Boys Beware (6 page)

“What about him downstairs?” said Tash.

A knotty problem! We still haven’t set eyes on him. It’s really annoying as we are for ever racing up and down the stairs or out on to the landing. We have found a secret way of referring to him, for when Ali is around. We refer to him as “Gosh”. From his name: Gus O’SHaugnessy. Pretty neat, we think! The way it works is like this. One of us, Tash for instance, will come into the room, and I will go, “Gosh?” meaning, “Did you see
him?” and she will shake her head, meaning “No I didn’t.” Then a few minutes later it will be my turn. I will stand up, and stretch, and say,
“Gosh,”
meaning, “Now I am going to go and have a look.” And Ali will be completely mystified! I suppose it is a bit mean, keeping her in the dark, but really she is not in the least bit interested. Tash and I are just waiting for the day when one of us bursts in and cries, “Gosh!!!” meaning that at long last there has been a sighting.

We could, of course, just go downstairs and knock on the door and give him an invitation. We have discussed this, but Tash is worried in case he turns out to be hideous. I said, “How hideous could he be?” and we speculated for a while, and frightened ourselves with visions of a Kevin Trodd type creature, so now we have decided that we will give him until the weekend to show himself. If by then we still haven’t managed to check him out we shall have to ask Auntie Jay. We would really rather not as we know she’ll only laugh, but we certainly don’t want any Kevin Trodds turning up!

Thursday

Meg has promised that she will try to get her cousin Tom to come to the party and Zoella says that she knows a boy she can bring, so things are definitely starting to look up! We asked Ali this evening who she’s going to invite. She said she hadn’t thought of inviting
anyone. She thought it was our party, not hers.

It made us feel guilty, when she said that. We do have this tendency to leave her out of things.

“You must
at least
ask Louise, “I said.

Tash said yes, and anyone else she could think of. “Like any boys you might know, for example.”

We live in hope!

I have just been reading through Mum’s list of Do’s and Don’ts, which she stuck on the back of the door before she left. This is the first time I’ve really looked at them. These are some of the things that we must DO:

. Check cooker is turned off before leaving home

. Check taps are turned off in sink and bath . Check TV is turned off

. Check windows are closed

. Check door of food cupboard is closed

. Check door of fridge is shut properly.

Oh, and CHECK IN WITH AUNTIE JAY BEFORE GOING TO SCHOOL AND AGAIN ON RETURN. We have had long lectures on that one.

As for the others … all I can say is, well! I can understand about the food cupboard, cos if Fat Man got in there and found anything even remotely consumable he would eat himself silly, but
the door of the fridge?
Pur-lease! Does she really think we are dumb enough to leave a fridge door open???

Still haven’t seen him downstairs.

Friday

Got back from school to find huge puddle of water on carpet. Thought at first that Fat Man had had an accident, but not even Fat Man could wee that much. In any case, he has his litter tray in the bathroom. It was Tash who traced it to the fridge … the door was open just the
tiniest crack,
and all the insides had melted. I cried, “Which blithering idiot didn’t shut the door properly?” I knew it couldn’t be me. I mean, I had read Mum’s list of Do’s and Don’ts.

“Who was the last one to go there?” said Tash.

We both looked at Ali.

“Who put the milk away after breakfast?”

“You did,” said Ali.

“Me?” I was outraged. How dare she blame me? “What about the butter? Who put the butter away?”

“The same person that put the milk away?” said Tash.

It’s not true! I’m sure I didn’t put the butter away. I didn’t even touch the blasted butter. I bet it was Tash!

We have come to the conclusion that there is obviously something wrong with the fridge door, since it takes such a superhuman effort to close it. We’d rather not tell Auntie Jay in case she thinks it’s something we’ve done, so Ali has come up with the bright idea – she gets them, occasionally – of leaving a bucket of water jammed in front of it. It is simple, but it does seem to work. In the meantime we have mopped up the floor and just hope that nothing has leaked down through the ceiling into the O’Shaugnessys’ flat, but we don’t think it can have done as Mr O’Shaugnessy would surely have been up here complaining?

Still no sighting of Gosh. Is he some kind of recluse???

Week 2, Saturday

Well, it has finally happened. We have seen him! Tash came bursting into the room going, “GOSH!” in tones of great excitement. It was the moment we have been waiting for, and I am pleased to record that I was ready for it. Tash plunged back out, and I immediately plunged after her. We bundled together, bumping and jostling, down the stairs, and there he was, standing in the hall, sorting through the post on the hall table. I think he was quite surprised when we came cantering
up. He spun round, dropping a handful of letters as he did so, and it is definitely a case of oo-er, mushy peas and soft ice cream! How Ali could have described him as “just a boy” is quite beyond us. Surely even she could see that he is totally gorgeous? His hair, for instance, is not just a boring brown, as reported by Ali, it is
golden
brown,
like he’s had highlights put in it, except you can see that it’s quite natural. And he has this little dimple thing in his chin, which is just so cute! I am not good at descriptions, but I think it’s enough to say that both me and Tash have gone into total meltdown. We have turned to liquid!

Before we liquidised, we managed – just about – to get through our double act. Tash said, “Hi!”, beaming fit to bust.

Gus said, “Hi,” still seeming a bit, like, startled. I guess we did rush him, rather.

Tash was the one who got in first, though it doesn’t actually matter which of us starts cos we know the script off by heart.

“This is my sister, Emily –”

“And this is my sister, Tash.”

“You probably don’t think we look much like each other?”

“Even though we were born on
exactly the same day.”

“Exactly the same year!”

“Which ought to make us twins.”

Pause.

“But we’re not!”

Surprise, surprise!

“See, her mum –”

“Married her dad.”

“So in point of fact – ”

“We are not actually related at all!”

Ho ho! Sometimes people laugh, and sometimes they look kind of nervous, like they think we’re a bit mad, or something. Gus just blinked and said, “Cool!”

I nodded. “We think so.” And then I nudged at Tash, and she nudged at me, and both together we said, “Would you like to come to a party we’re having?”

It’s funny how often we find ourselves doing this sort of thing … talking like we’re a chorus. We don’t do it on purpose; it just seems to happen.

“So would you like to?” said Tash.

Gus said yeah, great, that’d be cool. He then added that in fact he had already been asked. “Just now, by your sister.”

“Ali
?” She’d gone off a few minutes earlier to meet her friend Louise in town. How sneaky of her!

“I suppose she’s your sister?” said Gus.

“Yeah,” I said, “she’s mine.” I said it with some reluctance. I am not always that keen on laying claim to Ali. I was desperately trying to remember what she had been wearing and thinking please,
please
not let it be her horrible saggy T-shirt and the bum-baggy trousers again. It creates such a bad impression, when me and Tash try
so
hard to make the best of ourselves.

The really important thing, however, is that Gus is coming. Hip, hip, hooray! A boy
all of our own.
Not a cousin or a brother, but a real genuine
boy
invited by us. Well, by Ali, I suppose, but it comes to the same thing.

“Of course, you’re the one he’ll fancy,” moaned Tash, as we came back upstairs and hurled ourselves on to the bed. I don’t know why she said that. She is far prettier than I am! I said this to her, and she said that she wasn’t, and that in any case I was taller and skinnier and
blonde.

I said, “But I haven’t any boobs,” and Tash said that neither had she, and we both heaved big sighs. We think we may have to start doing special exercises. I have read that there are some, and really, if this carries on, I mean this continuing horrible flatness, we shall have to take some kind of drastic action. It is so unfair! Ali has boobs, and doesn’t even want them. They’re not very big, but at least they are there. And then she goes round all hump-shouldered, as if she’s ashamed of them! When I have boobs, even just the tiniest, faintest beginnings of them, I shall make sure that they are – ahem! – well to the fore. So to speak. I shan’t show off about them, cos that would be vulgar, but I shall certainly not try to hide them!

Ali has just come in, and oh, God, she
is
wearing the
t-shirt and the baggies! Tash is asking her about Gus. I shall have to stop and listen to this.