Kisses for Lula (35 page)

Hey, Tatty – where’s that questionnaire?

I hit delete so hard my thumb hurt, but it felt good. The next message was from Pen:

Just snogged Angus! How does it feel to be pipped at the post?

‘Sorry,’ I said to Jack, and thumbed out a reply:

I’ve been kissing since 8.15, little sister. And you were right: HE’S PERFECT!

I hit
SEND
and turned the phone off. The only distraction I wanted was just ahead – tall, dark and fanfrikkingtastically handsome. He was standing at the top of the rise, his hands jammed into his back pockets, laughing softly.

I leapt up the last few paces towards him and laced my fingers into his. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘This whole town is under your spell, Lula,’ he replied, and gestured down below. The still surface of Frey’s Dam
glimmered with dancing light. It was dark and quiet, but . . .

‘What the –’ I stared, blinked and began to smile. Below me were a myriad tiny tealights flickering out HAPPY BIRTHDAY TATTY, with three decisive kisses beneath.

X X X

‘She’s here,’ came a voice from near the water’s edge.

‘Carrie?’ I murmured, walking forward a little, now grinning widely. Then I heard Tam strum her guitar and a motley horde of voices sang out:

I burst out laughing and clapped my hands.

‘Thank you!’ I called. There were shouts and whistles and then the tealights shifted around as groups of people hunkered down to start a Frey’s party in earnest. I could see Arns and Mona talking to girls from PSG, Jessica Hartley making moves on a boy I didn’t recognise and even Sophie Wenger, who raised a flickering flame in salute before turning to some guys from Hambledon Boys’ High.

Suddenly Carrie was at my side. ‘Enjoy your b’day surprise, Lula?’ she asked, a big grin plastered all over her face.

‘Don’t take those lyrics too seriously, though,’ said Tam, breathless from the climb up to us.

‘Yeah,’ said Alex, joining her. ‘None of ’em will touch you with a bargepole.’

‘Great,’ said Jack. The girls started. They hadn’t seen him in the shadows. He came up behind me and murmured in my ear. ‘Means I don’t need to get heavy with anyone.’

My friends’ jaws dropped. They looked from me to Jack, to me again.

‘No way!’ said Alex.

‘Look!’ said Tam.

‘Her lipgloss is smudged!’ said Carrie.

Jack laughed out loud as I got peppered with their jubilant kisses. Then my best friends in the world scrambled back down the hill with breaking news for the rest of Hambledon.

‘Oh boy,’ I murmured. ‘What are they going to be saying about me now?’

‘There’s plenty to talk about,’ said Jack, pulling me close. ‘But for now it’s my turn for kisses.’

Huge thank yous to my friends, from way back and from right now, in particular (fanfare, please) Pippa le Quesne, editor extraordinaire, who wouldn’t let me give up; Leah Thaxton (more fanfare!), publisher extraordinaire, who made this book a reality; Karen Bugos, Jacqueline Thompson, Tamlyn Stewart Strong, Fiona Bell, Shirley Stewart, Kavitha Surana, Emma Gunner and Carrie Pascoe who read early drafts and inspired many words within; Bradley Mackintosh who wouldn’t read a word, but is a good kisser (eee! too much information!); and Angeli Söderberg, vital food supplementer and chief advisor in ALL things.

Enormous gratitude to the lovelies who keep me in my day job – I can’t write a word without you: Sarah Hulbert, Jennie Morris, Nikki Sinclair, Ellie Smith, Fliss Stevens, Keith Taylor and Wendy Tse.

Thank you to Charlie Viney of the Viney Agency and everyone at Egmont who has taken such care: the wondrous Ali Dougal, boy’s-eye view Tim Deakin, Philippa Donovan, Emma Eldridge and Alistair Spalding.

Squeezy hugs to Tam and Fi for sisterly wonderfulness and terribleness, and thank you always to Mom, for giving me the love of words, and to Dad for laughing at them.

Dad, how I wish I’d been more like Lula for you.

An interview with Samantha Mackintosh

Ali from Egmont:
Hi, Samantha, do you mind if I ask you a few questions so readers can get to know the mastermind behind
Kisses for Lula
?

Samantha:
I will tell you terrible lies.

Ali:
Nope, you’re not wriggling out of it that easily. Here’s an easy one to start off with: where were you born, and where do you live now?

Samantha:
I was born in Chingola, Zambia, where it gets seriously hot, and now I live in a village close to London, where it gets seriously cold.

Ali:
And if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you choose?

Samantha:
I love where I am (it’s not always freezing!), but I wouldn’t say no to a New York apartment . . . a villa in Greece . . . a cottage in St Ives . . . a farm in the Lake District . . . Y’know. A diddy little property portfolio.

Ali:
Is it true you learned to read from watching
Sesame Street
?

Samantha:
Yes. And my mum made flashcards too. Things like
HEAD and HAND and HAIRY ASS. Okay, not the last one, but you get the picture.

Ali:
Who were your favourite authors as a child, and what books are you into now?

Samantha:
I remember crying with disappointment when there were no more Sue Barton books (written by Helen Dore Boylston) to read from our local public library, but I devoured plenty of other stuff, from Blyton to Blume to Boon (Mills and). As a teen I fell in love with poetry: Wilfred Owen, Dylan Thomas, Lord Byron, Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, but always had to rely on the antiquated local library. We had two university booksellers with teeny fiction sections, and no money to buy books, so I’m a total book glutton now.

My recent favourites are
City of Thieves
by David Benioff,
The Book Thief
by Marcus Zusak,
This Charming Man
(I love Marian Keyes) and Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series. Also the crime club: Patricia Cornwell, Kathy Reichs, Tess Gerritsen. And literary fiction from the likes of Anne Tyler, Barbara Kingsolver, Penelope Lively and Margaret Atwood. Lordy, are there any books I
don’t
like?

Ali:
What did you do before you wrote
Kisses for Lula
?

Samantha:
I’ve worked for book publishers, magazine publishers and legal publishers. I’ve also waitressed, slaved behind bars, sold sausage rolls and worked in a bookshop (heaven!).

Ali:
Wow! So what made you decide you wanted to become a writer?

Samantha
: When I was nine I got cross about the fact that there were no books for nine-year-olds and decided then I’d write them myself when I grew up. Then I grew up and realised how impossible it is to become a real-life, all-day-long, I-get-paid-for-this-lark writer. So that idea fell by the wayside for a long time – but now look! Wahey!

Ali:
Hurray! Now you’re a real-life, bona fide, published author! So, where do you like to write?

Samantha:
I like to write at my desk in the attic, with the heater on underneath and my feet in cosy slippers right on top of it. Sometimes real life gets in the way, though, and I end up writing on the train, at the gym, in the bathroom (don’t ask), upstairs in my sister’s house, early in the morning, late at night, any chance I get.

Ali:
Is there much of you in Lula? Or in any of the other characters in the story? Please say Boodle!

Samantha:
I’m afraid, like Lula, I have been known to put on clothes that were left in a crumpled heap beside the bed from the day before. (Always clean unders, though!) And like Lula, I eat way too much chocolate, and –

Lula:
Now just hang on one frikking minute . . .

Samantha:
Oh no you don’t. Back in the head! Back in the head!

Lula:
No can do, writer lady. Hey, Ali?

Ali:
Uh . . .

Lula:
I’d like to state for the record that Samantha’s implication that I wear dirty unders –

Samantha:
I did not imply! I expressly said –

Lula:
Uh-huh, sure. Please note, I absolutely never wear unders more than a day, and I eat chocolate for
medicinal purposes only
! Do you have any idea how much iron there is in choc–

Samantha:
That is a total lie. You eat chocolate because you love it and you’re a greedy pig. What normal person stashes chocolate everywhere? Sharing is caring, Tallulah Bird.

Lula:
Hey! You see the people I live with! You INVENTED the people I live with! Ali!

Ali:
I’m staying out of this. Perhaps this is a good point to close the interview –

Lula:
Nonononono! It’s just getting interesting! To answer your question, Ali: Samantha is exactly like Boodle. Big, hairy, always knocking people over. Especially boys. She’s nervous around boys. She only has sisters, you see, so no experience of boys whatsoever. Maybe a teeeensy bit like me there.

Samantha:
LULA!

Lula:
But she’s quite sweet too. You know – she cares about people. Makes sure they get a decent kiss in, even though it’s not with the guy you –

Ali:
Yes, we know about your first kiss, Lula.

Samantha:
Yeah. Put that grin away. I’m in control here. You could
end up doing the hula and never getting another snog EVER AGAIN. [Ed:
Lula Does the Hula
, the second book starring Lula and friends, is coming soon, in case you were wondering.]

Lula:
You wouldn’t!

Samantha:
That depends. Will you be quiet? Will you behave?

Lula:
[Obedient silence]

Ali:
[Cough] Okaaaay. So, Samantha, tell us about
your
first kiss.

Samantha:
Oh
nooooo
!

Ali:
Oh yes, or we’re not gonna print this book.

Samantha:
Okay! Okay! But this is just between you and me, right? It won’t go in the book?

Ali:
Yeah, sure. [Evil glint in her eye]

Samantha:
Right, well, if you must know, I was sweet sixteen and never been kissed, and had
zero
clue about boys. So that’s why I welcomed Stephen Measey into my life.

Ali:
Stephen Measey? Seriously?

Samantha:
No. His real name is much, much worse. Anyway, at first glance he was all right, I guess, but on closer inspection he laughed like a horse, had teeth like a horse, but I suspect a horse would be a much better kisser.

Ali:
Huh?

Samantha:
One word: HOOVER.

Ali:
Oh no.

Samantha:
Oh yes! I swear, I thought I was going to lose my tongue. When he finally broke away I was speechless. Well, how
could
a person speak after that kind of action? I just stood there blinking in the sunlight thinking,
Was that normal? IS THIS WHAT A KISS IS?

Ali:
Ew! Enough! Right, any wise words for all those aspiring writers out there?

Samantha:
Start and don’t stop. Don’t ever say you don’t have time. If you say you don’t have time, I’ll come round and wallop you.

Ali:
Lula ends up in all sorts of sticky situations in the book. What’s been your most embarrassing moment? Go on, spill!

Samantha
: Grggnn, fine, but only cos I trust you.

Ali:
Oh dear . . . are you sure about that?

Samantha:
It was a bright and gorgeous day, the kind of weather you always forget is actually possible, and I was loping happily across Waterloo Bridge in central London, in my gorgeous, swingy, silk dress, bag slung confidently over the shoulder, mad grin on my face. An Australian woman drew up alongside me:

‘G’day,’ she said.

‘Uh, hi,’ I said.

‘I can see ya knickers,’ she said.

Wh-what? Is my dress see-through?
I thought.

‘Ya bag,’ she said, ‘it’s pulled ya dress right up.’

I looked down in horror, and she was aaabsoluuutely right.

‘Th-thanks,’ I stuttered, yanking my bag away so my dress could drop back to the knee.

‘I could see ya knickers,’ she said again, with a great deal of satisfaction.

How long had I been striding along with my GREY GRANNY KNICKERS ON SHOW? HOW LONG? I ask. HOW LONG?