Girls, Guilty but Somehow Glorious (18 page)

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31

FRIDAY 4.55 p.m.

Disastrous timing . . .

It was an averagely unpleasant school day. I didn’t glimpse Oliver anywhere. I kind of knew he’d be going to the Ball with the long-legged girl. All I asked was that he didn’t actually snog her in front of me.

Nigel had revved up into one of his madly pulsating crescendos. Everywhere I went, I felt my spot was leading the way and emitting blinding rays like a miner’s lamp.

Chloe had spent the whole day obsessing about Matthew. Half the time she’d reconciled herself to going with him, and half the time she wanted me to go round to his house and slip a bit of germ warfare through the letter box. I hadn’t had the heart to tell her he’d said he’d rather go with me, anyway. If I’d said that, Chloe would have yelled, ‘Well, you go with him, then! The perfect solution!’

No way would I go to the ball with Matthew. He was an android. It would be unprofessional, anyway. I was his life coach. He’d rung me up a few more times – once to ask if he should have a tattoo, once to get my advice about what sort of shoes to wear to the Ball. I was beginning to think I should charge him for these calls.

Toby and Fergus had tried and failed to sell their tickets. They had evidently decided that, as a fairy godmother, I was crap. I had to admit there were no magic spells in the cupboard.

‘It’s all right for them anyway,’ I sighed as we trudged back to my place. ‘Boys can just go to the Ball in gangs without looking sad and unloved.’

Chloe stopped in her tracks. She went pale. She went red. She sort of clutched her stomach. I hoped she wasn’t going to be sick.

‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘Oh my God! My God! That’s it!’

‘What’s what?’ I enquired nervously.

‘We go with them!’ spluttered Chloe. ‘But as
boys
! We dress as boys! We go as a boys’ gang with Fergus and Toby!’

Feverishly I swept Chloe into my arms. ‘You beaut!’ I screeched. ‘You babe! You Einstein! You’ve cracked it! Re-sult!’

And locked in a ferocious hug, we wheeled round and round and round on the pavement, scattering school books out of our bags, in a frenzy of celebration.

Moments later, while Chloe picked up the books, I texted Toby:
PROB SOLVED! YOU SHALL GO TO THE BALL! AND WITH VERY UNUSUAL PARTNERS. RING ME NOW!
But Toby didn’t ring me, and when I rang him, his phone went straight to voicemail. I was so frustrated and desperate to talk to him I stared at my phone all the way home and tried to force it to ring by the sheer power of thought.

Chloe had texted her mum to say she’d be staying at my place, because this amazing breakthrough was going to take us all evening, and most of tomorrow, to organise.

‘I’ll ring the fancy dress hire place,’ she said. ‘God! I hope they’ve got a tiny tuxedo just big enough for a Hobbit, because if they haven’t, I’m stuffed.’

‘Right!’ I said, racing into the kitchen and grabbing the phone directory. ‘You find the number – and we must ring Toby and Fergus on their landlines and tell them we’re going as an all-male gang.’

‘Hey, Zoe!’ came a voice all of a sudden, out of the sitting room. ‘What’s going on? Some kind of crisis?’

It was Tamsin! She looked as if she’d been dozing on the sofa. She stood in the doorway, a bit sleepy and crumpled, and held out her arms. I bounded down the stairs and gave her a massive hug.

‘Love you!’ she whispered.

‘Love you!’ I responded.

‘The dress-hire place closes at seven!’ shouted Chloe from the kitchen. ‘So I’ll ask them to put some things aside for us for tomorrow morning!’

‘Dress hire?’ said Tam, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow.

‘It’s for the Earthquake Ball!’ I said. ‘It’s tomorrow!’

‘Always
so
last minute, Zoe!’ laughed Tam. ‘Don’t spend a fortune hiring anything, though – look what I’ve brought.’

I went into the sitting room. There was a really huge suitcase in there, on wheels.

‘You should have heard the taxi driver curse!’ said Tamsin, giggling as she heaved the case on to its side and unzipped it. Inside was a huge kind of lasagne of clothing. Fabulous dresses – some I recognised, some I’d never seen before. Sparkly, satin, sequinned, the lot.

‘I’m going to take them to that vintage shop in the high street,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Dixie will give me a good price. After all, I’ve been one of her best customers in the past.’

‘You’re selling them?’ I was amazed, but also reassured. Tam is normally such a hoarder.

‘Well, I’ve got to,’ she said, in a confidential tone. ‘Because of you-know-what. But you can have your pick for the Ball, first.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks!’ I grinned. ‘We won’t need dresses for the Ball, because we’re going as boys. With tuxedos and everything.’

‘Wow! Excellent!’ said Tam, but she looked preoccupied. She looked around furtively and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Listen, Zoe – I hate to seem kind of grasping, but do you think you could give me the muns now, while Mum’s out? She’ll be back in a minute – she’s just gone shopping. Dad’s been excused cooking tonight and Mum’s going to bring a takeaway back.’

‘Where’s Dad now?’ I asked, listening for sounds upstairs.

‘I think he’s in the middle of some fiendish bit of web design,’ said Tam. ‘He had a cup of tea with me when I first arrived, but then he went back upstairs and said he’d got a nasty little glitch he had to iron out. But his door’s closed and Freddie Mercury is doing major decibels.’

Dad always listens to Queen when he’s wrestling with some kind of computer problem.

Chloe joined us in the hall. ‘Tamsin!’ she yelled. ‘How are you?’

‘Chloe!’ yelled Tamsin, giving her a major hug. ‘You look fabulous! And thank you so very very much for
you know what
! You’re an absolute angel!’

‘It’s fine,’ said Chloe. ‘Anything to help, you know . . .’

‘So . . .’ Tam seemed to want to change the subject. Understandably. ‘So you guys have got the Ball sorted?’

‘Yeah.’ Chloe grinned. ‘Although we must ring Matthew, Zoe, and tell him I’ve got the flu.’

‘We can’t tell him that,’ I objected. I knew he would then ask
me.

‘I left a message on Toby’s voicemail,’ Chloe went on, ‘saying, “
Relax, it’s all sorted
.”’

‘The all-male solution is perfect,’ I said. I heaved a big sigh, and cuddled Tam again. It seemed everything was getting sorted at last.

‘You smell nice, Tam.’ I said. ‘What is that perfume?’

‘It’s Ralph Lauren,’ said Tam, looking at me guiltily. ‘Don’t worry, though, it’s not new. Tom gave it to me when we first got together. We’re finished now, though. I dumped him because he was an evil influence.’

‘Evil?’ grinned Chloe. ‘How, evil?’

‘No, OK, I admit it,’ said Tam. ‘I dumped him because he was seeing somebody else. But who cares? I’m better off without him.’

Tam certainly seemed to be in a buoyant mood. Her eyes sparkled, her face shone, and her smile was a mile wide.

‘You look really happy, Tam,’ I said. ‘It’s brilliant!’

‘Well, that’s all because of you, little sis,’ said Tam. ‘You’re going to save my life – shall we sort it out now, quick, before Mum gets back?’

‘OK.’ I grinned, and all three of us raced upstairs. ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was blasting out from Dad’s study, but the door was firmly closed. We could bank on the thirty seconds of privacy necessary to hand over the sacred stash of notes.

We all crowded into my bedroom. It looked tidier than usual. Then I remembered, the cleaner comes on Fridays. I sort of like it looking tidy, but I also love
being
untidy. It wouldn’t take me long to create chaos out of order again. I flung open the wardrobe door – and almost fainted.

The box was gone! Both the boxes were gone! The small one containing the clothes I was definitely going to donate to the charity shop, and the big one containing the other stuff I wasn’t quite sure about. And I’d hidden the envelope of cash at the bottom of that box! Oh my God! Where had it gone? I couldn’t have lost it! I couldn’t have lost over £600 – and mostly my friends’ money!

I turned in complete shock and horror to Tam and Chloe. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I could feel myself going as red as a beetroot, then as pale as death. My heart was performing these odd mad lurching beats. I felt as if I was going to faint.

‘Where is it?’ said Tam, looking panic-stricken. ‘Where did you leave it?’

‘In the box!’ I found my voice at last, and shrieked. ‘There was a box in my wardrobe! Two boxes! Of old clothes I was sorting out! I hid it under there! They’ve gone!’

Tam was speechless. Chloe went pale and sat down on the bed. I started to shake. I started to whimper.

‘Stop it!’ said Tam. ‘Calm down, Zoe. We can sort this out.’

Downstairs, I heard the sound of Mum’s key in the front door.

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32

FRIDAY 7.28 p.m.

More blood-curdling surprises . . .

‘Don’t tell her!’ hissed Tam. ‘Don’t mention the money!’

‘But . . .’ Chloe hesitated. It was all very well for Tam to say ‘
don’t mention the money
’, but it was actually Chloe’s money that had disappeared. My blood ran cold. Chloe didn’t finish her sentence. She just kind of gulped like a goldfish.

‘Hi, honeys, I’m home!’ shouted Mum up the stairs. ‘Come down and help me unpack and you will be rewarded with an Indian takeaway!’ We looked at one another.

‘Try and look happy and relaxed!’ said Tam, looking about as happy and relaxed as somebody disappearing into a crocodile. We went downstairs, trying to appear merry and skittish, but it was like wearing shocking pink to a funeral.

‘Ah! Chloe!’ Mum beamed. ‘I thought you might be around, so I got some of your favourite – that potato dish. Aloo something-or-other.’

‘Thanks!’ said Chloe in a rather pale, anguished voice.

Mum didn’t notice. She was putting some plates in the oven to warm. ‘Typical of Dad,’ she grumbled. ‘I asked him to warm up the plates . . . Unpack that box, will you, Tam? You’ll find some of your favourite treats in there.’

‘Ooh, fabulous!’ trilled Tam, although her voice went a bit too high and sounded on the edge of mad hysteria. Luckily it was drowned out by the clatter of Dad coming downstairs.

‘Where’s my tandoori chicken?’ he boomed in a caveman voice. It all could have been so much fun, really, if only my life wasn’t in ruins. And Tam’s life, obviously. And Chloe’s, too, of course.

‘Mum.’ I decided to seize the bull by the horns. ‘Where are those boxes of clothes that were in the bottom of my wardrobe?’

‘Oh, I took them to the charity shop today,’ said Mum. ‘I had a day off work so I’ve had a jolly good clear-out. You did say you wanted to get rid of them.’

‘Not
all
of them!’ I cried, not really able to hide a howl of anguish. ‘I was sorting the stuff in the bigger box! I wanted to keep some of it!’

‘It’s always hard to let things go,’ said Mum brightly, in her therapist mode. ‘But you’ll feel liberated, really, Zoe, once you realise what a lot of space you’ve got now.’

If only she knew. It’s kind of hard to feel liberated when what you’ve given away is over £600, and it doesn’t even belong to you. And all the space is in your wallet, and your friends’ wallets, and in your sister’s bank account.

‘There was stuff in that box I really, really need!’ I said, trying to make it sound important, but not too interestingly crucial.

‘What stuff?’ Mum was still packing things away, as if she couldn’t really be bothered to concentrate on my pathetic little drama. That suited me fine. I didn’t want her to stand still and stare ruthlessly at me with her beady little lie detectors. But I did need to find out where the boxes had gone.

‘Well, to be honest, I hid my diary in that box,’ I said, suddenly seeing a way out.

‘Oh, well, never mind,’ said Mum. ‘They probably haven’t even sorted it yet.’

‘We can go into town tomorrow, first thing,’ said Tam. ‘We can be there when they open. I’ll go with you, Zoe. Which shop was it, Mum?’

‘Oxfam,’ said Mum. ‘There’s a terrible famine in Africa at the moment.’

‘Did you say anything about me in this diary?’ Dad asked. ‘Do I come out of it well? Were my dashing good looks mentioned?’

‘Your flab, you mean,’ I said. ‘Of course I never mention you in my diary, Dad. It’s all about boys at school I have a crush on, and sordid stuff like that.’

‘Lay the table!’ cried Mum, unpacking the poppadoms with panache. She was doing her best to create a festive atmosphere, but Tamsin, Chloe and I were finding it really hard to think about anything except running away.

‘I wonder if they’ve unpacked it already?’ I said, half to myself, as I laid the table.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Zoe, stop fretting!’ snapped Mum. ‘I’ll ring them first thing in the morning if you like! Nobody’s going to be interested in your diary anyway! Now just relax!’

Relax? I could just as soon have eaten my own feet. OK, nobody’s interested in a teenage girl’s diary. But who isn’t interested in £692?

We all sat down and the boxes of Indian food were laid out on the table, on newspaper. We like eating it like that.

‘Excuse the rough-and-ready style, Chloe,’ said Mum. ‘Those plates should be warm enough now.’

‘Presentation is everything,’ quipped Dad merrily, his usual joke.

‘Oh, you should see the way we eat at home,’ said Chloe. ‘We eat off the floor – practically!’ She gave a brave little grin and a shrug, for all the world as if she wasn’t unexpectedly bankrupt and looking forward to a summer of No Holiday Whatever except possibly a weekend break under her own bed.

‘So, what have you girls got planned for the weekend?’ asked Dad, helping himself to a gigantic piece of chicken coated in red tandoori sauce. I usually adore the colours of Indian food as well as the taste, but tonight nothing looked appetising. I felt more than slightly sick – not just in my stomach, all over. Even my eyebrows felt sick.

‘It’s the Earthquake Ball,’ said Chloe. ‘Tomorrow night.’

‘Oh yes!’ said Dad. ‘You were having trouble finding partners – did you sort that out?’

‘Yeah, it’s great,’ I said, trying to rouse myself out of my sick coma by forcing myself to talk about something really positive. ‘We had so much trouble for ages. We thought we’d never find anybody. We even advertised on a postcard in the supermarket, as you suggested.’

Mum gave Dad a scolding look. ‘You suggested they should advertise? For boys?’

‘Only in a light-hearted way,’ said Dad. ‘Not in any serious sense.’

Suddenly I realised the only way out was to ring Matthew and invite him to our all-male gang. Oh no! We had to ring horrid Scott as well, and tell him . . . well tell him
something.

‘Did you find any?’ asked Dad, ladling loads of rice on to his plate.

‘Well, we did get two replies,’ I told him. ‘One was a nerd, and one was an android.’

‘What other boys are there?’ asked Tam. She laughed in a mad, hysterical way.

‘So have you got partners, or not?’ said Dad, gazing at his dinner with more rapture than I’d ever seen him lavish on Mum.

‘The solution is brilliant. We’d always ruled Toby and Fergus out, because they’re so immature and stuff, but we’ve had this great idea,’ I said, conveniently ignoring the fact that the idea had, in fact, been Chloe’s.

‘We’re going to go in drag. We dress as boys, and we’ll all go together. It’ll be the All-Male Earthquake Ball.’

‘Where are you getting the tuxedos?’ asked Mum.

‘I booked a couple,’ said Chloe. ‘From the fancy-dress-hire place. We can go there after the charity shop.’ She gave me a hysterical look. I passed it on to Tam, who choked slightly on a stuffed paratha. The fact was, if our trip to the charity shop drew a blank, there would be no jolly trip to the dress-hire place. We all knew that unless the money was somehow still magically waiting for us at Oxfam, we’d be in the biggest jam in history.