The Boyfriend Dilemma (4 page)

Chapter four

I feel bad not going to the sports centre with Zoe, but she races off, shouting, “Stay here – I need to go NOW!” And she's gone in a flash, before I can even think of what to do next.

All right, that's not completely true. I
could
have gone, and run all the way with her and offered moral support in case Matty's in a real state and the holiday club helpers are mad at her. But then, would I really be any use? Zoe's a much faster runner than me – I'd only have held her back.

Anyway, today has been one of those days you wish would never end, and I want to stretch it as long as possible. I watch as the boys have a final go on the swing, then all head towards me, chatting as if Ben is part of the gang already. “You should come to our rehearsals,” Kyle is telling him. “We need someone like you.” I
think
a flicker of worry crosses Jude's face…

“Only if it's OK with everyone,” Ben says, pushing back toffee-coloured hair.

“Course it is,” Harris announces.

“Sure,” Jude says brightly. “We could even play some of your songs.”

“Really?” Ben sounds pleased.

“Yeah, why not?” Kyle looks over at me. “You coming home, Layla? Think everyone's heading back to ours for dinner…”

“Er, OK,” I say, thinking,
Where else would I go?
I'm already feeling a whole lot less awkward around Ben. I've recovered from the Nutella incident, and if this is a taste of how the Easter holidays will be, I reckon they're set to be the best ever…

“Eating us out of house and home again,” Mum exclaims as we all pile in, although Kyle and I know she doesn't mean it. She loves a bustling houseful and always manages to feed whoever turns up. “Sit down, everyone,” she adds. “You've been out for hours – you must be ravenous.” I grab the seat between Danny and Jude (sitting next to Ben again would seem
too
obvious). Chicken casserole is ladled onto plates, and Gran splits open a roll and stuffs it full of mashed potato. I'm so used to her weird eating habits, I've almost stopped noticing them. Now, though, I wish she'd just eat normally.

“This is lovely,” Ben enthuses, making Mum glow with pride.

“It's delicious,” Gran announces, chomping her roll noisily. To make it worse, everyone's now too busy eating to chat, and Gran's slurpy mouth noises seem to fill the kitchen. Is she usually this loud, and we just don't notice? I glance at Ben, who's acting like everything's normal. Bet
his
family don't eat like this. He's finished his plateful already, and Mum laughs. “Wow, you have a good appetite, Ben. It's nice to see someone enjoying their food around here.” Which is a little unfair, as Kyle, Amber and I all have huge appetites too. When there's not much money to spare, you don't grow up being picky.

Ben smiles and places his knife and fork neatly on his plate (maybe he was taught to be ultra-polite at boarding school?). Kyle and Amber have slung down their cutlery noisily, like we usually do. Gran's still sloshing her potato roll around in her mouth. For the second time today, I sense a prickle of guilt. First, I didn't race over to holiday club with Zoe. And now I'm ashamed of my own gran…

I glance at her, remembering the times before she started to get confused. When she'd take me, Zoe and Amber on
girls' adventures
, as she called them. We'd head out into the hills with a picnic in her backpack. Sometimes we'd go to the abandoned quarry and sit at the top, peering down into the great hole in the earth, waiting for the fox to come out.

He has a den down there
, Gran told us.
If we wait long enough, he'll come.
She said she'd seen him, but I was never quite sure if she was making it up, because we never did.

“Layla?” Mum's voice snaps me back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I think someone's trying to talk to you,” she says with a teasing grin.

Ben is looking at me and, for some reason, the other boys are all giving each other amused glances. Just like at breakfast, my cheeks feel like they're on fire. “Just wondering if you want to come up and watch a movie with us?” he says.

“Er … in Kyle's room?” I ask, turning even redder.

“Did we say we were gonna watch a film?” Harris asks. “I don't remember hearing that.”

Now my face feels as if it could burst into flames.

“Anyway, Layla doesn't like the movies we watch,” Danny announces.

“She hates horror.” He gives me a patronizing look as if I'm five years old.

“Actually,” I say, wondering if every mealtime's going to be as traumatic as this, “I really don't. Me and Zoe are more into comedies.”

“Yeah,” Jude says with a warm smile. “I don't blame you.”

Danny snorts. “He has nightmares, y'know.”

“No, I don't,” Jude laughs, shaking his head at his big brother. “I just find them too samey.”

Mum turns from the worktop and smiles. “Good for you, Jude. You know your own mind. No need to follow the crowd all the time…”

Amber jumps up from her seat. “I'll watch your horror film, Kyle. I'm not scared of
anything
.”

“Yeah, sure,” he chuckles, turning back to his friends. “Anyway, maybe we'll go out instead, huh? Kick a football around the park?”

There's murmured agreement, and everyone thanks Mum for dinner as they all surge towards to the front door. Jude, who's last to leave, glances back and gives me a
wasn't-that-weird?
kind of look.

I smile and shrug, as if to say,
Yeah, whatever
. Gran's been taking everything in, though. “That new boy likes you,” she teases when they've gone.

“Oh, Gran! Ben's just Kyle's friend…”
Agh, I have to get out of this kitchen. Now.

“Kyle's friends don't usually invite you to watch movies,” Mum observes, raising one eyebrow.

“He's just being friendly,” I say firmly, getting up to clear the table and wondering why Ben wanted me to join them anyway. He probably
was
just being friendly. He doesn't realize that, every time he looks at me, I feel like the only person here – like he really sees
me
, and not just Kyle's little sister. It's weird, though. I mean, the boys never invite me to join in with stuff.

“Well,” Gran adds as Mum helps her up from her chair, “I think he's just the boy for you, Layla. It's about time you found a nice boyfriend…”

“For goodness' sake,” Mum splutters. “She's thirteen.”

“D'you
love
him, Layla?” Amber squeals.

“Bye!” I say, legging it to my room, where my thoughts can soar, without my entire family trying to butt in.

Chapter five

One thing that's far worse than a parent being mad is when they're “just so
disappointed
”. That's what happens when Mum comes home from work, her face as flat as a grey afternoon.

“I was the last one there,” Matty announces, even though he's already told her on the phone. “I said I'd be OK walking home on my own, but they wouldn't let me. Said it was against the rules—”

“Poor love,” Mum says, before turning to me. “So what happened, Zoe? How on earth could you forget?”

“I just lost track of time,” I say, feeling my cheeks burning pink.

“But how?”

I bite my lip, wondering how best to handle her. “Er, I don't know … I was just with Layla in the park and they started setting up the dodgems—”

“Dodgems?” Matty exclaims, making an instant recovery at the mention of something that sounds fun. “Can I go? How long's it gonna be there?”

“Never mind that,” Mum says firmly, fixing me with tired, pale grey eyes. “Zoe, I really needed to be able to rely on you today.”

“I know, Mum,” I mutter at our cream living-room carpet.

“I'm
very
disappointed…”

What else can I say? I can't change what happened, and I've apologized about a hundred times already. So I just nod and look sorry and wait for this to be over.

“Poor Matty,” she adds, stroking his short fair hair.

He arranges his face into a suitably gloomy expression. “I had a horrible lunch as well.”

This is
too
much…

“Really?” Mum asks. “What did Zoe make for you?”

“Nothing!”

Here we go.

“You went all day with nothing to eat?” Mum gasps.

“Yeah,” he cries, and I swear he sucks in his cheeks to look thinner.

“Mum, he
did
have lunch,” I cut in. “I didn't have chance to make it so I bought it from the newsagent's.”

“A tuna mayo sandwich,” Matty declares, “that tasted of sick.”

Mum frowns at me. “You know Matty doesn't like mayonnaise and, anyway, there are plenty of things here for a packed lunch. Did you sleep in or something?”

I pause, incredibly tempted to say, “No – I was up in plenty of time. I just spent over half an hour looking for him, and you know what he'd done? Pretended he'd been murdered and nearly made me die of shock!” But you know what? I don't tell her because I want to
shame
Matty. I want him to realize what a generous big sister he has, and what a horrible little worm he really is. “We just ran out of time,” I say quietly.

Mum perches on the sofa arm and sighs, as if disappointed by
life
now. Matty turns on the TV, which lightens the mood a little, and I start wondering what Layla and Kyle and the others – OK, Ben in particular – are doing now. Layla's mum doesn't mind if she stays out a bit late, as long as she's home before dark. And Layla isn't called
disappointing
…

“Anyway,” Mum says, getting up and mustering a tight smile, “I've said my piece, Zoe, and I'm going to confiscate your phone for the next few days. That should teach you to be a bit more careful.”

“Hahaha!” Matty guffaws, no longer looking as if he's about to die of starvation, I notice.

“That's enough, Matty,” Mum says firmly. “Zoe, your phone, please.”

“But, Mum!” I protest. “It's the holidays, I
need
it…”

She shakes her head. “I'm sure you can manage to communicate in other ways.” As she holds out her hand, I fish my mobile from my pocket and hand it over.

“Like how?” I ask.

She frowns at me. “Well, if you want to see Layla, you could just go round there, couldn't you?”

“Or use our house phone to ring her house phone,” Matty suggests, like he's some kind of genius. I could happily whack him with that plastic arm.

Mum's expression softens, signalling that the telling-off is over. “Listen, you two. What happened today made it clear to me that this isn't working…”

“What's not working?” I ask.

“This whole arrangement. Oh, it's just about manageable in term-time. I know you try really hard, Zoe, taking your brother to school and looking after him when I'm at work. And I know we get by, and I can rely on you – most of the time. But today made me realize—”

“We're
fine
, Mum,” I interrupt. “It was just a mistake. I'll never do it again…”

She inhales slowly. “I've been thinking about it for a while anyway. I'm not sure it's fair on you … what with my shifts, and being on call—”

“What about Polly and Maya?” I ask. They've been our babysitters for the past few years. Not that I need a babysitter any more, but since she and Dad split up, Mum's been super protective.

“They're both going travelling after their exams,” she explains. “And then they're off to uni. They won't be around for much longer.”

“You mean we'll have to go to Dad's,” I say glumly.

“That's not a permanent solution. He's
far
too busy.” Hmm, a hint of bitterness there. It's not that I don't want to spend time with Dad. It's his girlfriend Rosalind and her daughter Olivia that I'm not so keen on – or their horses, for that matter. I mean, I
like
horses, from a distance (of about half a mile). I'm just not terribly keen on standing in the rain, watching an eleven-year-old girl trot around the paddock for what feels like weeks, while Rosalind stands there clapping and shouting encouragement like, “Beautiful turn! Lovely canter, darling! Oh, isn't she doing
marvellously
?”

“I'm thinking of getting some help,” Mum adds.

“Mum, I'm thirteen!” I cry. “I'm too old for a nanny—”

She laughs, smoothing back her hair that she keeps cropped short and neat – less hassle that way. “No, love, I mean an au pair.”

I glance at Matty, who's swung around from the TV. “What's an
au pair
?” he asks.

“Someone who helps out with childcare and housework and lives in,” Mum explains.

“Lives in
what
?” he demands.

Mum laughs again. “‘Lives in' means living in the house where they work…”

“What, so they'd live here, all the time?” I'm trying to ignore the anxiety swirling around in my stomach. I don't want a stranger living in our house. It's been weird since Dad left, but we're doing OK, just the three of us.

She nods. “That's the idea, yes. We have the spare room, which is hardly ever used. And we desperately need an extra pair of hands…”

“No, we don't,” I exclaim. “We're fine as we are!”

She squeezes my hand. “No, we're not. It's too hard on you, and it's too stressful for me, Zoe. I need to know someone's here all the time.” She heads for the door, beckoning us to follow her. “Come on, I've got something to show you.”

 

The
something
is an au pair website on her laptop. “I've already put in our details,” Mum explains, “to say what kind of person we're looking for.” I'm shocked that she's obviously been researching the whole thing, but hasn't mentioned anything to us.

“Can we have someone who's a good cook?” Matty perks up slightly.

“Let's hope so, Matty.” Mum chuckles as we all gather around the screen.

“What about her?” he asks, squinting at the image that's appeared.

“Um, she looks nice,” Mum murmurs, leaning forward to read out the girl's profile: “Eleanor Blackwood … nineteen… Oh, she's from California! That'd be interesting, having an American living here…”

I struggle for something – anything – to say. The truth is, Eleanor looks OK. She's blonde and smiley, but then she'd hardly be sneering in her picture, would she? “She likes drama and singing and, oh, cheerleading,” Mum announces. “Maybe she could teach you, Zoe?”

“What, to shake pom-poms about?”

Mum gives me an exasperated look. “I'm sure there's a bit more to it than that…”

We move on to Sylvie from Paris, and Lisa from Germany, and Sofia from the Czech Republic … until my head's spinning and all these bright, smiling girls start to look the same. “OK,” Mum says, shutting down her laptop, “we're not going to pick someone tonight. You two are the most important people in the world to me, and I need time to choose the right person for us. In the meantime, though, I think it's best if you spend the next few days at Dad's—”

“But you just said we wouldn't have to!” I blink at Mum, thinking how quickly an amazing day can turn into a terrible one.

She musters a smile. “I'm sorry, love. I thought I'd be able to have some time off this week, but there's a patient I really want to take care of…”

I swallow hard, feeling bad now for making a fuss. So that's that. Phone confiscated, a few days with Dad, a stranger moving in – and all because I forgot to collect Matty.

I'm in my room, changing into pyjamas, when I hear his yappy voice through the wall. “Zoe forgot to pick me up,” he sniggers to one of his friends on his mobile. Yep, at just nine years old Matty has own phone and it's
never been taken off him.
“I had to wait hours and hours,” he goes on, “but they made me toast and honey and I got to play games on Emily's phone. It was the best day ever!”

I hope that, if we really must have an au pair, she force-feeds him tuna mayo sandwiches every day for the rest of his life.