Peppermint Kiss (11 page)

“Thanks,” Saff mumbled, with a small smile.

Mum gave Grace a hug even though she tried to struggle away. “Hon, you have to talk to me in future if you're upset,” she said. “Please.”

“I'm okay now,” said Grace. She told them about our chat and what she'd decided about talking to her Maths teacher, and they both thought it was a good idea. Then Mum said, “Well done, Abbie, you've got the magic touch with your sisters, and me. We'd all have fallen apart by now if it wasn't for you.”

I know she meant it nicely but it made me feel really sick, like when they keep going on about how strong I am, when actually, inside, I feel like shattering into bits half the time. So to change the subject I pushed a sample of fresh face mask across the table to each of them and said, “Right, get these on while I start on supper. There are three different versions to cover all the skin types, plus one relaxing and reviving with seaweed and aloe vera, and one soothing and cleansing with fresh blueberries and calamine. I need to know what you think… Besides, you're all looking a bit rough.”

“Charming!” Mum cried and they all turned on me, protesting and jostling and giggling.

On Monday, I was in such a great mood because of all the beauty parlour stuff, and you know,
not
being chucked out on the street, that I was even more flirty with Marco than ever – which was what caused me to have a little mishap with the potassium chlorate in Science. We had to heat it up to melting point in a glass beaker and then (I found out later) carefully poke
one
gummy bear into it to see what happened. But I was so busy mucking about with Marco that I didn't hear the exact instructions (he was threatening to write
My heart sings with the joy of learning
on my exercise book, so I'd look like a total geek!). So I tipped half the little packet of Haribos into the beaker and it exploded with a massive whoosh and loads of steam came gushing out. I leaped about a metre into the air and screamed a word that made everyone turn round and stare at me
again
(CRINGE!). Even worse, Mr. Fellowes came and personally “helped” me with the next two experiments (DOUBLE CRINGE!), i.e. he basically didn't let me touch
anything
apart from to wash up the beakers afterwards.

After school, Summer and I went to the greengrocer's to do the photo shoot for our leaflet. I still felt like pinching myself – I could hardly believe that we were there to get pictures of my own beauty products, for publicity about my family's new business.

The products looked so gorgeous in their little bottles and jars, with their handwritten labels. Tom, the greengrocer, let us have the complete run of the place, so first of all we arranged a big pile of oranges and lemons in one of the vintage orange crates and dotted the orange and lemon peel soaps around on the top. Summer took the shots quite close up, but making sure you could still see the cool old-fashioned writing on the side of the crate.

We put a heap of bath bombs in the old scales – soft pink rose and geranium ones with little rose buds in on one side, and powder blue ones full of lavender buds on the other. We put some of the Avocado Body Butter in a scooped-out avocado skin, sitting on a pile of whole ones, and we lined bottles of pink, yellow and purple bubble bath up in the window, so that the light came through them and really made the colours sing.

Then Summer decided that
I
should be in the Peppermint Kiss Lip Balm shots (I know, she must be blind! I'd have brought Saff down if I'd thought there'd be modelling involved!). Anyway, she got me to put some on, then smile whilst holding up a wooden box of bunches of mint with the little pots scattered amongst them. I just hoped I wouldn't look
too
awful in the finished shots – luckily my make-up had survived school okay so perhaps it would be alright. Ish.

Afterwards we went back to Summer's to have a look through the pictures properly on her computer. She lives out in the country, so her dad John picked us up in his ancient Land Rover (which, BTW, ran on old chip fat like on the wall display at school). John told me his job is advising businesses on going greener and using renewable energy, so he was one of the first round here to convert to biodiesel, the posh name for the old chip fat.

A couple of miles out of town, we turned off the main road and went bumping down a long dusty lane. We parked up outside a rambling cottage with sort of paddocky field things all around it. They had a few pigs and goats in, and a couple of donkeys. I felt a bit nervous. Summer's home seemed a world away from my place back in Ealing. I hoped I wouldn't make some massive un-environmental faux pas and offend her whole family.

I got out, tripped over some chickens which were just wandering about, and followed Summer through a cottage garden bursting with flowers and buzzing with bees. Then we walked up the path to the back door, through a massive veggie patch and a load of fruit canes under netting.

As we walked into the big farmhouse kitchen my brain struggled to take everything in. There was stuff everywhere – open shelves stacked with jars of grains, nuts, seeds and dried fruit, about ten different recycling bins, herbs hanging from the ceiling, postcards and cuttings all over the fridge, a clutter of plates and cups on the table, a dresser crammed with, well, just
stuff,
the smell of casserole or something coming from a pot on the big red Aga, two massive piles of laundry on the floor by the machine and two huge hairy dogs in their baskets.

And people, of course. The whole family was in there, chatting in a noisy, happy bustle that gave me a sharp pang in my stomach.
We used to be like that
, I thought, and then pushed the image of us all round our own table in Ealing out of my mind.

Summer introduced me to her mum Annie, and Jed and Jim her big, burly older brothers. I found out that Jed was in sixth form and Jim (who was sitting on a large dog-eared sofa, strumming a guitar) was doing a Countryside Management apprenticeship. Annie does crystal healing and chakra rebalancing, or crystal rebalancing and chakra healing, I can't remember which way round it was. Anyway, she gave me a big hug hello and said Summer had told her all about our business, and that I was welcome to anything from the garden that might be useful.

That was so nice of her and I said thanks loads, of course, and promised her free treatments in return, and we did the whole “Oh, that's not necessary”, “Oh, but I insist” politeness thing (though I secretly planned to book her in and march her down there myself once we were open!). Then she stood back, peered at me and said, “Hmm, you're an Aquarius, yes?”

I nodded. “Wow, how did you know?” I asked.

“You'd have to have both creativity and determination to start your own business,” she told me, “and Aquarians have those in abundance. They also hold strong during stormy times and they're protective of those they love.”

I smiled back. I didn't know about
holding strong
during stormy times, but I seemed to be surviving them, at least. And the bit about being protective sounded about right. If that Richanne girl upset Grace again, she'd be sorry.

Annie filled the kettle and asked me what kind of tea I'd like.

“Erm, normal kind?” I replied, a bit confused.

“Oh, of course,” she said, then started digging round in a cupboard packed with exotic-looking tea boxes and packets of dried herbs. “I'm sure we've got some somewhere,” she muttered, “from when the builders were here.”

“Don't worry, I'll have what you're having,” I said quickly.

She made jasmine tea and we had it in mismatched vintage china cups with no saucers. It was such a delicate colour, and it smelled divine.

“We should offer some different teas at Rainbow Beauty,” I said, thinking aloud. “Can you suggest some nice ones?”

Annie smiled. “I can do better than that.” She started piling me up with boxes and herb sachets from the cupboard. “Take some of these home to try and then you can choose.” It was so nice of her and I said thank you loads of times again.

“You know, what I could really do with is a good, natural gardeners' soap and a hand balm for chapped skin,” she said then. “I bet a lot of other people round here would buy that too.”

I smiled. “Thanks for the tip. I'll try and come up with something. I love a challenge.”

Then Summer and I took our drinks up to her room. That was totally amazing too, with painted murals of Indian goddesses on the walls, bongos, an accordion, a pile of fabric floor cushions she'd made, and a colourful patterned rug over polished floorboards.

As we looked at the photos from the shoot (I had to admit I looked okay in the lip balm shots – phew!), we chatted about school and stuff. Then, “Were you seeing anyone back where you used to live?” Summer asked, as we sorted through the bubble bath images and shortlisted the best ones.

The way she said it –
where you used to live
– gave me a start. Even though I knew we weren't going home to our old life, that it was in the past now, part of me seemed to keep forgetting, and it gave me a jolt whenever I remembered.

I shook my head. “Nah. Me and my friends hung out with a few of the lads from the boys' school, but I wasn't
with
any of them.”

“You must miss your old mates,” she said then.

I shrugged. “I guess. But there's been so much going on, I've hardly had time to think about Em and Zo.” Of course, as soon as I said that, I suddenly missed them a
lot
. “I've sent them postcards, but they don't know I'm not coming back. It's been hard to keep in touch without a phone.”

“Oh!” Summer gasped. “I can't believe I didn't think of that. Here.” She rummaged in her pocket and handed me her mobile. “Call them now. Or you can message them on this in a minute.” She gestured at the laptop.

Instead of jumping at the chance, I found myself saying thanks, but no thanks. I wouldn't have known where to begin, telling them what had happened. It would have been so awkward, with them not knowing what to say. And anyway, I didn't want to hear about everything I was missing. I remembered that there'd been a shopping trip to Kensington High Street planned for the Saturday just gone, and then afterwards we were all meeting Em's mum in town for a meal and going to see
Stomp
at the theatre. I realized I'd never be able to do stuff like that now, because it all cost money – not just for buying clothes and make-up and the theatre tickets, but for the trains and cabs, and lunch in Balans. I'd never even thought of all those little things before, but it added up to a lot.

“So, seems like things are hotting up with Marco,” she said.

I couldn't help blushing. We hadn't really talked about the me-and-him thing since she'd told me about all those other girls. I knew she'd been hoping I'd cool things off with him after that, but she'd obviously noticed that I hadn't. “Actually I meant to ask you…” I began, trying to sound casual. “I've been thinking about what to wear to the gig – I want him to think I look good, but I don't want to seem like I'm trying too hard.”

Summer sighed. “Oh, come on, Abs, he's so into you, he wouldn't care if you wore a bin bag.”

I had to stop myself whooping with joy at that. “So you think he does like me then?” I asked, beaming. “I mean, I thought so, I
hoped
so, but I couldn't be sure, you know, cos he's such a flirt with everyone. But you know him really well, so if you think…”

Summer raised her eyebrows. “Well, don't expect it to come to anything, that's my advice,” she said sternly. “Remember what I said about him and those other girls. He's into you now, that's obvious. But next week? Who knows.”

She must have seen my face crumple, because she quickly added, “I'm only saying this because I care about you. You do know that, don't you, Abs? And it's nothing against Marco as a mate.”

I felt like a massive idiot then. I'd been desperate to have a big giggly girly chat with her about him, but instead she was acting like a grumpy old granny. “It's no big deal,” I stuttered.

All I wanted to do after that was change the subject, so I asked her about the uniform stuff she'd said I could have. She got it all out for me, and of course, being Summer's stuff, it looked as cool as uniform possibly can, and her washing powder smelled gorgeous too, of happiness and sunshine (I mean, lemon and bergamot!). I managed to get enough uniform bits to give Grace a set as well, even though I wasn't sure she'd be that grateful.

Then I asked Summer what
she
was wearing for the gig. She showed me and it was much more casual than I'd been expecting, just jeans and a T-shirt. “Thank goodness I saw your outfit,” I told her. “I mean, I would have been stood there done up in a micro-mini and high heels, like we used to wear to the under-eighteens' night at Liquid.”

Summer looked impressed. “Wow, did you really go clubbing in London? Cool! You must miss that!”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess so.”

She gave me a sad smile. “And, well, you must miss
everything
… How do you feel about what happened with your dad now?” she asked.

“Oh, I'm fine, I mean, I don't want to talk about it,” I said automatically, but then I realized that I did. After all, I hadn't felt like I could say anything to Mum, Saff or Grace. It would be so good to let my feelings out. “Well, I feel like…” I paused, trying to put my finger on it – that scattered, floating, sick feeling I had in my head and stomach all the time. “I guess I felt completely safe and comfortable in our life and I thought it would always be there, and then everything changed, and it all suddenly ended, and it felt like…an earthquake, and…”

I paused. Summer was looking really anxious. I hadn't meant for that to happen. “It's completely different from your family,” I said quickly. I realized then what a bad idea it had been to try and open up to her. She wouldn't understand at all – I mean, how could she? Suddenly, being in Summer's safe, solid, happy home made me feel even more lost and floaty than ever, and I just wanted to get back to the flat. “Oh, is that the time?” I asked, peering at her mobile. “I'd better head off. Mum's expecting me for dinner.”