Keep the Faith (15 page)

‘Have you had much experience with children?’ Skye asked.

‘Oh yes, I’m always looking after my little brother. You know, reading him stories, making him snacks.’ Which wasn’t even untrue. Just last night I threw a packet of
peanuts at Sam and read out the bit on his report where his teacher said he can’t sit still. ‘He also enjoys playing with my Pretty Ponies.’

Skye told me that she was going to be teaching a Women’s Poetry class at the community centre on Tuesdays and that she needed someone to look after Tolde between four and seven. Then she
showed me round the house and explained what Tolde likes to do.

‘He doesn’t have a routine or a strict bedtime. I don’t believe that children should develop to a schedule. I think they should be free to explore and grow and play,
don’t you?’

‘Oh yes.’ I only wish that Mum would take a few pointers from Skye. Imagine what my life would be like with no bedtime, and parents who wanted me to be free to play.

When we came to the end of the tour, I was wondering how to bring up money. I’d done such a good job of sounding like I enjoyed playing with children just for the fun of it that I
didn’t want Skye to discover that I’m actually a cash-hungry desperado.

Fortunately, she eventually got to it herself – first, I had to endure some rambling about Tolde’s soya milk and emergency numbers, but when she finally mentioned a figure I was
quite pleased. Skye really does stand by her hippy philosophy that she’ll give anything for her child. I wonder if that will be true of Mum the next time I ask for a tenner?

Back at home Dad asked how the job interview went.

I said, ‘Well, they’re not perfect, but I’m prepared to give them a go.’

‘I was under the impression that you were the one being interviewed.’

Which was a different angle on things I suppose.

If that was a job interview then I don’t know why grown-ups make such a fuss about them. I could have talked about myself all day.

It’s my birthday! I love birthdays.

This evening, after we’d had tea, Sam switched off the lights and Mum and Dad brought out my birthday cake. I blew out the candles and picked up a knife. ‘I expect you three
won’t want much after that big meal.’ I sliced three slivers and handed them round.

‘Hey!’ Sam said. ‘How come you get a big bit?’

‘’S my birthday,’ I said through a mouthful of cream. ‘And I need my strength to vanquish you in the Birthday Fun.’

In our house birthday cake is always followed by Birthday Fun, which consists of a series of highly skilled and fiercely fought trials to establish which family members are superior and should
be rewarded with the ultimate prize.

Malteasers.

‘Oh, I thought you’d be too old for that this year,’ Mum said.

My heart sank – a birthday isn’t a birthday without Birthday Fun – but then Dad said, ‘I don’t think Faith will ever grow out of being overly competitive for
chocolate rewards.’ And he produced three boxes of Malteasers from the back of the cupboard.

‘I’ll have Mum on my team,’ I said.

Mum beamed. ‘It’s nice to be wanted.’ And she gave me a hug.

‘Don’t get cocky,’ I whispered in her ear. ‘You’re just better at cheating than Dad.’

Sam ripped open a box of Malteasers because, as well as being the prize, the Malteasers are actually integral to all the games.

‘Let’s start with blow football,’ Sam said.

I fetched the straws and a couple of Tupperware tubs for goals. I may have chosen a larger one for me and Mum.

It was a pretty good game. There was some discussion about whether I should be sent off for inserting a straw into Sam’s ear canal, but I maintained that it was fair punishment for him
sitting in our goal. As usual, Dad objected to my goalkeeping technique, but we all know that goalkeepers are allowed to touch the ball with any part of their body, so obviously it’s
completely acceptable for me to prevent a goal by eating the ball. The final score was 4–2 to me and Mum.

Next we played Malteaser Mountain. You get a minute to build the tallest Malteaser structure you can. It’s quite hard to get rolly-round Malteasers to stay put, but I have perfected a
highly scientific method: I lick them. If you get the chocolate just a little bit melty then they stick together pretty well. When the egg timer went off, I had managed a very impressive mound of
Malteasers. Dad had made a line and Mum was still chasing hers across the floor. Dad whipped out his ruler.

‘Let’s start with Sam,’ he said.

I turned round to check my little brother’s effort. He’d basically jammed a pile of Malteasers into the corner of one of the armchairs. Because of all the support, it was actually
quite a tall pile.

‘That’s cheating!’ I said.

Sam scowled. ‘No one ever said we couldn’t use the sofa.’

‘It’s not technically against the rules,’ Dad said, measuring the mound.

‘Mine’s higher anyway,’ I said.

Dad held his ruler next to my marvellous structure and nodded. ‘Yes, Faith’s i—’

My poor pyramid lurched. And then tumbled down. I must have been a bit overenthusiastic with my licking; one of my Malteasers had carried on dissolving right down to a honeycomb pip, making the
whole thing unstable.

‘Sorry, Faith, looks like the points go to our team for that one,’ Dad said. He didn’t look very sorry.

Before I could have a proper whine, we moved on to How Many Malteasers Can You Fit in Your Mouth? When I got to eleven, I could see Mum positioning herself ready to do the Heimlich manoeuvre,
but eventually, as usual, Dad and his colossal gob won. I came second, Mum third and Sam in last place where he belongs.

‘Right,’ I said, ‘the scores are even. It’s all down to the Flour Cake Final.’

Dad filled up a mixing bowl with flour and then turned it out on to a tray so that we had a lovely flour ‘cake’. I carefully placed a Malteaser on top. Then we had to take it in
turns to cut ‘slices’ of flour away without knocking the Malteaser off. Soon all that was left was the Malteaser perched on a slim column of flour. It was my turn.

I gripped the knife with a firm hand.

‘Watch it!’ Sam said. ‘Don’t wave the knife about! If you get me in the eye, we win by default.’

‘Maybe, but if you lose an eye I reckon I’ll win every Birthday Fun ever afterwards because your depth perception isn’t going to be up to much, is it?’

‘Come on, Faith,’ Dad said.

So I took the tinniest sliver off the side of the column of flour.

The Malteaser didn’t even wobble.

‘Good one!’ Mum said.

‘She didn’t cut any flour!’ Sam moaned. ‘She did an air-slice!’

‘Pigging heck, Sam, it’s a good job I didn’t take your eye out; you obviously can’t see very well even with two unpunctured eyeballs.’

‘Actually, Faith,’ Dad said, ‘I didn’t see any contact between the knife and the flour either.’

I growled. ‘Fine! I’ll do it again.’

Unfortunately, because I was giving Sam a stern look instead of watching what I was doing this time, my hand shook, I cut too much and the Malteaser fell down into the piles of collapsed flour
cake.

‘Yes!’ Sam punched the air.

I punched Sam.

Then, because I am a really good sport who doesn’t get hysterical and squeaky about losing, no matter what the St Minger’s netball team might say about me, I took my punishment and
leant into the flour to pick up the Malteaser with my teeth.

‘I’ll get you next time,’ I said to Dad, blowing flour out of my nostrils. ‘And your little helper monkey too.’ I pointed at Sam who was doing a victory lap round
the room.

‘You played very well,’ Mum said to me, handing Dad and Sam their winners’ boxes of Malteasers. ‘We were robbed in Malteaser Mountain.’

Dad had the grace to look a little shame-faced about that. I reckon he knocked my pyramid with his stupid ruler.

‘Actually, Faith, you can have these,’ he said, passing me the box, ‘for your forward-thinking Malteaser architecture.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’ I looked at Sam.

‘What? You’re not having mine,’ he said.

I smiled angelically. ‘That’s all right, little bruv. It’s all about the fun really, isn’t it? Come here.’

And I planted a hand on either side of his head and gave him a big kiss on the nose.

‘Ahh,’ said Mum, ‘that’s sweet.’

Yes, I definitely am a loving older sister. And the fact that I rubbed a large quantity of flour into Sam’s hair while I was showing him affection was (probably) entirely accidental.

Granny came round to give me my birthday present. It was a watch.

I said, ‘Thank you very much. If I ever lose my phone and Megs at the same time, and actually care about being punctual, it will be very useful.’

Granny said, ‘You’re welcome.’

I’ve got a strong suspicion that she doesn’t listen to a word I say.

Fortunately, Granny didn’t stay long because she had a date. I said, ‘I’ve got a date too. With my young and attractive boyfriend and my friends who are throwing me a party for
my birthday.’

Then I drew her a picture with labels just in case she hadn’t been listening to that either.

Once Granny had gone, I started my party prep. Now I’m all ready to see my adoring friends. I will write about how fantastic it was tomorrow.

I absolutely love parties that are especially for me. I decided to turn up a little bit late so that everyone would get to see me arrive. When I stepped into the kitchen,
no one noticed me for a moment, but then Westy came barrelling through the mob of people shouting, ‘FAITH!’ which was quite effective in getting everyone in the room to turn round.

They all started whooping and cheering. It was mad. And very enjoyable. You can see why people will embarrass themselves on reality TV to try and get famous. There’s something quite nice
about being in a room full of people who are all pleased to see you.

Especially certain people. Seeing Finn’s face light up as he bounded across the room to kiss me hello was fantastic. Once everyone had finished patting me on the back and congratulating me
for managing to be a year older, Megs put on our favourite song and the whole room did some crazy jump-up-and-downy dancing.

Later on I sat down with Finn and he gave me my birthday present. I think maybe I shouldn’t have got my hopes up for jewellery. We haven’t been dating very long and it was a quite
nice purse, even if the Hawaiian surf print wasn’t necessarily what I would have chosen. Finn seemed really pleased with himself. He said, ‘Because you love shopping! You can, you know,
put your money in it and then when you buy stuff you can . . . take your money out!’

I said, ‘It’s lovely. Thank you.’ Because if I’ve learnt anything from my parents it’s that the truth is sometimes best avoided if you want to make a relationship
work.

After a while, the talking dried up a bit. You would have thought that given the array of outfits, snogging and dancing going on in front of us that he’d have had plenty to chat about, but
every time I started a well observed remark such as, ‘I hope she doesn’t split those tight trousers,’ or, ‘He looks like my granny taught him how to dance,’ Finn would
just say, ‘She’s all right,’ or, ‘He’s a nice dude.’ I realise that this is because Finn is a nicer person than I am, but it does cut down on conversation a
bit.

I was actually quite relieved when Megs skipped over and said, ‘He’s here! Arif is here! Come and see!’

I let Megs drag me away. ‘Where is he?’ I asked.

‘He texted Lily to say he was almost here and she went out the front to meet him.’

I spotted Angharad and waved her over. We positioned ourselves by the door.

‘What do you think he’ll be like?’ Angharad asked.

‘He’d better be nice,’ I said, ‘and he’d better appreciate her. Most of the boys in here would love to be with Lily.’

Megs nodded. ‘So what do you think is so great about Arif that he’s the one that she chose?’

‘I think she just likes him,’ Angharad said. ‘She talks about him a lot. And they’ve got their hobbies in common.’

I think obsessive sci-fi-series-watching is more of a life choice than a hobby, but, judging by Arif’s emails, it’s true that they do like going on about the same geeky stuff.

‘Maybe there’s something we don’t know about him,’ I said.

‘Maybe he’s a teenage secret agent,’ Angharad suggested.

‘I think he’ll be a juggler,’ Megs said.

I fixed my eyes on the door. ‘I was imagining him in a hat. And possibly some kind of crazy glasses.’

When Arif and Lily came in, Arif was not wearing, or doing, anything crazy, but his eyes were glued to Lily.

‘This is Arif,’ Lily said proudly to us all.

‘Hi,’ Arif said. ‘It’s nice to meet you. Lily has told me what great friends you are.’

Then Lily dragged him away to the drinks table.

‘He seems nice,’ Angharad said.

I wasn’t going to let good manners and very shiny teeth charm me. I was determined to make sure he was good enough for Lily. ‘Just keep your eye on him,’ I said.

Becky and Zoe popped up then to give me their present (three lip balms in the shape of cupcakes) so I watched Arif from a distance. He didn’t say much, but he smiled a lot. Later I was
sitting with Finn and some of his friends. Finn was holding my hand, which was nice, but everyone was talking about Josh’s new bike, which was less nice. I spotted Arif sitting by himself so
I squeezed Finn’s hand and said, ‘Back in a sec.’

Arif looked up as I approached. He seemed nervous.

‘Hi, Faith, are you having a good birthday?’

I nodded. ‘So, Arif . . . what first attracted you to my drop-dead gorgeous friend?’

He twitched like a startled rabbit. ‘Er, I really liked her attitude.’

‘I see. What about her attitude?’

‘She’s just so . . . cheerful. Lily is the happiest person I know.’

There’s no denying that Lily is relentlessly perky.

‘Then I found out that she can list all the Doctor Whos and their companions in chronological order.’