Keep the Faith (19 page)

‘Is it any good? Becky says Ethan’s is brilliant.’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘Listen, Megs, you’re always telling me to be realistic, so I am. It’s true that Finn is not the world’s greatest speech writer. But he is my
boyfriend and he is really nice. That’s what counts.’

‘I suppose so.’

She didn’t sound entirely convinced.

This morning Finn came to my house. Just turned up. No phone call. No text. No five-minute warning siren so that I’d have time to arrange myself attractively on the
sofa or bludgeon my family to death and hide them in the shed where they couldn’t embarrass me. Finn just rocks up and sits down to have a cup of tea and a chat with my mum. That’s what
I came downstairs to this morning. There he was, wearing a white T-shirt, looking like an angel, and there she was, all ratty-haired and withered. It was like Christmas mixed with Halloween.

‘Hey, Faith,’ Finn said.

‘Um, hi.’ It wasn’t the kind of vibrant, witty chat that I usually go for, but I was still reeling from the discovery that my lovely boyfriend had been exposed to my mother.
What had they been talking about? Had they been talking about me? Things could not get any worse.

‘So your mum says I can come on your picnic today.’

Which definitely made things worse.

Mum beamed. ‘Finn said he’d love to come.’

I shot her a stern look. ‘I’m sure you’ve got other stuff to do,’ I said to Finn.

‘Nope.’

I was properly panicking by this point. What if he spoke to my dad? How would I stop Sam from doing anything embarrassing? ‘I don’t mind if you want to go and see Josh,’ I
said. ‘He’s probably doing something exciting involving a ball or wheels. Hey, you could play basketball on bikes! That sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Call Josh now! Quick!’ I
attempted to push him towards the door, but he wouldn’t move from his stool.

‘Honest, Faith,’ he said. ‘I’m really up for this picnic. We can do that bike-ball thing next week. That way you get to play too.’ He grinned as if what I wanted
most in the world was to have two Sundays in a row spent doing something stupid.

‘Well, that’s settled then,’ Mum said. ‘Who wants to hunt for the frisbee?’

I attempted a smile. Now I know how those people felt on the
Titanic
who bravely played their tubas while the ship went down.

We had to pick up Granny and, as Finn had his bike with him, he said he’d meet us at the woods. This was a good thing because it gave me an opportunity to give my family a friendly pep
talk. ‘If any of you embarrass me,’ I said, ‘I will strangle you with your own intestines.’

Granny opened her mouth to say something indignant.

‘I’ve got my eye on you, old lady,’ I interrupted. ‘You’ll keep away from Finn if you know what’s good for you. Remember, I’ve still got photographic
evidence of that time you tried to eat my pet rabbit.’

Granny spluttered. ‘Really, Faith! I was rubbing noses with him!’

‘That’s not the way I’ll tell it to the RSPCA.’

When we arrived, the wood was as rubbish as ever and the annoying sun had come out quite brightly. Before I had time to lose my family in the trees, Finn came cycling across the car park towards
us.

‘Is this your little friend?’ Granny asked.

I started hoping for rain.

Or an earthquake.

We gathered up all the picnic stuff and once we’d got about three metres from the car park I said, ‘This looks like a nice spot,’ in such a firm voice that no one argued with
me.

Finn was very tolerant of my parents’ extreme annoyingness and answered their questions about his family and helped unscrew jars.

When we’d laid all the food out and filled our plates, my dad said, ‘So, Finn, what did you think of that Spurs hat-trick?’ which was surprising because my dad doesn’t
like sport.

Finn said, ‘Yeah, that was really something. Are you a Spurs supporter, Mr Ashby?’

And the man who once told me that every time you tell a lie one of Santa’s elves dies actually said, ‘Oh yes, I’m a big fan.’

He’s a big something.

I turned my steely gaze on my father. ‘What do you think of their chances next weekend?’ I asked.

‘Well . . . on the one hand, they might do well, but then again . . . I mean, there’s always two sides to every story, aren’t there? I think . . . that is to say . . .
It’s a game of two halves, isn’t it?’

‘And how would you say their performance has been this season?’

His old man cheeks started pinking up. ‘Oh, you know, much as expected.’ He coughed. ‘Would you like another sandwich, Finn?’

‘Have one of my buns,’ Granny said. And she started waving Tupperware in Finn’s face.

‘Why are you going out with Faith?’ Sam asked.

‘Sam!’ Mum nearly choked on a grape. I don’t know why she’s surprised that her son has the manners of a rat. I told her this would happen if she didn’t beat
him.

Lovely Finn wasn’t at all bothered. ‘I like Faith,’ he said to Sam. ‘Your sister’s cool.’

‘No she’s not.’ Sam went on completely ignoring my death stare and Mum elbowing him in the ribs. ‘And if you’re good at football couldn’t you go out with
someone pretty? Or at least nice?’

Mum put a hand over rat boy’s mouth. ‘That’s enough, Sam.’

Finn was actually laughing. ‘You’re funny! Your kids are really hilarious, Mr Ashby. Sometimes Faith is so funny that she actually makes me cry with laughter.’

‘Yes,’ said Dad. ‘She often brings a tear to my eye.’

At this point Granny obviously felt that she wasn’t getting enough attention. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘Something’s tickling in my trousers.’

She honestly did. If the pot of hummus had been deep enough, I would have drowned myself in it.

Mum tried to swat her, but she was still busy keeping Sam’s mouth shut.

‘No there is,’ Granny said. ‘I think it’s an ant.’ She scrambled up, both knees cracking like starter pistols, and began shaking herself about.

I’m telling you now, there was no ant; she just wanted an excuse to wave her geriatric behind in Finn’s face. The sight of Granny-bum swinging in the breeze made me think of her
prancing with her sweaty, wrinkly bottom in contact with my poor shorts, and the sour-cream dip I’d just eaten started coming back up my throat.

And that was probably the least awful part of the day.

Finally, I convinced everyone that the blue sky might turn to hail at any minute and we packed everything up. I said goodbye to Finn, but it was brief and not romantic. The combination of Granny
looking on and the scent of cheese and onion crisps meant that I have never felt less snoggy in my life.

‘It’s been really good meeting your family,’ he said. ‘They’re cool. We should do it again.’

I practically threw him on to his bike before my mum could whip out her diary and start making dates with my boyfriend.

On the way home Granny said, ‘He was a nice boy.’

As if anyone had asked her opinion on my boyfriend.

‘But a bit on the flimsy side. Good puff of wind would blow him away.’

Which is ridiculous because you can say what you like about how sport is mind-rottingly boring and on the tiring side, but it does make nice muscles; Finn might be slim, but he is also extremely
toned.

‘I like some meat on my men,’ Granny dribbled on. ‘What about that lovely young man I met at the Christmas box thing? You ought to swap that skinny one you’ve got for
him.’

I tried to grapple with the thought that Granny was attempting to send me on a date with Westy, but it was too much for my poor brain and it seized up completely. Fortunately, Granny never minds
if you pause in conversation, she just fills the gap.

‘And I didn’t like those little chocolate cakes we had,’ she said. ‘You should take them back.’

‘We can’t,’ I said. ‘You’ve eaten them all.’

‘I meant you should take back the packet. Get a refund. Or at least a replacement.’

‘But you ate them all.’

‘Yes, but I hardly enjoyed the last three.’

Needless to say, I won’t be taking Granny’s advice on exchanging cakes or my boyfriend.

After we’d dropped Granny off, Mum said, ‘Well, I don’t know about this other boy that Granny was talking about, but I thought Finn was lovely. What a sunny
disposition!’

‘He’d need one, wouldn’t he?’ Dad said. ‘Dating Faith.’ He looked back at me and guffawed. Probably because it’s rare that he manages even a sorry
attempt at humour like that, so he feels the need to congratulate himself. I gave him the look I usually reserve for Icky. He stared hard at Mum’s hands on the steering wheel and said,
‘What I mean is, he seems a very pleasant young man. Healthy. Polite.’

‘Who were you expecting me to date? A surly vampire?’

Their silence spoke volumes.

I’m quite put out. Is there anything more annoying that having a boyfriend and parents who really like each other? Surely Finn could have wound them up a little bit
if he’d tried? I wonder if he’d consider getting a motorbike.

I snuck into town with Megs at lunch today so that she could see Cameron. When we got there, I found that Ethan was with Cam. I haven’t spoken to him much since his
extreme weirdness at my party, which Megs knows all about, so I wasn’t exactly thrilled when she inconsiderately launched into a very long snog with Cam and I was left looking at my feet.
You’d think that Ethan would feel a bit embarrassed about his terrible behaviour, but he seemed to have forgotten all about it.

He nodded his head in the direction of the four-armed snog-monster. ‘Shame they can’t do a GCSE in that, isn’t it?’

He’s barely acknowledged my presence at debating and I wasn’t prepared to just pretend everything was fine. ‘Megan is perfectly capable of getting good grades in more
traditional subjects,’ I said in a stiff voice.

‘Cam would be better off with really traditional subjects. Like making a fire and killing stuff with a stick.’

‘That’s a nice way to talk about your friend.’

Ethan shrugged. ‘It’s nothing I wouldn’t say to his face. Cam is honest about the fact that he’s better with his hands than his head. That’s one of the things I
like about him. He doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ I asked.

‘Nothing.’

We went on like that for the entire duration of Megs and Cam’s twenty-minute snogathon. Sometimes Ethan would say something so sarky that I couldn’t help laughing, but as chats go it
was pretty uncomfortable and tense.

When Megs unglued herself from Cam’s face, and the boys left, I let out a long sigh.

‘You’ve got a boyfriend,’ Megs said.

‘I’m perfectly aware of that.’

‘So stop dribbling over Ethan.’

‘I am
not
dribbling over him! He drives me mad. He’s so rude and infuriating. One minute he’s all jokes and the next he’s criticising me. That’s why I like
Finn. He’s so simple and straightforward. I mean, not simple like stupid, although I know he’s not exactly a genius, but he’s just, well, like I said, straightforward.’ I
was rambling a bit.

Megs gave me a sideways look. ‘You are happy with Finn, aren’t you?’

I hesitated. ‘Well . . .’

‘Oh no.’

‘Oh no, what?’

Megs threw up her hands. ‘This is just like that time you wanted that red dress. You wanted it so much and you kept going on about how it was the loveliest thing you’d ever seen. We
had to go and spy on it to make sure no one else was going to get their grubby hands on it while you saved up, and then you finally bought it and you were so pleased with it for about a week, and
then you put it on to go to Zoe’s party and you stood in front of the mirror and you pulled the exact face that you’re pulling now, and I said, “Do you like it?” and you
said, “Well . . .”.’ Finally, she drew breath.

I patted her arm. ‘It’s nice that you remember the precious times we spend together in such detail, Megs, but I’m not sure that your babbling has got anything to do with the
matter in hand.’

‘It has! It has!’ she started shrieking. She was so shrill she sounded like Icky with a firework in her pants.

‘Why has it?’

‘Because this is what you do. You want something and then when you get it you don’t want it any more.’

I gave her a stern look. ‘If that was true, I wouldn’t still be friends with you, screamy lady.’

‘You know what I mean!’

‘Listen, Megs, the thing is that once I tried that red dress on I realised that it didn’t suit me.’

‘Are you saying that Finn clashes with your hair?’

‘No! I just think we’re a bit different. We’re not into the same stuff. We don’t think the same way.’

‘Don’t you like him any more?’

‘I do like him. Finn’s lovely. He really is.’ I nearly pretended everything was fine again. But to be honest I’m not used to keeping anything from Megs so I said,
‘He’s just a bit . . .’

‘Slow?’

‘He’s not slow! He’s laid-back. I just wish that he . . .’

‘Didn’t say “dude” all the time?’

‘I don’t mind that. Makes me think I’m in America. I feel quite cheerful when I’m imagining I’m in America.’ I blew out a puff of air. ‘I don’t
know. I like Finn. He’s nice. I just expected that when I finally got a boyfriend there’d be a bit more to it than talking about crisps.’

‘You love snack chat.’

‘Yes, but not all the time. I imagined some romance, some laughs and a bit of intellectual discussion.’

Megs stopped and turned to face me. ‘Really? Seriously? You imagined intellectual discussions with Finn? Strange and unlikely things happen in your imagination, Faith.’

I let the conversation drop. Anyway, relationships grow and develop, don’t they? I’m sure everything will be fine with Finn.

Right now, Finn and I are supposed to be rehearsing our debate, but this afternoon, while Megs and I were at Skye’s house running around after Toady, I got a text
from Finn. He said,
Hey, Josh got me invited to an indoor rock-climbing party! We can do that speech thing soon.