Girls, Guilty but Somehow Glorious (16 page)

‘Would you like to stay to supper, Zoe?’ asked Chloe’s mum. Mesmerised by the turd, I thought perhaps not. I couldn’t face any more of Chloe’s sulks. I knew our blazing row had only been postponed, so the atmosphere would be poisonous.

I was halfway home, and mentally rehearsing a scene with Oliver, when my mobile rang.

‘Hi,’ said a deep sexy voice. ‘This is Matt.’ It’s strange how I never noticed how deep and sexy his voice was when he was actually in the room.

‘Uh, sorry to disturb you,’ said Matt. ‘I was just wondering . . . do you think I should have an earring?’

‘Not for the present,’ I said. ‘Just concentrate on the smile, the handshake and the colour brown.’

‘OK,’ said Matthew, ‘just one other thing. This, uh – going to the Ball with Chloe . . . will you be there?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘of course.’

‘Do you have a partner?’ asked Matthew bluntly. Maybe he had a friend who would like to escort me? I was certain that no friend of Matthew could ever be anything but dullsville.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m going with Nigel.’ Matt need not know, right now, that Nigel was not a boy, but a spot on my chin.

‘Oh,’ Matt said, sounding a bit disappointed. ‘I just thought – really uh, I sort of feel I hardly know Chloe, you see, and I was just thinking, uh – to be honest, I’d much rather go with you.’

.

.

28

WEDNESDAY 6.03 p.m.

Emotional blackmail, anyone?

While obviously pleased that Matthew preferred me to Chloe, the thought of spending a whole evening in his company made me want to pack my bags and head straight to the airport. I told Matthew what a terrific person Chloe was, ignoring, for a moment, my current loathing of her. I assured him it was an honour that she’d asked him to the Ball. He accepted the idea politely, but you could tell he was unconvinced.

‘Just one other thing,’ said Matthew. ‘Do you think I should cut my hair?’

I told him to keep on slicking it back for the time being, and promised to give it some thought. I was beginning to tire of being a life coach. Having to spend time thinking about Matthew’s hair was not so much a style project, more a severe sentence.

Back home, everything was low-key. Mum and Dad were snuggled up on the sofa, watching a documentary about the Egyptians. Supper was help-yourself to a tired salad that had been in the fridge for three days already. I wasn’t hungry, actually. I felt kind of sick after my confrontation with Chloe.

I went upstairs, lay down on my bed and stared moodily at the ceiling. Suddenly my mobile rang. I grabbed it. It was Chloe and she was clearly ballistic.

‘So!’ she snapped. ‘What was all that about? You were completely out of order! What’s the matter with you?’

‘No!’ I was so furious, I jumped up off my bed and began pacing the room. ‘What’s the matter with
you
? That’s the issue. I’m just totally sick of the way you let me down all the time.’

‘
What do you freakin’
mean
?’ screamed Chloe. ‘Let you down? Like, when?’

‘Like, always!’ I yelled. ‘We go to the Toilethead concert – you go off with Beast.’

‘They gave me a lift home!’ shouted Chloe. ‘I sprained my ankle, remember?’

‘We could have taken a taxi! You just abandoned me!’

‘I so did not! We offered you a lift and you just went all moody!’

‘I did
not
go moody. I just didn’t want to spend any time with those morons! And then you wouldn’t come to babysit with me – instead you had to go waltzing off with Beast again. Then when it went pear-shaped you came crawling back and got me into big trouble with the Normans!’

‘I’ve already apologised for that!’

‘You never contribute! I’m always the one who has to answer the door, talk to the androids, whatever. Then when Beast rings, you run out like an idiot and have a shouting match with him upstairs while I’m trying to deal with Matthew.’

‘Look, I was telling Beast to get lost! You can’t have it both ways, Zoe! You’re so freakin’ judgemental!’

‘Then you come barging in again and ask Matthew to the Ball, without even discussing it with me first!’ I was determined to get all my resentment out now, without getting side-tracked by her arguments. ‘I never know what you’re going to do next. You just do or say whatever comes into your head. And if Beast is in the picture, you just don’t give a toss about me. I get no support. You’re never there for me. I’m, like, totally irrelevant to your life!’

‘Don’t be such a stupid bitch!’ screeched Chloe. ‘How can you be irrelevant to my life when I just lent you my entire year’s savings – £225! Call that No Support? What more do you want? I don’t have to put up with this.’

And she rang off. I felt sicker than ever. OK, I’d got it all off my chest – all the irritation I’d been feeling recently. But she had produced the trump card. That loan. All her money, handed over to me, without a moment’s hesitation. A huge wave of guilt washed over me. OK, Chloe could be a bit of an airhead, unpredictable and ditsy. But could anybody have been more generous to me in my hour of need?

Immediately I called her back to apologise. But her mobile was switched off. I rang her landline. No reply. Her mum must have gone out, and Chloe wasn’t picking up. I didn’t leave a message. I couldn’t think of the words. I didn’t sleep too well that night. I dreamed my teeth were falling out.

Walking to school next day seemed like a huge effort. I was light-headed and my legs felt hollow and weak. Would Chloe ever speak to me again? Would she ask for her money back? As I reached the gate, I saw her waiting. She headed straight for me. I flinched a little. What was coming? A right hook? She grabbed my wrist.

‘I’m really, really sorry, Zoe,’ she said, her eyes full of tears. ‘I was a bitch. I’ve been a total pain recently and I promise I’ll try and do better.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled guiltily. ‘I was totally out of order. I’ve just got so irritable recently. Sorry, Chloe.’ We fell into each other’s arms and had a massive hug. ‘You can have the money back right away if you like,’ I murmured into her ear.

‘No, no!’ she pulled away, smiling. ‘I want Tam to have it! She’s in a fix and I can help! She’s always been so nice to me.’

We strolled off, arm in arm. The sun felt unusually shiny. The sky was fabulously blue. We were never going to row again. Well, not this week, anyway.

‘So what’s the situation between you and Oliver?’ asked Chloe.

How could I explain to Chloe the full intricate horror of my misunderstanding with Oliver? It would take all day. Besides, Jess and Flora were coming up.

‘It’s complicated,’ I said. ‘I’ll explain at lunch.’

‘Chloe,’ said Jess. ‘We’ve heard you can do somersaults. Is that true?’

‘Well . . . yes,’ said Chloe. Though useless at ball games and swimming, she can mysteriously do cartwheels and stuff.

‘Well, we’re doing an assembly next week and it kind of needs somebody to turn somersaults in it,’ Jess went on. ‘Any chance you could be that person? No pressure. Just, if you don’t, children will die in Africa because of you.’

Chloe started talking about the assembly with Flora and Jess. I went off into a kind of daydream. I was rehearsing a speech. At break I would go to the sixth-form area and hang around until Oliver appeared. Then, with a couple of graceful and carefree sentences, I would explain everything. I would be enchanting.

‘Oh, hi, Oliver!’ I would call, as if it was such a
surprise
to see him at this moment. In fact, as if I’d briefly forgotten about his very existence. ‘How’s it going?’ And then, after he’d told me how it was going, I’d say, ‘Listen, I’m sorry about the misunderstanding about the farm. I’ve been the victim of an elaborate practical joke. My parents brought me up to believe we lived on a farm, but I’ve recently discovered that we do, in fact, live in a perfectly ordinary house like everybody else.

‘And when my mum puts on her smart suit and picks up her briefcase, she’s not, as she always said, going off to milk the cows, but apparently, to investigate insurance claims. My parents invented this ludicrous story because they were so embarrassed about the insurance business that they were afraid I might run away from home. But, you know. I quite like my house anyway. Er . . .
where do you live, by the way
?’

And then, when he’d told me where he lived, I’d go round after dark and pick a bit of his hedge. And I’d tuck it in my bra, next to my heart, and never take it out for the rest of my life, even if it was quite prickly.

Chloe went off with Flora and Jess to demonstrate her somersaults in the hall. I just leaned against the fence. Hundreds of kids were milling about. But none of them was Oliver. I never see him when I’m looking for him. Then, when I least expect it, he appears. I read somewhere that ghosts are a bit like that.

‘Hi! Zoe!’ I looked round. It was Toby (also looking round – we’ve often discussed going on a diet together). He was eating a packet of crisps.

‘Crisps before 9 a.m.?’ I said, in a cross, lecturing kind of voice. ‘What did you have for breakfast, may I ask?’

‘Nothing,’ said Toby. ‘This is my breakfast. I don’t count muesli.’

‘How are you, anyway, my dear?’ I started in on the old-lady voice we sometimes use. But Toby didn’t pick up on it today. In fact, he sighed.

‘Oh . . .’ he said, tipping the last crumbs of crisps into his mouth and wiping his lips on his hand. ‘You know . . . rubbish.’

‘Why rubbish?’ I cried indignantly. Toby’s supposed to cheer me up. He’s usually
relentlessly
optimistic. ‘Listen, Tobe! You’re my hero! That money you lent me has literally saved my sister’s life!’ Toby looked surprised.

‘Uh . . . ?’

‘Well, not
literally
literally,’ I went on. ‘Although yeah! Maybe
literally
literally! Because when she first rang me to tell me how fed up she was, she was walking down by the river in the rain, in the dark! She could easily have thrown herself in, and now she’s as happy as anything – thanks to you, Tobes!’

‘Well,’ said Toby. ‘Good.’ And he burped. It was quite a sad burp, though, and he still looked rather down in the mouth.

‘So what’s the problem?’ I asked. He shrugged.

‘Fergus says we might as well sell our Earthquake Ball tickets,’ said Toby. ‘Nobody’s ever going to want to come with us.’

‘Rubbish!’ I shrieked. ‘Toby, you’ve gotta go! Everyone’s going! Don’t be such a pillock – of course somebody will go with you!’

‘Who?’ said Toby simply, shrugging. His eyes were huge, and fixed on me like two luminous blue-and-white planets.

Suddenly, in my secret heart of hearts, I felt a sickening jolt. Toby hadn’t said anything, but weirdly I had this sense that because he’d lent me all his money, I sort of had to go to the Ball with him
myself
! Noooooooo! Toby was a mate, and a good mate. The best. But the Earthquake Ball was so
not
the event to go to just with your mate.

If I thought I had to go with Toby I would literally die. Well, not
literally
literally.

‘Somebody will snap you up!’ I yelled. ‘You’re gorgeous! You’re both amazingly fun guys! Go out and hunt down a couple of blondes!’ This was a code way of making sure he never thought about me and Chloe as possible partners, because I’m mousy and Chloe’s a redhead.

‘We went out so-called hunting last night,’ said Toby. ‘We went bowling. Even the most munting girls there wouldn’t look at us. They said we were gay.’

‘Well, what do you expect from girls who haunt the bowling alley?’ I asked, swiftly ignoring the fact that I’ve had some of the best evenings of my life there. ‘Try the pool. Or the skating rink. Or the Dolphin Cafe. That waitress in the Dolphin fancies you. She’s always flirting when we go in there.’

‘She flirts with anything alive,’ said Toby sadly. ‘I saw her last week flirting with a tomato.’

The bell rang for registration. In the distance I could see Fergus approaching. Chloe is literally (yes, this time
literally
) petite – no more than five foot two in her shoes, and Fergus is at least
half a head
shorter. For one brief horrible moment a vision flashed before my eyes of Chloe in a fab green ballgown and Fergus tagging along beside her in a tuxedo. I’m sorry to be smallist, but it looked completely
ridiculous.
As if he was her adopted orphan son or something.

‘Who are you going with?’ asked Toby suddenly. I almost jumped right out of my skin. On the one hand, Toby’s question looked like a simple, straightforward enquiry.

On the other, it felt like a red-hot dangerous interrogation that might lead directly to the worst thing he could ever possibly say, i.e., ‘
Why don’t you come with me?
’

‘It’s kind of a secret,’ I said, and winked at him. Or tried to wink. But I was so nervous, my eyelid sort of stuck down (too much mascara, also, I admit.) Instead of looking sporty and playful I appeared, for a moment, only sinister and deranged.

‘Oh,’ said Toby. ‘I wish I had a secret partner lined up. Very glamorous and exciting, my dear!’ He tried, at last, for the old-lady voice, but got it slightly wrong. He just wasn’t in the mood, poor Tobe.

‘Don’t worry, Toblerone,’ I squeezed his arm, but only briefly, and in a totally unsexy kind of way, ‘you
shall
go to the Ball! Leave it to me.’

‘Will you be my fairy godmother, then?’ asked Toby with the ghost of a smile.

‘I certainly jolly well will, my dear!’ I assured him in my old lady’s voice. Chloe and Fergus joined us, and we went off to registration. They were talking about a film. I wasn’t really listening. My mind was reeling.

What had I done? Not only did I have to find a partner for me, but I now had to find one for Toby too. And possibly Fergus.

But first I had to find Oliver and explain why I’d said I lived on a farm. Just how complicated could a day be? I was exhausted already.