and holds out his hand. “Thanks,” he says.
Dave shakes it a little stiff ly. “Best go now,” Dave tells him firmly.
Dad murmurs, “Yeah,” and walks out of the house.
Clover blows out her breath. “Jeepers, that was a bit intense. Where’s Evie?”
“Upstairs having a nap,” Dave says.
Clover smiles. “She’s got my genes. She’ll sleep through anything.”
“Snores too,” I add. “Just like you.”
