Golden Girl (18 page)

I texted Tom back.
C U in school. Can’t C U b4, too busy with JJ. Curry on. Jess.

Next I texted JJ.
Come down as soon as U can. Bring baseball cap. Have an idea. Jess XX

I unpacked my bag and went into Charlie’s room. He’d gone out but luckily he’d left what I wanted hanging on the back of his door. It was a distinctive green hoodie with rows
of white skulls that he’d got from Camden Market.

A ring at the bell downstairs a short time later told me that JJ had arrived. I grabbed the hoodie and went down to let him in. ‘I got it,’ I called to Dad who was sitting at the
breakfast bar having a cup of coffee. ‘S’probably just Pia. Popping over there now.’

Dad waved and nodded as if to say OK.

JJ stood at the door when I opened it, Vanya hovering in the background. I quickly put a finger up to my mouth to warn him not to say anything, grabbed my jacket and a couple of umbrellas, then
shut the front door behind me so that Dad didn’t see that it wasn’t Pia. ‘We’ll look after him,’ I called to Vanya. ‘Just going to Pia’s.’

Vanya nodded. ‘Call me when you want to go back up,’ he said.

‘Will do,’ said JJ, and we watched him disappear back down the corridor leading to the reception area. ‘Honestly, like anyone’s going to abduct me on the
premises!’

I handed him the hoodie. ‘Ah, but we’re not going to be on the premises. Put this on,’ I said, ‘and your cap.’

‘Why?’ asked JJ.

‘It’s Charlie’s. All the staff will have seen him going out in it. He wears it most days.’

JJ caught on immediately, put on the hoodie and pulled the hood over his head. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To be on our own,’ I said and pulled him towards the staff gate. ‘Don’t turn around, keep your head down. If you see anyone, put an umbrella up.’

‘But it’s stopped raining.’

‘Only for a while. It’ll probably start again.’

We made our way to the gate and were just about to exit when Pia’s mum, Mrs Carlsen, appeared behind us. ‘Jess, hi. Hi, Charlie.’

JJ immediately put up an umbrella and didn’t look around. ‘Mff,’ he said.

‘Where you off to?’ asked Mrs Carlsen.

‘Um. Shops. Milk.’

She waved an envelope at me. ‘Could you post this letter for me?’

‘Sure,’ I said and ran over to get it from her. She glanced at JJ as I took it from her. ‘Charlie OK?’

‘Yeah. Good.’

JJ waved his arm without turning around.

Pia’s mum rolled her eyes. ‘Teenagers,’ she said, then thankfully went back inside.

‘Phew, that was close,’ I said as I opened the gate and we slipped through onto the pavement outside. I punched the air. ‘Free!’

JJ put the umbrella back down but he kept the hoodie pulled well over his face and walked close to the wall. ‘Let’s move it in case anyone sees us.’

I looked back, Yoram was out front in his usual position. I gave him a wave. He saw me but didn’t wave back. We walked round a corner then were out of sight.

‘You can look up now,’ I said to JJ. ‘No-one’s following us.’

As we made our way down the street, I noticed a newsagent’s and it gave me an idea.

‘Just wait here a moment,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to get something.’

JJ stayed outside while I dashed inside. I returned to him a few minutes later and handed him my purchase. ‘A late birthday present to go with the photos,’ I said.

His face lit up when he saw that it was a packet of jelly beans. ‘My second best present,’ he said as he opened it up and popped two in his mouth.

Munching happily, we made our way to the park where we looked for a quiet spot but it appeared the whole world was out enjoying the reprieve between showers. People were rollerskating and
jogging, mothers were pushing prams, pensioners strolling, families having picnics, and there were benches full of businessmen grabbing a sandwich for lunch.

I sighed. ‘God, this is worse than India.’ I looked up at the sky. ‘And it looks like it’s going to pour again.’ Just at that moment, there was a crack of thunder
and the rain started to lash down. Everyone in the vicinity dashed for the nearest shelter.

JJ and I put up our umbrellas, looked at each other, then at the people now crammed into the nearest wooden pavilion. JJ shrugged and indicated a bench to our left under a tree. He pulled me
towards it and we sat down. He positioned our umbrellas so that they made a makeshift tent.

‘Sorry. I thought there might be somewhere we could be alone,’ I said as I drew my knees up out of the rain.

JJ did the same with his knees then grinned. ‘No problem. Actually it’s cosy in here.’ It was too. Both umbrellas were big ones that Dad had brought back from a posh polo lunch
he’d been invited to. The two together made a pale lilac bubble, cutting us off from the rest of the world.

‘Different from India, hey? Here we are squashed on an uncomfortable old bench in the pouring rain. Not exactly romantic Udaipur, is it?’

I laughed as we heard the rain beat down more intensely, and saw it splashing up from the ground.

‘No rose petals, no sun on our faces . . .’ said JJ, and then he stopped and took a deep breath. We were sitting directly opposite each other, squashed up together. He looked right
at me and for a few seconds neither of us moved. We just stared into each other’s eyes. The atmosphere inside our small waterproof dome felt charged with electricity. ‘Hey. We’re
finally alone,’ he said.

‘We are.’ I started to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ asked JJ.

‘It’s pouring with rain, our jeans are wet from the bench, we’re in this tiny space with no view . . .’

‘Jelly beans instead of the finest cuisine.’

‘And I can’t think of a more romantic place to be.’

‘Me neither,’ said JJ, then looked into my eyes again, then down at my mouth. ‘It’s amazing in here, isn’t it?’ he said and, at the same time, we leant
towards each other. A kiss at last.

If you enjoy the Million Dollar Mates series
,

you’ll love Cathy’s new book
,

Love at Second Sight.

Here’s an extract!

‘
I hold that when a person dies his soul returns again to earth; arrayed in some new flesh guise another mother gives him birth.’
John
Masefield,
A Creed

It was Friday afternoon and I trooped out of school with my best mates, Effy and Tash. Despite the grey skies and threatening rain, they were in a sunny mood, unlike me.

‘Three whole days off to hang out with Dave,’ said Tash.

‘Three whole days to hang out with Mark,’ said Effy.

Three whole days for me to be Miss Tag Along,
I thought as they talked over plans on the way to the bus stop. It was the second bank holiday of the month and, once again, I’d be the
odd one out. Bridget Jones singing,
All by myself
.

‘Oh, and to hang out with you too, Jo,’ Effy added. ‘We wouldn’t leave you out.’

I tried to look enthusiastic. I knew I’d be included in any plans. They’re good friends and we all know the rules when dating boys: mates come first. Even so, it isn’t a ton of
fun going to the movies, all five of us, with me wedged in between two couples, not knowing where to look when they snog each other’s faces off. Then going for pizza and watching them feed
pepperoni to each other across the table while I sip my diet coke and try not to look like a sad loser. Or spending evenings in each other’s houses, listening to music, while Mark and Effy or
Dave and Tash send slow smiles between them across the room, as if to say ‘don’t we have something special here?’ While I, feeling left out, wonder what I’m doing to put
boys off and whether there’s something wrong with me because my relationships don’t last.

So, no. Another weekend of being reminded that I’m single is not my ideal, that’s for sure. Not that I haven’t had boyfriends. I have. I’ve even made a list of them in my
diary to remind myself that I’m not a total reject.

And that was the whole list, apart from Owen, so, all in all, my love life so far has left me with a feeling that boys just do your head in.

Owen is the exception. He’s Effy’s older brother and we were a couple for a while, for a few months in fact, but he always felt more like my brother than my boyfriend. He’s a
nice guy, very grown-up and protective. ‘You’re perfect for each other,’ everyone said. ‘So many shared interests.
So
alike.’ And they were right. We could talk
for hours about books and music, the world and how we were going to change it. We
did
have a lot in common, but someone who’s the same as me isn’t really what I want. Kissing
Owen was like eating plain yoghurt. Good for you, but bland. And he used to have a shiny spot on the end of his nose which, though I know it was shallow of me, I couldn’t help but focus on
whenever he puckered up and moved in. I just thought, ew, pass me the Clearasil. Not exactly how I imagined true love’s kiss to be.

OK, so maybe a relationship isn’t going to be like a Disney movie, with a heart formation of bluebirds tweeting away in the background, but surely it isn’t too much to ask for
someone colourful and exciting? And scorching hot. I want someone who’ll burst into my life like a flame and challenge me. Make me think. Turn my insides to liquid honey and make my toes
curl. Though that sounds like a case of E.coli. What I mean is, I want to
feel
something. A pull. A longing.
Desire
. I want Heathcliff from
Wuthering Heights
, wild and
passionate. Or maybe not . . . He was a nutter with mad hair and obsessed with Cathy’s ghost. Someone like him would be way too high maintenance as a boyfriend. Who else sounds right? Edward
from
Twilight
– the most dangerous and charismatic boy in the school? OK, maybe not him, either. Someone who drinks blood for kicks is probably not the most suitable guy and, anyway,
vampires are so last decade. I just want Finn O’Brady.

No.
No.
I will not waste time on someone who has a line of girls after him. What would I be? Number sixteen? Seventeen? One hundred? Oh, I don’t know. No, I
do
know. I want
to meet my soul-mate. I want to meet a boy who makes me feel alive like I’ve never felt before and who feels the same way about me – but I’m not convinced that’s going to
happen where I live in North London. Most of the local boys (apart from Finn) wear those falling-down jeans that show their bum cracks and Calvin Kleins.
So
not sexy, at least in my
book.

‘I think I may stay in and catch up with some study,’ I said, as the girls discussed going to a movie.

‘No way!’ said Effy. ‘Why don’t you want to come with us?’

I shrugged.

‘Because you’re a singleton?’

‘Ish. Look, I’m cool with it. You guys go. Have a good time.’

‘You don’t need to be single, Jo. You could have boyfriends,’ said Tash. ‘Loads of boys fancy you.’ She pulled her red beret out of her rucksack, put it on and
tucked her hair up into it. Her real name’s Anastasia, but we call her Tash. She has shoulder-length, titianred hair that goes frizzy in the damp weather. ‘Bane of my life,’ she
always says. She carries her beret everywhere in case of showers, which is a shame because I think her hair suits her curly. No-one’s ever happy, though. Effy has long, silky blonde hair and
she curses about it being so fine. My hair’s dark, dead straight, and half way down my back and I’d love to have Tash’s waves, whereas she’s jealous of me and Effy being
able to just ‘wash and go’ without battling with the GHDs.

‘Yeah. You’re way too picky when it comes to boys,’ agreed Effy.

‘I just don’t want to compromise, that’s all.’

‘I don’t think you should, either,’ said Tash. ‘I think you should wait for the One.’

‘Oh, get real. I mean, we all want to meet the One,’ said Effy, ‘but until you do, you should get some experience. We’re only seventeen. Practise your
snogging!’

And so it went on as we waited for the bus. Same old Friday conversation. Same ole, same ole. It’s not that Effy and Tash aren’t romantic. They are. Way more so than me, in fact. Out
of the three of us, I’m the one with my feet most firmly on the ground. I’d like to do journalism, which means thinking rationally, researching ideas, getting facts. Tash and Effy do
art and literature so are encouraged to live in the realm of imagination and dreams. I’m right brain, they’re left. Effy is an Aries and, even though I’m not as into astrology as
she is, I can see that she’s typical of the sign and rushes into things at full speed with great enthusiasm. Tash is a Pisces, the sensitive dreamer, and I’m Taurus. Stubborn, says
Effy. I prefer to focus on the other qualities, like being loyal, practical and sensual. Whatever the explanation, we’re different, but our friendship seems to work despite that. Effy is also
a giggler. It’s one of her most endearing qualities. It’s so easy to make her laugh. Ever since I met her back in junior school, Effy has cracked up at the most inopportune moments, in
assembly for example, when Mrs Burton, our headmistress, says something about stealing in the cloakroom or we have a guest speaker talking about their passion for a cause and we’re all
supposed to be focused and taking it seriously. Effy’s shoulders will start shaking with silent laugher. She tries to hold it in but usually fails. And that tends to set me and Tash off too
so we all end up in detention for being giddy. Effy’s also endlessly curious. As well as astrology, she’s into clairvoyants, tarot cards, visualisations and anything alternative. Miss
New Age Nutjob, I call her. My mum’s into all that stuff too. She and Effy get on like a house of on fire. Most times, I just switch off from both of them when they start ranting on about
life and all its mysteries.