Keep the Faith (7 page)

‘That’s not quite what I meant. It was a girls’ school and a boys’ school. Mixed sex.’

I had to sit down and help myself to the emergency KitKat that I keep under the sofa. ‘You went to a mixed school? Why am I not at a mixed-sex school?’

Dad laughed. And laughed. And laughed. ‘I may be a dimwit,’ he said, ‘but even I know that you at a school with boys is a bad idea.’

So I didn’t bother asking him for any suggestions. He didn’t need to find ways to spend time with the opposite sex when he was a lad back in Victorian times. Mind you, the girls at
his school must have been a fairly ropy lot for him to be so impressed by Mum.

It was Art today. I quite enjoy Art. The important thing is to remember that art is subjective. That means that no one can ever tell you that your work is rubbish. They
don’t have to like it, but they can’t say that it’s rubbish because art means different things to different people.

While we were drawing animals, Ang peered over my shoulder. ‘Oh, that’s really good,’ she said.

Although art is subjective and no one can tell you you’re rubbish, I firmly believe in taking compliments where you can find them so I didn’t argue with Ang. In fact, I was feeling
quite chuffed until she peered at Lily’s work and said, ‘That’s really good too.’

I don’t care what anyone says about art meaning different things to different people. I’m pretty sure that everyone could agree that Lily’s work was not good. I suppose I
should make allowances for Ang since she mostly lives out her life between the covers of a Maths textbook and is a bit dazzled by bright colours. There were certainly a lot of bright colours in
Lily’s work. She held it up and squinted at it. ‘Does it look like a horse?’

Because I was practising something Megs suggested about not saying what I really think all the time, I said, ‘Oh yes. Totally looks like a horse.’

Lily put down her coloured pencil. ‘It’s not a very good cow then, is it?’

But Lily is never worried about things like this. She just added a saddle and what looked like a kitten riding it.

‘Is that me?’ Ang asked, pointing to the kitten thing.

Lily looked from the kitten to Angharad and back again. ‘Mmm-hmm,’ she said, rubbing out the whiskers and adding a ponytail. ‘Definitely you.’

‘That’s brilliant.’ Angharad beamed. ‘They should put that up. They should put it in one of those display cases by reception. You know, the ones that lock.’

‘They should put something in a locked case,’ I said, looking at Lily who was now painting her knees.

I haven’t got any further with my plans to bring the boys’ school the delight of spending time with us lot, so I was forced to consult Mum.

While she was washing up and I was helping by eating things left on the plates, I said, ‘Did you go to a mixed-sex school?’

Mum smiled. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Granny said she wanted me to learn something useful like typing or cooking. She thought that if I was around boys I’d waste time twirling my hair and flashing my
knickers.’

Granny had a point there. I remember that time Mum did a cartwheel on the beach. No one should have to see what’s under her skirt. But even taking that into account it was a rubbish
approach to your daughter’s education.

‘Sounds sexist to me and she obviously failed with the cooking,’ I said, licking the apple crumble dish. ‘What was the typing about? Did she want you to go into ICT?’

‘No, she wanted me to be a typist.’

I stopped mid-lick. ‘People aren’t wrong when they say that things were simpler in the olden days, are they? Imagine typing being a whole job. I could do that with one
hand.’

‘You should be grateful that I’ve got higher hopes for you.’

‘Higher? What, like a trapeze artist?’

‘I was thinking more of something sciencey.’

I gave her a stern look. ‘Something
sciencey
? Well, that won’t be happening if I’ve inherited your standards of precision, will it? Sciencey isn’t even a word,
let alone a job description.’

She got a bit bristly about that. ‘It’s not my field. Maybe you wouldn’t be any good at Social Anthropology.’

‘I could be if I wanted to, but you’re right: I think I’ll do a proper subject at university. Probably Chemistry.’

I don’t know why, but that made her purse her lips. ‘If you’ve finished pointing out the holes in my education then maybe I could answer your original question.’

I nodded graciously because I may marry into the royal family and I am practising the moves.

‘We did sometimes meet up with the boys’ school,’ Mum said.

I nodded again.

‘There was the school musical.’

I shook my head. ‘The problem with musicals is that not everyone seems to appreciate the unique quality of my voice.’

‘You don’t have to have a main part. You could always just be in the chorus . . .’ She looked at me. ‘No, wait a minute; I’ve just remembered who I’m talking
to. You’re not going to be happy in the background, are you?’

‘I’m not good at blending in. I think it’s my hair.’

‘I think it’s your mouth.’

‘Have you got any other suggestions? Or shall I be off to look up that care home I’m going to put you in when you’re older?’

‘What care home?’

‘That one we saw the documentary on, where they spit in your soup.’

Mum narrowed her eyes. ‘Actually, I’ve got several more suggestions. When you’ve made your poor old mother a cup of herbal tea, I’ll tell you.’

So I made her a cup of her bark and moss tea without even swearing, although I must say that it’s disgusting the way parents bribe their children these days. I bet princesses don’t
have to make their ancient mothers cups of tea.

Once she was settled with the fruits of my labour, she said, ‘You could do some charity work—’

‘
Urgh
, no more talk of charity. It’s sucking the life out of me.’

‘All right, you could organise a litter pick.’

‘Oh, come on! Is it not possible to spend time in the company of boys and do something enjoyable at the same time? Or are you worried that the double fun would kill me because I’ve
never experienced it before in my sad little life?’

‘Life is what you make it, my petal. If you bring sunshine, you get sunshine.’

I wondered what the royals do when someone is annoying them. Maybe call for the executioner?

Mum was looking at me.

‘What? Is it illegal to even think about chopping your family’s heads off now?’

Mum huffed. ‘I’ve thought of a kind of club that you’d enjoy.’

‘Go on.’

‘When I was at college, I was a member of the debating society. Oh, we had a really good time.’

‘Sounds riveting,’ I said, but she carried on in that selfish way of hers.

‘I can still remember the two debates that I won. The first one was about animal testing and the other was about nuclear power. Kids used to be really interested in the environment in
those days.’

I nodded like the queen does when she’s forced to listen to some idiot. ‘So you did this debating with boys?’

‘That wasn’t actually the sole purpose of the society, but yes, I remember there were several boys. In fact, I dated one of them.’ A look came over her face like Lily eyeing a
peanut butter and marmite sandwich. Gross. ‘I remember this one time we were in the canteen and he leant over and—’

‘Please, Mum! I still haven’t managed to erase the memory of you and Dad holding hands at the cinema that time; I don’t have the mental energy to block out any more toxic
images.’

‘All right, all right! I’ll say no more about his lovely full lips.’

‘Mum!’

‘Or the fact that he knew how to use them.’

‘Mother!’

‘He used to turn me to jelly.’

I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing the hokey-cokey.

Mum fanned herself then pulled my hands down. ‘Do you want to hear about debating then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, but I was unable to nod regally because I still felt queasy.

‘It’s quite easy to set up a debating club. You just need someone to organise things. We had a different debate each week. Usually, you have a proposer of the motion and a seconder.
Perhaps you could do boys against girls.’

I thought about this. ‘Debating is basically arguing, isn’t it?’

Mum nodded.

‘I think we’ve found something I can shine at.’

‘Good. Now do you think you could wipe the table?’

But I was already off up the stairs giving her a royal wave.

Finally, Finn has sent me a text. It says,
Football on Sun?
Which I assume means he wants me to go and watch him play football.

I rang Megs.

Eventually, she picked up her phone and said, ‘What do you want?’

‘There she is! My sunshine in the dark winter months.’

‘Oh God, you
do
want something, don’t you?’

‘You’re going to watch Cam play football on Sunday.’

‘Don’t you mean, “
Are
you going to watch Cam?” ?’

‘No, I mean you are. You have to because Finn has asked me to watch him.’

‘Oh well, if you need me to hang about because it’s convenient for you then obviously I’ll drop everything. It’s not like I’ve got my own mind, or my own interests,
or even a voice to speak up about what I want. I’m just here to please you. You may as well write me a timetable.’

‘I’ll do that. In the mean time I’ll meet you by the swings at nine.’

She hung up.

Which I took as a yes.

That Megs has got a cheek. I’ve just remembered that time I dragged myself out of my comfy bed in the early hours to go and hang about the frozen football pitch and
support her with her Cam-love. I wanted to say this to her in a text, but I couldn’t be bothered to type it all so I just put,
I did it for you!

Two minutes later she said,
Oh, all right. You'd better bring me some sweeties.

Granny came round for lunch. I said, ‘Have you not got anything to eat at your house, Granny? That’s because you’re always out having a good time with
your boyfriends. You ought to concentrate on your shopping and your knitting like a proper old lady.’

Granny gave me a smile like a crocodile about to snap the head off a baby frog. ‘When I actually get old, I might give that some thought.’

I don’t believe a word of it. She’ll be winking at the pall-bearers when she’s in her coffin.

‘And what are you concentrating on at the moment, Faith?’ Granny asked. ‘I hope you’ve made a New Year’s resolution to work hard at school.’

‘I don’t make resolutions. You’re always telling me not to make promises I can’t keep. Anyway, I don’t think I should start trying to improve on my
almost-perfection. If I became totally perfect then people would find it hard to root for me when I’m warring with teachers.’

‘I’ve made lots of resolutions,’ Granny said, turning to Sam, which is her way of letting me know that she doesn’t think I’m doing the conversation the right
way.

Sam didn’t look up from his terrible drawing of a skeleton army. ‘What resolutions, Granny?’ he asked.

‘I’ve decided to try something new every week. I’ve signed up for three evening classes and I’m going to be more adventurous with what I eat.’ She looked round at
us, waiting for us to be impressed or excited or something.

She was lucky I was still awake.

I think my resolution is to spend less time with my family.

Football was surprisingly good fun. If you’ve got to watch sport then it helps if your boyfriend happens to be the fittest player on the pitch, in both senses of the
word. Afterwards, we all went for hot chocolate, which reminded me of Finn: sweet, warm and delicious.

I could tell that Megs was making an effort to chat to Finn. She’s not a bad banana sometimes. Cam and Finn mostly talked about football, with a little bit of surfing and skateboarding
thrown in. Their whole conversation was a bit too much like an activity holiday and I had to eat half of Megs’s cookie to keep my strength up. When Finn was getting another drink, I asked Cam
what he thought of Finn.

‘He’s an old-fashioned centre half: strong in the tackle and a sweet left foot. I haven’t seen him surf, but I’ve heard he’s really good.’

‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘That’s a pretty thorough PE report, but really I was wondering what you thought of him as a person.’

Cam shrugged. ‘Yeah, he’s all right.’

Which I took to mean that Cam thinks Finn is as brilliant as I do. I don’t know why Ethan doesn’t like him.

And we’ve arranged another date. We’re meeting up on Thursday.

I told the girls about my brilliant plan for an inter-school debating club. You know when you assume that people are as intelligent as you are and that they will receive
your obviously genius idea with the cheering and hugs that it deserves? Well, I never assume that with my lot because they’re all idiots. Which is why Megs pulled a face and Ang said,
‘Oh.’ And Lily tried to look at the label inside the neck of her jumper while she was still wearing it. (Although, to be fair to Lily, she had been doing that for several minutes before
I even suggested the debating club.)

‘Thanks for your support,’ I said.

‘Just a minute,’ Megs said. ‘Let me get this straight; you want us to have shouting matches with the boys? Is that a good way to impress them?’

‘Megan! If a boy only likes me if I agree with him then I am not interested in him.’

Angharad nodded vigorously. Lily nodded as vigorously as she could while her head was stuck half in and half out of her jumper.

‘I mean, anyone is welcome to adore me from afar,’ I said. ‘But that’s as far as it goes. I couldn’t possibly date someone who didn’t respect my
opinions.’

‘You normally just beat up people who don’t agree with you,’ Megs said.