Kiss (20 page)

‘Are you having a mope, love?’ said Mum,
coming into my room with a cup of coffee.

‘I’m just
tired
, Mum,’ I mumbled.

I let my coffee go cold and put my head under my pillow, trying hard to tunnel my way back to sleep. I kept having weird half-waking dreams about Carl and Miranda and Paul, until I started banging my head, trying to dislodge them from my brain. I had a headache from crying and sleeping so long, and when I got up at last I found I had two huge new spots on my nose. It was the final indignity. I felt so tragic and I just looked comically ugly. I tried squeezing the spots and made them worse. I smothered them with thick foundation and turned into a clown – with spots.

‘Miranda’s on the phone again,’ Mum called.

‘Tell her I’ve gone out,’ I hissed.

‘
You
tell her,’ said Mum.

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, how can I if I’m pretending I’m not here!’ I shouted down.

I knew Miranda might hear my voice in the background. I decided it was just too bad. I heard Mum mumbling some excuse on the phone. Then she came trekking up to my bedroom again.

‘Why don’t you want to talk to Miranda all of a sudden? I thought you two were such total bosom buddies?’

‘Mum! I can’t stick that expression. And as a matter of fact, I can’t stick Miranda right this minute,’ I said.

‘OK, OK. And you’ve obviously fallen out with Carl too. I was talking to Jules this morning and
he
’s just flopping around in
his
room, not wanting to talk to anyone either. Honestly, you kids!’

Mum sighed, but she didn’t look sad. Her eyes were shining and she had a silly smile, as if someone was telling her a private joke. It was as if she had her own private hotline in her head to this wretched Gerry.

I needed to get away from her. I didn’t want to go next door. I didn’t want to go over to Miranda’s.

I decided I’d go and see Lucy. She was very lukewarm when I phoned. I couldn’t blame her. I’d been practically ignoring her recently.

‘Can I come round this afternoon, Lucy?’ I asked.

‘Why?’

‘Well, because – because we’re friends. Friends hang out together, don’t they?’

‘I suppose Miranda’s busy,’ she snapped.

I thought she might put the phone down on me but then she weakened.

‘OK. Come round if you really must.’

I didn’t really want to go at all. I felt I’d been mad to think of it, but I couldn’t back out now. I went over to Lucy’s, and when she opened the door I made an effort to put on a big smile and be sweet to her. It wasn’t easy. She was still acting very off-hand and talked to me in monosyllables, sitting primly on the end of her bed, picking at the stitching on her gingham patchwork quilt.

I found it harder and harder to make bright friendly conversation. I wandered restlessly around the room while Lucy played her favourite new album, nodding her head and snapping her fingers and tapping her feet. She was never quite on the beat, which made it even more maddening. I turned my back on her to stop having to watch this twitchy performance and started rearranging her three bears on the windowsill, making them cosy up together.

‘Hello, Bobby, hello, Billy, hello, Bernie,’ I said. I made them each wave a furry paw. ‘
Hello, Sylvie
,’ I said in a big booming bear voice. ‘
Hello, Sylvie
,’ I said in a soft middling bear voice. ‘
Hello, Sylvie
,’ I said in a teeny-tiny squeaky bear voice.

‘I suppose you think you’re funny,’ said Lucy. ‘They’re all the same size so they all have the same sort of voice. And what are you doing
now
? They don’t
kiss
.’

‘Yes they do,’ I said, making them cosy up together and rub snouts.

‘You’re
so
weird,’ said Lucy, bouncing up off her bed and snatching her bears from me.

‘OK, I’m sorry. Let’s
do
something, Lucy. Shall we go shopping?’

‘I’ve already
been
shopping this morning, with my mum.’

‘Well, how about we look at some magazines then? We could cut stuff out and start up a scrapbook each. You could do one on all your favourite pop stars.’

Lucy perked up a little. ‘I’ve got scissors and Pritt. I’ve got one proper scrapbook. I bought it to stick Christmas cards in but I never got round to it. But what can you use?’

She searched through all her stationery and eventually found me a big drawing pad from years ago, though she’d used up nearly all the pages. Little-girl Lucy had drawn endless pictures of a red house with frilly curtains at each square window, a line of blue sky at the top and a line of green grass at the bottom, with red and yellow flowers in regimental formation. Each picture was practically identical.

Lucy and I divided a huge pile of magazines between us. She commandeered all the teenage ones devoted to pop stars. I flicked through her mum’s cast-off
Hello!
and
Heat
and her dad’s car magazines. I decided to use all Lucy’s bland little-girl houses, though I customized each one as I went. I cut out the Osbourne family and gave their house fancy extensions, with a gothic bat-decorated music studio for Ozzy. I gave them a car each and added lots of dogs cut from an old Ladybird book of dogs.

‘You shouldn’t cut up
books
,’ said Lucy, snipping carefully round a heart-shaped photo of a blond boy band. Her lips opened and shut in time to the snip of her scissors.

‘You can’t tell me you still read it, Lucy,’ I said. ‘Do you have any crayons?’

I scribbled a little brown swirly pile beside each dog.

‘Don’t! That’s disgusting!’ said Lucy, but she couldn’t help laughing.

I turned the page and cut out Elton and David for the next house. I extended it in every direction, making it as plush and palatial as I could. I found an old
Gardening Monthly
and filled their house with as many flowers as I could pick out from the shiny pages.

I started on the Beckhams next, giving them thrones in the garden, two huge golden chairs and three little ones for the children. I drew Victoria her own walk-in wardrobe and snipped out some dinky designer outfits for her. I stuck a lot of green at the back of the house so that David had his very own pitch for playing footie with his sons.

‘Honestly, Sylvie!’ Lucy kept exclaiming. She kept giggling too. ‘You are so so so
weird
.’

When I was with Miranda I was the little titch meek mousy friend. When I was with Lucy I was the weird outrageous girl. I liked the way it made me feel.

Then Lucy’s mum came in with a tray of Ribena and chocolate finger biscuits, as if we were still both six years old.

‘Whatever are you up to, girls?’ she said, frowning at the snippets of paper.

‘We’re making scrapbooks,’ said Lucy. ‘Oh, Mum, you should see what Sylvie’s done, it’s such a scream.’

Lucy’s mum looked as if
she
might start screaming.

‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘You’ve stuck all these silly pictures in Lucy’s drawing book! Oh dear, why couldn’t you have used the empty pages at the back? Why did you spoil all Lucy’s drawings, Sylvia?’

‘It’s Sylvie, actually. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil them. I was just turning them into collages,’ I said.

‘Don’t fuss, Mummy. I don’t mind,’ said Lucy, embarrassed. ‘It’s only a dumb old book I did in Year Two.’

‘I want to keep all your drawings and stories, Lucy; they’re very precious to me.’ Lucy’s mum put the tray down on the dressing table so crossly that the purple Ribena splashed over the rim of each glass, and then stomped out of the room.

There was an awkward silence. Lucy and I looked at each other and then looked away.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again.

I picked up the drawing book to see if I could peel off the pictures but they were stuck fast. They didn’t seem so witty and inventive now.

‘Don’t worry, Sylvie, you know what mums are like,’ said Lucy.

I was so glad I had my mum, not Lucy’s.

I STARTED PLANNING
Saturday evening on my way home from Lucy’s. Mum and I could have a girly night in together. We could watch some silly romantic film, eat chocolates, try out new hairstyles on each other.

Mum had other plans.

‘I’m supposed to be seeing Gerry, Sylvie.’

‘I thought that was tomorrow. Aren’t you going swimming again with him?’

‘Yes. But he’s suggested we go out tonight too. I told him the other day I like Abba and he’s managed to get tickets for
Mamma Mia!
. But I don’t have to go. I can easily ring him up and cancel.’

‘Don’t be daft, Mum. Of course you can’t cancel! You go and enjoy yourself. You’ll love it,’ I said.

‘I feel so guilty going out and leaving you. Still, I know you’ll be fine next door. Though I’m not sure Carl will be there. Jules said he was out somewhere.’

‘Oh. Well. I don’t have to go round there. I’ll stay home.’

‘I can’t leave you all by yourself. Do you maybe want to have someone over for a sleepover? Miranda keeps phoning. I’m sure she’d like to.’

‘You would so live to regret Miranda on a sleepover. She’d bring a bottle of vodka and half a dozen boys,’ I said.

‘I hope you’re joking,’ said Mum. ‘All right, what about Lucy?’

I thought about having Lucy to stay, doubtless with Billy and Bobby and Bernie Bear.

‘I’ll be fine by myself,’ I said.

‘Well, I know you’re a sensible girl, and responsible enough to be left. It isn’t as if you’ll be
alone
in the house. Miss Miles will be in her room.’ Mum paused. ‘If you felt it was cosier I could always ask Miss Miles to fix a bit of supper for both of you and then you could watch television together.’

‘Mum, no offence to poor Miss Miles, but I’d sooner cut my throat than sit eating one of her omelettes and watching her old
Midsomer Murders
videos. I keep telling you and telling you, I’ll be
fine
. Go, Mum, go!’

So she went. I managed to stay all smiley until the front door closed, and then I lay on the
sofa and cried. I felt so lonely and left out. I wondered if Carl was still out. Had he made it up with Paul? I kept thinking about them.

Miss Miles put her head round the living-room door. ‘Are you all right, Sylvie? Not too lonely now that Mum’s out? You can come and sit with me if you’d like?’

‘No thanks,’ I said.

Miss Miles sighed. ‘Not that I’m exactly exciting company for you,’ she muttered.

Then I felt really mean. ‘It’s not that at all. I’m just really tired – in fact I’m going to bed now,’ I said.

I did go to bed early. I didn’t get to sleep. I was still awake when Mum got in, way after midnight. I didn’t call out to her. She came creeping into my room and hovered above me. I kept very still, my eyes shut.

‘Are you asleep, Sylvie?’ she whispered.

I stayed motionless, breathing very deeply.

‘Night-night darling,’ Mum whispered, and crept out again.

I heard her spinning round and round on the landing, whisper-singing
Dancing Queen
. I stuck my fingers in my ears. I didn’t want to hear any Abba songs, especially not that one.

Mum woke me up early the next morning. She had her hair tied up with a ribbon and wore a T-shirt and skinny jeans. She looked like my big sister, not my mum.

‘Hi, sweetie,’ she said, sitting cross-legged on my bed. ‘Were you OK last night? I looked in
on you when I got in but you seemed sound asleep. I had just the most fantastic time. I loved
Mamma Mia!
. I’ll have to save up and take you some time – it’s such fun. I just know you’d love it too –
and
Carl. Maybe I can try to take you for your birthday treat. Though I expect it’s really pricey. Gerry wouldn’t let me have the tickets to see how much they were. He wouldn’t let me pay anything towards the evening, not even our drinks.’

‘Oh, what a perfect gent,’ I said. It sounded sourer than I meant it to.

Mum paused. ‘Well, I think he
is
the perfect gent,’ she said. ‘I can’t quite believe this is happening to me. It’s mad, I know you’ll think me totally crazy. I hardly know him, but I think I’m falling in love with him, Sylvie. I know all sorts of things could go wrong, and it probably won’t last, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt this way, not even when I first met your dad. You’ve no idea what it’s like. I just look at him and I absolutely melt. Don’t laugh at me, please!’

I didn’t feel like laughing. I felt like crying. I knew exactly what it felt like.

I burrowed down in bed so Mum couldn’t see my face. She misunderstood.

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh, God, I know nothing’s more disgusting and pathetic than your own mother rambling on about
true lurve
.’ She said it the silly way, sending herself up, trying to ease the situation.

‘I’m very happy for you, Mum,’ I mumbled underneath the covers. ‘I just wish you wouldn’t go
on
about it.’

‘Yes, I know. I’ll shut up, I promise. But I can’t
wait
till you meet him, Sylvie, just so you can tell me if I’m making a total fool of myself. In fact … we were thinking, Gerry and me, would you come and join us today?’

‘No! Don’t be silly. You don’t want me.’