Candyfloss (14 page)

I didn’t want her to buy me anything. I didn’t even want the socks, though I needed them badly. But there was no way I could keep saying no without seeming rude and ungrateful. I tried picking out the cheapest top and jeans I could find on the bargain rails so that they would cost as little as possible, but this didn’t please Rhiannon or her mother.

‘Oh God, Floss, you can’t possibly like that tacky old T-shirt. It looks like something off a market stall,’ said Rhiannon. ‘And those jeans! I wouldn’t be seen dead in them. Look at the cut of the leg. They are, like,
so
old-fashioned.’

‘You’re not really into fashion, are you, dear?’ said Rhiannon’s mother. ‘Don’t worry, Rhiannon’s always been a bit forward – she could suss out a designer label when she was still in her buggy. We’ll help you, darling. You don’t need to dress in those little girly-wirly togs just because you’re so small. We’ll find you an outfit with a bit of oomph.’

I didn’t know what oomph was. I didn’t much like the sound of it.

I was right to be wary.

Rhiannon went rushing round collecting armfuls of clothes, including a denim outfit studded with rhinestones, with a matching cap.

‘Oh darling, that’s so cute. Hey, pick one out for Floss in a smaller size. I’m sure she’ll look wonderful in it.’

Rhiannon looked
sort of
wonderful in the tiny tight skirt and little studded bomber jacket and the sparkly skimpy vest that showed her tummy. She slipped the cap on at a jaunty angle and struck a pose, as if a million cameras were flashing.

I didn’t look at all wonderful. The little skirt looked weird way up my spindly legs and I hardly dared move in it in case my knickers showed. The bomber jacket hung on me oddly and the vest looked as if it had shrunk in the wash. The cap wouldn’t stay on unless I clamped it down hard over my curls.

‘You look so sweet, Floss,’ said Rhiannon’s mother, tugging at the cap and twitching the jacket. ‘There, that’s the ticket. You and Rhiannon look just like sisters. We have to buy it for you.’

‘No, please. It’s very kind of you but it’s much too expensive,’ I protested, truthfully enough. The price of each outfit would have clothed an entire
orphanage
of children from head to foot in ordinary non-designer denim. Besides, I hated the whole outfit, only I couldn’t really say so when Rhiannon and her mum thought it so wonderful.

I let them buy it for me. I said thank you over and over again. Rhiannon and I wore our brand-new outfits there and then. Rhiannon swished and strutted around the shopping centre and nearly everyone turned and smiled and stared at her. They stared and smiled at me too, but they also raised their eyebrows. It was like they had thought bubbles over their heads. They thought,
What a beautiful child
when they looked at Rhiannon. They thought,
What a sad little weirdo
when they looked at me.

I hoped we were done. We weren’t. We went in heaps
more
shops before we went for lunch in the Green Glade Grotto. It had grass-green velvet chairs and fake grass carpet and rocks instead of walls, with real trickly waterfalls. Rhiannon’s mother ordered Rhiannon and me a Green Glade Super Special Drink (lemonade and lime juice with slices of real lime and little green flowers cut out of cucumber and tiny green umbrellas).

‘You can eat the lime and the cucumber, but not the umbrella!’ said Rhiannon’s mother, as if I was Tiger’s age. ‘Now, what would you like to eat, dear? I know you love your chips, and they
do
do very nice French fries here, but I think Rhiannon and
I
will be having a Green Glade Super Special Salad. Would you like to try one too?’

So I tried one. It came on a green glass plate patterned like a lettuce. The food was very prettily set out like a flower, with strawberries in the centre, pink grapefruit petals and rocket leaves.

‘There! You’re really enjoying it, aren’t you?’ said Rhiannon’s mother, as if she was introducing me to the concept of salad for the very first time.

‘It’s delicious,’ I said, as limply as the lettuce.

‘What’s
up
with you?’ said Rhiannon, kicking me under the table.

I didn’t really know. If I’d been spending the day with my best friend Rhiannon last month, being treated to new clothes and lovely meals, I’d have been over the moon, the stars, orbiting in outer space. But now I wanted to be anywhere else. I wanted to be in Australia with Mum and Steve and Tiger. I wanted to be back home in the café with Dad and Billy the Chip and Old Ron and Miss Davis. I wanted to be playing on my swing with Susan.

Oh, Susan.

I looked at Rhiannon. I realized I really didn’t like her any more.

‘What?’ said Rhiannon, tipping her cap at an even cuter angle. My rose-quartz bracelet slid prettily up and down her arm. ‘Why are you looking
at
me like that? Honestly, Floss, you are, like, soooo moody at times.’

‘Now now, Rhiannon,’ said Rhiannon’s mum. ‘What did I say about being kind to Flossie? Imagine how you’d feel if I went off and left you.’

‘My mum
didn’t
leave me. She’s coming back in six months – just over
five
months – and I feel
fine
. I’ve got my dad,’ I said.

‘Yes, dear,’ said Rhiannon’s mother, but the expression on her face made it obvious she didn’t believe a word of it.

Rhiannon yawned and picked up a magazine. ‘Oh wow! Look! It’s Purple!’ she said.

‘Purple what?’ I said.

‘Purple! They’re just the coolest boy band ever, especially Danny. He is, like, fantastic,’ said Rhiannon, kissing her fingertip and pressing it to Danny’s pouty photo mouth.

‘I bet Margot likes him,’ I said.

‘She’s only got tickets for their latest tour! Her dad’s taking her, and she can choose a friend to come too and she said she wants me to come instead of Judy.’

‘Can’t Flossie come too?’ said Rhiannon’s mother.

‘Floss isn’t into cool bands like Purple. She’d never even
heard
of them,’ said Rhiannon. ‘Hey, can we go to HMV, Mum? Can I get their latest album?
Please!
’

‘What sort of music do
you
like, Flossie?’ said Rhiannon’s mother.

I shrugged. I liked all the Golden Oldies Dad played on the van radio, and we sang them together. Dad often sang the women’s songs, making his voice very high-pitched, putting in lots of oohs and coos. I sang the guy parts in a deep growl. We could rarely reach the end of any song because we kept cracking up laughing.

Rhiannon would
certainly
crack up laughing if I said I liked
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
and
Stand by Your Man
and
Dancing Queen
. So I just kept shrugging, like I was doing shoulder exercises.

‘Rhiannon, you should tell Flossie all about these boy bands,’ said Rhiannon’s mum. ‘Don’t worry, Floss, we’ll take you in hand.’

I felt I was growing smaller and smaller and smaller and they were scrunching me up in their hands. I didn’t
want
to be turned into a little replica of Rhiannon.

‘Now, dear, what would you like to do most of all?’ said Rhiannon’s mother.

Go home!
I longed to say, but I knew that would sound very rude indeed, especially as she was trying to be so kind to me. So I said I’d like to go to HMV too and Rhiannon smiled at me and went ‘Yay!’

We spent the rest of the afternoon at Green Glades doing Rhiannon things. I was good at
suggesting
all the right places. We went to heaps more clothes shops and a special scent shop, spraying on samples until we reeked, and then we spent hours trying all the testers on Boots’ makeup counters.

All the time I played a game in my head choosing the places that Susan and I might like. We’d both want to spend ages in the bookshop, and we’d maybe like the art shop too, and
perhaps
Susan wouldn’t laugh if I wanted to go to the Bear Factory. We wouldn’t necessarily have to spend any money. We could have fun choosing our best books and our favourite set of colouring crayons, and we could each decide on a factory bear and name it and choose different outfits for it.

I could list our choice of books and crayons and little bear clothes and Susan could count them all up in her head. We’d wander off to the swankiest restaurant and pretend to choose a special meal in celebration. But before we ordered Susan would say, ‘I don’t know, this all sounds totally delicious but do you know what I
really
fancy?’ and I’d say, ‘Mm, yes, I think there’s only one possible choice,’ and then we’d both laugh and shout,
‘CHIP BUTTIES!’

But Susan wouldn’t ever want to come back to the café with me to have chip butties because I’d betrayed her. Dad was being thrown out of the café
anyway
. He wouldn’t be able to make his special chip butties.

I couldn’t stop the tears welling in my eyes. I kept my head bent and blinked hard but Rhiannon still saw. She edged up very close so that her mother wouldn’t hear.

‘
Baby!
’ she hissed in my ear.

I sniffed and tried to stop crying. It didn’t work.

‘Oh Floss, don’t cry,’ said Rhiannon’s mother. ‘Come here, you poor little thing.’ She put her arms round me and gave me a powdery hug. She used the same perfume as my mum. I cried harder.

‘Oh dear, oh dear. Maybe we’d better take you home now,’ she said.

I was still a bit sniffly when we got back. I rubbed my eyes hard and straightened my stupid cap.

‘Thank you very much indeed for the lovely day out,’ I said as politely as I could. ‘And thank you for the green meal and the socks and the fantastic outfit too.’

‘You’re very welcome, dear. I just wish you’d let me do more for you.’

We drew up outside the café. Rhiannon’s mum looked at the
HARLIE’S CAFÉ
sign and sighed.

‘I think I’ll come in and have a little word with Dad,’ she said.

‘Oh no, don’t, please. He’ll be too busy serving all his customers,’ I said quickly, though I knew there’d only be Billy the Chip, Old Ron and Miss Davis sitting there, stirring their tea at separate tables.

‘Oh, well . . .’ said Rhiannon’s mum doubtfully.

‘Bye, Rhiannon,’ I said, climbing out of the car.

Rhiannon waved her arm. The rose-quartz bracelet slid up underneath the sleeve of her denim jacket.

‘My bracelet—’ I said, and then I stopped.

‘Oh Rhiannon, give poor little Floss her birthday bracelet back,’ said Rhiannon’s mother.

‘No, it’s all right. I’d like her to have it,’ I said.

‘But we gave it to you,’ said Rhiannon’s mother, sounding faintly irritated.

‘You’ve given me much too much. Rhiannon can keep it now. She lost the other bracelet I gave her.’

‘Which bracelet?’ Rhiannon’s mother asked. ‘I didn’t know you gave Rhiannon a bracelet.’

‘Just some old thready thing,’ said Rhiannon. ‘Are you
sure
I can keep the rose-quartz bracelet?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

I didn’t want it any more. I didn’t even care that Rhiannon obviously hadn’t liked my friendship bracelet, even though it had taken me hours to
make
it, and I’d chosen Rhiannon’s favourite colours, pink and blue and purple, and fastened it with a little silver heart. There was no point having a friendship bracelet if you didn’t want to be friends any more.

13

I WALKED INTO
the café. I knew at once that something strange had happened. We didn’t have any new customers, but Billy the Chip, Old Ron and Miss Davis were all sitting at the same table. They weren’t drinking tea. They were drinking from dinky little glasses, filling them from a big green bottle. Champagne!

Dad had a glassful too. He raised his glass at me, and then nearly spilled his champagne when he saw what I was wearing.

‘Oh Floss, what has that woman done to you! Here, darling, come and have your first weeny little sip of champagne.’

‘What are we celebrating, Dad?’ I asked.

‘It’s our dear old Billy. He’s the one who’s celebrating!’ said Dad, raising his glass to Billy the Chip.

‘Is it your birthday, Mr Chip?’ I asked, taking a small sip out of Dad’s glass. The bubbles fizzed up my nose and made me giggle.

‘You can’t give alcoholic liquor to the child. Look at her, she’s drunk already!’ said Miss Davis.

‘Oh liven up, you old biddy. It would do you good to get drunk yourself for once,’ said Old Ron.

‘It’s not my birthday, sweetheart,’ said Billy the Chip. ‘But it feels like it. I backed Third Time Lucky in the four thirty at Doncaster – a fifty-to-one outsider, no less – and guess what, the darling little filly grew wings and flew home, first past the finishing post!’

‘Oh well done!’ I said, clapping my hands. ‘Oh Dad,
did
you have a bet too?’

‘I thought I was being so sensible,’ said Dad, shaking his head. ‘Still, I’m thrilled for Billy, and very grateful too.’

‘It’s me that should be grateful to little Flossie here. I’ll buy you a big dolly or teddy for a belated birthday present – and do your dad a little favour into the bargain.’

‘Mr Chip’s doing us a great big favour, Floss,’ said Dad, sipping champagne. He took my cap off and ruffled my curls back into place. ‘There! Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t really care for the trendy outfit on you, pet.’