Rebecca Rocks (17 page)

Today’s outing with Cass and Liz wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, it was really good fun. At first, getting used to the idea
that Liz is Cass’s girlfriend, not just her friend, felt a bit odd − not really because she’s a girl, though actually seeing Cass with a girlfriend was a bit strange at first. But it was mostly because I’m not used to Cass going out with anyone, male or female, so seeing her holding hands with someone is a bit surprising. And even though I’ve known about her being with someone for the past few weeks, it’s just been in theory, not in practice. If you know what I mean.

But the feeling of oddness didn’t last very long. We met
outside
the gates of Trinity, and when Liz arrived she grinned at me and said, ‘Hey Bex! So Cass told you all about our forbidden love.’

And I laughed and said she had, and I joked about how shocked I was. And then everything was normal. I have found that once you find yourself laughing together at something it sort of stops things being awkward. We all went for hot chocolate, and Liz told me about the Gaeltacht. She said she’d been a bit worried about going away with Katie because Katie was so weird when she first came out.

‘But it was okay in the end,’ she said. ‘We were in the same house, and the other girls all knew each other so we had to stick together. She’s totally cool about everything
now. We were dancing together hand in hand at all the ceilís by the end of it.’

It sounds like she had a really good time. It made me wish that the North Dublin Arts Camp wasn’t just a twenty-minute walk from my house. It’d be lots of fun if we could all go away and stay somewhere. Although Liz said that she had no
internet
access, and the food was pretty terrible, and she did get homesick every so often. So maybe it wasn’t all so great.

Anyway, it was a really fun afternoon. And I didn’t feel gooseberryish at all. We went to one of the music shops on Exchequer Street and tried loads of instruments. I had a lot of fun bashing away on a giant drum kit, and Cass tried some really cool keyboards that can make loads of brilliant sounds. Liz tried some gorgeous guitars. She is very good at playing the guitar, even better than Alice.

‘But I’ve been playing the electric guitar for years, because my big sister has one,’ she said. ‘So I’ve had lots of practice. Oh, look at this sparkly one! Why is it so expensive? Why? Cass, darling Cass, please let you and Bex and Alice make lots of money from your home-made sweet empire, and then you can lavish me with glittery guitars.’

‘If we make any money from our empire, I will lavish myself
with keyboards first,’ said Cass. ‘Sorry!’

‘But we could give you one if we have any profits left over after lavishing ourselves,’ I said. ‘Oh, and Alice too, because if we have fancy new instruments she’ll need one as well.’

‘This is true,’ said Cass. ‘Otherwise the band will sound terrible.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Liz. ‘I’ll just have to think of a way of earning my own fortune.’

We talked about ways in which Liz could make money as Cass and I walked her to her bus stop on Nassau Street (in the end, she thought she could try knitting things and selling them because she made ‘quite a good scarf once’, although she was only ten at the time, so she might be a bit rusty). In the meantime, she is going to call over to my house during the week to help us make some fudge to give away at our final show on Friday. We had just reached the side entrance to
Trinity
when she saw a number 15 approaching.

‘Oops, that’s me, I’d better run,’ she said. ‘Bye Cass!’ she said. And she gave Cass a quick hug and kiss on the lips. Then she cried, ‘Bye, Bex!’ And with a cheery wave, she ran for the bus.

‘I’m glad she’s back,’ said Cass, happily.

‘So am I,’ I said. ‘Just because it’s stopped you moping. You’ve been moping all over the place recently.’

‘Oh shut up, moping expert,’ said Cass, but we knew she didn’t mean it. ‘Ugh, look who it is lurking across the road − over there, at the end of Dawson Street!’

It was evil Charlie. I think he saw us, but we pretended we didn’t see him and stayed on the other side of the road while he walked on in the other direction. He’s so obnoxious, and we have enough of him at the camp. I don’t want to have to put up with his ‘banter’ at the weekends too. But besides seeing Charlie, it was a really fun afternoon. I feel strangely relieved. I was a bit scared that Cass and Liz being together would mean I’d never see Cass over the rest of the holidays, but I don’t think that now. Like, obviously they’ll want to do stuff on their own sometimes, but I know we’ll be able to hang out together too.

It did make me wish I had someone too, though. I mean, I’ve been at a camp full of boys for three weeks now, and I still don’t fancy any of them. I really am starting to worry that I’ll never meet anyone I like ever again. I mean, everyone seems to be all settled now. Look at Rachel and Saint Tom, the perfect boyfriend; they’ve been together for over a year,
and I can’t imagine them ever splitting up. Maybe Paperboy and John Kowalski were my only shot at romance and now the rest of my life will be loveless. It is a depressing thought. I wish I could just fall in love with someone. Who liked me too, obviously.

On a happier note, my godmother Daisy is taking me out to lunch tomorrow as an advance birthday present (it’s not my birthday for almost a month, but she’s going on holiday soon so she won’t be around then). So that should be fun, even though that baby of hers will probably get sick on me, as it usually does whenever we meet. I thought it might improve with age but it certainly hasn’t so far.

I had a very nice lunch with Daisy today, and it has made me feel a lot better about life in general. Who would have thought one lunch could do that? But it has. Even though the baby got sick on me yet again. Why does it keep doing this to me? What did I ever do to it? I suggested to Daisy that it might have some sort of terrible stomach bug, but she said it just
throws up its milk every so often (mostly on me, apparently), and it should stop doing that soon because it’s going to start eating solid human food. I’ll believe that when I see it.

Anyway, I met Daisy (and the bad baby) in town, and she took me to a lovely restaurant. I hardly ever get to go out for proper food because my parents are such misers (or, as they put it, ‘we’re not made of money’) so just going to the
restaurant
on its own would have made me feel better. Especially as the baby slept most of the way through lunch.

Once we were seated at our table and had ordered our food, Daisy asked me about the summer camp, and I told her all about Kitty and all the bands and the drama and art people and how fun it was. Talking to Daisy is not like talking to Mum. Which is strange because she’s only a few years younger than her, ie very old.

‘So it sounds like you’re having an excellent summer,’ said Daisy. ‘You are, right?’

‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘But …’

And then somehow I found myself telling her all the stuff I’d been secretly thinking for weeks. About how the others were going out with people and how I didn’t fancy anyone and I was worried I’d never meet anyone I liked ever again. I
realised I’d never actually talked about this to anyone, because the only people I could have been so sorry for myself in front of are Cass and Alice, and in this case I didn’t feel I could say anything to them because they might feel sorry for me and that was the worst thing I could imagine. But I didn’t really mind Daisy feeling sorry for me. It was such a relief to finally say all this to another person.

‘And really, there are no fanciable boys at all on the whole course,’ I finished sadly.

Daisy looked very concerned.

‘So are your friends making you feel left out?’ she said.

‘Well, no, not really,’ I said. ‘Actually not at all. I don’t feel bad when I’m with them. But when I go home, I sort of feel left out, like they’re a part of something and I’m not. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Sort of,’ said Daisy. ‘But everything’s fine when you’re all together, right? And you like their boyfriends − boyfriend and girlfriend, I mean?’

‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘I mean, they haven’t abandoned me or anything. They’d never do that. And I do really like Richard and Liz.’

‘So, let me get this straight,’ said Daisy. ‘Even though your
best friends are going out with people, they’re not making you feel left out. You still see them all the time. And you like the people they’re going out with. You don’t feel weird hanging out with them. They don’t make you feel uncomfortable or awkward, or anything.’

‘I suppose so,’ I said. ‘Well, yeah.’

‘And, in general, you’re having lots of fun and you’re doing lots of cool and exciting things,’ said Daisy.

‘Um, yes,’ I said. ‘I suppose.’

‘So what’s the actual problem?’ said Daisy.

When she put it like that, I wasn’t actually sure.

‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I think it’s just that sometimes I worry that I’ll never find love again. Like, Paperboy and John Kowalski were it and I’ll never go out with anyone else.’

And Daisy just burst out laughing, which I found quite annoying at the time, not least because it woke up the baby, and it started roaring (its favourite activity after getting sick on me). But what she said once the baby had been calmed down made me less annoyed.

‘Bex,’ she said. ‘You’re not even fifteen.’

‘I’m almost fifteen,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fifteen in a few weeks.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Daisy. ‘You’re very young. When I
was your age I hadn’t gone out with anyone. In fact, I didn’t even kiss anyone until I was seventeen. And I ended up not going out with anyone until I was in college.’

‘But did that … did it bother you?’ I said.

‘Yes!’ said Daisy. ‘It did. I used to worry about it all the time. I was worried that I’d never meet anyone. I was
worried
there was something horribly wrong with me. But there wasn’t! Everything was fine in the end. I just wish I hadn’t wasted so much time worrying about it. There was no hurry.’

‘It kind of feels like there is,’ I said. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Well, there isn’t,’ said Daisy. ‘Oh my God, Bex, you’re really lucky. You have really good friends, and you’ve got your band and your writing and lots of cool stuff that you’re interested in. It looks like your only problem is that you’re worrying about never going out with anyone ever again. And that isn’t going to happen.’

‘I suppose so,’ I said. ‘Though it’s not my only problem. I mean, my parents are pretty annoying. I know they’re your friends and everything, but they are.’

‘Believe me, Bex,’ said Daisy. ‘Your parents are okay. And even if they do annoy you, your life is fine.’

And as she said it, I believed her. Well, apart from the bit
about my parents being okay. If my mum had been talking to me like this, I wouldn’t have taken her seriously, but somehow it’s different with Daisy. And she’s right, I suppose I am quite lucky. After all, my friends are going out with people I like who don’t make me feel like a total gooseberry when we’re all hanging out together. I have a horrible feeling that John
Kowalski
wasn’t like that at all. In fact, I remember the way he used to act when Cass walked down the road with us after school, and I know he wasn’t.

Anyway, we didn’t just talk about my romantic problems (or lack of them). We also talked about my parents. Daisy said she can’t wait to see the musical next week.

‘Really?’ I said.

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ she said. ‘I’m going to go on Sunday, the second night. I told you before, your mum was poetry in motion flying around that stage in the
Pirates of Penzance
. And
so
was your dad when he did his dance solo! He caused a sensation.’

I am sure he did, though I don’t think it was in a good way.

‘Are you sure?’ I said.

‘Of course I am,’ said Daisy. ‘He was brilliant. Like I said, poetry in motion. I just wish they both had bigger parts in
this production of
Oliver!
. It’s a shame to waste all that talent at the chorus.’

I almost wish she hadn’t said this. After all, if she is so clearly mistaken about my parents’ theatrical abilities, can I really trust her romantic advice? But I think my parents might be her one weakness. I mean, she’s an actual theatre critic, and those newspapers wouldn’t keep employing her if she was always praising terrible things. She must just have a blind spot when it comes to my parents. They’ve all been great mates for a million years, after all. I mean, if Cass and Alice were in a musical being terrible I might be blinded by friendship too (although I am not being biased when I say they can both definitely dance better than my dad).

Anyway, I feel a lot better about, well, everything now. In fact, right now the only thing that’s bothering me is the thought of Mrs Harrington. There really is no way I can change Mum’s mind at this stage. I’m just going to have to pray Mrs Harrington suddenly decides she hates my mum’s books and never reads the new one. Although I don’t think this is very likely.

Guess who I met in the shops on my way home from summer camp today? Mrs Harrington! And I think everything might be okay now. I can’t believe she just appeared after I was thinking about her last night. It is like I have magical powers. Although if I did, then Paperboy would have come back from Canada a long time ago because I certainly thought more about him than I did about Mrs Harrington.

Anyway, it all happened like this. I was on my own because Alice had to get a lift early today and Cass was going into town to meet Liz, and I thought I’d pop into the Spar to get a Dairy Milk. And who should be coming out of the shop as I was going in but Mrs Harrington. She looked delighted to see me, but I’m pretty sure I did not look delighted to see her. Because I wasn’t.

‘Rebecca!’ she cried. She didn’t seem to feel at all
embarrassed
at meeting one of her pupils outside of school. ‘And how are you? Are you having a nice holiday?’

‘Um, I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I’m doing the summer arts camp down in the college.’

‘Good, good,’ she said. And then, before I could get away,
she asked the one question I was hoping she wouldn’t ask.

‘And how’s your mammy’s book coming along?’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to read all about Patricia Alexandra! What sort of thing does she get up to?’

And I was going to pretend I didn’t know, but then … Well, maybe it was because of all the revelations of the last month, but I suddenly thought, ‘I have to tell the truth’. Admittedly, I first thought this months ago and really should have followed through on it back then, but, anyway, better late than never. If Cass could tell me she’s gay even when she was scared I’d never talk to her again, I could tell Mrs Harrington what the fictional Patricia Alexandra is like. Now I come to think of it, the real truth would be admitting that Mum never promised to put her in a book at all. But that would be going a bit too far. Surely this bit of truth was enough for now?

So anyway, I took a deep breath and said, ‘Well, actually, Mrs Harrington, she’s done something a bit … funny with Patricia Alexandra Harrington.’

‘Oh, really?’ said Mrs Harrington, looking very pleased.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Um, she decided it would be more …
interesting
if she made her, um, a sort of a, well, a villain. I mean, it would be very different from the real thing. I mean you. But
anyway … basically Patricia Alexandra is a teacher, but she’s the heroine’s enemy, and she’s really horrible. She tries to ruin the heroine’s life and everything.’

I looked up nervously at Mrs Harrington. I expected her to be appalled that her idol − my mother − had given her name to an evil, life-ruining teacher. But to my amazement, she didn’t look appalled. She looked absolutely delighted.

‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to tell Gerard!’

‘What?’ I said. ‘You’re not … annoyed?’

‘Not at all!’ said Mrs Harrington. ‘Some of my favourite Rosie Carberry characters are the baddies! They’re always so memorable. Don’t you just love Elizabeth Battersby in
The Girl from Braddon Hall?
Who stole that poor girl’s business? And Angela Hayden from
Family Sorrows, Family Joys
? The way she convinced poor Imelda that Tony didn’t really love her …’

‘I … suppose so,’ I said, even though I couldn’t remember anything about any of these people because Mum’s books are all the same to me.

‘Now, I hope my namesake has her comeuppance,’ said Mrs Harrington playfully. ‘I don’t want her to get away with her crimes!’

‘Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure she won’t. Get away with it, I mean.’

Though it seems that I have got away with concocting my terrible web of lies. Which even I have to admit isn’t very fair and doesn’t fit in with Ellie’s mum’s theory that every bad deed gets punished in the end. But I’m certainly not complaining. Anyway, I have learned a lesson. Sort of. I’m never going to tell crazy lies to a teacher ever again.

I eventually got away from Mrs Harrington, who would happily have spent the entire day going on about various
villains
from my mother’s books, and went home in a daze. I couldn’t believe I’d been worrying about this for ages for no real reason! I was so amazed by it all that when I got in and Mum gave out to me for dropping my jacket on the couch, I didn’t even argue with her. In fact, I felt quite kindly towards her, because it turns out that she has done just the right thing to make Mrs Harrington happy, without even knowing it.

‘Hey Mum,’ I said, as I hung up my jacket on the coat rack. ‘You know I came up with that name, Patricia Alexandra Harrington?’

‘Of course,’ said Mum. ‘And I’m very grateful. I don’t think that character would have worked with another name.
You basically created her!’

‘Well, actually it turns out one of my teachers has the same name,’ I said. ‘I bumped into her today, and it sort of … came up. I must have seen her full name written down somewhere, and that’s what put it into my subconscious mind.’

Mum looked horrified.

‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘Oh my God, I’ll have to change it. She’ll think it’s after her.’ She looked really worried. ‘Sorry, love. I know you didn’t pick her name on purpose so it’s not your fault …’

‘No, don’t worry!’ I said. ‘I told her the character was
horrible
and she was really pleased! She loves your books, and she especially loves the baddies! So it’s a good thing! She’d be really sad if you changed the name.’

‘Really?’ said Mum. ‘Are you totally sure?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’d hardly lie about something like this, would I? I mean, I have to go back to school and be taught by her in September.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Mum. ‘Maybe I should try and contact her through your school just to be sure …’

‘Oh, no, don’t make a fuss,’ I said. ‘But if you could thank her in the acknowledgements, I bet she’d be really happy. Her
and her husband, Gerard. He loves your books too.’

‘Okay,’ said Mum. ‘That’s a relief.’

She can’t be as relieved as I am. I know I should have told her the whole story about me promising Mrs Harrington that she’d put her in a book and all that. But surely that would be more trouble than it is worth?

The world of showbiz has had a terrible effect on my dad. He’s always been a basically decent human being, but that musical has made him surprisingly callous. Tonight Rachel and I were sitting on the couch happily watching
Laurel Canyon
when my parents arrived home from their
Oliver!
rehearsal full of excitement.

‘Great news!’ said Dad. ‘Philip Judge is in hospital!’

‘Ed!’ said my mum, horrified.

‘What?’ said Rachel.

‘Who is Philip Judge?’ I said. ‘And why is this good news?’

Dad instantly looked ashamed of himself.

‘Um, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ he said. ‘It’s
not good for him, obviously. And he’s fine!’ he added
anxiously
. ‘I mean, he hasn’t died. I’m not revelling in someone’s death. Or, you know, serious illness. He’s grand. They thought he was having a heart attack, but it was just angina, so he just has to take it easy for a few weeks.’

‘But who is he?’ said Rachel.

‘He was playing the Beadle in
Oliver!
,’ said Dad. ‘And now he can’t do the show. And I’m his understudy. Which means …’

‘It means your dad gets to take over the part on Saturday,’ said Mum. ‘Though he needn’t announce it quite so gleefully!’

‘Sorry,’ said Dad, looking abashed. ‘You know I wouldn’t be happy if he was really sick.’

I’d like to think he wouldn’t be, but to be honest I’m not completely sure right now. He’s certainly very excited about stepping into poor Mr Judge’s shoes. Both my parents are taking this musical worryingly seriously. They spent the rest of the night in the front room going through Dad’s new part, even though he knows all the words already.

Though maybe there is something about the theatre that sends people a bit mad. Jane and the others are very excited about their play, which we will finally get to see on Thursday. I thought Vanessa and Karen would have driven her insane
by now, but she keeps saying that when it comes to the play they’re just really focused on their work.

At lunchtime today, she was sitting at a table with Gemma and Bernard the Fairy-tale Prince, and when Alice and I went to join them we found them all talking very intensely about the play.

‘But if the dragon comes on then, it’ll change the dynamic between the girls in the hospital,’ Jane was saying.

‘We’ve only got two more days,’ said Gemma. ‘If it’s not working now, we’ll have to think of something else for that scene. Maybe we could move the knife juggling around a bit? Or the fireworks?’

I am quite impressed that they have gone for such a
challenging
project, as I said to Alice later.

‘Hmmm,’ said Alice. ‘I’m not sure the fireworks are a good idea. I mean, how good is Vanessa at juggling, really?’

‘Well, she is full of surprises,’ I said. ‘Remember how shocked we were when we discovered she could actually act.’

‘True,’ said Alice. ‘Vanessa is more complex than you’d think. She’s quite mysterious, really.’

Really, just about everyone at this camp is better at being mysterious than I am. Though I wish Charlie was a bit more mysterious. Or at least kept his stupid mouth shut. At the end
of the day, the Crack Parrots were lounging around on the sofas in the arts building, and just as we were walking past I heard Charlie say, ‘Did you see your man Jamie today? What the hell was he wearing?’

‘The state of him!’ said Robbie, sniggering. All the Crack Parrots snigger. It’s the only way to describe the horrible way they laugh at everyone who isn’t a total moron like them.

‘Ah, come on, Jamie’s okay,’ said Evan. There was silence, until he added, ‘Though he dresses like a total …’ And then he said a horrible word that I won’t even write down here. And the rest of them all laughed.

‘God,’ said Cass after we’d left the building. ‘Never having to see those goons again is the only good thing about the camp being over on Friday.’

She is right. But I can’t believe there are only a few days left. I will miss it a LOT. The first of the band showcases is on tomorrow after the workshops, and Richard’s band are going to be the first one on. He told us today he is planning to ‘give it loads’ on stage. I can only imagine what that will involve. He was quite intense at the Battle of the Bands and that was before he’d spent weeks with King of Intensity Ian Cliff. But I’m looking forward to it.

Something really horrible happened today. But also something pretty good. And overall, I think, goodness won. But the
horrible
bit was pretty bad. And, of course, it was all because of Charlie. I didn’t think that I could hate him any more than I already did, but it turns out I can.

But I’d better go back to the beginning. The afternoon workshops had just finished, and a bunch of us from all the different classes – some of the bands and the artists and the drama people – were sitting on the big comfy couches in the foyer outside the theatre waiting for the stage to be set up for today’s show. Richard was wearing his brother’s suit again, which he had managed to find in the back of the spare room wardrobe where his brother had hidden it. (He is playing a dangerous game borrowing it. If his brother finds out about it he will be in a lot of trouble. Apparently his brother has threatened to steal and hide Richard’s laptop if he ever takes the suit again. As I have found myself, older siblings are not very understanding about brothers or sisters borrowing stuff.) Anyway, Richard was all excited because at last he’ll get to perform in front of his god, Ian Cliff.