Girls Out Late (6 page)

“You didn’t really get cross with him, did you, Dad? I can’t
believe
this. He didn’t stand me up? He really couldn’t help it? And he went all over the place trying to track me down this afternoon just to explain?”

“
Just
to explain?” says Dad. “He needed to explain until he was blue in the face. Positively ultramarine.”

“Oh, Dad, you weren’t really heavy with him, were you?”

“You bet I was. That young man won’t dare so much as blink in your direction without my say-so. And I say
no.
”

I stare at Dad, desperate to suss whether he’s serious or not. I think he’s teasing me, but I can’t be sure. I just wish Anna was here and she could sort him out for me. Why did Russell have to come round when I was
out,
for heaven’s sake! But imagine—going from house to house asking for me. That sounds like he’s really serious about seeing me!

“So what exactly did he say, Dad?”

“I told you, I did nearly all the talking.”

“And how was it left?”

Dad shrugs. “I think he sees the error of his ways.”

“
Dad.
I wish you wouldn’t be so annoying. I mean, did Russell say anything about . . . seeing me again?”

Dad shakes his head. “Certainly not, seeing as I’d expressly forbidden it.”

“You didn’t! Really, truly, you said I couldn’t go out with him?” I’m still pretty sure he’s winding me up but I can hear my voice getting shrill all the same.

“Really, truly . . . possibly!” Dad says.

“Did he suggest seeing me or not?”

“You always insist you’re a liberated young woman. Maybe
you
should make the running.
If
I were to allow you out again, which I doubt.”

“So how can I make the running, Dad? Did Russell tell you his address?”

“Nope.”

“He really didn’t?”

Dad shakes his head but he’s still got that irritating grin on his face.

“So how can I get in touch with him? Do I have to go on an equivalent quest all around Pembridge Park?”

“You could,” says Dad. “Or he could have jotted it down in this letter.” He brings out an envelope from his pocket and waves it in the air at me.

I snatch it and tear it open. My eyes skitter down the page. “See you—I
HOPE
! Russell.” And a little picture.

My heart is thudding.

“Well?” says Dad.

Aha! It’s his turn to be curious.

“Yes, he’s very well,” I say, smiling.

“And you are now too, I take it?” says Dad.

“Yep.” I dance off to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee, reading Russell’s letter while the kettle boils. Then I read his letter again while I drink my coffee. And again and again.

Dear Ellie,

I’m so so so so extra sorry. I felt so bad about not
being able to make it on Friday night. And kind of humiliated too, because my dad went completely off his
head and wouldn’t let me out simply because he got
fussed last night.

I can’t
believe
his attitude—and it’s bloody hypocritical too, going on about what I’m getting up to
when he’s smooching all over our house with his
girlfriend. But anyway, he can’t keep me locked up
permanently. Will you meet me after school on
Monday—at McDonald’s? I’ll be there as soon as I can
make it—around twenty to four. I’ll wait for you and
hope very much that you’ll come. I’ll be the one looking stupid and saying sorry over and over again.

See you—I
HOPE
! Russell

He’s done a small sketch of himself—floppy hair, earnest expression, pencil in one hand, sketchbook in the other. There are little initial letters on the sketchbook, so tiny I have to hold them up to my eyes and squint. R L E. Rule? Role? No, Russell. R for Russell, E for Ellie? L? L? L? L? L? L? L? L? L?

Russell Loves Ellie.

I feel as if I’m on a giant switchback, swooping up and over, up and over, up and over.

“Aren’t you making your old dad a cup of coffee too?” says Dad, coming into the kitchen.

“Sure.” I shove the letter quickly into my pocket.

“Nice letter?”

“Hmm.”

“He wants to see you again?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“So what are you going to do? Your dad expressly forbids it.”

“What?” I stare at Dad. “Are you serious?”

Dad is trying to frown but his eyes are twinkling. “Sort of,” he says. “Look, Ellie, I got seriously panicky about Thursday night. It’s the first time you’ve ever been out after dark like that and I couldn’t stand it.”

“I bet you went out with girls when you were my age.”

“Maybe that’s why I panicked. I remember all too clearly what I was like when I was Russell’s age. It makes me cringe now. I didn’t treat girls like people. I was trapped in this awful stuffy boys’ school so I never knew girls properly. They were just amazing exotic creatures and we were struck dumb in their company and it was like this sick competition seeing how far you could go with them—”

“Dad!”

“I know, I know. And then we’d boast about it afterwards to our mates—exaggerating obviously, saying all this degrading stuff.”

“Look, Dad, that was way back when boys were like Neanderthals. Russell isn’t a bit like that,” I insist, though I feel myself getting pink in the face, remembering the way we kissed.

“I know, I know,” says Dad. “As soon as I met him I could see he’s just a nice decent kid who wants to be friends with my daughter. He told me you had this long intense conversation about art. He showed me his sketch of you, by the way, and it’s
good.
His style needs a bit of fine-tuning but for his age he’s got a great sense of line. Anyway, I felt like a total prat. I believed he was a sex-crazed loony slobbering all over you when all the time you were having this totally platonic artistic discussion.”

“Yeah, that’s just the way it was, Dad, I told you,” I say, still pink in the face. “So, as you realize times have changed, is it OK if I go out with Russell? To do some sketching together!”

“That’s the thing, Ellie. Times
have
changed. When I was young I stayed out till really late as a teenager and no one turned a hair. Even when Anna was young she went out to local discos and youth clubs when she was thirteen or fourteen. But now there aren’t any harmless little discos, it’s all wild raves. And you know I don’t want you going anywhere near Seventh Heaven again after they did that drug raid there.”

“OK, OK, I promise we won’t
go
to Seventh Heaven.”

“I don’t feel happy about you and Russell going anywhere, Ellie, not after dark. The town is attracting a whole load of yobs who just want to roam around picking fights and getting into trouble. I’m not surprised Russell’s dad was really worried about him being out late.”

“Russell can look after himself, Dad. He’s not some sad little wimp.”

“He could be Mr. Muscles Macho Man. It wouldn’t make any difference if a whole gang started in on him.”

“You’re getting totally
paranoid,
Dad.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But how about if you and Russell met up after school and then he went back home around nine?”

“Dad! We’re not
Eggs’s
age!”

“I know, I know—but you’re as precious to me as Eggs and I don’t need another night like Thursday. Look, you’re still supposed to be in the doghouse for that. I’ll let you see Russell, but I’m going to stick to this nine o’clock curfew for the time being. I think that’s more than fair.”

“I don’t!”

“Well, it gets dark by nine—so you couldn’t do any sketching then, could you?” says Dad, smiling.

I smile back weakly. I don’t know who’s bluffing who. But at least I can see Russell—even if it’s only in daylight!

I go up to my bedroom and read his letter again. Several times more. Then I go downstairs and ring Nadine and tell her that it’s all OK and that Russell walked round and round the town looking for me, practically knocking at every house door.

Nadine isn’t quite as impressed as I’d hoped. She’s got her Claudie album playing full blast (her family are obviously out) and she’s singing along instead of concentrating fully. I need to ask her something.

“Nadine, do you really think Russell looks seriously shifty?”

Nadine herself sounds as if she’s doing some serious shifting on the other end of the phone. “No, no, Ellie, not at all. I was just, you know, saying stuff to comfort you. I don’t think his eyes are too close together either. I think it was just his intense expression when he was sketching you.”

I let it go at that. I ring Magda next. She’s got some great news for me first—her dad has booked three tickets for us to go and hear Claudie next month! “There, aren’t you pleased, Ellie? Claudie will cheer you up. He’s not worth it, worth it, worth it, right?”

“Well, maybe he
is
worth it after all, Magda.”

I fill her in on all the details, massaging the facts even more impressively, so that I have Russell practically trekking round the entire country looking for me.

I wait for Magda’s comments. There’s a little silence on the end of the phone.

“So it shows he didn’t just stand me up,” I say.

“Sorry, Ellie, I’m not quite clear. You mean he stood you up because his dad wouldn’t let him go out?”

“He didn’t stand me up, he wanted to come.”

“But Daddy wouldn’t let him.”

I don’t like that Daddy bit. I pause. “I take it you still think Russell is awfully juvenile, just wanting to show off about himself?”

I can hear Magda swallowing.

“No, no, well, not Russell in particular. Just most boys in Year Eleven. I mean, they’re better than the pathetic creeps in Year Ten, not to mention Year Nine, but they’re still not exactly . . . mature.”

“So you think that Russell is
im
mature?”

“Oh, Ellie, stop being so prickly. I think all boys are immature, full stop. But your Russell is great . . . for a boy.”

I agree happily and tell her to thank her dad for ordering the tickets. Sometime I am going to have to tackle
my
dad about coughing up the cash, but maybe it might be better to wait till tomorrow seeing as we have already spent so long negotiating today.

I decide to put myself in a good light by making him another coffee, even though it’s nearly teatime. I wonder where Anna and Eggs have got to. I have to make sure I get Anna on her own to get her to promise to keep quiet about my sneaking out to meet Russell on Friday night. If Dad knows I deliberately disobeyed him then maybe he’ll stop me seeing Russell altogether. And I
have
to see him!

I think about him going round all those houses asking for me. It’s like a fairy tale. He’s the handsome prince on the loopy quest: knock three times on every house in this street and the next and
then
you will find the princess and get to kiss her. . . .

I go into a happy little daze in my bedroom and don’t resurface until I hear the front door.

“Is that you, Anna?” I shout.

“No, it’s just me,” Dad calls. “I was looking down the road to see if there was any sign of them. I don’t know where they’ve got to.”

“Where were they going? Shopping?” I peer over the banisters at him.

“Ellie! As if Anna would go shopping with Eggs. You know what a pain he can be. No, Nadine’s mum phoned her up.” Dad pulls a face.

I giggle. Nadine’s mum is one of those women who seem to spring from their bed fully made up, hair lacquered into a helmet, armed with a J-Cloth and a DustBuster.

“Don’t you dare laugh! She’s still very much looking down her pointy nose at me because you were out so late on Thursday, and she doesn’t want you to be a bad influence on her Nadine.”

“Oh God, she wasn’t going on about it
again,
was she?”

“For a while, yes. But she was also telling Anna about this local photo shoot she’s dragging that showy little sister of Nadine’s to this afternoon— and she wondered if Anna wanted to take Eggs.”

“What?
Eggs!”

“I know, I know, I can’t really see the little guy prancing around in front of a photographer myself, but apparently this particular company wanted to find little boys who
look
like little boys—that is, filthy dirty and fooling about. It’s for this washing powder where a little girl is all dressed up in a pristine party frock—”

“Natasha!”

“And all these little boys come along and get her to play football with them and then push her over and get her all muddy.”

“Ah, Eggs might be good at that!”

“That’s what Anna thought. He seemed to relish the idea too. And you get paid! So that’s where they went. Only they’ve been gone hours and hours.”

“Eggs probably got too enthusiastic and completely coated Natasha in mud. They might have to hose her down and dry her off and pretty her up again for each take—that would take ages.”

“And meanwhile we’ve got rumbly tummies. I suppose I ought to mosey out into the kitchen and get something started for supper.”

Dad sounds totally lacking in enthusiasm. He understands the concept of the New Man but has all the laziness and lack of inclination of a very
old
man.

“I’ll rustle something up, Dad,” I say cheerily, determined to keep in his good books so that he might just extend this ludicrous nine o’clock curfew.

I rustle—and hustle and bustle—and we sit down to burnt omelettes and soggy chips.

“This is delicious,” Dad says determinedly. “But the thing is, Ellie, I’m starting to get really worried about Anna and Eggs, so I’ve sort of lost my appetite.”

It’s only partly an excuse. He does look a bit tense and twitchy.

“They’ll be all right, Dad. This shoot thing will have just gone on for ages. Look, I’ll phone Nadine again and ask her how long these things take.”

I phone Nadine, but this time Nadine’s mum answers. She doesn’t sound too thrilled when she hears my voice.

“Oh, it’s
you,
Ellie. I hope you’ve done your best to show you’re sorry for your behavior last Thursday night. Your poor parents were in a terrible state. And I wasn’t at all happy about you involving my Nadine in your little deception.”