The Boyfriend Dilemma (8 page)

“I don't wanna do finger painting,” retorts Matty. “That's for little kids.”

Mum shakes her head. “Of course you won't have to do that. You'll just do the things you normally do, and Annalise will be here to cook and do a little housework. But most importantly, she'll be fun.”

“Fun?” I repeat suspiciously.

“Yes, she sounds amazing. She's creative and sporty – you could go out running together—”

What?!

“And when we chatted on the phone she sounded great fun…”

Could Mum possibly stop saying “fun”? I glance at Layla, who forces a sympathetic smile, transmitting the message:
Don't panic, it'll be OK.
Will it, though? “I really don't want a stranger living with us,” I mutter. “It doesn't feel right, Mum.”

“Don't be like that, Zoe,” Mum says gently. “It'll take the pressure off all of us, and we'll be able to have a much nicer time together as a family.” She stops abruptly and her eyes go all shiny with tears. It's as if she's suddenly started thinking about Dad again, even though it's two years since he left us.

“But we do have a nice time,” I murmur, squeezing her hand.

She blinks quickly and forces a bright smile. “I know we do, darling. But I shouldn't expect you to take on so much responsibility at your age. Anyway, I think you and Annalise will get along great. Bet your mum would love someone around to help, wouldn't she, Layla?”

Layla musters a smile. “I guess so, but we don't have room for anyone else.”

Mum looks embarrassed now. “Anyway – come and see how lovely she is.”

I wish we didn't have to do this now, with Layla here. But the instant Mum decides something must happen – well, there's no arguing. So Matty, Layla and I follow her to the dining room, where she turns on her laptop and opens an email:

Dear Mrs Harper,

I am delighted to provide a reference for Annalise Graham, who has been living with our family for the past ten months. Annalise has been enormously helpful with my two children aged seven and five. She is a resourceful girl, always willing to get involved with lots of energy and enthusiasm. We will miss her when she leaves us but understand that she is keen to gain experience of working with older children…

“Why does she want experience of older children,” I ask, “when she's planning to work in a nursery?”

“I expect she's just trying to learn as much as she can,” Mum replies.

“But, Mum,” I protest, “it sounds like she wants to study us, like we're monkeys off a nature documentary…”

Matty bursts out laughing and bounds around the dining room like a baboon. “She can watch me do this. She can pick fleas off me, haha!”

“Matty,” Mum says firmly. “I hope you're not going to show yourself up like this when she joins us.”

I frown and read on:

I would like to wish Annalise the best of luck in her next position. We are certain that she will be a wonderful addition to any family and have no hesitation in recommending her as an extremely delightful and helpful au pair.

Yours sincerely,

Jacqui Green

I glance at Layla, who's been reading over my shoulder. “So, what d'you think?” Mum asks me.

I shrug. “Well, it sounds like you've decided. What was she like on the phone?”

“Really bubbly and … fun.”

Oh, of course. Like we can't possibly have
fun
on our own, doing the normal stuff we always do. “So when is she coming?” I ask glumly.

“We still have to sort out the final details,” Mum says, shutting down her laptop and opening a drawer in the sideboard where she's been keeping my phone. “Here you go, love.”

“Thanks.” I take it from her.

She pauses. “You
will
try to be positive, won't you, Zoe?”

“Yes, of course,” I say quietly.

“And I hope you'll behave, Matty…”

“Course I will,” he sniggers, and I wonder what the “delightful” Annalise will make of a nine-year-old boy who still does monkey impersonations. Maybe he'll come across another discarded shop dummy and scare the pants off her? How about a mannequin's head, splattered with red paint and placed on her pillow while she sleeps? This thought cheers me up, so I grab Layla by the arm and we head upstairs and out to my balcony.

“Wonder if Annalise will like it here?” I murmur.

“Course she will,” Layla exclaims. “Who wouldn't love living in your house?” Her phone bleeps again.

“Aren't you going to read it?” I ask. “You keep getting texts and not checking them.”

“It'll just be Mum,” she says quickly. I glance at her, but she looks away as if the far side of the garden is suddenly extremely fascinating. Something doesn't feel right, and it's not just the fact that “bubbly” Annalise is coming to live with us.

Chapter ten

For the first time in my life, I'm actually relieved to leave Zoe's place and go home. As soon as I'm round the corner, I snatch my phone from my pocket and read the texts. First one:
Hi, heres my no.
Ben x
Eek! I blink at it, walking briskly and nearly colliding with an old lady pushing a baby in a pram.

Text number two:
Hi u busy today?
Ben again! Hell. What am I going to do? I should have told Zoe the minute I saw her or, better still, when she phoned me from her dad's. How would that have sounded, though? Poor Zoe, pouring her heart out after Rosalind had yelled at Matty in the stables, then me going, “Never mind all that. Guess what! Ben's asked me out!” Insensitive or what? But now we've spent all afternoon together and I
still
haven't told her. It didn't feel like the right time, either. Maybe I'm just a coward. I know she's stressed about this Annalise person moving in, and I don't want to make her feel worse.

I stop at the corner of her street and consider what to do next. It all feels so complicated and disloyal – I almost wish Ben had never asked me, or even become friends with my brother. Shall I just ignore the texts? That would feel a bit mean. After all, he's only just moved here and probably wants to be mates with everyone. That's it, I decide, feeling slightly better – he just wants to be friends. Of course Zoe will be fine with that. I tap out my reply:
Sorry got stuff to do today, maybe tomoro?
then wonder how to sign off. With an
x
? Or no
x
?
X
, I type quickly.

He replies straight away:
Great will call you
xx.
Argh! Two kisses!
Doesn't mean anything
, I tell myself firmly as I march home. He's probably one of those people who sign off with kisses to everyone. I try to think of other boys who do that, and realize none of them does. It's a girls' thing, or a
girlfriend-boyfriend thing
…

My head's still buzzing with all of this as I let myself into our house. “Hello?” I call out.

“In here, love,” Mum replies. I follow her voice to the living room, where Gran's having a pedicure as a pre-birthday treat. Mum is cross-legged on the floor in leggings and bobbly old sweater, while Gran is sitting all queen-like in the best chair with her bare feet resting on a padded footstool. She's wearing a flowery dress and a bright pink cardigan (Gran loves a cardie – at the last count, she had thirty-seven. Who on earth needs thirty-seven cardigans?).
Ping!
goes a fragment of thick, yellow toenail as Mum clips it.
Ew!
Does this happen in normal people's houses? Bits of nail are flying everywhere now and at one point I actually have to duck.

“What colour shall I go for, Layla?” Gran asks with a grin.

“Er, maybe coral?” I suggest.

“Coral! That would be glamorous,” Gran chuckles.

All's quiet as Mum concentrates on clipping one of the littlest nails. “Where are Kyle and Amber?” I ask.

“Kyle's out playing tennis,” Mum replies, “and Holly's mum has taken the girls out on their bikes.”

I wrinkle my nose, detecting a bit of a whiff – not of Gran's feet, which have obviously been washed in the bowl of sudsy water on the floor beside her – but of Amber's latest “project”. “It still smells a bit in here, Mum,” I remark.

“It can't,” she insists. “I put that salmon thing in a plastic tub in the yard.”

“Why?” I ask, frowning.

“Well, we didn't want cats getting at it…” She frowns as she focuses on a particularly gnarly nail.

“Why are you putting perfectly good salmon out in the yard?” Gran asks Mum, who rolls her eyes.

“I wouldn't call it
perfectly good
, Gran,” I giggle as there's a loud rap at the front door.

Mum glances round at me, still gripping the clippers. “Answer that, would you, Layla? Oh, and I meant to say – the kitchen's a disaster after you and Zoe did that, er … thing. Could you clean it up, love?”

“Sure,” I say, heading for the door and virtually reeling backwards when I see Ben standing there.

“Hi,” he says with a grin. The sunshine catches his blue, blue eyes.
Whoosh!
goes my face, hot as a just-toasted waffle.

“Hi,” I say in a casual voice.
Why did I put a kiss on my text? And why did he put two?
There's another sharp snip as Mum clips a nail.

“Ooh, that was a thick one!” Gran exclaims from the living room.

I clear my throat. “Er … Mum's giving Gran a pedicure.”

“That's nice,” Ben says, his eyes glinting in amusement.

“I think you should get that salmon in from the yard,” Gran adds loudly.

Ben raises his eyebrows and gives me a confused look. I know it's horribly rude to keep someone standing on the doorstep, but how can I ask him in when our house stinks of fish and he could be hit in the eye by a flying toenail? “Er, Kyle's out playing tennis,” I say quickly.

His gaze meets mine, making my head all swimmy. “Oh, it was actually you I came to see. I know you said you were busy but –” he shrugs, looking a bit lost for a moment “– I was just passing.”

“For goodness' sake,” Mum calls from the living room, “if someone's at the door, could you invite them in? Where are your manners, Layla?”

My cheeks flush even hotter. Is it possible, I wonder, for a human face to actually burst into flames? “Come in,” I mutter, deciding that, despite the bits of icing everywhere, our kitchen is probably the least embarrassing room in the house right now.

“Is it OK, me coming to see you?” he asks, looking less sure of himself now that he's not with Kyle and the others.

I smile and push hair out of my face, wishing I'd brushed it. “Of course it is. Um … when I said I was busy I meant I have to clean up this bomb-site.”

“You have to do housework?” He looks bemused.

“Yeah – a bit. We all do. It's just –” I lower my voice, even though Gran probably wouldn't hear anyway “– me and Zoe decorated Gran's birthday cake and we got a bit carried away.”

“Right.” He beams a big, dazzling smile. “Well, I'll give you a hand if you like.”

“What?” I exclaim. “You could go and find Kyle and the others down at the tennis court. If you look in Kyle's room there's probably a spare racket—”

“No, honestly, I'd like to stay and help you, if that's all right.”

I look at him, trying to figure out if he's
really
keen to help, or just wants to hang out with me, or a bit of both. And I can't help wondering what Zoe would think if she could see us now, already scrubbing the table with spongy wipes and squirting lemony stuff onto the stickiest bits.

“Right, what's the strategy now, boss?” he asks, mock-serious. I laugh, grateful now that he dropped by.

“Erm, how about you do the worktops while I do the floor?”

“OK, I'll race you.” We start wiping up as fast as we can, sniggering and almost colliding at the sink as we rinse out our sponges.

“Bet you don't have to do this at home,” I remark, on my hands and knees now, trying to scrub splashes of food colouring off the worn, scratched floor. “Bet you have a cleaner.”

“Er, not exactly,” he says, spinning round as Kyle, Danny and Harris march into the kitchen, all clutching their rackets and followed closely by Jude.

“What are you
doing
?” Kyle asks, gawping at Ben.

Ben shrugs. “Helping your sister clear up.”

Kyle guffaws and looks around at the others. “What's wrong with offering to help?” I ask indignantly.

“Nothing,” Kyle laughs. “You two look very cosy together. In fact, I'm sorry we interrupted. C'mon, you lot, I've got that DVD we can watch…”

They all charge upstairs, and Ben stares at the kitchen doorway then back at me, as if unsure what to do next.

“I think we're done here,” I murmur.

“Right.” He wipes the kettle and rinses out the sponge. “She's giving you permission to leave,” Harris yells from the landing.

Ben nods, washing his hands at the sink.

“Thanks for your help,” I say, meaning it.

“No problem.” He flashes me a quick smile and hurries up to Kyle's room.

Am I crazy, for daring to think that anything could happen between me and Ben, when Kyle would tease me to death? Even so, doing something as horrible as scrubbing icing off a kitchen was just …
amazing
. And now I want to know all about him – about his family and his life at boarding school, which he never seems to mention unless someone asks him directly. I don't even know exactly where he lives yet.
Or
his surname. I lean against the edge of the gleaming kitchen table, wondering what it is about this mysterious boy who's landed from nowhere that has turned me into a mad person who sniffs worn T-shirts and holds back crucial information from her best friend. If cleaning the kitchen is fun with Ben, what would it be like if we went to see a movie, or even a band?

“You didn't do the sanding bit,” Gran announces from the living room.

“What?” Mum says, sounding exasperated now.

“You never used that sander thing to rub the rough bits off my heels.”

“I did! You've just forgotten. And it's not called a sander – it's a pumice.”

“
And
you throw out good fish…”

As quietly as I can, I tiptoe upstairs and into my room, grateful that Amber is still out. The boys are all yacking away in Kyle's room, and the movie's theme music drifts through the thin wall. I pull out my phone from my pocket and pause before calling Zoe, picturing her sitting out on her balcony, worrying about this new person moving in. And I feel a huge stab of guilt over all the things that have happened lately that I haven't told her about. But then, missing things out isn't the same as lying, is it? I call her number.

“Hi,” she says. “What's happening?”

Tell her about Ben coming round and helping you to de-ice the kitchen. Tell her you're sorry, but he makes you feel crazy every time he looks at you with those insanely blue eyes and flashes that heart-stopping smile, and that he asked you out – at least you think he did…
“Nothing much,” I say. “Mum's been giving Gran a pedicure and pinged bits of toenail all over the living room.”

“Eeugh,” she sniggers.

“So don't wander about barefoot in here any time soon.”

“I won't.” I can tell she's smiling, which cranks up my guilt a few notches more. “So what time's the party tomorrow?” she asks.

“You're definitely coming?”

“Course I am,” she declares. “Can't wait to see your gran's face when you bring out the cake.”

“She's going to love it,” I say. “Anyway, the hall's booked from three so we should all be there then. Mum's going to bring her along a little bit later so we can all surprise her.” I know I'm babbling, hoping she doesn't mention the unmentionable.

“Great.” Zoe pauses. “Seen anything of Ben?”

I feel my face go hot. “Er, yeah – he was here today. He's still here, I mean.”

“What, with Kyle?”

“Yeah.”
No, not just with Kyle. With me, in the kitchen, just the two of us…

“Are you OK?” Zoe asks.

“Yeah, I'm fine!”

There's a small pause. “Are you sure?”

“Um, I'm just tired from, er, cleaning the kitchen.” That's not just holding back some of the truth. It is a downright lie.

“Poor you,” she says.
No, don't feel sorry for me. Not when I'm keeping secrets from you…
“So what are the boys up to?”

“Watching some horror film, of course,” I reply. “All I can hear is people screaming and dying horrible deaths, and it's only just started.”

Zoe chuckles, then adds, “Layla, have you ever met anyone like Ben before?”

“No,” I mutter, biting a nail.

“You're so lucky, him being friends with Kyle and hanging out at your place all the time. Why did I end up with Matty and not a big brother?”

I force out a small laugh, convinced it sounds fake. “Well,” I say, “hopefully we'll see loads of him when he starts at Mossbridge.”

“Yeah,” she exclaims, happiness radiating from her voice. “God, Layla. I don't think I've
ever
looked forward to going back to school like this.”