The Worst Girlfriend in the World (9 page)

When we arrived, Thee Desperadoes were already at a table. We joined a long queue because there was always a ten-minute wait for chips.

‘At least they’ll be fresh,’ I said brightly, because Alice was getting that look like her feet and her Spanx were killing her and she’d already asked me quietly on the walk over, when Dora went on ahead, if we were going to be stuck with her all night.

I didn’t mind getting stuck with Dora that much, not that I’d admit that to Alice. She was all right, and when Alice had gone to the loo before we left The Wow, Dora had said to me, ‘You do know that Thee Desperadoes are terrible, don’t you? There isn’t a tiny bit of you that secretly likes their music, is there? Because if there is I’ll have to rethink everything I’m thinking about you.’

I was curious about what Dora
was
thinking about me. ‘Oh no, they
are
awful. It’s almost like they’re my penance for getting to spend half an hour doing nothing but stare at Louis without fear of reprisal.’

Dora had shrugged. ‘He’s not my type but he doesn’t offend my eyes.’

‘Louis looks like a young Terence Stamp,’ I’d sighed longingly. ‘I wish I looked like a young Jean Shrimpton.’

‘Wasn’t she gorgeous?’ Dora had agreed. ‘Something so timeless and elegant about her.’

So Dora knew something about sixties fashion icons and she and Alice had bonded over hair dye and how rubbish Thee Desperadoes were, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if
occasionally
me and Alice became me, Alice and Dora.

‘How long do you think Krystal is going to last?’ Dora asked me as we waited for chips and I discreetly stared at Louis, who was demolishing a bacon butty. ‘Matt says she won’t get through another week.’

‘Don’t you mean Krystal with a K?’ I asked innocently. ‘The lost Kardashian.’

Dora snorted. ‘In her dreams. How long must it take her to get ready in the morning? I thought I was high maintenance, but I can get from bed to bus stop in an hour.’

‘She must have to set her alarm for about five o’clock.’ I stopped to think about it. ‘Unless she goes to bed in her make-up and just puts a light coating of new make-up over the top.’

Dora and I both shuddered. ‘Dirty birdie,’ she said in a creepy voice and we giggled.

Alice nudged me. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Krystal is that orange girl I was telling you about who…’

‘You know, you’re right,’ she interrupted.

‘I am? Really? What am I right about?’

Alice tossed her hair back, which was silkier and shinier than any of the Thee Desperadettes’ hair (they were further down the queue from us). ‘About the boys at school being totally immature.’

‘Oh,
that
! Well, yeah…’ I looked at Alice, unsure if she was about to renounce her boy-stealing ways once and for all. Had I finally managed to get through to her?

‘I deserve much better than that. Much, much better,’ she said, almost under her breath. ‘I’ve decided that older boys are where it’s at. They have, like, wages and their own cars and it will give me a social standing that I don’t have at the moment. Yeah, I’m definitely going to go older.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ I really was and I was also glad to hear that the chips were ready and piping hot and crispy. ‘Even the styrofoam boxes they put them in can’t ruin how yummy they are,’ I explained to Dora as we shuffled down the queue to the condiment station.

I was a vinegar girl. Dora was one of those weird people who eschewed all garnishes and Alice suddenly wasn’t there any more, but moving purposefully to where Thee Desperadoes were sitting, right in the centre of the Market Diner. They usually sat there if no long-distance lorry drivers had got the table first, and it was very convenient because it meant that a person (by which I mean me) could look at Louis without everyone knowing they were looking at Louis.

No one in the place was looking at Louis right at that moment though. They were all looking at Alice walking over to their table. If Thee Desperadoes had had any discernible musical talent, they could have written a song about Alice’s walk, it was that good a walk, and it would have topped the charts in forty countries.

It was a measured, sexy, utterly nonchalant walk. I’m not even sure what nonchalant means but it felt like the right word to describe the unhurried sway of Alice’s hips.

I had enough time to scurry over, intercept her, but how could I? God knows I didn’t want to get stuck playing the part of the needy best friend who couldn’t function on her own so I took five steps forward then stayed exactly where I was – just out of shot but near enough that when Alice reached their table I could hear her say in a challenging voice, ‘So, what’s a girl got to do to get some tomato ketchup in this godforsaken place?’

There was plenty of tomato ketchup at the counter. Loads of it. In red plastic tomatoes so there could be no mistaking it for brown sauce or mayonnaise. They even had sachets of the stuff. It was the lamest reason ever for going over to Louis.

He picked up the red plastic tomato on his table and looked at Alice from under his extraordinarily long lashes. ‘How much do you want?’ he asked in a throaty way.

‘Oh, I want a lot,’ Alice said.

It was like they weren’t even talking about the ketchup.

Louis started drizzling ketchup on Alice’s chips and all the while his eyes were running over her curves in the blue dress I’d made for her and she licked her lips. It was the hottest, heaviest flirting I’d ever seen. This was Alice, my best friend, my soul sister, and Louis, the guy I’d been crushing on and dreaming about for the last four years. He was out of bounds, and a best friend and a soul sister should know that.

Each squeeze that Louis gave that bloody tomato was a stab right through my heart and instead of just letting this happen I was all set to storm over and drag Alice away from
my
Louis, and then I heard it. A snort. A small, snuffly snort. It came from Sneering Studio Tech, who then said, ‘Don’t you think there’s enough ketchup on those chips now?’

At that moment I loved Sneering Studio Tech. Louis put down the red plastic tomato and Alice straightened up and walked back to where Dora and I were standing at the condiment station.

Alice flirted. It was what she did. Half the time she didn’t even know that she was doing it, but this was different. When I saw Louis blatantly checking out her arse, it made me so furious that Dora put a warning hand on my arm even though I hadn’t said a word.

‘Not worth it,’ she advised me, and then Alice was back with her chips lovingly ketchupped by Louis and a blank expression on her pretty face.

‘What was that about?’ I demanded as we grabbed a table. I had to demand it very quietly because I didn’t want to cause a scene.

Alice selected a chip and munched it thoughtfully. ‘Well, I love you, Franny, you know I do, and I’ve always got your back but in the four years that you’ve had a crush on Louis —’

I had to stop her right there. ‘It’s
not
a crush, it’s much, much, much deeper than that. It’s practically on a spiritual level.’

‘What
ever
.’ She actually rolled her eyes as if I wasn’t me but one of the other girls who must have had similar conversations with Alice.

‘Don’t whatever me. In fact, just don’t,’ I said softly. ‘Not to me. Please don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’ Alice was all wide eyes and innocence. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about,’ I said. Alice reached across the table to nudge my hand, even as Dora reached under the table to give my other hand a comforting little squeeze.

Alice gave me an exasperated look. ‘Oh, come on, lighten up.’ She made a fist and placed it against her heart. ‘Chicks before dicks. That’s my motto.’

‘Yeah, but boys are my toys is another one of your mottos,’ I reminded her and Alice pouted like she couldn’t believe I was using her own words against her.

We argued all the time, it was what best friends did, but this particular argument felt different. Like Alice had crossed over a line and she didn’t even care that she’d crossed it. I had to make her understand that.

‘I can’t believe that you even went
there
.’

‘I hardly went
there
. Way to overreact, Franny,’ Alice said, and she held out her hands, palm side up like she had nothing to hide. Like maybe I had been overreacting. Then her gaze shifted to Dora, who was sitting at an odd sideways angle to accommodate her crinoline. ‘Anyway, it’s not like I abandoned you. Not when you and Dora were so busy talking about all the stuff you get up to at college. I’m surprised you even noticed that I wasn’t hanging around like a spare part.’

Not this again! ‘I’m sorry that maybe I didn’t give you my undivided attention for, like, one whole minute while I talked to Dora but you need —’

‘I thought your curfew was midnight,’ said a voice in my ear and I forgot that Alice and I were having a big, scary fight that felt different to all the other times we’d argued. I even forgot that every cool person in Merrycliffe was in the Market Diner, as I got up and threw my arms around my dad.

‘You’re back!’ I exclaimed. He hugged me back and he smelt a bit ripe because he probably hadn’t stopped for a shower in order to get back ahead of schedule but I didn’t care. ‘I wasn’t expecting you until teatime tomorrow.’

‘Thought I’d surprise you,’ my dad said and for one moment his thin, craggy face lit up with a grin that not many people got to see. Even I didn’t get to see it often. ‘So, about this curfew of yours…’

‘Oh,
that
curfew. Expecting me back at midnight on a Saturday is an infringement of my basic human rights.’

Dad smiled again and it was like since he’d been gone I’d been clenching all my muscles and holding my breath and not realising it. But now, he was back and standing in front of me in jeans and the navy shirt with his name embroidered on the breast pocket by my own fair hand and a jean jacket, though I’d told him a million times not to do double denim. But it was more than that, he was smiling at me again and holding my hand even though, at sixteen, I was far too old to have my hand held by my dad.

Six weeks ago, when he got into his lorry to deliver fridges to Rotterdam (Europe’s actual busiest container port), he was barely speaking to me because he was still furious about my GCSEs. When he had spoken to me it was only to say stuff like ‘I expected better from you.’ And ‘You’ve not only let me down, you’ve let yourself down.’

Now it seemed like we were friends again. And when he said, ‘Come on, Little Miss Trouble, I’m going to walk you home,’ I didn’t point out that I’d only just got my chips or that he was showing me up in front of
le tout
Merrycliffe.

I told Dora and a still pouting Alice that I’d text them, picked up my styrofoam container of chips and let Dad lead me out by the hand like I was six. The only thing I couldn’t forgive him for was saying as we walked past Thee Desperadoes’ table, ‘No socks, Franny? You’re asking to catch a cold.’

When I woke up on Sunday morning, everything was different.

For one thing, what woke me was the smell of bacon sizzling in the pan. Nose twitching, limbs working independently of my brain, I got out of bed and stumbled downstairs to find my parents in the kitchen.

Dad was reading the paper and drinking tea out of his
Truckers do it long distance
mug, and Mum (I had to blink a couple of times to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating) was up and dressed in something that wasn’t a tracksuit but a dress and tights while she literally slaved over a hot stove.

‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ she greeted me brightly. ‘You get the deciding vote. Pancakes or waffles?’

It was like she’d had some kind of intensive therapy overnight. Except her smile was more manic than cheerful and when I sidled nearer and Dad asked how we’d managed without him, she shot me a pleading look.

I stared down at the silver polish on my toenails.

‘Sweetheart, will you go and see if we’ve got any more kitchen roll in the utility room?’ Mum asked Dad and with a put-upon sigh he got up, bopping me over the head with the paper as he left the room.

‘Please, Franny,’ she said once we were alone. ‘I haven’t been so bad this time. You know that.’

‘No, I don’t,’ I muttered, because bad was relative. She hadn’t been as bad as when Dad was away last June, but she’d still been bad and I’d still felt like someone had taken my internal organs and tied them in knots.

‘Look, he’s only just come back and nobody wants a row and honestly, I am feeling better.’ She reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding the greasy spatula to touch me, then changed her mind.

‘I don’t want a row either. It’s the very last thing I want, but you weren’t feeling better yesterday or the day before that,’ I hissed, because I could hear Dad rummaging in the utility room, which meant that he could probably hear us, though I shouldn’t really care if he could hear us. In a way, in lots of ways, I
wanted
him to hear us. ‘If he knew, then he wouldn’t take on the big cross-continent jobs and stay away so long.’

She shook her head. She’d washed her hair, I noticed. She was even wearing mascara. If she could make all this effort for him so she wouldn’t be found out, why couldn’t she make the effort every day? Until it wasn’t making an effort but just part of her routine, part of what was normal. Sometimes you have to fake it, until you make it.