Girls Out Late (10 page)

“He’s got a girlfriend?”

“They live together. It’s actually
her
flat. She’s in advertising and I think she must make a lot of money. He showed me this photo of her. It’s not fair, she’s gorgeous, this black girl with a face like Naomi Campbell and the most amazing long hair. She’s called Miranda and when he says her name his face goes all soft and it’s obvious he’s crazy about her.”

Magda sighs.

Nadine sighs.

I sigh.

“He suggested I stay and meet her. He even asked me to have supper with them but I couldn’t face it. So I made out I really did have this date with a boy from Halmer High and then I apologized for making such an idiot of myself. He said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Magda. We’ll both forget this ever happened.’ But how
can
I forget? How can I ever face him? Every time we have art I’ll have to skulk in the toilets for the whole double lesson.”

The bell goes and we go back into school—and there’s Mr. Windsor coming along the corridor toward us!

“Oh no!” says Magda. “Quick, hide me!”

We can’t drape ourselves around her or squash her up small in our schoolbags so there’s obviously no way we can hide her. I link into her arm on one side, Nadine does the other, and we carry on walking up the corridor. Mr. Windsor saunters along like he hasn’t a care in the world. When he draws near he gives us all his normal cheery smile.

“Hi, Ellie. Hi, Magda. Hi, Nadine,” he says, and then he strolls off.

“Phew!” says Magda, breathing upward so sharply she ruffles her fringe.

“What style!” says Nadine. “He acted like it never happened.”

“Maybe it
didn’t,
” says Magda. “Maybe last night was just a mad delusion on my part. Perhaps I dreamt it all.”

“I wish my evening was only a dream,” Nadine says sadly.

“But you acted wonderfully. You looked after Vicky and you stood up to Liam and showed him just what you thought of him,” I say, giving her a hug.

“You don’t think I am all cold and boring, do you?” Nadine says.

“Of
course
not!”

“And boys will like kissing me?”

“Nadine! You just wait and see. I’m sure you’ll meet someone very special really soon,” I say. “I predict it!”

“Predict someone special for me too, Ellie,” says Magda, sighing.

“OK, someone special for both of you. Now cheer up, right? Big smiles!”

Magda bares her teeth at me.

“It’s all right for you, Ellie. You’ve got Russell,” says Nadine.

“Yeah, right, I’ve got Russell. But he’s nowhere near as important to me as you two,” I say—and I mean every word.

But when I meet up with Russell in McDonald’s after school I forget all about Magda and Nadine. Russell’s bought me a little present! It’s in a little black box. A jewelry box???

I open it, my heart hammering.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a seriously heavy commitment present. It’s not like a ring or anything,” Russell says quickly.

It’s two little pearly daisy-shaped hairslides, very delicate and utterly delightful.

“I hope you like them,” Russell says. “I thought they’d look good in all your lovely curly hair. But don’t feel you have to wear them if you don’t want to.”

“I
do
want to! They’re wonderful.”

“You honestly like them? I spent ages looking at all this hair stuff. The girl in the shop kept giving me these weird looks like she thought I was shopping for myself and rushed off to Madame Jo Jo’s of an evening. Here, shall I help you fix them? I just love your hair, Ellie, it’s so springy.”

“Kind of exploding-mattress springy—but I’m ever so glad you like it. I’ve always hated there being so
much
of it, all frizzy curls. I’ve always wished I had hair like Nadine’s, smooth and glossy and gorgeous, but of course mine couldn’t ever go like that. I
could
try having it very short like Magda. Do you think it would suit me?”

“You don’t want to look like Magda or Nadine. You want to look like you,” says Russell firmly, clipping the slides into place. “There! They really suit you, Ellie. Will you wear them to the centenary dance?”

“You bet! In fact I’ve got this pearly-gray silky top, I could wear that. It’s
sort
of slinky.”

“Sounds great! I got the extra ticket today. My dad coughed up the cash. He’s mellowing considerably. I’ve told him all about you. Well, I made out my art teacher is a mate of your art teacher and they were both comparing notes on the brilliance of their pet pupils, et cetera, et cetera. I thought it would go down better than saying we met here. Dad has a seriously weird problem about me hanging out at McDonald’s. Anyway, we’re all set for the dance on the twenty-ninth.”

“The twenty-ninth,” I repeat.

Why is that date so familiar? Why do I suddenly feel anxious?

“The twenty-ninth,” I say yet again. “That’s not a Friday, is it?”

“Yes. Why?”

Oh God. I know why.

“I’m supposed to be going to a Claudie Coleman concert on the twenty-ninth!”

“Oh, Ellie! Can’t you go another night?”

“I think she’s only doing the one gig.”

“Claudie Coleman—the singer with the red hair? Yeah, I like her too. But she’s always doing concerts. Couldn’t you go another time? Please, Ellie.”

“Well, it’s just . . . You see, Magda’s dad got the tickets specially.”

“Magda again.”

“Don’t say it like that, Russell, please. Look, I can’t really back out now and let her down.”

“I bet Nadine’s going too.”

“Yes, she is.”

“So, Magda and Nadine can go together. It’s not like you’re leaving one on her own.”

“Yes, but, well, we were all three going to have this girls’ night out.”

“Oh. So they’re more important than me and my dance?”

“No! No, of course not.” I’m starting to panic. I was so happy just seconds ago, loving my beautiful pearly hairslides, thrilled to bits that Russell had bought them specially for me. Now I feel the slides are digging directly into my head and I can’t think straight.

I take Russell’s hand, though I’m extremely conscious of all the kids milling round us in Mc-Donald’s.

“Russell. You’re
much
more important. You know that.”

“Then come to the dance with me, Ellie. I’ve spent the whole day showing off to everyone that you’re coming. I’ll look such an idiot if I have to say you’d sooner go off to some concert with a couple of girlfriends.”

“It’s not just any old concert. I’ve loved Claudie for ages and I’ve never had the chance to hear her sing live before. And Nadine and Magda aren’t any old girlfriends, either. They’re my best ever friends.”

“But I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

“Well . . . yes, of course.”

“And you’re my girlfriend and I need you to come to this dance with me.
Please,
Ellie.”

“OK, OK! Of course I’ll come. I’m sure Nadine and Magda will understand.”

Russell gives me a quick kiss right there and then in McDonald’s.

Nadine and Magda don’t understand at
all
when I phone them both in the evening. Nadine listens while I tell her about Russell and his dance.

“You don’t mind too much, do you, Nadine? You do understand, don’t you? You’d probably do the same, wouldn’t you? Nadine?”

Nadine says nothing at all though I can hear the sound of her breathing on the other end of the phone.

“Nadine, speak to me!”

“I don’t want to speak to you,” she says, and puts the phone down.

I ring Magda and tell her. Magda says plenty.

“I can’t
believe
you could be so amazingly ungrateful! We decided to go to the Claudie concert specially for you, because Russell had stood you up.”

“Yes, but he hadn’t
really
stood me up, he wasn’t allowed out.”

“Yeah, yeah, Daddy wouldn’t let him out— which if you don’t mind my saying so always sounded a totally pathetic excuse, but that’s not the point. The
point
is that my dad got us those three tickets—”

“I’ll still pay for my ticket, Mags!”

“My dad got those tickets as a
present.
We were going to have this big girly night out.”

“I know, but you and Nadine can still go.”

“You bet we’ll still go.”

“And I can come next time Claudie sings.”

“Unless Russell asks you out on a pressing date—like a Big Mac and a large order of French fries.”

“You’re not being fair, Magda. It’s this very special centenary dance at his school. He’s told all his friends he’s taking me.”

“I’m sure he has. I’ve heard the way those Halmer High boys talk about girls. Well, if you want to go and be exhibited as the latest notch on Russell’s belt, you go for it, Ellie.”

“You’d do the same, Magda. You in particular. You’re boy-mad.” I can’t stop myself. “I think that’s half the problem. You’ve had a down on Russell right from the start, because he went after me instead of you.” Oh God, what have I said? I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mags. I didn’t mean any of that,” I say—but she’s put the phone down on me.

I can’t believe it. Both my girlfriends have stopped speaking to me.

I sniff hard and make for the stairs. Everything is a blur. I suddenly encounter something small and bouncy on the stairs—and scream as a large dagger pierces my ankle. The something screams too, at the top of his lungs.

“Ooow! Ellie, you hurt me! You walked straight into me! You did that on purpose and now look what you’ve done! You’ve made me drop all my stitches.”

“Look what
you’ve
done. You attacked me with your knitting needle. Look, I’m bleeding! And you’ve laddered my best tights too, you little moron.”

“Hey, hey, what on earth’s going on?” says Anna, running into the hall, a ball of knitting wool caught comically round her ankles.

We both start talking at once, Eggs wailing over his rapidly unraveling scarf and me hopping on one leg staunching the trickle of blood.

“Do calm down, both of you. Eggs, stop that noise! I’ll pick up your stitches for you, easypeasy. Why did you barge straight into him, Ellie? He was sitting on the stairs as good as gold. I really
can’t
stop now, I’m right in the middle of working out this really tricky design and I’m seeing George tomorrow. Look, you’re not crying, are you? It’s only a little scratch.”

“You wouldn’t care if I had needles skewered all the way up and down my legs! Why do you always have to take Eggs’s side over everything? It’s not fair! Why doesn’t anyone understand what it’s like for
me
?” I shout, and I rush up the stairs and slam myself into my bedroom.

I have a good long howl into my pillow. When I’ve got to the choked-up, gulping, badly-in-need-of-tissues stage Anna comes into my bedroom with a box of Kleenex and a cold flannel.

“You could at least knock,” I grumble, but I let her mop me up. Then she sits down beside me and puts her arm round me. I hold myself stiff for a moment but then relax and lean against her.

“OK, Ellie, tell me,” Anna says gently.

“Nadine and Magda aren’t speaking to me!” I sob.

“What’s happened? Come on, don’t cry so. Don’t worry, you’ll make it up with them. You’ll always be best friends.”

“Not anymore,” I gulp, and I tell her everything.

“Poor old Ellie. This is big problem time,” Anna says when I’ve gone through the whole thing. “Choosing between girlfriends and boyfriends is always very very tricky.”

“It’s not fair! Why can’t they
all
be friends?” I wail. “I thought Magda and Nadine would understand. I mean, this is a very important dance for Russell. It would be pretty magic to go. And he bought me these little pearly hairslides, look.”

“Yes, they’re lovely. And Russell sounds lovely too. And, after all, he asked you to the dance first.”

“Well. No. Actually he didn’t. I arranged to go to the concert first.”

“So why didn’t you tell him about the concert when he started telling you about the dance?”

“I didn’t take in the date. You know what a dilly dream I can be about stuff like that.”

“You’re telling me! So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t realize how horrid it would feel, Magda and Nadine turning on me like this. It’s not fair, they
both
put boyfriends first. Nadine did when she was going out with horrible Liam and Magda did when she went out with that creep Greg.”

“Ah,” says Anna. “So what does that tell you about boyfriends and girlfriends? Boyfriends aren’t usually permanent, even though you might be crazy about them at the time. Nadine and Magda and you have a very special friendship. I think that’s maybe why all the boys get threatened by it.”

“So you think I should turn Russell down?”

“I don’t know. It’s difficult. I don’t think there are any rights or wrongs. Which do you really want to go to, Ellie, the concert or the dance?”

“I want to go to both!” I say. “I want to keep in with Russell and please him. I know the dance means a great deal to him. But on the other hand Magda did suggest going to the Claudie concert to cheer me up—and now she’s the one who needs cheering up, and Nadine too. Oh, Anna, I
can’t
go to the dance with Russell. Do you think he’ll ever understand?”

“No! But you’ll just have to try to make it up to him in some way,” says Anna.

She sees my expression.

“Not
that
way!” she says, and we both burst out laughing.

dangerous times

It is sad being in the doghouse. I feel as if I’ve been smacked on the nose, had my bone snatched away and been banished to my kennel. Magda and Nadine don’t fall on me with open arms when I tell them I can come to the Claudie concert after all.

“Per-lease. You’re not doing
us
a favor,” says Magda.

“You’d obviously far sooner go to this dance with the Walking Sketchbook,” says Nadine.

I have to breathe deeply and take it. I tell myself that they are my very special girlfriends and their love and support and companionship are of supreme importance to me—even though right this moment I want to slap Magda’s smug face and pull Nadine’s long witchy hair. But I keep my temper—and their own tempers improve. By the end of the day things are nearly back to normal, and we’ve all started to plan exactly what we’re going to wear to the Claudie concert and how we’re going to get there, though we’re not quite clear which dad is going to be roped in to do the ferrying about. I give both Magda and Nadine a quick hug when we say goodbye, and they both hug me back hard.

I feel enormously relieved that we’re all three best friends again. But now I’ve got to tell Russell.

That is even worse.

There’s no real way of getting round it. And it’s awful, because the moment I see him at McDonald’s he starts chatting excitedly about the dance and how sad it is that half his mates can’t get any girls to go with them and how great he feels that he can go with me.

“Don’t feel too great, Russell,” I say sadly, my tummy a tight knot. “In fact, get ready to feel ultrasmall. And seriously mad at me into the bargain.”

“What’s the matter, Ellie? Oh God, you can still come, can’t you? Don’t tell me your dad’s put his oar in. He’s
got
to let you come.”

I see a glimmer of a good way out.

“I’m so sorry, Russell. I’d give anything to come to the dance with you. But you’re right, it
is
Dad.”

“Oh no! But he seemed to get to like me after the first sticky ten minutes.
Why
won’t he let you?”

“I think he can remember
his
school dances and the sort of things that went on,” I lie smoothly. “He’s been so strict with me recently, Russell. I’ve tried and tried but there’s no way he’ll budge.”

Oh, Dad, I’m sorry. I feel so mean, but it’s the only way to smooth things over with Russell.

“How about if I go to see your dad and try to talk him round?” Russell suggests.

“No! No, I think that would only make him worse. And he doesn’t know I’ve been seeing so much of you. No, please don’t, Russell,” I say, panicking. “Then he’ll really clamp down and stop me seeing you altogether. He’s already got this total ban on me going out at night.”

“But he was going to let you go to that concert,” says Russell, eyes narrowing. “Are you sure this isn’t all just a mega-excuse to get out of the dance so you can go off with your beloved girly-friends?”

“No! Russell! I don’t tell lies,” I lie, looking hurt.

“But you
are
still going to the concert?” says Russell.

Why
did I ever mention it to him???

“Well, maybe,” I hedge. “After all, Magda’s dad got the tickets. It would be silly to waste it. And my dad doesn’t mind because—because he’ll drive us there and then drive us back so he can keep an eye on us all the time.”

“How about if he drives you and me to the dance and then drives us back? Then he can keep an eye on us,” says Russell.

“I don’t think that’s quite the same.”

“No, things aren’t quite the same,” Russell says—and I don’t like the way he says it.

He doesn’t suggest we go to the park. He doesn’t suggest we go anywhere. We sit in Mc-Donald’s for half an uncomfortable hour and then Russell looks at his watch ostentatiously.

“Gosh, is that the time? I’d better get back. I’ve got heaps of homework to do tonight.”

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” I mumble.

“No, really. It’s OK. I understand,” he says— sounding like he doesn’t understand at all.

“I feel so mean letting you down.”

“Well.” Russell shrugs. “Maybe I’ll find someone else to go to the dance with me.”

I feel as if he’s slapped me in the face. I stand up, feeling sick.

“Right,” I say. “Well. See you.”

“Yes. See you,” says Russell.

We both know what this means. We
won’t
see each other. Ever again.

I try to tell myself that if he can be so mean and petty just because I can’t go to his dance then he’s really not worth bothering about.

“He’s not worth it, worth it, worth it.”

That’s right. I shall go to the Claudie concert with my two best girlfriends in all the world and we’ll have a great time.

It’s no use. I wish I hadn’t said no to Russell. He
is
worth it. I care about him. I love him.

I go straight home.

I go straight home from school the next day too. There’s no point going to McDonald’s. Nadine and Magda are sisterly and supportive. It doesn’t really help.

In afternoon art the next day Mr. Windsor is still into Myths and Legends. I draw a sad silly Psyche drooping miserably because she can’t see Cupid. Mr. Windsor is very complimentary but for once this doesn’t mean much. He admires Nadine’s Circe too but barely glances at Magda’s Venus, mumbling “Very good” and edging past quickly. Magda does her best to maintain her cool but her face is as red as her hair.

She rushes out of class without waiting for us.

“Don’t you rush off too, Ellie,” says Nadine. “I need you to be there just in case . . . well, you know. If Liam’s there.”

“Oh, Naddie,” I say, giving her a little pat.

But it isn’t Liam who’s waiting at the gate. It’s Russell—and he’s talking to Magda.

I feel dizzy. Maybe he’s always liked Magda. Everyone else does. Maybe he’s asking her out instead of me. Maybe he’s asking
her
to the dance!

I grab Nadine’s arm.

“It’s OK, Ellie,” she says, peering over at the wall where Liam used to wait. “He’s not there.”

“Russell
is,
” I hiss urgently. “Only he’s chatting up Magda. Hang on to me tight, Nadine. I want to walk right past as if I haven’t even noticed them. Nadine, stop staring!”

But I can’t help staring too. Magda’s smiling at Russell. She’s looking right into his eyes and he’s looking back eagerly,
hungrily,
like she’s the juiciest ice-lolly in the freezer and he wants to lick her all up.

“I can’t believe it,” I say. “How
could
he?”

“How could
she
? She doesn’t even like him. She told me she was amazed you were so dotty about him. She said she thought he was a snotty little creep,” says Nadine.

“He’s
not
a snotty little creep!” I say, outraged. Then I see him smile at Magda and my stomach turns over. “Yes he is!”

“Look, take my arm, Ellie. Come on, we’ll whiz past them quick. You hold your head up high. Don’t say a word to Russell—
or
Magda. We’re not going to speak to her at
all.
And she’s supposed to be your friend!”

Nadine leads me across the playground although my legs have turned to jelly. I wobble all over. I try to set my face in a mold but as we get close up everything threatens to melt and run.

“Ellie?”

It’s Russell—smiling at
me
!

The nerve! I walk past, my head high.

“Ellie!”

It’s Magda, and she’s smiling too.

My eyes sting. It’s bad enough that Russell could betray me, but I can’t bear it that my best friend Magda could do this to me, and so blatantly too.

“Ellie, stop. Wait! I want to talk to you,” Russell says, hurrying after me.

“Well,
she
doesn’t want to talk to you,” says Nadine, elbowing him out of the way.

“Ellie? Nadine? What’s up with you two?” says Magda, dodging round the other side.

“What’s up with
you
?” says Nadine. “How
could
you, Magda?”

“How could I what? Here’s me doing my best to act like Cupid, helping these two idiots get it together again, and you act like I’ve done something dreadful!”

I stop. Nadine stops. Magda stops. Russell hovers, while we three girls stare at each other.

“What are you on about, Magda?” says Nadine.

“Russell stopped me as I came out of school and asked me how Ellie was and whether she was still mad at him. He’d hung around McDonald’s for hours yesterday and she didn’t show, so he wanted to know if she might be willing to make it up or had he blown it forever. I said I thought she was still crazy about him and pretty miserable at the moment and that she’d be more than willing to make it up—but then you two sweep past with your noses in the air, not even speaking. I can’t work out
why
. I mean, don’t speak to Russell if you don’t want to, Ellie, but don’t take it out on me.”

“Oh, Mags,” says Nadine. “You’ll never guess what Ellie thought!”

“You thought it too!” I say, weak with relief.

“You thought
what
?” says Magda.

“Nothing!” I say quickly, because Russell is in earshot. I turn to look at him. He looks at me. I feel like I’m the ice-lolly now. Melting.

“Go on, you two. Go and enjoy your romantic reunion. Have a happy little snog in McDonald’s,” says Magda.

“French kiss over the French fries.”

“Blush amongst the burgers.”

“Cuddle over your Cokes.”

“Sauce the ice cream with your sweet talk.”

“Froth the coffee with your feverish embraces.”

“Shut
up,
you two,” I say—but fondly.

They’re such sweet friends. And so is Russell. When we get away by ourselves at last he says he’s really sorry he said he’d take someone else to the dance.

“I just wanted to hurt you, Ellie. It was stupid. You didn’t believe it, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t!” I insist. “Oh, Russell, I’m still so sorry I’ve let you down over the dance.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s this super-cool ultra-great social date. It’s just a school dance. It’ll probably be a totally sad embarrassing occasion, so maybe it’s just as well you’re not coming.”

“Maybe we could go to some other dance together?”

“Sure. That would be great. Though actually I can’t dance very well. I sort of fling my arms and legs around and look like a total prat. Maybe if you saw me you’d go off me instantly. Always assuming that you’re
on
me, of course.”

“You’re the one who went off me. You were really mad at me last time.”

“You were the one who didn’t turn up at McDonald’s. I waited
hours.”

“You didn’t suggest meeting there. I didn’t think you’d go. I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

“I do.”

“I do too. Want to see you.”

“Oh, Ellie.” Russell suddenly pulls me close, right there in the street.

I don’t care who’s watching. I fling my arms round his neck.

There’s a toot on a car horn.

“Eleanor Allard!”

Oh my God!
Mrs. Henderson
is leaning out of her car window.

“Put that boy down at once!” she calls, and then she winds up her window and drives off.

“Uh-oh!” says Russell sheepishly. “Who was that? One of your mum’s friends?”

“Mrs. Henderson’s my form teacher,” I say, hoarse with shock.

“Your
teacher
? Wow, she’s a good sport.”

“I suppose she is,” I say.

But the next day Mrs. Henderson gives me a half-hour lecture about decorous behavior out in the street in school uniform. I am very glad she didn’t come across Russell and me later on by the allotments!

“So you’re all lovey-dovey with the Walking Sketchbook again?” says Nadine.

“Don’t call him that, Naddie, his name’s
Russell,
” I say, nudging her. I give Magda a nudge too. “What’s all this about you calling Russell a snotty little creep?”

“
Me
?” says Magda, all outraged innocence. “Look, I’m the Cupid who brought you two together again.”

I can’t believe how good it feels to
be
together again with Russell. And with Magda and Nadine.

“I’m so h-a-p-p-y, hippy hoppy happy,” I sing in the shower on the day of Claudie’s concert. It’s this silly little song she’s tacked onto the end of her album. It goes on: “
I don’t need the love of
a good man, I don’t need the love of a bad man, I
don’t need the love of a-n-y man at all—’cause I’m
so h-a-p-p-y,
etc., etc.” But that’s not the way
I
sing it. I invent my own version: “I
do
need the love of a good man, though I don’t need the love of a bad man, I do need the love of MY man Russ-ell—cause I’m so h-a-p-p-y, hippy hoppy happy . . .”

The shower is full on so I don’t think anyone can hear me. I am wrong.

“I’m so d-i-r-t-y, dippy dotty dirty,” Dad bawls from the other side of the bathroom door. “I
do
need the scrub of a good soap, I do need the the scrub of any kind of soap, I do need the scrub of a-n-y soap at all—’cause my daughter’s in the shower and she won’t let me in so I’m so d-i-r-t-y, dippy dotty dirty!”

“Dad!”
I say, emerging blushing in my bath towel. “Do you have to listen?”

“Ellie!”
says Dad, gently pulling a lock of my wet hair. “Can I
help
listening when you’re singing fit to bust, O Daughter Diva of the Shower Stall? But hey, I’m glad you’re happy. Now what are the plans for the concert tonight? Is Nadine’s dad driving you or Magda’s? I’m sorry I’ve got this stupid meeting at the college.”

“Magda’s dad’s taking us,” I say.

“Poor guy,” says Dad gratefully. “I owe him.”

But when I get to school Magda says her dad can’t manage it after all because the wheel shaft went on his car last night and it’ll need to be in the garage for a couple of days.

We look expectantly at Nadine.

“Oh help,” she says. “Dad always takes Natasha and Mum to their loopy line dancing on Friday nights.”