I Think I'll Just Curl Up and Die (15 page)

‘Oh and Sumitha,' said her father. ‘Bilu will not be welcome in this house any more. I'm sorry – I know you were fond of him but …'

‘It's all right, Dad,' said Sumitha. ‘At least you care. Which is more than he did. But I did love him so.' And she ran out of the room before they could see her crying.

‘You looked amazing in that dress,' said Chelsea to Jemma as they walked home from town. ‘I cannot believe how much weight you've lost, Jemma. Jemma?'

‘I don't feel very …' began Jemma and fell in a dead weight at Chelsea's feet.

‘It's lovely having you here, Mum,' said Mrs Farrant to Jemma's gran over coffee.

‘Mmm, it's great being here and seeing you all again,' murmured Gran. ‘But I must say I am worried about Jemma.'

‘Jemma? Why? She's doing awfully well at school, and having fun with the musical and …'

‘Oh it's not that – what I'm worried about is the fact that she seems to be …'

Just then the bell rang. Mrs Farrant opened the door to find an exceedingly white Jemma being held up by Chelsea.

‘Sorry, Mrs Farrant,' gasped Chelsea, ‘but I had to get a taxi to bring Jemma home and I haven't enough cash to pay for it.'

‘Leave this to me!' bustled Jemma's gran. ‘Take Jemma inside, dear, and I'll sort the fare. No better still, you hop back in the taxi and I'll get the driver to take you home. It was so good of you to look after Jemma.'

Mrs Farrant took Jemma's arm.

‘Petal, what is it? Have you got a bug? Do you feel sick? Oh, dear, dear – before you go, tell me what happened, Chelsea?'

‘Well, we'd finished shopping and were waiting for the bus and Jemma just sort of fainted. I'll ring you later, Jemma, to see if you're all right,' said Chelsea.

‘Thanks, I'll be fine now,' said Jemma weakly.

Mrs Farrant bustled into the kitchen and poured Jemma a glass of water.

‘Oh, in the name of heaven, Claire,' snapped Jemma's gran, coming back into the kitchen. ‘She needs more than water. It's as plain as the nose on your face – the child's been crash–dieting. Haven't you, Jemma?'

Jemma nodded and sipped the glass of water. She still felt really weird.

‘What do you mean, dieting?' asked Claire, injured that her mother appeared to be taking over.

‘Not eating enough,' said her mother succinctly. ‘I noticed it within hours of getting here. Jemma, just what have you eaten today?'

‘I had an apple for breakfast,' said Jemma.

‘And yesterday at supper?'

‘Oh, yesterday we had fish pie, and carrots and peas and then I made this lovely syrup tart and …' interrupted Mrs Farrant.

‘Jemma – what did
you
eat yesterday?' repeated her gran.

‘I had the vegetables,' said Jemma.

‘But darling, I served you myself.'

‘I gave half to Sam and put the rest in a poly bag when you went to answer the phone,' admitted Jemma. ‘But Mum, I've got to get really slim for this party. And besides, boys like thin girls.'

‘Rubbish, fiddlesticks and total nonsense,' said her gran. ‘Boys like girls with sass and a sense of fun – and you can't be lively on an apple and the odd carrot.'

‘Rupert keeps staring at me – I know it's because I'm so fat,' whispered Jemma. And she burst into tears.

‘Now listen, Jemma,' said her gran, putting an arm round her shoulders. ‘In my experience – and yes, I do have a little, old though I may be now – the usual reason why boys stare at girls is because they are besotted by bosoms. And because their testosterone levels are whizzing through the roof,' she added wryly.

‘Mother!' gasped Mrs Farrant.

‘Well, it's true, Claire. Oh, stop looking so shocked – don't forget, I remember you and Jeremy Bayliss–Smith!'

Jemma perked up.

‘What, Mum and a boyfriend?' she asked.

‘Yes, when she was fifteen this lad at the church had a crush on her. She used to read the lesson and he almost fell out of his pew in adoration. She had a wonderful bust, as I recall. I was quite envious, seeing as all I was endowed with was two undersized thimbles.'

Jemma giggled. Her gran was so funny.

‘Jemma, darling,' continued her gran, ‘you and I are going to sit down and draw up a sensible eating plan. You mustn't lose any more weight – promise me that. Or you will be ill. I mean it, I've seen it happen. My friend Beryl's granddaughter ended up in hospital because she starved herself. You don't want that to happen to you, do you?

Jemma shook her head.

‘Now go upstairs and get washed and come down and eat a proper meal. All right?'

Jemma nodded. In a way, she even felt quite relieved.

‘It's starting!' called Barry. ‘Quickly, everyone, I'm on!' Mrs Gee and Chelsea put their heads round the door.

‘Welcome to this week's round of
Superchef.
Now in the Red Kitchen we have Anna Standen from Wittersham, in the Blue Kitchen Joan Holman from Eastbourne and in the Green Kitchen, it's Barry Gee from Leehampton.'

‘What did you have on your head, Dad?' said Chelsea, flopping down in front of the fire.

‘We all had to wear those hats – hygiene,' explained her father.

‘Now Barry Gee will be cooking a wild mushroom consommé with olive croutons, followed by venison with black pudding and a swede purée
…
'
‘

Yuk,' said Chelsea.

‘… served with cabbage in garlic and juniper, and to round it off, what will you be giving us for dessert, Barry?'

‘A champagne and apple sorbet with a cassis sauce'
said Barry.

‘Sounds super tantalising'
enthused Liam Frosby the presenter.
‘So on your marks everyone – let's get cooking.'

‘He looks really professional,' said Mrs Joseph to her husband who was watching over in Billing Hill.

‘Poncy thing for a man to do,' grunted Henry, and
retreated behind his
Golf Monthly
. A thought struck him. ‘Do they have contests like that for designers?' he asked. ‘Now you should go on something like that, show the world your talents – you could end up as artistic adviser to an international … what's the matter?'

He couldn't understand it when his wife said, ‘Oh Henry, you are funny.' But he rather enjoyed the affectionate kiss on the top of his head.

‘I hope he wins,' said Ruth to Melvyn. ‘He's such a nice guy.'

‘True, but just don't expect me to start doing something creative with celeriac,' he replied, smiling.

‘The judges found it so hard to place these three in order of merit,'
said Liam Frosby.
‘But at the end of the day, the winner by just one point was
…
'

Throughout Leehampton, people held their breath.
‘

Gee! Well done, Barry.'

The camera panned in on Barry. In his sitting room at home, his wife and daughter were leaping up and down and hugging him.

‘Why didn't you tell us you had won?' said Ginny. ‘I told you, we weren't allowed to on pain of disqualification,' said Barry. ‘And besides, knowing you, it would have been splashed all over the
Echo.'

‘So now, Dad, you can get a proper job as a head chef in a swish hotel, and ditch that awful lorry.'

‘Not so fast,' said her father, laughing. ‘That was only round one. There's the semi-final and final to go yet.'

‘You'll win, Dad,' said Chelsea. ‘You're bound to. I'm really proud of you.'

Well now, thought Barry, there's a turn up for the books. There's a first time for everything.

‘So how was the party, Sumitha?' asked Chelsea as they waited for the rehearsal to begin.

‘Did you paint the town red?' asked Jemma.

‘No, she coated the carpet with sick!' tittered Mandy Fincham, twirling round on the stage. ‘Had any good cocktails lately, Sumitha?'

‘Oh just shut up, can't you?' Sumitha looked close to tears.

‘What would you know about anything?' said Jemma to Mandy.

‘Oh didn't you hear? I was there. With Rob,' she added, casting a sneering glance at Chelsea. ‘Honestly, it was pathetic. She made a right exhibition of herself. No wonder Bilu's gone back to Natalie. At least she's not a
wimp. Not, of course, that he ever gave her up,' she added unkindly.

Sumitha tried hard not to cry.

‘Ah, diddums – can't hold her drink and can't face the music afterwards. How sad,' sneered Mandy.

‘Oh get lost, Mandy!' shouted Chelsea.

Mandy shrugged, pulled a face at Sumitha and wandered off.

‘What happened, Sumitha? Who's Natalie?' said Laura.

‘It was awful,' said Sumitha tearfully. And told them the whole story.

‘What a jerk!' said Laura when Sumitha told them about Bilu driving off into the night.

‘I suppose you all think I got what I deserved,' she said. ‘I honestly thought Bilu loved me. I never realised that he was just messing me around. I feel so stupid.'

‘It could have happened to anyone,' said Chelsea. And we did have our suspicions and didn't say anything so it's our fault too, she thought.

‘You weren't to know that those drinks were that strong,' said Jemma sympathetically.

‘I'd never had alcohol before, not even at home – what with my dad not approving,' said Sumitha. ‘I didn't even know what it tasted like. I don't think I ever want it again. Do you promise you don't hate me?'

‘Of course we don't,' said Laura giving her a hug.

‘The only person I hate round here is Mandy flaming Fincham,' muttered Chelsea. ‘Not only does she consort
with the boy I fancy but she's horrid to my friend. I wish she'd drop dead.'

In fact, Mandy was at her most demonstrative during the rehearsal, singing, clapping, throwing her head back so that her hair fanned out behind her. Rob gazed at her adoringly, till Mr Horage had to remind him that Bill Sykes was supposed to be a violent, sadistic man. Mandy laughed and said, ‘Must be my charms putting him off.'

Chelsea could have willingly throttled her.

‘Up on the table, Mandy, for the dance sequence,' instructed Mr Horage, reading his stage directions.

Mandy leaped on the table and bellowed out,

‘Oom pah pah, oom pah pah, that's how it goes,'

Oh drop dead, thought Chelsea.

‘Oom pah pah, oom pah pah, everyone knows
,

They all
… AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!'

Her foot shot out in front of her and she fell off the table into a heap on the floor.

Serves you right, thought Chelsea.

‘Are you hurt, Amanda?' said Mr Horage, who was prone to use full names when stricken. He beckoned anxiously to Miss McConnell who was doing something artistic with a tankard and a few sunflowers.

It soon transpired that Amanda was not all right. She couldn't move her left leg and she was as white as a ghost. When the ambulance men arrived, they pronounced her leg well and truly broken.

I didn't mean it, God, thought Chelsea in a panic.

‘I should never have made her dance on the table top,' moaned Mr Horage.

‘She'll miss
Oliver!'
gasped Laura.

I've put a curse on her, thought Chelsea.

‘Well, at least we've got Jemma,' said Mr Horage, stoutly. ‘She'll rally to the cause, won't you, Jemma?

Miss McConnell pursed her lips and looked worried. Jemma Farrant was a nice enough kid, but so quiet and reserved. Hardly the type to play the raucous Nancy. She raised an eyebrow in the direction of Mr Horage.

‘Oh no,' said Jemma. ‘I can't, sir, honestly, I can't.'

‘You can, Jemma Farrant,' said Mr Horage. ‘And what's more, you will.'

‘But Gran, I can't do it!' wailed Jemma that night, when she'd told everyone about her new role. ‘I only agreed to understudy the part because I was sure I wouldn't be needed.'

Her gran put down the
Giant Atlas of China
and gave her a hug.

‘You'll be terrific, Jemma,' she said. ‘I just know you will bring the house down.'

‘But the part of Nancy is not my sort of part,' insisted Jemma. ‘You know, all bouncy and extrovert and confident and stuff. That's not me.'

‘Who says?'

‘Well, everyone always says I am quiet and sensitive and …'

‘Jemma, the worst mistake any of us can make is to be
simply what we think other people want us to be,' declared her gran. ‘If I had done that, I would probably be in some rocking chair knitting balaclavas for sailors. Instead, in three months and two days I shall be sailing up the Yangtze.'

Jemma grinned. ‘But you're different – you're mad.'

‘Thank you darling, that's the nicest compliment anyone has paid me for a long time,' said her gran. ‘Now, do you want to do well as Nancy?'

‘Of course I do.'

‘Then you will,' said her gran.

Chelsea and Laura were in Laura's bedroom packing her china pig collection into boxes ready for the move.

‘I can't wait,' said Laura, wrapping her Giggling Piglet in bubble wrap. ‘Just think, a decent sized bedroom, two bathrooms – it'll be bliss!'