Authors: Jean Ure
Secret Meeting (15 page)
“Only from coming to see Gran,” I said. “Over there’s where we get off the bus.”
“Darnley Manor. A very pleasant spot! We’re just a few miles further on. Are you feeling all right? Not getting sick?”
“She doesn’t give you any warning,” said Annie. “She just opens her mouth and does it …
blurgh
! All over the door.”
Annie doesn’t say these things on purpose to embarrass me. She just opens
her
mouth and words come tumbling out. Mostly I try not to mind.
“Well, just yell,” said Harriet, “if you want to stop. We’ve got a few twisty turny bits coming up. They’re always the worst, if you have a funny tum.”
I thought that Harriet was so nice! Every bit as understanding as she seemed from her books. A girl at school had once met this other author she was keen on and said she had turned out to be really cold and snooty. A huge disappointment! Harriet wasn’t in the least bit snooty. Or cold. She was just like one of us.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, “I must just quickly ring home and … bother!” She was rummaging with one hand in her bag. “Would you believe it, I’ve gone and forgotten my mobile! Honestly, I’d leave my head behind if it weren’t attached to my shoulders! I don’t suppose either of you has one I could borrow?”
I said, “I do!” I felt quite honoured, offering my phone to Harriet! “You can use mine.”
“Bless you!” Harriet slammed the glove compartment shut and blew me a kiss. “You’ve saved my bacon. I should have rung half an hour ago! I’ll just pull up in this lay-by … mustn’t use a mobile while you’re driving. Very dangerous!”
I thought that Mum would approve of that. When we had gone to Alton Towers – the time I got sick and it sprayed over the door. On the
outside
, I should add – Annie’s dad had done lots of talking on his mobile. Mum had said afterwards that she hadn’t liked to say anything, as it wasn’t her car, but she had been on tenterhooks the whole time. So that was ten out of ten for Harriet. Hooray!
I felt very privileged and important, sitting next to a famous author as she rang home. I wondered who she was going to talk to. Could it be Lori? I knew it wouldn’t be her husband ’cos I’d read somewhere that she was divorced.
Harriet pulled a face. “Answerphone … I hate when it’s the answerphone!”
Me, too. I knew how she felt. Sometimes if I get an answerphone I just hang up, though I know it’s a bit rude and you ought really to say who you are and leave a message, which was what Harriet was doing.
“Darling, where are you? This is Mummy here! Where have you gone?” She sounded a bit upset. I guessed that Lori had gone off without telling her. “Can you hear me? Are you listening? Please speak to me! If you’re there … please! Pick up!”
Just for a moment it was like really tense. Even Annie must have felt it. She leaned forward intently across the back of the seat as we waited for Lori to pick up the phone. But she didn’t.
“Call me,” whispered Harriet. “Please, darling, call me!”
After that there was this long silence, and then she gave a little laugh, sort of half ashamed, like pulling herself together, and said, “Oh, dear! Mothers do worry so. Does your mother worry, Megan?”
I said that she did.
“Megan’s mum gets into total flaps,” said Annie.
“I’m afraid I do, too. You just never know … what might have happened …” Harriet’s voice faded out.
Trying to be helpful, I said, “Couldn’t you try her mobile?”
“Her mobile? No, she doesn’t have a mobile. If only she had had a mobile. She’s not answering … she doesn’t answer … I hope you have your mobile with you, Annie?”
Annie confessed that she hadn’t. “We came out in such a rush. I think it’s on the kitchen table.”
“That’s naughty! What would you do if Megan’s ran out?”
“Find a call box,” said Annie.
“Not good enough! You should always take your phone with you. If only—” Harriet stopped. “Well, anyway!” she said. “Let’s get on. I’m so sorry if I’m sounding a bit vague, but I’m in the middle of writing a new book and it’s going round and round in my head.”
“What’s it called?” said Annie. “Has it got a title?”
“Um … yes. How about …
Jampot Jane
?”
I giggled. Annie, in her bold way, said, “That’s a funny title! What’s it about?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” said Harriet. “I never discuss my books before they’re published!”
I hoped that Annie felt properly put in her place. Such nosiness! It was one thing to be a fan, and to show interest; but to poke and pry was just bad manners.
“I’ll keep the phone by me, Megan, if I may,” said Harriet, “just in case. And I’ll try to stop thinking about work and concentrate on you, instead. This is your birthday treat, and I want you to enjoy it.”
I am just so absolutely ANNOYED. That little fat freak and her skinny little friend have gone and done a runner. They have had the NERVE to leave me a note. Gone to tea with Harriet, whoever Harriet is. How dare they??? They know perfectly well they’re not supposed to go off without telling me. They’d better just get back before Mum comes home or we shall all be in trouble. AND it hasn’t taken its phone with it. What’s the point of having a mobile if it’s just going to leave it lying around on the kitchen table when it goes out? It shouldn’t be out! It’s just taking a mean advantage. It thinks it can get away with it because I daren’t tell Mum. It’s a rotten thing to do! It knows how I feel about Ty.
Oh, and I was so happy! It’s Jem’s day off so me and Ty had lunch together, all by ourselves. He’s going to call round at seven on Saturday, to take me
to the party. Jem is going as well, with Kieron, so it should be lots of fun.
I wasn’t a bit tonguetied today, on my own with Ty. We just have so many things in common. So many things to talk about! We are both into sport in a big way, are both huge fans of Man U, and our ace fave band is Hot Brits. So no embarrassing pauses while I rack my brain trying to think what to say! We could just go on for ever. I think it’s truly important that when you are attracted to someone it should be more than merely physical. Ty is gorgeous – but we can TALK. For instance we had this really in-depth discussion about our aims and ambitions. Not just to stack shelves from now till the end of time! Ty is thinking of going into the army, but I am trying to persuade him to join the police. He is definitely interested!
In the meantime, I WAS going to go and try things on ready for Saturday. I have to look my best!!! But now I’m too cross and angry, because of the
Scumbag taking advantage. She might at least have given me a telephone number. I bet she didn’t on purpose. I bet that’s why she left her phone, as well, so I couldn’t get hold of her. Then she’ll pretend she just forgot. It’s such a scummy thing to do! I’m surprised at the Stick Insect; I should have thought she’d know better. She always comes across like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and for an eleven-year-old she is quite sensible, on the whole. Unlike my dear little sister, who is just one great big PAIN.
To think that out of the goodness of my heart, because I was feeling so happy, I actually brought back some cakes for tea! Squidgy ones full of cream, as a special treat, to make up for yelling at her about the music. I think I’ll try ringing Jem and see if she feels like coming over and helping me eat them. Then we can go through my wardrobe together and decide what I’m going to wear. I am NOT going to worry myself about little Tubby Scumbag. She is old enough to know better, and I don’t see why I should.
We drove on through the countryside, down lots of twisty turny lanes, just like Harriet had said. I opened the window and ate peppermints and didn’t get sick, but it did seem a long way to drive. Well, to me it did. I thought probably it was because I wasn’t used to car journeys. Mum can’t afford a car, so we don’t really travel very much. It obviously didn’t bother Annie. She was bouncing all over the place like a rubber ball. She kept suddenly appearing over the back of my seat and poking at me.
“Hey, look! There’s a rabbit!” “Oh, look! Donkeys!” “Look, look! Lambs!”
“Yes, we’re way out in the country now,” said Harriet.
Rather shyly, not wanting it to seem like I was prying, I said, “I thought you lived in London?”
“Oh! Yes. London’s where I
live.
But in the country is where I write my books. Not many people know where I do my writing! I like to keep it a secret.”
She explained how nothing was worse, when you were concentrating really hard, and trying to think what to write next, than to have people come knocking at the door expecting to be invited in for a cup of tea, or ringing you up “just for a chat”.
I knew how she felt. It was what I sometimes feel when I’m writing an essay for school and Mum says, “Megan, put that away now, it’s time for tea.” I always wail, “Mum, I can’t stop in the middle of something!” But Mum never understands, because Mum isn’t a writer. By the time I’ve had tea and gone back to my essay, I have totally forgotten what I was going to write. I said this to Harriet, and she said, “Oh, you understand! We are obviously on the same wavelength.”
I just, like,
glowed.
I felt so proud at being taken into Harriet’s confidence! If I hadn’t been in the car I would
have written things down in my reporter’s book that I had brought with me; but I can’t write – or read – in cars, because of car sickness. However, I knew that I wouldn’t forget it. It was something that Harriet and I had in common. We were both writers! And we didn’t like to be disturbed.
