Girls in Tears (9 page)

when they’re sorry

I say yes. What else can I do? I hate Nadine, I hate Magda even more. I never want to be friends with them again. And yet
under
all this I love Nadine, I even love Magda, and I want to be their friend forever and ever and ever.

It’s difficult getting away, though. I tell Anna an elaborate story about making it up with Magda and Nadine. I say we’re going to this
Xanadu
showing up in town to celebrate, and fib that Magda’s dad is taking us.

Anna folds her arms and shakes her head. “If you’re too sick to go to school you’re too sick to go out tonight, Ellie.”

“But you didn’t mind one bit about me being sick when you needed me to fetch Eggs from school.”

“Absolutely. I’m all in favor of dramatic recoveries when it’s to help me do an honest job. However, I’ve got a heart of stone when it comes to nights out with your friends. I thought they were your deadly enemies now, anyway. Especially Magda.”

“Well, like I said, we’ve made it up.”

“There! I
told
you you would,” says Dad, coming into the kitchen. He gives me a quick hug. I breathe in his warm oil-painty smell. For once I don’t wriggle away from him.

“Yes, you’re nearly always proved right, Dad.” I say.

Anna raises her eyebrows in disgust, knowing what’s coming. I feel guilty playing such a low-down trick but this is an
emergency
.

“Dad, Magda still feels a bit bad about things. She’s talked her dad into taking us up to London tonight so we can see this special showing of vintage
Xanadu
episodes. I can go, can’t I?”

“Of course you can go,” says Dad.

“I’ve just said she can’t,” says Anna.

“Well,
I’ve
just said she can,” says Dad.

“Oh, for God’s sake! Do you have to fight me over
everything
?” says Anna, and she bursts into tears.

I feel guiltier than ever, but I have to take advantage of the situation. I pull my jacket on, grab my bag and make a dash for it.

I meet Magda at the station as arranged. She’s wearing her red sweater, short skirt and stiletto heels and is attracting a lot of attention.

“I thought the entire point of this exercise was us blurring into the background so we can keep watch over Nadine without being spotted. Well, ha ha. You might as well be walking round with a spotlight on you in that getup. And suppose they go off for a walk together? You can’t walk the length of the road in those silly stilettos. Maybe that’s how you came to be lying on the stairs at the party? You simply fell over?”

Magda looks stricken. “Oh, Ellie, I’m sorry. I forgot I was wearing this outfit on Saturday. Oh God, I feel so dreadful—”

“Good! Because I do too. But let’s forget about the party for the moment and get up to London. What are we going to do if Nadine’s on the platform? Kid her we’re the best of chums going on a girls’ night out?”

“She won’t be. We’re going extra early to avoid her. But . . . can’t this be a kind of girls’ night out?
Please
let’s make friends, El. If you’ll only let me explain properly—”

“I’m warning you, Magda. Just shut
up
about the bloody party.”

She doesn’t. She goes on and on and on about it all the way on the train. I make out I’m not listening. I put my hands over my ears but Magda simply raises her voice. I go and sit in another carriage but she follows me. She sits down beside me and puts her arm through mine, trying to anchor me into my seat.

“I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I do,” she says.

“It
will
be the last thing you do because I’m going to throw you right out that window if you dare start talking about you and Russell. Can’t you understand? It’s too painful,” I say, trying not to cry.

“It’s painful for me, too, Ellie,” says Magda. She’s nearly crying too, her eyes brimming. “I feel so terrible. I didn’t
mean
to. Russell didn’t either. It just kind of happened without us realizing.”

“Oh, like there was this extraordinary magnetic force that sucked you both up and hurtled you toward each other and stuck you together, tongue to tongue?”

“It wasn’t the fact that it was Russell. It could have been anyone. He just happened to be
there
. It was the same for him. It wasn’t
me
he wanted. He doesn’t even like me, Ellie, you know that.”

“Yeah, he was acting like you thoroughly repel him on Saturday night.”

“That’s all he thinks I’m good for,” says Magda, her face crumpling. “That’s what all the boys think. Look, I was feeling really fed up at that party. I know I was laughing and joking but underneath I felt lousy, really
cheap
. I heard all the things they were whispering about good old Magda. Meaning
bad
old Magda. I don’t know what to do. I like dressing up and looking sexy and having guys stare at me, of course I do—but they never seem to want to know
me
.

“I tried having a swig of that vodka but it didn’t make me feel better, it made me feel worse. I started feeling really sorry for myself. I went to the bathroom and sat on the stairs and had a little weep about it, wondering why all my relationships go wrong. Well, I don’t even
have
relationships. Even Greg has gone off me now because I won’t go further than kissing. Then I started thinking about little Fudge and what it must have been like for her, having sex for the first time and getting all confused and depressed and running away and then suddenly falling and falling . . . OK, I was pretty maudlin. Then Russell fell over me on his way back from the bathroom and he heard me sobbing. He thought he’d hurt me so he sat down beside me and put his arm round me, just to comfort me. I howled ridiculously about Fudge. He said he hadn’t realized I was such a softie at heart and then
he
practically started crying and said some stupid stuff about you and then—”

“What stupid stuff?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know. He didn’t mean it. He was just a bit drunk—”

“Magda. Tell—me—what—he—said.”

“He said you thought you were absolutely
it
now because this artist lady had written you a letter and how you had a cheek saying he copied you and he’d wanted to be an artist all his life and he couldn’t help feeling his artwork is better than yours simply because he’s two years older than you and works harder at it and is maybe a bit more naturally talented.”

I say something
incredibly
rude.

“I knew you didn’t want to hear,” says Magda.

“He’s so
jealous
. It’s pathetic,” I say.

“Yeah, well, he’s a bloke, isn’t he? They don’t like it if you’re better than them.”

“So, do you think my artwork is better than Russell’s?”

“Of course I do! And Russell realizes it is too. That’s why he’s going on about it so much. Oh, Ellie, you are dense at times. Anyway, he was bleating on about this, and I was blubbing about my little Fudgypops, practically lying on Russell’s chest. I was just using him like a pillow, honestly. But then I moved and he moved and I swear I don’t know how—it was pitch-black, remember, so we couldn’t see what we were doing—but what we
were
doing was kissing.”

“Stop right there!” I say. And then, “Why
didn’t
you stop right there?”

“I know. If only we had. But it just felt so nice, Ellie, that I couldn’t quite bring myself to stop. I thought Greg was a good kisser but your Russell is fantastic.”

“He’s not my Russell anymore. He’s yours.”

“No he’s not! He doesn’t want me. He’s nuts about you, Ellie. He wants you back so badly you could win the wretched Turner Art Prize and he wouldn’t care.”

“Well, why doesn’t he say all this to me?”

“He’s been trying to phone you ever since Saturday.”

“Mmm, I suppose he has. But he hasn’t come round to see me.”

“I don’t think he’s got the nerve. Your dad can be a bit scary sometimes.”

“My dad’s hardly ever at home at the moment.”

“So if Russell comes round will you talk to him?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

I
don’t
know. I don’t know what to feel, what to think. I don’t know whether I want him back or not.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell Magda. “Let’s work out what we’re going to do about Nadine right now.”

We think we’ve got bags of time to set up a good spying position, but we’ve got to find this cinema first. We’ve both been to London heaps of times but it’s nearly always been with our families and you don’t really notice which tubes to take. Mags and I end up whizzing the wrong way on the Northern Line but eventually we get to Leicester Square. After a lot of looking and asking we find the cinema down a little Soho side street.

It’s got the right name—but the wrong films. It’s showing a selection of sleazy, silly soft porn. There’s no mention at all of any special
Xanadu
selection. I take a deep breath and go inside, feeling ever so small and shy. I ask the girl at the desk about
Xanadu
and she looks at me as if I’m mad.

“That’s a television series. We wouldn’t show something like that. And I’m afraid you can’t see any of the films we
are
showing, you’re not old enough.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t
want
to see those films,” I say, and flounce out.

“So he’s telling lies to Nadine just to get her to agree to meet him,” says Magda. “Oh God, Ellie, I’m so glad you’re here.” She gives my arm a little squeeze. I squeeze back without thinking.

“So, shall we wait around the corner?” says Magda.

“Let’s go in the Starbucks over the road. We’ll be able to see the cinema easily from there. We’ll see Nadine when she turns up—and him. I wonder what he looks like? Maybe he’s been lying about that, too?”

“He told Nadine he’s dark with big brown eyes and he’s quite tall. He’s supposed to be a conventional dresser but he says he’s got a cheeky kind of look. She’s expecting some kind of Robbie Williams look-alike.”

“Nadine is so stupid,” I say.

The words are barely out of my mouth when a truly gorgeous guy of about nineteen walks past our Starbucks window, crosses the road and stands near the cinema.

My mouth is open. So is Magda’s.

“Oh God, it must be him!”

“And he
is
just like Robbie Williams!”

“Oh lucky lucky lucky Nadine!”

“Well, he could still be really weird even if he looks gorgeous.”

“He could get weird with me any day of the week,” says Magda.

“And why did he say
Xanadu
was on at the cinema when it isn’t?”

“Maybe he just made a mistake. I think he definitely deserves the benefit of the doubt! Look, he’s looking at his watch. He’s still a good ten minutes early. Oh, come on, Nadine, you can’t keep a guy like him waiting.”

But he isn’t waiting for Nadine. A beautiful redhaired girl with a fluffy jacket and the tightest jeans comes sauntering up to him. They smile and kiss and then go into the little Chinese restaurant next to the cinema.

Magda and I sigh.

The guys going into the cinema itself are
very
different.

“That one’s actually wearing the proverbial dirty raincoat!” I say. “And look at
that
one. He’s all greasy looking—and so
old
.”

“
They’re
not,” says Magda, chuckling.

Two spotty boys with baseball caps are furtively conferring. They jam their baseball caps down low to hide their faces.

“They’re trying to look older so they can get in. They’re only about our age. Hey, imagine if Ellis turns out to be a schoolboy!”

“Well, he certainly knows a lot of stuff, judging from his e-mails,” I say.

We watch the boys get sent on their way. An old guy with a beard shakes his head at them. He’s standing in front of the program display case, having a good peer at the topless girls.

“Yuck! Look at the way he’s stroking his beard! I
hate
beards,” says Magda. “Uh-oh! Sorry, Ellie. I forgot your dad’s got a beard.”

“It’s OK. I hate beards too.”

“Still, your dad’s an artist. He’s got to look the part, hasn’t he? All artists have beards.”

“Only the old-fashioned sort. And the thing is, he’s not really an artist—I mean, he doesn’t ever paint anything himself nowadays—”

I break off. Nadine is walking along the street, hands in her pockets, trying to look dead casual. Her face is whiter than ever and she’s peering around anxiously. She looks over the bearded guy’s shoulder at the program. She frowns, looking puzzled.

The old guy with the beard is looking at her—
leering
at her. She’s gone a bit over the top with her goth look today. Her eyes are outlined in thick black and she’s back-combed her hair into a wild explosion. She’s clenched in at the waist with a huge black belt with laces and she’s wearing lots of little clip-on ear studs and a very long thick chain that dangles almost to her knees.

“Is that a
lavatory
chain?” Magda giggles.

“Xanadu wears one. It’s meant to contain the key to her heart.”

“I wonder if Nad thinks this Ellis is the key to
her
heart? Do you think he’s going to come?”

“She looks ever so nervous, doesn’t she? Hey, I hate the way that sad old bloke is slathering all over her. Oh my God! He’s starting to talk to her!”

The old guy is saying a lot to Nadine. She looks shocked.

“What do you think he’s
saying
?” Magda asks, outraged.

“Why doesn’t she tell him to push off?”

We lean our foreheads against the glass, staring at Nadine. The old guy has edged right up to her. Nadine has her hand over her mouth. He says something else, smiling. Then he puts his hand on her shoulder! Nadine tries to shake it off but he clings to her. She takes a step backward but he hangs on.

“Come on, Mags!” I say.

“Yeah, we’ll rescue her,” Magda says.

We dash out of Starbucks and cross the road.

“Nadine!”

“It’s OK, Nadine, we’re here!”

Nadine stares at us as if we’ve just dropped out of the sky. The old guy stares too. He looks startled—but his arm is still round Nadine.