I Think I'll Just Curl Up and Die (17 page)

‘Well done!' said her dad, ‘I didn't know we had a star in our midst!'

‘It was fantastic!' said her mother. ‘Now petal, I think you should take that stage make-up off right away – you know how sensitive your skin can be.'

‘Oh Mum!' chided Jemma, ‘it's my face and I'll sort it later.'

‘Did you enjoy it, Rupert?' asked Jemma.

Rupert nodded enthusiastically.

‘Are you staying for the party? said Jemma, somewhat unenthusiastically. The more she saw of him, the more wet
he seemed, and she wasn't too sure she wanted her friends to meet him.

‘Oh rather,' he said.

‘Dad, what in the name of heaven were you doing, selling soup here?' Chelsea rounded on her father two minutes after the last curtain call.

‘Great idea, wasn't it?' said her dad. ‘It's raised sixty-five pounds for the PTA as well as making some cash for me and guess what? Mr Todd has given me permission to park in the quadrangle every lunchtime on my way back from the industrial estate. You lot can start eating proper food for once instead of wasting all your money on crisps and chocolate bars!'

‘You,' spluttered Chelsea, ‘are going to be here? Every day? Selling soup?'

‘Yes,' said her dad.

‘My life,' said Chelsea, ‘might as well be over.'

Sumitha was changing into her jeans. She wasn't going to the party; she had asked her mum to take her straight home. She knew that if she stayed someone would make snide remarks about her, and what's more, everyone else would have a partner. Mandy Fincham was there, all plastered up on crutches and playing for sympathy, ready no doubt to take the mickey. She picked up her bag and headed for the door.

* * *

‘Oh, it's Jon Joseph, isn't it?' Mr Horage beamed at him. ‘You're joining us next year, I believe.'

‘Yes sir,' said Jon.

‘Jon helped me a lot with the designs for the posters and stuff,' said Laura.

‘Great stuff,' enthused Mr Horage. ‘Quite a little team, the pair of you made,' and he bustled off to chat up Miss McConnell whom he secretly fancied.

‘Thanks ever so much for helping,' said Laura.

‘That's OK, I enjoyed it,' said Jon. ‘Took my mind off my mother.'

‘Pardon?' said Laura.

Jon hadn't meant to let that slip out but suddenly he found he couldn't change the subject.

‘She's having an affair,' he said miserably. ‘With a guy from the college.'

‘Are you sure?' Laura gasped. Mrs Joseph didn't seem the flighty sort. Unlike her mother.

Jon nodded. ‘I keep seeing them together, and she invites him round to the house, and stuff. She doesn't even try to hide the fact,' he added.

‘Then she probably isn't,' said Laura sensibly. ‘I mean, she's not going to carry on under the same roof as your dad, is she? Even my mother waited till my dad had moved out before taking up with Melvyn.'

Jon looked hopeful. ‘You reckon?'

‘Well, why don't you ask her? If she is, it might shock her into stopping. Sometimes parents need us to keep
them in line – they hit this middle-aged bit and go all weird. It takes someone with their feet on the ground like us to help them back on course.'

Jon looked much more cheerful.

‘I will, I'll do it tonight,' he said. ‘You're really easy to talk to, you know that?'

Laura inwardly preened.

‘Oh, and by the way,' he added, ‘when do you think Sumitha will turn up?'

Rob was standing in a corner chatting to Jemma and Rupert. Chelsea dashed up and flung her arms round his neck.

‘You were brilliant,' she said; planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘And you, Jemma.'

‘Thanks,' said Jemma. ‘This is Rupert, by the way.'

Chelsea looked at him as he held out a cold clammy hand. He wasn't exactly an oil painting but he probably had a sparkling personality.

‘Gosh, hello,' said Rupert.

Apparently not, thought Chelsea. What does Jemma see in him?

At that moment, Mandy Fincham hobbled up on her crutches. ‘Hi,' she said breezily. ‘Rob, you were brilliant. Especially since you had to make do with an understudy playing opposite you.'

‘Jemma was great,' said Rob defensively.

‘Oh yeah, for a beginner she muddled through OK,'
conceded Mandy. And she looped her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder.

‘Oh, get lost, Mandy,' said Rob, and shrugged her away. ‘Go and find someone else to throw yourself at. Come and get some food, Jemma – you deserve it.'

And while Mandy, Chelsea and Rupert stared open mouthed, he led Jemma to the buffet table.

‘Hey, er, hang on a moment, old chap,' blustered Rupert. ‘That's my girl. You can't just …'

Jemma turned to Rupert.

‘No, I am not your girl,' she said pleasantly. ‘Or anyone else's for that matter. I'm me and even if I choose to eat a sausage roll with a little green man from Mars, that's my business, not yours.'

Rob discreetly backed off and went to join Jon, Chelsea, and Laura who were straining their ears to catch the rest of the conversation. They couldn't believe that meek old Jemma was saying all this.

‘But I thought, I mean, I want you for my girlfriend,' said Rupert.

‘Oh, and what you want, you always get, do you?' said Jemma. ‘Anyway, you don't want me. You just want to say you've got a girl.'

And come to think of it, she thought, that's why I wanted you. Just to say I had a boyfriend.

‘Oh, but I do, I do, honestly,' said Rupert earnestly. ‘Even when Mummy said that you weren't our class and that I could do much better, I told her you were ace.'

‘Oh, she did, did she?' said Jemma. ‘Well, you can tell Mummy from me that no girl with half a brain will want you until you stop treating all females like walking mammary glands. In short, until you grow up. Good night,' and with that she walked away.

Rupert stood staring after her.

‘Oh bother,' he muttered.

‘You certainly sorted Mandy out,' said Chelsea, who was a little worried by the way Rob kept looking at Jemma.

‘She just irritated me in the end,' he said. ‘She took too much for granted.'

Ya boo shucks to you Mandy Fincham, thought Chelsea triumphantly.

‘I'm glad we're back together again,' she murmured.

Rob looked at her and took a deep breath.

‘Look, Chelsea, you're great, you're a laugh and I like you loads,' he said. ‘But – well, I mean, I don't see us as an item. You're a great mate, I mean that, but no more than that. I'm sorry, I should have said before, but – well, to be honest, you're not my type – you're just too much of an extrovert for me, I suppose. Like Mandy, you just come on too strong. Sorry.'

And he strolled off to join Jemma.

Chelsea choked back tears. How could he? She hadn't come on strong. Had she? Yes, she had. It was all her mother's fault. Chelsea had started to act like her and what
had it got her? Rejection, social annihilation and shame. She re-thought her plan for the evening: go home, curl up and die.

When Jon got home, Vernon was just leaving.

‘Well, how are you, Jon?' he said pleasantly. ‘Had a good evening?'

‘Yes, not that it has anything to do with you,' snapped Jon.

‘Jon!' said his mother.

Jon pushed past them and went into the kitchen.

Two minutes later, after waving goodbye to Vernon, Jon's mother appeared.

‘I cannot believe what you just said to Vernon,' she expostulated. ‘How could you be so rude to …'

‘To your lover?' shouted Jon. ‘Is that what you want to know? How could I be so rude to your lover? Well, quite easily as it happens!'

‘I
beg
your pardon?' Anona's eyes widened.

‘Oh, don't beg
my
pardon,' thundered Jon. ‘It's Dad you should be apologising to. Every time he's out, you have
that - that lascivious jerk round here. How could you, Mum? How could you do it?'

‘Do what?' said Anona.

‘Carry on with him when you are married to Dad? Don't you care about him? About me?' Jon had a horrible feeling he was going to cry.

Anona burst out laughing.

‘Oh great, you think it's funny, do you - wrecking lives?' Jon shouted.

His mother sighed. ‘Jon, will you listen to me?' she pleaded. ‘It's not like that.'

‘Oh no?' said Jon, unable to stop the flow of his bottled- up feelings. ‘Well, that's how it seems to me. I've seen you with him. Oh yes, all flirty and giggly going into the Antique Gallery, walking round town like two starstruck kids. What do you see in him? How could you fancy him?'

‘For the last time, I don't fancy him!' shouted Anona.

‘Oh, pull the other one! And anyway, he fancies you!' shouted Jon. ‘It's obvious.'

Anona smiled. ‘No, Jon,' she said. ‘Vernon does not fancy me. Not remotely. He doesn't fancy me or any other woman for that matter. He's gay.'

Jon gaped. ‘What?'

‘Vernon is gay. He has been going through a rough patch lately. His partner left him a couple of months ago and he was really upset. He sank himself into the course, and we got to working together on a couple of projects.'

Jon felt mildly foolish. And very relieved.

‘Really?'

‘Really,' said his mother. ‘He comes round here sometimes when your father is out because it stops him brooding. And it helps. He is much better at everything than I am.'

‘And you still love Dad? He's trying to get fit so you will fancy him again.'

Anona looked amazed. ‘He said that?'

‘Well, not exactly,' admitted Jon. ‘But I know he is. And I'm glad you're not having an affair.'

Anona smiled at him. ‘Perhaps we should all be sure of our facts in future before we jump to conclusions?'

Jon looked abashed. ‘Sorry,' he said. ‘But it did seem …'

‘Appearances,' said his mother, ‘can be deceptive. Remember that.'

‘Is Rupert still pestering you?' Chelsea asked Jemma. It was the Sunday before Christmas and they were all over at Laura's new house, helping her get her room straight.

‘He sent me this card telling me his life was desolate
without me,' said Jemma, grinning and stacking books in Laura's new pine bookcase. ‘I felt like sending one back with the word
TOUGH
in capital letters on the front!'

Jemma felt it best not to add that she had also received a card from Rob inviting her to a New Year's Eve party. She didn't know what to do. Chelsea had been mad about him and she didn't want to fall out with her. She couldn't
believe
that anyone could fancy her rather than Chelsea. Not that she was bothered about having a boyfriend any more. She was more excited about the drama lessons her gran was giving her for Christmas.

‘I don't miss Bilu like I thought I would,' said Sumitha, handing Laura a large pink china pig. ‘But I do miss having someone special. I should have realised Jon was worth fifty of Bilu when I had the chance. Sorry, Laura, no offence meant.'

Laura shrugged. ‘Well, you can have him,' she said valiantly. ‘There's no point my holding out hopes there. He spent the whole party after
Oliver!
asking where you were.'

‘He did?' said Sumitha, brightening visibly.

‘Yes,' said Laura shortly. It was one thing being magnanimous, and quite another having it rubbed in.

‘I wish I hadn't blown it with Rob,' said Chelsea, sighing. ‘There'll never be anyone else like him, ever. I shall probably spend the rest of my life alone.'

‘You'll meet someone else soon,' said Jemma. ‘Besides, boys aren't all they're cracked up to be.'

‘That's right,' said Laura. ‘Boys are just not worth the bother. From now on, I shall devote myself to writing,' she added loftily.

‘You're right,' said Chelsea. ‘Who's that?' she added, pointing out of the window to where the most gorgeous guy, with blond, wavy hair and an incredible bum was carting a Christmas tree up the driveway.

‘I don't know,' said Laura. ‘But since it would appear he lives next door, I intend to find out. Fast.'

She headed for the door. Chelsea followed close on her heels.

‘I thought,' Jemma called after them, ‘you weren't interested in boys any more.'

‘That,' said Laura, ‘was then. This is now. Anyway, Mum wanted me to integrate with the neighbours.'

‘Warwick's back - he's brought a friend for Christmas,' said Chelsea's mum when Chelsea ventured into the kitchen that evening.

‘Not a girlfriend?' said Chelsea in amazement.

‘No, a lad,' said Ginny, stuffing mincemeat into pastry cases. ‘Guy Griffiths. He lives in America.'

Oh no, thought Chelsea. Any friend of my brother's will only be interested in potting compost and root grafting.

‘And you must be Chelsea?' said a deep gravelly voice. Chelsea turned. And stared in open mouthed wonder.

‘Well, hi - I'm Guy,' said the vision. ‘I'm afraid I've
descended on you for the festive season. I hope you don't mind.'

Mind? thought Chelsea. You're the best thing Father Christmas has brought in years.

‘It's so cool getting to see a real English Christmas,' he said. ‘I guess it'll be real different from California.'

That accent, thought Chelsea, is divine.

‘Where are all the cool places around town?' asked Guy, perching on the kitchen stool. ‘I want to drag that brother of yours away from his begonia seedlings on New Year's Eve and show him a good time. Will you come along and help us out - and bring some girls with you?'

I think, thought Chelsea, I shall leave giving up men till next year.