The Boyfriend Dilemma (11 page)

Chapter fourteen

Amber wasn't impressed that she didn't get to come to Norelli's yesterday. “It's not fair,” she announces before I'm even awake the next morning. “You always get to do things 'cause you're older.”

“That's not true,” I retort, almost wishing Dad
had
taken her instead, and that Zoe and I hadn't gone at all, as it was so horribly uncomfortable at the end. I know she was thinking,
Why didn't you tell me Ben asked for your number?

And,
What other secrets have you been keeping from me?

I sit up in bed and glare around our dingy bedroom. “I can still smell your fish thing,” I say.

“My what?”

“That disgusting bit of rotting salmon.”

“You mean my purse?” she asks. “You
can't
smell it. Mum made me put it outside.”

I kneel up on my bed and peep through our window, which is open just a chink. I can see the white plastic box sitting underneath Gran's smoking chair. “I can, Amber,” I retort. “It's seeping out of the box and wafting up and into our window…”

“But smells can't come through lids,” she insists.

“Well, this one can,” I snap, far too angrily considering that it doesn't really matter. Maybe I'm just
imagining
the smell. In fact, it feels as if none of my senses are working properly. The TV is already blaring out downstairs (is it always on this loud?). I march through to the bathroom and start to run a bath, hoping that the hot, bubbly water will help to soak away my bad feelings.

Knock-knock.
“Who's in there?” Mum calls out when I've been in there just a few minutes.

“Just having a bath,” I reply, climbing into the tub.

“Don't be too long, love, and don't use all the hot water.”

I close my eyes and try to relax.

“And, Layla?” Mum adds. “Gran thinks she might have left her teeth in there.”

Agh!
When is it ever possible to get some alone-time around here? I sit up in the bath and glance around, and the first thing I spy on the shelf is my Layla mug full of water and containing Gran's teeth, like some mutant sea creature.
Ugh.
“They're here,” I call back. “They're in my mug!”

“Open up, then. You know how she doesn't like being without them.” Right. I take a deep breath, climb out of the bath and wrap myself in a towel, then open the door and hand the mug to Mum. “Gran needs the bathroom,” she adds, signalling that my soaking time is over. I dress quickly in tatty old jeans and a bobbly black sweater, then, back in my room, I check my phone to see if I've missed any messages or calls from Zoe during the four and a half minutes I was “relaxing”. Nothing.

“What are you doing today?” Amber asks.

“Don't know yet,” I reply, heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Mum gives me a quizzical look as I nick a piece of toast from the kitchen table.

“Layla?” she says. “Are you OK, love?”

“Yeah, I'm fine…”

“Are you planning anything today? It's just – I thought, as Dad's here to look after Amber, maybe me and you could do something? We could go to the cinema—”

“Er…” I pause, trying to think of a nice way to put it. Usually, I'd love to go to the cinema with Mum. But not today. I need to be by myself, to figure out what to tell Zoe about Ben. I'll have to admit he asked me out, and has been texting me, and not just about the Acorn fund-raiser. And then I'll also have to explain why I've kept it a secret from her. It's such a horrible mess. “I'd like to just hang out today, Mum,” I mutter.

She tips her head and gives me a concerned look. “Any reason?”

Something twists inside me. Guilt, that's what it is. I feel bad about Jude too. What made me embarrass him by suggesting he was jealous of Ben?

“I just fancy a bike ride,” I say lamely.

Mum gives me a bemused glance. “You don't have a bike, apart from that old thing you bought at the car boot sale.”

“Er, yeah. I'll take that one.”

“Are you sure it's safe, love? It looks pretty battered. Dad said he wanted to check it over before—”

“Mum, it's
fine
.” I plant a kiss on her cheek and open the back door. But just as I'm wheeling it through the back yard gate, she runs after me with my helmet. It's not any old helmet. It's the one Dad bought me as a “present” – a dome of bright green, with
stickers shaped like eyes on the front, for God's sake. I've tried to pick them off but they won't budge.

“Mum, no,” I protest.

“Put it on,” she commands me.

“I hate it!”

She pulls a baffled expression. “But Dad thought you liked bright colours…”

Haha. For clothes, yeah. A cycling helmet that makes me look like a frog, not so much. I open my mouth to protest, just as Amber comes skipping out, demanding to come cycling too. Plonking the green monstrosity on my head, I yell a quick “Bye!” and speed away.

 

It's so good being out I soon stop worrying that someone might spot me and laugh at my helmet. The streets are quiet, and to be extra safe I've already decided to get right out of town. I've no idea where I'm heading, but at least if I'm out in the country there'll only be lambs and cows to snigger at me. I'm also wondering if I can get away with telling Mum that I was stopped at gunpoint and had my helmet snatched off my head.

The sky is pale turquoise, streaked with wispy clouds. I cycle along the alley, down towards the park and up the winding lane that snakes out of town. And gradually, a plan starts to form in my mind. How about doing some detective work and trying to figure out where Ben lives? He said it was somewhere in this direction, towards the old quarry, and there are only a few houses around there. I'm not planning on knocking on every single door, saying, “Hello, does a boy called Ben live here?” like some kind of stalking weirdo. I'm just hoping that I might
happen
to find his place, sort of by accident.

The narrow lane climbs steeply away from town, then cuts in between fields where lambs are skipping about. Gran's old cottage is up this way, but I haven't been out here since she moved in with us. It makes me think of me and Zoe and our picnics, and I stop and pull out my phone from my pocket and call Zoe.

“Hi, Layla!” Phew, she sounds pleased to hear from me. I decide never to keep a secret from her ever again.

“Just wondered what you're up to today,” I say.

“Don't know yet.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “Mum's just told Matty about Dad's new baby…”

I push a strand of hair from my face. “How did he take it?”

“He was fine. Well, sort of. He started asking her how she'll be related to the baby, which was kind of awkward. She explained that, although she won't be,
he
will. And he seemed pleased about that, like it made him more special than her.” We both laugh at that. “Where are you?” she asks.

“Just out on my bike, on that bumpy road that leads up to Gran's old place.”

“What are doing up there?” she asks.

“Um…” I think about telling her about my plan to have a snoop around for Ben's house, but know how weird it would sound. So I just say, “I don't know really. I was just a bit stir-crazy at home. Amber wouldn't leave me alone, the place was a tip, it still smelled of rotting fish and Gran had left her teeth in my mug in the bathroom this morning – a bit of food had even floated up to the surface.”

“Ugh,” Zoe giggles.

“Can you come out?” I ask hopefully.

“Hang on, I'll just ask.” There's a quick conversation between Zoe and her mum. I catch Zoe saying, “Please, Mum, can't she come too?” Then, “All right then, I'll tell her…” She comes back on with a sigh. “Sorry, we're having a day out. Mum says we need family time.”

“That's OK,” I say quickly.

“I really wish you could come. It won't be much fun without you.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Er … Baxter Valley.”

Baxter Valley! It's an amazing theme park and zoo, and her mum
always
invites me, and one of Matty's friends, when they're going. Not this time, obviously. “Well, have a good time,” I say flatly. Still, I decide as I cycle onwards, at least there's no awkwardness between me and Zoe any more. I picture her riding on the Devil's Loop – the biggest roller coaster in the park – and decide that, if I cycle really fast downhill when I'm heading back home, I'll experience pretty much the same effect.

I'm passing a farm now with a mouldy old caravan outside. I know it's not Ben's place, as the Frasers live there with their snarly dogs. As soon as the dogs spot me, they throw themselves at the high wire fence, snapping and snarling and making my legs work faster, even though I know the dogs can't get out. My heart pounding now, I speed onwards, cursing my bike for only having one working gear and wondering if Dad will ever get around to fixing it. Yep, that's as likely as Kyle suggesting, “Actually, let's watch a film that's
not
about some American teenagers trapped in a house with a creepy murderer lurking about in the woods.”

The lane cuts through thick, dark woodland. It's further than I remembered to Gran's old place, and at first, when the cottage comes into view, I'm not sure it's the right house. Gran had a lovely front garden with tons of flowers and a bird bath carved out of stone. Now the garden's been gravelled over and Gran's cheery red front door has been painted black. I stop for a moment, startled as a woman's face appears at the kitchen window. The face disappears, and a moment later the front door opens, but I'm already speeding away down the bumpy lane, trying to ignore all the rattles of my bike. It's a wonder nothing's pinged off it yet.

Of course, none of this is helping me figure out where Ben might live. I pass another farm, pedalling even faster now as a thought starts to form in my mind. His family are rich so his place will be amazing. And what's the biggest, poshest place around here? Dean House. Maybe that's where he lives…

I scoot down the short hill towards it, spotting a “Sold” sign on a wooden pole just inside the huge iron gates. It was owned by a rich old lady who hated anyone even stopping to
look
at the place, so we always kept well clear, although we were dying to explore – I remember she used to have a tree house in the garden. Looks like she's gone now. My heart quickens with excitement as I peer up the overgrown drive towards the house.

The whole building is a faded, dusty sort of pink. The house has turrets, and more windows than I can actually count. There's a huge conservatory and a walled garden, which now looks pretty wild. I bet Ben's parents have bought it and no one's got around to taking down the sign yet.

I lurk at the half-open gates, peering at the windows and trying to figure out if anyone's home. But there's only darkness behind them. Carefully propping my bike against the garden wall, I step quietly in through the gates and tread as softly as I can along the curving driveway.

There are no cars parked outside the house and the whole garden is even more overgrown than I realized. The paths and flower beds are smothered with weeds, and the oval-shaped lawn is more like a meadow. A rustling in the bushes causes my breath to catch in my throat. A bird flies out, and the garden settles into silence again. I glance back towards the gates, then creep over to the conservatory and peer in.

Apart from a broken chair lying on its side, it's completely empty. Feeling slightly braver now, I pull out my phone and text Zoe:
Guess where I am!

Where?
she texts back.

In Dean House garden. V spooky. Looks like no one lives here any more.

I wait a few seconds, flinching as a rabbit jumps out from the bushes and sits on the lawn, watching me. Zoe replies:
Mum said old lady died and house now empty.
That figures: everyone knows everything round here.

I can't help it; I'm longing to explore. Jamming my phone back into my pocket, I cautiously slip around the back and have a quick peek into all the downstairs windows. She's right; looks like it's been empty for ages. Obviously no one's moved in yet.

Then I spot it, down at the far end of the garden – the tree house. I always wanted to have a look inside. It must have been built for the old lady's children, or grandchildren, but I bet no one's been inside for years. I swallow hard and make my way through the long grass towards it.

The old wooden ladder creaks as I climb up, but feels pretty safe. From the top rung, I step into the house itself. It has a flat wooden roof and a tiny window without any glass, but it's still cosy and warm with a lovely woody smell. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I lean against the back wall and listen to the garden sounds. There are birds and the gentle swooshing of trees moving in the breeze. It feels so private here. There's no one banging on the door demanding to know how long I'll be, or asking if I've seen Gran's teeth.