Girls Out Late (12 page)

“I agree! But if we can all stick together we should be OK. Well, sort of.”

“Magda!”

“It’s kind of a chance of a lifetime, though, isn’t it? I mean, suppose they eventually make it big. And Nadine gets to be the lead singer. Or . . . or me.”

I don’t know what to do. They’ve both gone completely loopy. Nadine’s already walking off with Dave Skull, and Magda’s smiling at Ewan drummer, asking him where his van is parked. I ignore Piggy Ian and slope after the others miserably.

The van is an awful old thing, really bashed in and filthy dirty. Magda looks a bit put out and even Nadine wavers. I grab her quickly.

“Nadine, we can’t go in that van with them. We haven’t got a clue who they are,” I whisper at her.

“We do know who they are. They’re these guys in this band,” says Nadine.

“They’re probably making it all up. And even if they have got a band they’ll never let you sing in it, idiot.”

“I don’t see why not,” Nadine says, looking hurt. “Anyway, I want to see all Dave’s stuff. Isn’t he fantastic? I’m crazy about him.”

“You’ve only been talking to him two minutes!”

“Look, Ellie, you were the one telling me I’d meet someone special soon! You predicted it!”

“Yes, but I didn’t predict you’d let yourself get picked up by a complete stranger!”

“You did. With Russell.”

“That’s different.
He’s
different.”

“Exactly. He’s a silly little schoolkid. These guys are amazing,” says Nadine.

I don’t know how to get through to her. What little brain she has seems to have shrunk to pea size, rattling round in her obstinate skull like the silver ones grinning on the Dave guy’s fingers. He’s got hold of Nadine now.

“Come on, babe,” he says, and he holds open the back door of the van for her.

She smiles up at him—and climbs inside.

Magda shakes her head up at me. “We’ll have to go too,” she says.

“I know. But it’s mad.
We’re
mad if we go.”

“Come on, Scarlet! In you get,” says Ewan, brushing his fair hair out of his eyes. I suppose he’s quite good-looking if you like that type. Magda’s starting to look like she does.

“Maybe it’s time to live a little dangerously,” she says, and she gets in the van too.

So I follow them and get in the van, though I know this is a BIG mistake.

running out of time

Dave doesn’t live ten minutes away. Ewan drives for at least half an hour. I haven’t got a clue where we are. I can’t believe this is happening. Magda is reasonably OK because she’s sitting in the front of the van with Ewan and he’s got to keep at least one arm on the steering wheel. But I’m in the back with Ian and Nadine and Dave.

Nadine and Dave start acting like a couple almost straightaway. Nadine’s proving she’s no marble pillar. I don’t know where to look. I definitely
don’t
look at Ian.

He doesn’t seem very interested in me—and yet when I fall against him as Ewan rounds a corner too sharply he hangs on to me, trying to pull me close.

“Don’t!” I say, trying to wriggle away.

“What’s up with you? I only want to be friendly,” he says.

“I don’t want to be friendly! I’m in a relationship already,” I say primly.

“So? I am too. Come on. Let’s get cozy, eh?”

“No thanks!”

“OK. Be like that. You’re just a silly little kid. Why can’t you be more like your mates? At least they’re having a bit of fun.”

What a
pig
! I imagine his snout rootling in the mud, his big pink pig-belly smeared all over.

Magda isn’t having fun anyway. She laughs at stuff Ewan says but then she looks suddenly outraged and flounces away from him, as he’s obviously gone too far.

Nadine’s starting to look worried too. She keeps trying to wriggle free.

“Where on earth are we?” she says desperately. “We’ve been driving ages.”

“We’re very nearly there. Just around the next corner,” says Dave Skull.

And the next and the next and the next. And then eventually Ewan slows down and we drive slowly through a seedy council estate with boarded-up shops, overflowing dustbins and a few scraggy boys sucking on cans of lager like babies with bottles.

“We’re here,” says Dave.

“Here?” says Nadine, staring out, dazed. “You don’t live
here,
do you, Dave?”

For the first time in her life she sounds just a little bit like her mum.

“What’s up, sweetheart? Don’t you like life when it’s a little on the wild side?” says Dave. “Come on, out you get.”

Magda and I look at each other, trying to work out what on earth to do now. Nadine is whiter than usual, her lipstick smeared all over her chin.

“Oh help,” she whispers. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

This is the scariest place I’ve ever been. The boys drinking lager yell ugly stuff at Magda when she wriggles out of the van. She reacts with her fingers but this just encourages them.

“Hey, clear off, you berks,” says Dave Skull. Well, that’s
approximately
what he says. He’s got hold of Nadine again so she can’t run away. He can see she’s having second thoughts. Third, fourth, fifth thoughts.

“I didn’t realize it had got so late,” Nadine says. “I’m sorry, but I think we really ought to get back now.”

“We’ll take you back. Later on. Let’s go and play a little music, eh?”

“I can’t sing at all, actually,” says Nadine.

“Never mind. I’m sure you can dance. I’d like to watch you dance, Nadine.”

“Yeah, sure you would,” says Magda. “Look, we have to get back. Now.”

“Keep your hair on, Scarlet,” says Ewan. “We’ll take you back. Later. Come and strut your stuff first. We want to hear you sing too.”

“I’m not in a singing mood anymore,” says Magda.

“Then we’ll have a little drink first. Loosen you up. Yeah, we’ll have a little party, right, Dave?”

“You bet.”

“You’re on,” says Pig Ian.

We look at them. They look at us.

“OK, just one drink,” says Magda.

“No!” I whisper. “Let’s just run off, please!” But Magda’s looking round at the guys, at the boys drinking lager, at the bleak stone walkways.

“If we try to make a run for it now they’ll catch us and then they might get really ugly. We’d better go with them and then clear off as soon as we can,” Magda mutters.

“I’m sorry,” Nadine wails. “It’s all my fault.”

“What are you girls whispering about, eh?” says Dave. “Come on. Follow me.”

So we do, because there doesn’t seem to be any other alternative. They take us in a stinking lift up to the top floor, swooping up so fast I feel sick. It’s a relief to step out into fresh air but the view over the balcony makes me dizzy. I hold the rail tight, little flecks of rust embedding themselves in my palms. The buildings below don’t look real. I feel I could jump from roof to roof as if they were stepping-stones.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” says Ian Pig, standing close behind me.

I try to shuffle away from him, pressing against the cold concrete. Space whirls in front of me. I look down down down at the tiny toy world below. The pig rootles nearer. Blood starts drumming in my head. My knees won’t lock to hold my legs straight. He puts his damp hands on my shoulders, gripping tight. I give a little squeak.

“Scary, eh?” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

“You let her go!” says Nadine, looking wretched.

“He’s only teasing,” says Dave Skull. “In you come, then.”

I suppose we were hoping it might be better inside. Maybe painted black like Nadine’s own bedroom, with Gothic decorations and silver candlesticks and weird posters. But it’s just a bleak bare wreck of a flat, smelling of drink and cigarette smoke.

“Hey, no one pretended it was House Beautiful,” says Dave, seeing our faces. He’s picking up a ropy old guitar—but his strumming doesn’t sound very skilled.

“Are you going to sing, Nadine?” he says.

She shakes her head nervously.

“How about you, Scarlet?” says Ewan, sitting on the sofa and slapping his knees as if they were a drum kit.

“Somehow I’m not in the singing mood,” Magda says.

“Sure—but we’ll fix that,” says Dave, nodding at Ian. “Get us all a drink, eh?”

“Just one,” says Magda. She’s looking at the door, obviously wondering if it might be better to make a dash for it as I suggested.

Dave Skull sees she’s looking at the door too. He stops strumming, strolls down the hall, takes out his key—and double-locks the door. Then he puts the key in the pocket of his jeans, grinning.

So this is it. We’re really trapped now. Nobody knows where we are. Our families think we’re at the Claudie concert and we’re being driven home afterwards. They won’t worry about us for hours. And what can they do when they eventually phone round and find out we’re missing? How can anyone ever find us?
We
don’t even know where we are.

I still feel sick. I wonder if I’m actually going to throw up. I mutter something about needing the loo and find the right door. I flop inside the dank little room, desperately trying to think what to do. If only we were at Claudie’s concert enjoying our girls’ night out! This is all a crazy nightmare and it’s getting worse and worse and worse.

I join the others in the dingy living room. Ian Pig has got his guitar now but they’re certainly no real band. They’ve opened up some cans of beer. Magda and Nadine are clutching a can each.

“Come on, girls, drink up,” says Dave Skull. He tosses me a can of beer too. I hold it helplessly.

“What’s up? Don’t you like the taste?” he says. “I know what you might like more.” He brings a bottle of vodka out of a cupboard. “Here, have a little swig of that. It’ll help you relax.” He passes it to me.

“I don’t drink, actually.”

All the boys laugh unpleasantly.

“This one doesn’t do much,” says Piggy Ian.

Ewan tries to pull Magda onto his lap. She bats him off fiercely.

“Maybe this is a big mistake,” he says. “They’re just silly little schoolgirls.”

“My Nadine’s cool, aren’t you, babe?” says Dave. “Hey, you want to see the rest of my jewelry? Come through here.” He gestures toward the bedroom.

“I think I’m OK here, thanks,” Nadine says in a tiny voice.

Dave hands the vodka to her and she takes a little swig and then chokes.

“I’ll have some too,” says Magda, taking the bottle.

She doesn’t drink a drop, keeping her lips tightly closed as she tilts the bottle up in the air. “There!” she says, wiping her mouth as if she’s just downed a triple measure. “That’s better. Hey, how about you guys putting some music on your CD player? Then we can all play and sing along, and we won’t feel so self-conscious.”

It helps a little to have the music blaring. The three guys down their beers and pass the vodka round. We pretend to swig from the bottle too. Magda’s doing her best to lighten things up. Nadine keeps trying to edge away from Dave Skull.

“Hang on,” he says, going to his bedroom. He brings back a little bag. Oh God. Drugs.

“Yeah, great idea,” says Nadine.

I stare at her in horror—but she gives me a little wink. It’s just a quick flicker of her eyelid but it’s enough. Magda’s watching too, and gives a nod. We watch while Dave Skull and Ewan Drum and Ian Pig start rolling special cigarettes. Dave lights his, takes a deep drag, and then passes it to Nadine.

“Cool,” she says, getting up. She wanders over to the window. “This is such a great view,” she says, turning her back as she stares out. She seems to be taking a deep drag but I think she’s bluffing. Magda joins her at the window.

“My turn,” she says, pretending to take a drag herself.

Before I can join them Pig Ian is by my side.

“Don’t say you’re not into a little light relaxation, Miss Priss,” he says.

I giggle foolishly, trying not to antagonize him.

“Here, I’ll show you how to do it,” he says, taking the roll-up from Magda and waving it in front of me.

“Sure. Great. In a minute,” I say, jumping up. “I’ve just got to go to the loo.”

“You’ve only just been. What’s the matter with you?” he says, taking a long drag himself.

“I’ve got a little bug,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

I go out into the hall and stand in the loo again, trying to think of some way we can get out. I look up at the window. It’s too high up, too small. Much much too small. I could stand on the toilet but I could only get my arm out of the window. My head wouldn’t fit through, let alone my body. But . . . maybe we could get out of another window?

I creep out of the loo and tiptoe across the hall to the kitchen. There are two large windows above the blocked sink. One hitch up onto the draining board. I could make it. And Nadine. And Magda.

I think.

I run the water tap. I splash it on my face. I throw cold water over my lovely pearl-gray shirt. Then I take a deep breath and call.

“Magda. Nadine. Can you come out here and help me a minute?”

Pig Ian comes out. “What’s up with you, Little Priss?” he says blearily. “What are you yelling for?”

“Oh please, don’t look at me. I’ve been sick,” I say. “It must have been the vodka. I don’t want you to see me like this, not till I’ve cleaned myself up. I need my friends. They’ve got tissues and stuff.”

“God, you really are a kid,” says Pig Ian disgustedly. “OK, OK, I’ll get your mates.”

He goes—and Nadine and Magda come running.

“Have you been sick, Ellie?” Magda says.

“This is all my fault,” Nadine weeps.

“Shhh! Quick! Shut the door. We’ll get out of the window,” I whisper.

“Wow!”

“Great thinking!”

“Easier said than done,” I gasp, hooking my leg way up onto the draining board and trying to heave myself up after it.

Magda gives me a push, Nadine gives me a shove, and I’m suddenly up on the draining board. I grab hold of the window handle. The whole window frame is rotting and at first it sticks. I pull and tug at it, hurting my hand, and then take off my shoe and give it a last desperate bang. It moves—and the window opens.

Nadine is already up beside me, and she helps haul Magda up.

“Oh help!” I say. “It’s a long way to jump. We’re all going to break our legs.”

“I’d sooner break my
neck
than stay locked up with those creeps,” says Magda, and she jumps first. She lands like a little cat, not even tottering in spite of her high heels. Nadine goes next, arms and legs kicking out wildly. She ends up on her bottom but manages to scramble up again unhurt.

My go. Oh God. I stare straight out into empty space. What if I misjudge my jump, leap a little too far, and hurtle right over the balcony?

I clench my sweaty fists.

“
Quick,
Ellie,” Nadine whispers.

“Jump like Mrs. Henderson says. Bend your knees and spring,” Magda calls.

I jump. I bend. I don’t exactly spring. I stumble and hobble and trip. But I’m down, safe on the cold concrete walkway.

“Right, let’s get out of here,” says Magda, pressing the lift button.

“At least they’re all pretty wrecked. It’ll take them a while to react,” says Nadine.

“Come
on,
lift,” I say, jabbing at the button. Nothing happens. We keep peering round desperately at their door. They’ll be after us any minute.

“I think we’d better make a run for it, down all the stairs,” I say.

So we run along the walkway, making for the staircase. Something feels funny. I’m all uneven, hobbling sideways. Did I twist my ankle? Then I realize.

“My shoe! I left it in their kitchen!”

“Well, we’re not going back for it now,” Magda gasps.

“They were my best shoes from Shelley’s,” I moan.

“I’ll save up and buy you a new pair, Ellie,” Nadine puffs. “And I’ll buy you some too, Magda. Name your pressie! Anything to make it up to you.”

“Shall we try the lift again on the next floor down?” says Magda.

“But what if they’ve got into it up at the top?” I say.

“Help, yes! OK, well, down we go.”

Down and down and down and down. My tights are already ripped. My foot gets sorer each time it slaps down on the cold concrete. My knees ache, my chest hurts, I’m gasping for breath and we’re not even halfway down. Down and down and down and down. I’m wet with sweat, my hair hanging wildly, one pearly hairslide dangling loose. I snatch it up, terrified of losing it. I think of Russell. Down and down, unable to breathe, my foot hurting so. What if they’re coming after us? What will they do to us now if they catch us?