Katy Carter Wants a Hero (32 page)

‘Come and get it, shithead!’ he screeched.

My jaw was practically on the floor. Never in seven years at Sir Bob’s had kids spoken in front of me like that. I looked at the teacher, who just shrugged her plump shoulders in resignation.

With a growing sense of doom I watched Luke and Leia terrorise the other kids. By the time I’d dragged them back down the hill and into the village my nerves were starting to fray. I lost Luke in between the post office and Arty Fawty, only to discover him in the sweetshop cramming pick ’n’ mix into his rucksack. Dragging him out by his collar, to screams of ‘I’ll get Childline on you, bitch!’, I then discovered Leia busily untying rowing boats and chortling to herself as they floated out to sea. Once I got the pair of them safely inside Jason’s flat, surely I was home and dry?

No such luck. I opened the door and was almost flattened when Luke and Leia stampeded past me en route to the fridge.

‘Fucking hell!’ roared Luke, flinging it open and finding little more than a pint of milk and some mouldy cheese. ‘That stupid bastard has forgotten to shop again.’

‘Wanker!’ screeched his sister, hurling herself on to the sofa and starting to bounce like a thing possessed. ‘Wanker! Wanker! Wanker!’

I looked at my watch. Quarter to four. I had no idea how I was going to last until six thirty.

Luke slammed the fridge door shut and was delving in the vegetable basket with a look of intense concentration on his evil little face. After a bit of a struggle with some carrots he plucked out a bottle of vodka.

‘Yes!’ he yelled. ‘Found it!’

‘Cool!’ Leia bounded into the kitchen. ‘Pour us a drink.’

Luke started rummaging in a cupboard for glasses. I’d been frozen in stunned horror, but this galvanised me into action. There was no way I was letting an eight-year-old and a six-year-old drink vodka while I was in charge. I flew across the kitchen and snatched the bottle.

Luke glared at me. ‘Give that back.’

I breathed in slowly and out slowly. I’d watched that
Supernanny
programme. Calm and controlled works best, apparently.

‘This is grown-up juice,’ I told him. ‘I’ll get you some milk.’

Luke’s top lip curled like I’d just offered to pour him a cup of vomit. ‘What the fuck do we want milk for?’

‘It’s good for you.’ I clutched the vodka to my chest.

‘Bugger good,’ said Luke.

‘Look what I’ve got, Katy.’ Leia tapped me on the shoulder. ‘Sammy says hello.’

I looked down. Wrapped around her neck was the most enormous snake I’d ever seen.

Crash! The bottle slid from my fingers and shattered. Vodka spilt everywhere.

‘He’s friendly.’ Leia waggled the snake in my general direction. ‘He loves babysitters. For tea!’

I hate snakes.

And right now I hated children.

‘He ate the last one,’ Luke said. ‘What was she called?’

‘Stupid cow!’ Leia cried. ‘That’s what I called her.’

‘Put the snake away,’ I ordered. ‘Or I’ll have to get your daddy.’

‘Oooh!’ Luke grinned. ‘Like, we’re so scared.’

‘Dad doesn’t mind what we do,’ Leia told me, planting a kiss on the snake’s head. ‘He has to be nice to us because we haven’t got a mum.’

‘He lets us do what we want,’ Luke added. ‘He believes we should be able to express ourselves.’

And they went on to express themselves too. Leia poured paint all over the carpet, Luke threw his homework down the toilet, and they both spat out the window at the tourists. I cowered in the lounge, one eye on the snake and one on the clock.

These two monsters made my bottom set Year 11s, the hardest kids at Sir Bob’s, look like pussycats.

Jason is half an hour late. Can’t say I blame him — if these two were mine, I’d be buying a one-way ticket to Mars — but I’m not sure how much longer I can carry on here. I’ve tried every technique I know, from threats (‘Yeah, like we’re so scared!’) to the naughty corner (‘You’re even uglier than Supernanny!’) and nothing works. Short of a bullet, I can’t think what would.

Still, if Mads is still broody when I get home, I think I’ve found a brilliant way to cure her. I’m going to make an appointment to get my tubes tied asap.

Jason finally skulks in at seven, which would be understandable apart from the fact that he works downstairs. There’s a distinct whiff of alcohol about him too. Never mind Dutch courage, I think, as I grab my bag and prepare to run. I’d need nerves of steel to come back here again.

‘So.’ He runs a hand through his hair and glances nervously at the children, who are sitting angelically on the sofa and pretending to be engrossed in
Emmerdale
. ‘Everything OK?’

He can’t believe I’m still alive.

‘Fine,’ I say, backing towards the door. ‘Must go.’

‘Same time tomorrow?’ asks Jason hopefully.

I look at Luke and Leia and I swear they’re licking their lips.

How to put this tactfully? Your children are the spawn of Satan and there’s not enough money in the world to persuade me to come within two miles of them?

Hmm. Maybe not.

‘I’ve just been offered another job.’ Technically that isn’t a lie. ‘I’m afraid I won’t have time for Luke and Leia.’

Jason Howard deflates before my eyes. ‘That’s a shame. It looks as though you all got on like a house on fire.’

‘Oh yes.’ I recall how I had to wrestle a lighter from Luke when he tried to set his sister’s hair alight. ‘We certainly did.’

And then I’m scuttling out of Arty Fawty as quickly as I can, heading straight for the Mermaid. I think I deserve a drink or six after the day I’ve had.

It’s quiet in the pub, a strange in-between time when the afternoon drinkers have staggered home and the fishing boats are yet to come in. There’s one crazy mumbling woman at the locals’ end of the bar, and two men who look suspiciously like journalists drinking real ale by the fire. I buy a glass of wine and settle into the window seat, and watch the red and green lights of the trawlers as they roll slowly homewards. I pull my notebook out of my bag and stare at it for a moment before putting it back in. I’m too tired to write a word. My backside aches from the morning’s exertions and my nerves are shredded thanks to my afternoon with Satan’s children.

I hate to admit it, but Gabriel’s job offer is looking more attractive by the minute. Should I take it?

Of course I should. Anything’s got to be better than babysitting Beavis and Butthead.

So what’s stopping me?

I take a gulp of my drink. The only thing that is holding me back is Ollie. I know it’s stupid, I know he’s with Nina, but I don’t want him to think I’m with somebody else so soon after James. It makes me look really shallow, doesn’t it?

I’m being ridiculous! This is Ollie I’m talking about here. Ollie who is my friend, my mate, the person who knows me better than anyone, not some distant fantasy figure. Surely he’s the one person I should be able to tell about Gabriel’s bizarre proposal?

Taking another swig of my wine, I make a bold decision.

I’m going to phone Ollie and tell him that I miss him. I’ll swallow my pride, lay it on the line and basically mix metaphors left, right and centre if it means we can sort out this ridiculous mess and be mates again. No more playing silly buggers. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the whole hideous cancer scare, it’s that time isn’t elastic.

Carpe diem
and all that!

My fingers leap over the keypad and dial Ollie as though they have a mind of their own. The phone rings and rings and I cut it off impatiently and try his mobile number instead. After several rings I hear a click as it’s answered.

‘Ol!’ I cry, and those flipping butterflies are back in my stomach, only this time they’ve brought all their mates along too. ‘It’s Katy! How are you?’

‘Hello, Katy.’

Nina’s clipped tone sounds less than enthralled to hear from me. I almost drop my mobile in horror.

‘Oh, hi.’ I hope I keep the disappointment from my voice. ‘Is Ollie there?’

‘He’s busy, actually. Can I take a message?’

‘Not really. I need to talk to him.’

‘It’s not very convenient right now,’ says Nina, as though I’m a nuisance caller who’s phoned right in the middle of dinner. ‘Actually,’ she lowers her voice, ‘we’re late-night shopping.’

‘Shopping?’ I couldn’t be more taken aback if she’d said they were walking naked through Ealing Broadway. Ollie hates shopping. I always used to leave him in the pub with a Guinness while I indulged in a spot of retail therapy. ‘Ollie doesn’t like shopping.’

Nina says smugly, ‘He loves shopping with
me
. And I’ll let you into a secret. I’ve been to the jeweller’s, looking at rings. I’ve seen a beautiful white gold solitaire and Ollie’s obviously going to go back for it. And you know what that means, don’t you, Katy?’

Sure do. That Ollie has seriously lost the plot.

‘You’re getting engaged?’

She laughs. ‘You said it.’

I think I’m going to throw up. How can Ollie have gone from saying that he and Nina
might
be back on to getting engaged to her in little more than six weeks?

‘Congratulations.’ How I say this without choking I’ll never know. ‘Could you give Ollie a message from me?’

‘He’s here now,’ says Nina. ‘Shall I pass you over?’

‘No!’ Shit, no! What on earth would I say? Actually, could I say anything, when the thought of lovely, funny Ollie marrying Vile Nina makes me want to howl? ‘Just say hi and, er… congratulations from me.’

‘Of course,’ says Nina, prepared to be generous in the face of her victory. ‘But you really need to stop harassing him, Katy. Move on with your life.’

‘Oh, I have!’ I give a false, squeaky little laugh. Ol would know straight away I’m lying but Nina hasn’t a clue. ‘Haven’t you seen the papers? I’m seeing Gabriel Winters. Mr Rochester? We’re together. That’s all I called to say. I wanted Ollie to hear it from me just in case the press start to hassle him. You will tell him, won’t you? I’d love to chat but I’d better go. Gabriel’s taking me out for dinner.’

And I ring off, having the satisfaction of leaving her speechless for once.

My heart is thudding. I need a drink. In fact, if Ollie’s getting engaged to Nina, I’ll need a lot of drinks.

I go to the bar and notice that the pub’s absolutely silent. The fire crackles and the loo flushes upstairs but otherwise all is still. I’m suddenly aware just how loud my telephone conversation has been. Everyone in the Mermaid, from Jo the barmaid to the dotty old woman propping up the bar, has heard every word and is staring at me. The two journalists sitting by the fire are practically drooling, and one is already on his mobile dictating copy to his editor.

Oh bollocks.

It looks as though I’m going to be taking Gabriel up on his offer after all.

You know the old adage
Be careful what you wish for because you may just get it
? Take it from me, it’s bloody well true. When I was a poverty-stricken teacher I used to splurge what little money I had on glossy celebrity magazines and turn green at the smug photoshoots and luxury mansions. While writing reports or shoehorned on to the tube with my nose rammed into a stranger’s armpit, I’d imagine how fabulous it would be to live that celebrity lifestyle, with money and fame and fans galore.

But the reality’s very different.

It’s only been three days since I made my Faustian pact with Gabriel, but already my world’s turned upside down. Everywhere I go someone’s pointing a camera in my direction or trying to entice me to talk about my so-called relationship. Two days ago, while minding my own business posting an engagement card to Ollie, I was hassled by Angela Andrews offering to buy my story for an amount of money so high I needed an oxygen tank to even consider it. Although the constant attention’s driving me crazy, Maddy says that every B & B in Tregowan is crammed full with press, which apparently makes me very popular with the locals.

It’s just a shame the same isn’t true of my hosts.

‘This can’t go on any longer!’ Richard exclaims, drawing the curtains across the sitting room window to shut out the press. ‘I can’t think and I certainly can’t work. You’ll have to move out, Katy.’

‘Don’t worry,’ says Gabriel from the sofa where he’s perusing the morning papers; Iraq, Afghanistan and Zimbabwe pass him by as he trawls the gossip columns. ‘This will calm down in a few weeks.’

‘A few weeks!’ Richard pales. ‘There’s no way I can live in the media spotlight for that long.’

‘Me neither,’ cries Maddy, no doubt imagining her double life being exposed in the
Dagger
.

‘You won’t have to,’ says Seb, Gabriel’s manager, looking up from his BlackBerry. ‘Katy’s going to move up to Smuggler’s Rest this afternoon. It makes more sense for her to live there, seeing as she’s his girlfriend.’

‘I can’t condone unmarried people living together,’ says Richard sanctimoniously.

‘Don’t worry, we won’t have sex until we’re married,’ I say glibly.

Richard glares at me.

‘I’ll find it really hard to keep my hands off her though,’ Gabriel adds hastily, abandoning the papers to drop a kiss on my cheek. ‘I’ll be permanently taking cold showers.’

Mads and I exchange looks. Of course I’ve told Maddy about Gabriel and Frankie; how could I keep something like that from my best friend? She’s sworn to secrecy, and I’ve no concerns about her keeping quiet. Maddy is very good at keeping secrets lately.

‘Your mobile’s ringing now.’ Richard scowls at yet another distraction. ‘Can you turn it off?’

I glance down at the screen where
Ollie Mob
flashes in neon green. He’s probably ringing to thank me for the twenty quid I bunged in with the card as an engagement present. I switch the phone off and shove it into the Chloe bag Gabriel gave me. I’ve enough stress right now without having to deal with Ollie and Vile Nina.

‘I’ve arranged for all Katy’s things to be moved this afternoon,’ says Seb, ‘and Alice Temperley is sending some samples over by courier. There’s also a personal trainer booked for five thirty and a hairdresser due at nine tomorrow.’