There’s one good thing about staying at the Petersons’ – oh, that’s not fair, there are many good things, actually, I’m just a bit too stressed at the moment to dwell on them – no, the one good thing I’m thinking of is that I still have access to the Internet any time I like as Chas’s mum says I can use the computer in what she calls here ‘boudoir’ (looks like a chintzy cross between a snug and a study to me). So I can still keep this blog going. Which I jolly well need to. So I don’t explode. Will I survive the week here? I don’t know. This first night hasn’t got off to an exactly easy start – and I’ve only been here a few hours!
I raced over to Greg’s as fast as I could.
‘What’s up?’ he said. It was pretty obvious from my appealing sweat patches and my scarlet face that something was. Panting, I explained.
He pulled a face. ‘Well, that’ll be nice then,’ he said. ‘A whole week in the same house as lover boy.’
‘Greg – don’t call him that!’ I said. ‘It’s so…’
‘What?’ said Greg. ‘That’s what he is, isn’t he? As far as you’re concerned.’
I turned away. I just didn’t know how to answer. What is Chas? I just don’t know any more. ‘Look,’ I muttered. ‘Can we not talk about Chas? I’m sorry I told you I’m staying there. It’s not like I really want to.’
‘Why on earth not?’ said Greg. ‘It’s like a photo-shoot for ‘Homes and Gardens’ from what I hear. Why not just enjoy?’
‘Yeh, but I’ll have to mind my ps and qs all week. The only escape is Chas’s outhouse and I don’t know how much he’ll want to have me hanging around in there – or how much I’ll want to either.’
‘You’ll have a bedroom, won’t you?’ said Greg. ‘You can get loads of homework done.’
‘Yeh, I guess.’
We were both silent.
‘I’ll get the dogs,’ said Greg.
I stood outside the gate, churning things over in my mind. What was the matter with me? Why wasn’t I thrilled at the thought of spending a whole week at Chas’s house? Why did I think he wouldn’t want me hanging out with him? OK, so his mum could be a bit much and I was guessing I’d have to be a lot tidier than I was at home but all that was trivial really.
Greg returned, the dogs straining at their leads.
‘Oh come on, Kate,’ he said. ‘Look pleased to see them, at least. They’re thrilled to see you – and if you bite your lip any harder, you’ll get right through to your chin!’
I smiled limply and half-heartedly made a fuss of the dogs. Then we set off. For a while, neither of us said anything. Then, when we had turned off the road into a field and had let the dogs go free, Greg turned to me.
‘Why don’t you accept it, Kate?’ he said. ‘It’s not working with Chas. He’s a great friend – but that’s all. It’s not the end of the world.’
I stared at the ground. I didn’t dare look at him. I knew if I did, I would either cry or kiss him – or both. I love Chas – I really do. I’ve been so close to him for so long and we’ve been through so many ups and downs – but right now, he feels more like a brother than someone you’d go out with. And I don’t know how to tell him. Or get over it myself. I guess I’ve been thinking for years that eventually we would go out together and it would be fantastic. And now we sort of are – and it just isn’t.
And then Greg took me by the shoulders and pulled me gently towards him and I looked up and – stupid, stupid, stupid! – then we were kissing – again!
It took me until my knees began to melt before I pulled myself away.
‘No!’ I said. ‘No, Greg – don’t!’
Greg stood, hands on his hips, his face turned down and away, his lips clenched.
‘You know what, Kate?’ he said. ‘You need to sort yourself out. Decide what you want to do. ‘Cos what you’re doing right now is doing my head in.’
That made me angry.
‘What I’m doing?’ I snapped. ‘I didn’t grab you by the shoulders! I didn’t say it wasn’t working with Chas! I’m sure you know how I feel at the moment and you just keep taking advantage!’
‘Yeh – like you don’t want me to!’ said Greg.
We stood facing each other, glaring furiously.
‘I think,’ I said, ‘it would be best if I took Fairfax and Darcy one way and you went another, all right? And tomorrow, I’ll walk them on my own, if you don’t mind!’
Greg turned on his heel. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘Chloe! Biggles!’
The next moment Chloe and Biggles came racing towards him, tongues hanging out, tails flailing.
‘I’ll take them to the park,’ he said. ‘You go there tomorrow and I’ll come up here. Then there’ll be no chance you’ll have to see me – except at school, of course.’
With that, he stalked off. And I burst into tears.
Fairfax and Darcy had come running back too. They sat either side of me and whined. Darcy laid her big paw on my thigh. I sank to me knees and wrapped my arms round them both.
‘What am I going to do?’ I sobbed. ‘What am I going to do?’
What we did, of course, was finish the walk. The great thing about having a job, whatever it is, is that whatever other rubbish is going on in your life, you still have to do it if you want to be paid. And I did. And even more, I wanted to prove to my wretched mother that I could do a job that didn’t involve counting coffins! I returned the dogs at the right time, rushed home, packed my bags and Mum gave me a lift out to the Petersons.
Mrs Charming Peterson came gushing out into the yard to meet us.
‘Kate! How lovely! What a surprise this is! Jo, I know it must be a terrific nuisance for you – but how delightful for us to have Kate here for the week. I know Chas is absolutely thrilled. Kate, come in and I’ll show you your room and then you must go over and talk to him – he’s in his outhouse – of course!’
Mum did the goodbyes quickly – she had plenty to do back home to get my room sorted out for our unexpected guest, even though Belle and Ben had promised to help. Then I followed Mrs Charming up the stairs.
Well – you should see my room! It is gorgeous! All snowy white with old lace trimmings. The bed is one of those antique brass ones with rails and lovely shiny knobs at both ends – the sort that just make you long for Christmas so you can hang up your stocking. There’s no carpet, just dark, polished boards but there’s the thickest, softest, whitest sheepskin rug beside the bed. The duvet must be goosedown or something – it’s so thick and light and it crackles slightly when you touch it. It’s all so restful and comforting, I just wanted to go to bed straightaway. But no such luck.
‘Now put your things down, Kate – you can unpack later. Chas’ll be wanting to see you before you turn in – better get over there or he’ll be wondering what’s happened to you. Cocoa in about half an hour, all right?’
There’s no fighting Mrs Charming when she’s decided something. I’ve tried and failed before. That’s why Chas escapes to his outhouse so much and Mr Peterson escapes to commune with his pigs. So off I went to see Chas.
He was playing on his computer when I walked in.
‘What do you think of this then?’ I said, breezily. ‘I’m here for the week.’
Chas spun round on his chair to look at me. There was a very serious expression on his face.
‘Yeh – I know,’ he said, ‘and don’t think for a moment I don’t want you here, Kate, it’s just…’
‘It’s just what?’ I said.
Chas sighed. ‘Kate…well, I don’t know how to tell you this…but something’s happened...’
Thursday, 26 June 2008
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
The day after the night before......
Everything always seems better in the morning. Have you noticed that? I have a favourite poem by someone called Fleur Adcock about it:
Things
There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
Committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
Than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5am. All the worse things come stalking in
And stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.
That’s how it felt last night. I was a complete slut for snogging Greg, he was a complete player and so was Chas, the blonde I saw Chas with was a complete – no, I won’t say it – I was never going to survive a day in school, avoiding looking at either Chas or Greg and I was going to have to give up my dog-walking job out of sheer embarrassment. I would then be doomed to hours spent in the garage counting cardboard coffins whilst my mother said, ‘I told you so.’
Right, so none of that happened. None of the things I was worried about turned out to be a problem. It was other things that did.
Our new au pair, for example. She’s arrived. A week early.
We were eating tea when the phone rang and I was getting pleasantly excited at the thought of my dog-walk with Greg. I’d hardly seen him at school but he was fine with me when I did. It was Dad that picked up.
‘Pardon?’ he said. ‘What? You’re where? What? I don’t believe it!’
Naturally, by this stage, we were all glued to his every word. He put his hand over the mouth-piece.
‘You will never believe this!’ he said. ‘Déjà vu or what?’
‘Déjà vu?’ said Mum. ‘Why? What’s going on?’
Dad eye-balled her impressively. ‘It’s our new au pair,’ he said. ‘She’s at Victoria station. She’s just arrived by Eurostar. I’ll have to go and get her.’
‘But she’s a week early!’ said Mum. ‘That’s far worse than Nic. He was only a day early. Where on earth are we going to put her?’
We all looked at each other in consternation while Dad told the new au pair to go and get herself something to eat – he was on his way but it would be a couple of hours before he got to London to pick her up.
‘How’s that happened?’ said Ben. ‘A whole week early?’
Mum reached for her diary and flicked through it. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It definitely says next week in here – and I’m sure I was most careful about telling her when I wanted her – after all that trouble with Nic.’
‘Maybe she is stupid,’ said Belle who doesn’t mince her words. Well, we were all thinking the same thing – we were just too British to say so.
‘Oh no,’ said Ben. ‘We’ve never had a stupid au pair before.’
‘Thank you,’ said Belle. ‘I will take this as a compliment, no?’
‘It doesn’t matter how stupid she is, we’ll have to find somewhere for her to sleep for a week,’ said Mum. ‘Anyone got any ideas?’
We stared glumly round at each other. Every inch is accounted for in this house. Even our dog, Rover, has to sleep in a puppy-crate festooned with drying nappies. He should have an ordinary dog-bed by now but Mum says the puppy-crate is far too useful to get rid of. It’s great for drying socks and pants too. You can get an awful lot hung up to dry, slotted through the wire on the top. The only downside is that occasionally Rover gets bored with his lack of view and pulls down the odd sock or pair of pants to chew. I never quite fancy wearing them again after they’ve been in Rover’s mouth for an afternoon. I know that isn’t logical – if they’re clean, they’re clean – but – well, no, I just don’t fancy it, that’s all.
‘I could sleep on the sofa,’ suggested Ben, ‘or Kate could.’
‘And what if anyone wants to watch late night TV or has friends round?’ asked Mum. ’It’d never work – not for a whole week.’
‘Kate and I could share for a week,’ said Belle.
Now that just shows what a changed character Belle is. When she first arrived, I don’t think she knew the meaning of the word ‘share’ – and I don’t mean there was a problem with her English! I smiled at her, quite flattered she was prepared to offer, but Mum squashed the idea.
‘No, this is your last last week here, Belle,’ she said. ‘You might want to have friends to stay-over yourself. And it’s not fair on either you – no, we’ll have to think of something else.’
‘Right, I’m going,’ said Dad, putting the phone down at last. His voice had got more and more clipped and irritatable as the conversation had gone on – unusual for Dad. ‘So you lot have got about four hours to come up with a bed for her, OK?’ he said.
With that, he swept out. If a pony-tail can look annoyed, his did! (Wish he’d have it cut off - it’s in beautiful condition and all that but it is a bit has-been.)
‘Maybe…’ said Ben, ‘Maybe I could go and stay with Susie for a week.’
‘Yeh, right,’ I said, ‘like her parents would allow that!’
Susie is Ben’s long-standing girlfriend and her whole family goes to the Salvation Army. You should just see what Susie can do with a tambourine! It’s called being a timbrellist and it you think she sounds like a geek, think again. You would be amazed. Anyway, her parents like Ben a lot but there is no way he is allowed to stay over at their place. I can understand why. As little brothers go he’s great – but there is a disturbingly mature glint in his eye when he’s around Susie!
‘No, that wouldn’t work,’ said Mum, slowly, ‘but I’ll tell you what would. Kate could go and stay with the Petersons. They’ve got plenty of space and it’d be no problem getting to school.’
‘What?’ I said. My jaw fell open and I dropped the spoon that I’d been using to help Hayley finish the last of her fromage frais. She wasn’t impressed – she reached out her chubby little hand and slimed me, quite deliberately, I’m sure – but I had more serious worries. ‘What?’ I said again, aghast. ‘I can’t stay there!’
‘Why on earth not?’ said Mum. ‘It’s only for a week – and it’s not as if Chas and you are going out or anything.’
Ben, Belle and I exchanged glances. You know how you can do that sort of flicker with your eye-balls that means ‘no’? I did it then. No, if Mum was too thick to realise that things weren’t quite as straightforward with Chas as she thought they were, then I didn’t want anyone explaining right now – things were just far too complicated at the moment. Better to bite the bullet and do what she suggested. Though how I was going to survive a whole week with Mrs Charming Peterson gushing at me, I didn’t know. And just what would a whole week of evenings in the same house do for my relationship with Chas? Of course, I’d be out walking the dogs for a good hour each day – gosh, I was going to be fit; I’d be cycling over to Greg’s to do that – but how was Greg going to react to the situation? He shouldn’t react at all, of course. We are not an item. The kiss was a mistake. But somehow, I just didn’t think it was going to be as simple as that.
‘Well, I need to go,’ I said, retrieving the spoon and wiping Hayley’s sticky fingers with a cloth.
‘So is that OK then, Kate?’ asked Mum. ‘I can’t think what else to do. Of course, they might say ‘no’…’
‘They won’t,’ I said. ‘You know what Chas’s mum is like – she may be irritating but she’s just about the kindest person I’ve ever met.’
‘Bet she lets you use all the fancy stuff in their bathroom,’ said Ben. ‘And you’ll have those posh towels that are so thick and fluffy, you can bounce on them.’
Belle laughed. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ she said, wiping Rebekah’s hands while Mum phoned.
I decided to go. I knew Mrs Peterson would say ‘yes’. So it looked like I’d be doing a late night removal to Chas’s house. I decided I’d better get the dogs walked before someone decided I wouldn’t have enough time tonight – there was no way I was going to miss it.
Really, I should have been worried about the au pair – Dad had looked extremely stressed when he got off the phone and it didn’t look like it was all about suddenly having to drive to London. Instead, I quickly got ready to go out, agonising over whether to tell Greg I was moving in with Chas for a week. As it turned out, that was the least of my worries.
Things
There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
Committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
Than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5am. All the worse things come stalking in
And stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.
That’s how it felt last night. I was a complete slut for snogging Greg, he was a complete player and so was Chas, the blonde I saw Chas with was a complete – no, I won’t say it – I was never going to survive a day in school, avoiding looking at either Chas or Greg and I was going to have to give up my dog-walking job out of sheer embarrassment. I would then be doomed to hours spent in the garage counting cardboard coffins whilst my mother said, ‘I told you so.’
Right, so none of that happened. None of the things I was worried about turned out to be a problem. It was other things that did.
Our new au pair, for example. She’s arrived. A week early.
We were eating tea when the phone rang and I was getting pleasantly excited at the thought of my dog-walk with Greg. I’d hardly seen him at school but he was fine with me when I did. It was Dad that picked up.
‘Pardon?’ he said. ‘What? You’re where? What? I don’t believe it!’
Naturally, by this stage, we were all glued to his every word. He put his hand over the mouth-piece.
‘You will never believe this!’ he said. ‘Déjà vu or what?’
‘Déjà vu?’ said Mum. ‘Why? What’s going on?’
Dad eye-balled her impressively. ‘It’s our new au pair,’ he said. ‘She’s at Victoria station. She’s just arrived by Eurostar. I’ll have to go and get her.’
‘But she’s a week early!’ said Mum. ‘That’s far worse than Nic. He was only a day early. Where on earth are we going to put her?’
We all looked at each other in consternation while Dad told the new au pair to go and get herself something to eat – he was on his way but it would be a couple of hours before he got to London to pick her up.
‘How’s that happened?’ said Ben. ‘A whole week early?’
Mum reached for her diary and flicked through it. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It definitely says next week in here – and I’m sure I was most careful about telling her when I wanted her – after all that trouble with Nic.’
‘Maybe she is stupid,’ said Belle who doesn’t mince her words. Well, we were all thinking the same thing – we were just too British to say so.
‘Oh no,’ said Ben. ‘We’ve never had a stupid au pair before.’
‘Thank you,’ said Belle. ‘I will take this as a compliment, no?’
‘It doesn’t matter how stupid she is, we’ll have to find somewhere for her to sleep for a week,’ said Mum. ‘Anyone got any ideas?’
We stared glumly round at each other. Every inch is accounted for in this house. Even our dog, Rover, has to sleep in a puppy-crate festooned with drying nappies. He should have an ordinary dog-bed by now but Mum says the puppy-crate is far too useful to get rid of. It’s great for drying socks and pants too. You can get an awful lot hung up to dry, slotted through the wire on the top. The only downside is that occasionally Rover gets bored with his lack of view and pulls down the odd sock or pair of pants to chew. I never quite fancy wearing them again after they’ve been in Rover’s mouth for an afternoon. I know that isn’t logical – if they’re clean, they’re clean – but – well, no, I just don’t fancy it, that’s all.
‘I could sleep on the sofa,’ suggested Ben, ‘or Kate could.’
‘And what if anyone wants to watch late night TV or has friends round?’ asked Mum. ’It’d never work – not for a whole week.’
‘Kate and I could share for a week,’ said Belle.
Now that just shows what a changed character Belle is. When she first arrived, I don’t think she knew the meaning of the word ‘share’ – and I don’t mean there was a problem with her English! I smiled at her, quite flattered she was prepared to offer, but Mum squashed the idea.
‘No, this is your last last week here, Belle,’ she said. ‘You might want to have friends to stay-over yourself. And it’s not fair on either you – no, we’ll have to think of something else.’
‘Right, I’m going,’ said Dad, putting the phone down at last. His voice had got more and more clipped and irritatable as the conversation had gone on – unusual for Dad. ‘So you lot have got about four hours to come up with a bed for her, OK?’ he said.
With that, he swept out. If a pony-tail can look annoyed, his did! (Wish he’d have it cut off - it’s in beautiful condition and all that but it is a bit has-been.)
‘Maybe…’ said Ben, ‘Maybe I could go and stay with Susie for a week.’
‘Yeh, right,’ I said, ‘like her parents would allow that!’
Susie is Ben’s long-standing girlfriend and her whole family goes to the Salvation Army. You should just see what Susie can do with a tambourine! It’s called being a timbrellist and it you think she sounds like a geek, think again. You would be amazed. Anyway, her parents like Ben a lot but there is no way he is allowed to stay over at their place. I can understand why. As little brothers go he’s great – but there is a disturbingly mature glint in his eye when he’s around Susie!
‘No, that wouldn’t work,’ said Mum, slowly, ‘but I’ll tell you what would. Kate could go and stay with the Petersons. They’ve got plenty of space and it’d be no problem getting to school.’
‘What?’ I said. My jaw fell open and I dropped the spoon that I’d been using to help Hayley finish the last of her fromage frais. She wasn’t impressed – she reached out her chubby little hand and slimed me, quite deliberately, I’m sure – but I had more serious worries. ‘What?’ I said again, aghast. ‘I can’t stay there!’
‘Why on earth not?’ said Mum. ‘It’s only for a week – and it’s not as if Chas and you are going out or anything.’
Ben, Belle and I exchanged glances. You know how you can do that sort of flicker with your eye-balls that means ‘no’? I did it then. No, if Mum was too thick to realise that things weren’t quite as straightforward with Chas as she thought they were, then I didn’t want anyone explaining right now – things were just far too complicated at the moment. Better to bite the bullet and do what she suggested. Though how I was going to survive a whole week with Mrs Charming Peterson gushing at me, I didn’t know. And just what would a whole week of evenings in the same house do for my relationship with Chas? Of course, I’d be out walking the dogs for a good hour each day – gosh, I was going to be fit; I’d be cycling over to Greg’s to do that – but how was Greg going to react to the situation? He shouldn’t react at all, of course. We are not an item. The kiss was a mistake. But somehow, I just didn’t think it was going to be as simple as that.
‘Well, I need to go,’ I said, retrieving the spoon and wiping Hayley’s sticky fingers with a cloth.
‘So is that OK then, Kate?’ asked Mum. ‘I can’t think what else to do. Of course, they might say ‘no’…’
‘They won’t,’ I said. ‘You know what Chas’s mum is like – she may be irritating but she’s just about the kindest person I’ve ever met.’
‘Bet she lets you use all the fancy stuff in their bathroom,’ said Ben. ‘And you’ll have those posh towels that are so thick and fluffy, you can bounce on them.’
Belle laughed. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ she said, wiping Rebekah’s hands while Mum phoned.
I decided to go. I knew Mrs Peterson would say ‘yes’. So it looked like I’d be doing a late night removal to Chas’s house. I decided I’d better get the dogs walked before someone decided I wouldn’t have enough time tonight – there was no way I was going to miss it.
Really, I should have been worried about the au pair – Dad had looked extremely stressed when he got off the phone and it didn’t look like it was all about suddenly having to drive to London. Instead, I quickly got ready to go out, agonising over whether to tell Greg I was moving in with Chas for a week. As it turned out, that was the least of my worries.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
The Other Woman!
Oh, oh, oh – why is life so complicated? I’m never going to get any sleep at this rate!
Greg rang about half an hour after I got back from the walk.
‘Soooo….’ he said. ‘Was that just to make Charming Chas jealous or am I in with a serious chance here?’
I winced. I’ve always thought of Chas’s mother as Mrs Charming Peterson – and it hasn’t exactly been complimentary. Don’t get me wrong – I’m very fond of Chas’s mum, as it happens. She’s a very kind woman – but so over the top Homes and Gardens! Charming with several capital Cs. I’m never quite sure how Chas turned out so normal. He has a dad who’s virtually an elective mute – he says more to his rare breed pigs than to his family – and a mother who could almost put Dame Edna in the shade!
Anyway…the immediate problem was how to answer the question.
‘Mmm…er…I…I…’ I managed and then gave up.
‘Doesn’t sound overwhelmingly hopeful,’ said Greg.
‘N – no,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have…you see…well, I just…’
‘You just saw them together and you were upset and I was there and it just happened.’
‘Well, you did start kissing my face!’ I said, indignantly. He didn’t need to pretend it was all my fault.
‘You were crying. I didn’t have a tissue.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘Haven’t you heard of sleeves?’
Greg laughed. ‘Very unladylike,’ he said. ‘And wouldn’t you rather use me? You seemed to be enjoying it.’
I could feel myself blushing scarlet, embarrassed both by the idea that he now saw me as a user and because he was right, I had enjoyed it. Just thinking about it now had set my heart racing.
‘Greg, I didn’t mean it like that – I didn’t mean to use you,’ I blustered. ‘And it was….’ I paused, trying to think what I could say that sounded good but not too enthusiastic. I couldn’t think of anything. ‘Nice,’ I said, at last.
Greg laughed but it sounded hollow. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Damned with faint praise or what? So I didn’t manage to lure you away from Chas with my great skill as a kisser then? Even though he’d got his arm round the neck of some sexy blonde?’
‘Greg, stop it,’ I said. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. It was a mistake, OK? I was upset and you were there and you were kissing my face and…’
‘I was nice. It’s OK. I get the picture. So that’s it with the dog-walking then, I take it? You’d prefer to go alone.’
There are all sorts of expressions for what happened to me next. My heart sank. My heart flipped. My heart turned over. What it really felt like was that an armoured hand – think ‘Knight’s Tale’ (RIP Heath Ledger) – think the awful bad guy that gorgeous Rufus Sewell plays – grabbed my heart and squeezed hard. Whatever. I knew I wanted to walk the dogs with Greg again tomorrow, whatever had happened today.
‘Oh, I don’t mind if you come,’ I said, ungraciously. I was trying not to sound too keen, too desperate. I was trying to be neutral, cool, like a friend rather than someone whose legs were quaking at the thought of having snogged him half an hour ago. Because that’s what I was, wasn’t I? A friend. Just a friend who’d got a bit carried away in a moment of upset – and who had, if I was fair to myself, followed his lead.
‘Wow, feel the enthusiasm!’ said Greg, coolly. ‘I can hardly wait!’
‘So will you come then?’ I asked, half-dreading, half-longing for his reply.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘OK?’
‘OK.’ What else could I say? But I knew that every waking moment between now and then was going to drag.
After I’d put the phone down, I tried to get on with my work but I was horribly distracted. I felt so confused. Chas is so important to me. We’ve been friends for so long. If things are bad between us, it’s unbearable. And I’d reacted so strongly at seeing him touch that strange girl – I’d cried, for goodness sake! So I must really care about him. And yet kissing Greg has been so exciting – I’d never felt anything like it before. My entire guts seemed to melt and go quivery.
What on earth was going on?
‘Dear God,’ I said out loud. Sometimes, when I’m really confused, it helps to pray out loud. It clarifies things for me and helps me concentrate – and I really say it, if you know what I mean. It’s not just half-sentences mangled around in my head. It’s the whole works. Sometimes I really give God a tough time that way. I did today.
‘Dear God, this is ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I am so confused. I don’t know if I love Chas but don’t fancy him - or if I fancy Greg but don’t love him - or what – or both! Actually, God, both would make sense – but then what am I supposed to do about it? Should I be going out with one of them – or neither? I can’t exactly go out with both, can I?’
When Christians are stuck, they often get told to ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ You can even get little WWJD bracelets to remind you. Well, it’s all very well, but nine times out of ten, I can’t work out what Jesus would do because I can’t see him in that situation. I mean, as far as we know, Jesus never even had a girlfriend, unless Dan Brown is right in that stupid book ‘The DaVinci Code’ and I don’t think he is for a minute.
But it was worth asking the question, all the same. ‘OK, God,’ I said. ‘What would Jesus do?’
No thunderbolts or mysterious writing appearing on the wall. Instead my mobile began to ring.
I glanced at the display. Chas. Now what? Suddenly, there was that chilly jealous dread making the inside of my stomach crawl. What would Jesus do? I had to really hold onto the fact that he would pick up the phone and be pleasant. You didn’t see Jesus going round being a jealous cow, did you? Not that he had anything much to be jealous about – well, except of course, of other people’s lives! His was a bit cut short, after all. If I was going to be crucified, I think I’d be pretty jealous of the people who weren’t! Anyway, he wouldn’t be rude to Chas when Chas hadn’t actually done anything to justify being rude about. So I answered the phone.
‘So how did the dog-walking go?’ he said. ‘Was it OK with Greg?’
So he can’t have seen Greg and me snogging. Phew! I drew a great big inward sigh of relief. You see, I’m not as bad as I thought I was. I hadn’t wanted to make him jealous – it was all down to wretched Greg kissing my tears away. But I thought I’d drop a hint and see what happened.
‘Yeh, it was fine,’ I said. ‘We had to go to the postbox and then to the park. We’d rather have gone in the fields but his mum had some stuff she wanted posting.’
‘Oh – I didn’t see you down there,’ said Chas. ‘That’s what I was ringing to tell you about, as well.’
‘What?’ I said, curious to know what explanation he was going to come up with.
‘Just that we had this family over for dinner – some big business associate of my dad’s – there’s talk of them working together over marketing pork products. His wife and daughter came too.’
‘Oh. Were they nice?’ I asked.
‘Yeh, yeh, they were OK. I took the girl for a walk – showed her round a bit. They’re going to be moving here soon, apparently. They’re coming to look at properties at the weekend – to rent, I think, at the moment. The girl doesn’t want to be dragged round all day so I suggested she hung out with me – well, us – for part of the time. Is that OK?’
‘What’s her name?’ I said, desperately trying to cover the tremble in my voice.
‘Felicity – but she prefers to be called Fliss.’
‘Oh, OK, then,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘I’ll look forward to meeting her then.’
A few minutes later, I hung up. Then I flung myself on my bed and thumped my pillow in a frenzy. I thought I’d got the better of my jealousy for good. Obviously not. And what was I jealous for anyway? I wasn’t even sure how I felt about Chas at the moment – not now I’d gone and confused everything by snogging Greg!
Greg rang about half an hour after I got back from the walk.
‘Soooo….’ he said. ‘Was that just to make Charming Chas jealous or am I in with a serious chance here?’
I winced. I’ve always thought of Chas’s mother as Mrs Charming Peterson – and it hasn’t exactly been complimentary. Don’t get me wrong – I’m very fond of Chas’s mum, as it happens. She’s a very kind woman – but so over the top Homes and Gardens! Charming with several capital Cs. I’m never quite sure how Chas turned out so normal. He has a dad who’s virtually an elective mute – he says more to his rare breed pigs than to his family – and a mother who could almost put Dame Edna in the shade!
Anyway…the immediate problem was how to answer the question.
‘Mmm…er…I…I…’ I managed and then gave up.
‘Doesn’t sound overwhelmingly hopeful,’ said Greg.
‘N – no,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have…you see…well, I just…’
‘You just saw them together and you were upset and I was there and it just happened.’
‘Well, you did start kissing my face!’ I said, indignantly. He didn’t need to pretend it was all my fault.
‘You were crying. I didn’t have a tissue.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘Haven’t you heard of sleeves?’
Greg laughed. ‘Very unladylike,’ he said. ‘And wouldn’t you rather use me? You seemed to be enjoying it.’
I could feel myself blushing scarlet, embarrassed both by the idea that he now saw me as a user and because he was right, I had enjoyed it. Just thinking about it now had set my heart racing.
‘Greg, I didn’t mean it like that – I didn’t mean to use you,’ I blustered. ‘And it was….’ I paused, trying to think what I could say that sounded good but not too enthusiastic. I couldn’t think of anything. ‘Nice,’ I said, at last.
Greg laughed but it sounded hollow. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Damned with faint praise or what? So I didn’t manage to lure you away from Chas with my great skill as a kisser then? Even though he’d got his arm round the neck of some sexy blonde?’
‘Greg, stop it,’ I said. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. It was a mistake, OK? I was upset and you were there and you were kissing my face and…’
‘I was nice. It’s OK. I get the picture. So that’s it with the dog-walking then, I take it? You’d prefer to go alone.’
There are all sorts of expressions for what happened to me next. My heart sank. My heart flipped. My heart turned over. What it really felt like was that an armoured hand – think ‘Knight’s Tale’ (RIP Heath Ledger) – think the awful bad guy that gorgeous Rufus Sewell plays – grabbed my heart and squeezed hard. Whatever. I knew I wanted to walk the dogs with Greg again tomorrow, whatever had happened today.
‘Oh, I don’t mind if you come,’ I said, ungraciously. I was trying not to sound too keen, too desperate. I was trying to be neutral, cool, like a friend rather than someone whose legs were quaking at the thought of having snogged him half an hour ago. Because that’s what I was, wasn’t I? A friend. Just a friend who’d got a bit carried away in a moment of upset – and who had, if I was fair to myself, followed his lead.
‘Wow, feel the enthusiasm!’ said Greg, coolly. ‘I can hardly wait!’
‘So will you come then?’ I asked, half-dreading, half-longing for his reply.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘OK?’
‘OK.’ What else could I say? But I knew that every waking moment between now and then was going to drag.
After I’d put the phone down, I tried to get on with my work but I was horribly distracted. I felt so confused. Chas is so important to me. We’ve been friends for so long. If things are bad between us, it’s unbearable. And I’d reacted so strongly at seeing him touch that strange girl – I’d cried, for goodness sake! So I must really care about him. And yet kissing Greg has been so exciting – I’d never felt anything like it before. My entire guts seemed to melt and go quivery.
What on earth was going on?
‘Dear God,’ I said out loud. Sometimes, when I’m really confused, it helps to pray out loud. It clarifies things for me and helps me concentrate – and I really say it, if you know what I mean. It’s not just half-sentences mangled around in my head. It’s the whole works. Sometimes I really give God a tough time that way. I did today.
‘Dear God, this is ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I am so confused. I don’t know if I love Chas but don’t fancy him - or if I fancy Greg but don’t love him - or what – or both! Actually, God, both would make sense – but then what am I supposed to do about it? Should I be going out with one of them – or neither? I can’t exactly go out with both, can I?’
When Christians are stuck, they often get told to ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ You can even get little WWJD bracelets to remind you. Well, it’s all very well, but nine times out of ten, I can’t work out what Jesus would do because I can’t see him in that situation. I mean, as far as we know, Jesus never even had a girlfriend, unless Dan Brown is right in that stupid book ‘The DaVinci Code’ and I don’t think he is for a minute.
But it was worth asking the question, all the same. ‘OK, God,’ I said. ‘What would Jesus do?’
No thunderbolts or mysterious writing appearing on the wall. Instead my mobile began to ring.
I glanced at the display. Chas. Now what? Suddenly, there was that chilly jealous dread making the inside of my stomach crawl. What would Jesus do? I had to really hold onto the fact that he would pick up the phone and be pleasant. You didn’t see Jesus going round being a jealous cow, did you? Not that he had anything much to be jealous about – well, except of course, of other people’s lives! His was a bit cut short, after all. If I was going to be crucified, I think I’d be pretty jealous of the people who weren’t! Anyway, he wouldn’t be rude to Chas when Chas hadn’t actually done anything to justify being rude about. So I answered the phone.
‘So how did the dog-walking go?’ he said. ‘Was it OK with Greg?’
So he can’t have seen Greg and me snogging. Phew! I drew a great big inward sigh of relief. You see, I’m not as bad as I thought I was. I hadn’t wanted to make him jealous – it was all down to wretched Greg kissing my tears away. But I thought I’d drop a hint and see what happened.
‘Yeh, it was fine,’ I said. ‘We had to go to the postbox and then to the park. We’d rather have gone in the fields but his mum had some stuff she wanted posting.’
‘Oh – I didn’t see you down there,’ said Chas. ‘That’s what I was ringing to tell you about, as well.’
‘What?’ I said, curious to know what explanation he was going to come up with.
‘Just that we had this family over for dinner – some big business associate of my dad’s – there’s talk of them working together over marketing pork products. His wife and daughter came too.’
‘Oh. Were they nice?’ I asked.
‘Yeh, yeh, they were OK. I took the girl for a walk – showed her round a bit. They’re going to be moving here soon, apparently. They’re coming to look at properties at the weekend – to rent, I think, at the moment. The girl doesn’t want to be dragged round all day so I suggested she hung out with me – well, us – for part of the time. Is that OK?’
‘What’s her name?’ I said, desperately trying to cover the tremble in my voice.
‘Felicity – but she prefers to be called Fliss.’
‘Oh, OK, then,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘I’ll look forward to meeting her then.’
A few minutes later, I hung up. Then I flung myself on my bed and thumped my pillow in a frenzy. I thought I’d got the better of my jealousy for good. Obviously not. And what was I jealous for anyway? I wasn’t even sure how I felt about Chas at the moment – not now I’d gone and confused everything by snogging Greg!
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Out with Gorgeous Greg
Right! Where do I start? Where do I start? This has been one of the most mind-blowing evenings of my whole life. OK, let’s start at the very beginning.
When I got in from school, Belle, our French au pair was busy in the kitchen with my baby sisters. They were having a fine old time, chasing slices of banana round their dishes, squishing them and prodding them and generally making sure they were well dead before they slimed them round their faces. Eating them seemed to be a bonus. Belle was laughing at them. She’s come on a lot. When she first arrived, the slightest bit of baby mess nearly made her faint. Now she can really mix it with the muck makers. Worse, when she first came, I hated her guts – and I suspect she hated mine. But we’re OK with each other now – in fact, we get on really well. She’s leaving in a few weeks because she’s starting uni back in France – and I guess we’ll have to start all over again, breaking in a new au pair. I’ll miss Belle. I’ve learnt quite a lot from her and she can be a really good laugh. Today, she offered to make me a cup of tea.
‘I hear you have a new job,’ she said.
‘Well,’I said, taking the mug, ‘I’m going to try it out. It’s dog-walking – but they’re big dogs and valuable. I need to make sure I can do it properly.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Belle. ‘They belong to Greg’s mum, don’t they? They are well trained.’
‘Yeh…yeh…they are…’ I muttered. I could feel myself blushing. This was awful – blushing just at the sound of Greg’s name.
Belle’s eyes laughed at me over the top of her own mug. ‘Soooo….’ she said. ‘We still like Greg.’
I blustered. ‘Of course I do!’ I said. ‘I’ve always liked him. I just don’t fancy him, that’s all – but he seems to fancy me – well, sometimes…’ My voice tailed off. Even I wasn’t convinced.
‘So what about Chas?’ said Belle. ‘Still best friends?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course!’
‘But nothing more?’
I sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Belle,’ I said. ‘I don’t think either of us knows quite what we feel. We’ve been close for so long now – but it just doesn’t feel quite right when we…you know…’ I looked at her plaintively, hoping she would understand.
Belle laughed. ‘Make out?’ she said. ‘Snog?’
I nodded. ‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘one of us always pulls back. We kiss and then we just stop. It’s all over ever so quickly. And I don’t know why. It’s not that I’m not enjoying it. Maybe I think Chas isn’t. Maybe I’m worried that we’ll go too far. I just don’t know.’
‘Well I don’t know,’ said Belle. ‘You’re so good, Kate. You think about all these things. You think about whether what you do is right. You pray to God. Me – well, I just have fun!’
‘You make me sound like a geek!’ I protested. ‘Like one of the God Squad! But I do have fun – lots of it! I just – well, I just want to get this right with Chas. It’s really important.’
‘So what about Greg?’ Belle said, fielding a bit of banana that skidded across the table. ‘Where does he fit in?’
I found myself blushing again. ‘Well, tonight he’s walking the dogs with me,’ I said. ‘Do you think that’s OK?’
Belle raised her eyebrows. ‘More than OK!’ she said. ‘Sounds like fun! Does Chas know?’
‘Oh yes – I checked it out with him.’
‘And he’s OK with it?’
‘Yes.’
Belle shrugged. ‘English guys are weird,’ she said. ‘All that – what do you call it? – stiff upper lip? Never showing the emotions. A French guy would never stand for that. He would show his passion. He would be jealous of his rival.’
‘Yes, but Chas isn’t like that,’ I said. ‘And anyway, we’re not properly going out.’
Belle sighed. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you certainly seem to do a lot of staying in. But if he’s OK with it – well, I’d make it not OK. If I really wanted him. I’d go and have fun with Greg. Make him want me more. He is – what is it called? – taking you for granted.’
‘Belle, you are outrageous,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t listen to you.’
But I had done. I did.
When I arrived at the kennels that Greg’s parents own, his mum came out to meet me. She had two huge dogs on leads with her.
‘Hello, Kate,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad it’s you that’s applied for this job. At least I know you a little and that you’re kind and respectful with dogs.’
I tried not to laugh. I’ve always been kind to our dog, Rover, but if Greg’s mum could have heard some of the things I’ve thought about him, she’d review that bit about respect!
‘Anyway, tonight I want to start you off with Fairport and Darcy. They’re our dogs - Newfoundlands of course – so I know they’re well-trained and obedient. I like to take them out myself but we’re getting so busy with the kennels and the bigger dogs need a long walk at some stage in the day. The little ones can manage with a good romp in the field. Once you’ve got used to it, I’ll try you with some of the dogs from the kennels – but I don’t want you to have problems with behaviour just at first.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best.’
At that moment, Greg came out of the house, his own two Newfoundlands, Chloe and Biggles, bounding after him. He smiled cheerily. I looked away, embarrassed.
‘Hi Kate,’ he said. ‘Mum, is it OK if I go with Kate? I have to take Chloe and Biggles out anyway.’
His mum frowned a little. ‘I really wanted Kate to see how she got on by herself,’ she said. ‘Can’t you go later?’
‘Oh Mum,’ moaned Greg. ‘If I promise not to interfere, can I go? If I promise to just stand back and let them molest small children, kill rabbits and cause road accidents?’
He was smiling his most winning smile. I could see his mum wasn’t proof against it and, sure enough, she gave in.
‘Oh, all right then,’ she said. ‘Kate, I’m trusting you – if he starts to interfere, you let me know, all right?’
I smiled. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘And I’ll let you know if he misbehaves too.’
It took me about three seconds to realise what I’d just said and I wanted to die. How, how, how could I have said anything quite so suggestive?
‘Right,’ I said, bending over Fairport, pretending to check her lead to cover my flaming cheeks. ‘Let’s go then, OK?’
‘Fine by me,’ said Greg, only too obviously amused by my embarrassment.
‘Oh Greg – just a moment,’ said his mum. ‘Seeing as you’re going too, can you drop a couple of letters in the postbox, please?’
‘Mum, that’s right out of our way,’ said Greg, clearly annoyed. ‘I was going to head out into the fields.’
‘Well, do that another night,’ said his mum. ‘The dogs’ll be just as happy with the park.’
‘Yes, but I might not be,’ Greg muttered. Even so, we waited for the letters. There are all sorts of things that I’m not sure I like about Greg – but at least he’s not foul to his mum like some boys are. Of course, I’m foul to my mum sometimes – but that’s different. It’s horrible when you see other people doing it.
We chatted very happily as we walked down the lane towards the shops and the park. I rather liked the way people turned to look at the four enormous, beautiful dogs in our charge. I felt very proud of the way they all walked nicely to heel, even though it’s no thanks to me! It made me want to ask lots of questions about the training and the care and what’s required for competitions and Greg managed to make it all sound remarkably interesting. Then we got onto school and exams and what we might do in year 12 and all that sort of normal stuff and then Greg asked about my family and that kept us going for ages. I realised that I was really enjoying myself. I felt relaxed and happy and it was fun to find out more about Greg. I’ve always been so wary around him and so conscious of how fit he is, that I’ve always been too tense to talk at any length with him. It was only as we were leaving the park that he suddenly put me back in the place I thought we’d left behind ages ago.
‘Oh Kate,’ he said. ‘You are great, you know. If ever you get fed up with Chas, you know where I am, OK?’
I nearly choked. It was shock that made me say what I said next. ‘What makes you think Chas and I are together?’ I gasped. ‘If we were, do you think I’d be here now – with you?’
‘You mean you and Chas aren’t an item?’ Greg looked startled.
Suddenly I realised I was getting into deep water. ‘Err…well…yes and no,’ I said.
‘Yes and no?’ said Greg. ‘What does that mean?’
I pulled a face. Now look at the hole I’d dug myself into! ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Let’s not talk about it, OK?’
Greg shrugged. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But I don’t get it.’
No, I sighed to myself. Neither do I. Neither. Do. I.
It was then that I saw the couple coming out of the chip shop, a tall, lean, dark –haired boy and a willowy, girl with long blonde hair, bleached by the sun. I would know the boy anywhere, of course. Chas. I couldn’t be mistaken. But the girl? Who was she? I couldn’t remember seeing her ever before in my life. I was going to call out – but then I stopped myself. Just what was going on here? Just what was Chas up to?
As I stared at the two of them, laughing over the chips they were sharing, Chas suddenly gave the girl a quick squeeze. Just an arm round the shoulders – ever so quick – nothing more than that. But it still gave me a jolt. Who was she? Why didn’t I know about her? Where had she come from?
I was standing stock-still. Greg could hardly avoid noticing what had caught my attention. He let out a low whistle.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘News to you then, Kate?’
To my undying shame – I’m cringing now as I write this – I began to cry. Not huge racking sobs. Just my eyes filling and overspilling and a bit of a snuffle. I really tried to hold back. I really didn’t want Greg to see how upset I was. But that was impossible.
‘I don’t have a tissue, I’m afraid,’ he said and, as if that was any sort of excuse, he leaned forward and kissed my cheeks where they were wet.
Well, I don’t know if you’ve tried snogging someone while you’re holding two dog leads and they’re holding two dog leads. It’s a bit of a challenge, I can tell you. But we managed it. And it was so not like snogging Chas. I don’t want to say quite how – but it was so not. Maybe it was because Greg was so – what? – enthusiastic. But I didn’t want him to stop and I didn’t even think about pulling back. It was just about the most exciting thing I can ever remember happening to me. We had to stop in the end because Chloe began to paw at Greg’s leg. And so we walked back to Greg’s place hardly speaking. And when I said goodbye, Greg just looked at me and mouthed ‘I’ll ring.’ I nodded and walked home in a daze and, I’m not joking, this has completely done my head in. I am so confused – really, really confused. I can’t wait for Greg to phone. But I’d still like to know exactly who that girl is that was eating chips with Chas.
When I got in from school, Belle, our French au pair was busy in the kitchen with my baby sisters. They were having a fine old time, chasing slices of banana round their dishes, squishing them and prodding them and generally making sure they were well dead before they slimed them round their faces. Eating them seemed to be a bonus. Belle was laughing at them. She’s come on a lot. When she first arrived, the slightest bit of baby mess nearly made her faint. Now she can really mix it with the muck makers. Worse, when she first came, I hated her guts – and I suspect she hated mine. But we’re OK with each other now – in fact, we get on really well. She’s leaving in a few weeks because she’s starting uni back in France – and I guess we’ll have to start all over again, breaking in a new au pair. I’ll miss Belle. I’ve learnt quite a lot from her and she can be a really good laugh. Today, she offered to make me a cup of tea.
‘I hear you have a new job,’ she said.
‘Well,’I said, taking the mug, ‘I’m going to try it out. It’s dog-walking – but they’re big dogs and valuable. I need to make sure I can do it properly.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Belle. ‘They belong to Greg’s mum, don’t they? They are well trained.’
‘Yeh…yeh…they are…’ I muttered. I could feel myself blushing. This was awful – blushing just at the sound of Greg’s name.
Belle’s eyes laughed at me over the top of her own mug. ‘Soooo….’ she said. ‘We still like Greg.’
I blustered. ‘Of course I do!’ I said. ‘I’ve always liked him. I just don’t fancy him, that’s all – but he seems to fancy me – well, sometimes…’ My voice tailed off. Even I wasn’t convinced.
‘So what about Chas?’ said Belle. ‘Still best friends?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course!’
‘But nothing more?’
I sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Belle,’ I said. ‘I don’t think either of us knows quite what we feel. We’ve been close for so long now – but it just doesn’t feel quite right when we…you know…’ I looked at her plaintively, hoping she would understand.
Belle laughed. ‘Make out?’ she said. ‘Snog?’
I nodded. ‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘one of us always pulls back. We kiss and then we just stop. It’s all over ever so quickly. And I don’t know why. It’s not that I’m not enjoying it. Maybe I think Chas isn’t. Maybe I’m worried that we’ll go too far. I just don’t know.’
‘Well I don’t know,’ said Belle. ‘You’re so good, Kate. You think about all these things. You think about whether what you do is right. You pray to God. Me – well, I just have fun!’
‘You make me sound like a geek!’ I protested. ‘Like one of the God Squad! But I do have fun – lots of it! I just – well, I just want to get this right with Chas. It’s really important.’
‘So what about Greg?’ Belle said, fielding a bit of banana that skidded across the table. ‘Where does he fit in?’
I found myself blushing again. ‘Well, tonight he’s walking the dogs with me,’ I said. ‘Do you think that’s OK?’
Belle raised her eyebrows. ‘More than OK!’ she said. ‘Sounds like fun! Does Chas know?’
‘Oh yes – I checked it out with him.’
‘And he’s OK with it?’
‘Yes.’
Belle shrugged. ‘English guys are weird,’ she said. ‘All that – what do you call it? – stiff upper lip? Never showing the emotions. A French guy would never stand for that. He would show his passion. He would be jealous of his rival.’
‘Yes, but Chas isn’t like that,’ I said. ‘And anyway, we’re not properly going out.’
Belle sighed. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you certainly seem to do a lot of staying in. But if he’s OK with it – well, I’d make it not OK. If I really wanted him. I’d go and have fun with Greg. Make him want me more. He is – what is it called? – taking you for granted.’
‘Belle, you are outrageous,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t listen to you.’
But I had done. I did.
When I arrived at the kennels that Greg’s parents own, his mum came out to meet me. She had two huge dogs on leads with her.
‘Hello, Kate,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad it’s you that’s applied for this job. At least I know you a little and that you’re kind and respectful with dogs.’
I tried not to laugh. I’ve always been kind to our dog, Rover, but if Greg’s mum could have heard some of the things I’ve thought about him, she’d review that bit about respect!
‘Anyway, tonight I want to start you off with Fairport and Darcy. They’re our dogs - Newfoundlands of course – so I know they’re well-trained and obedient. I like to take them out myself but we’re getting so busy with the kennels and the bigger dogs need a long walk at some stage in the day. The little ones can manage with a good romp in the field. Once you’ve got used to it, I’ll try you with some of the dogs from the kennels – but I don’t want you to have problems with behaviour just at first.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best.’
At that moment, Greg came out of the house, his own two Newfoundlands, Chloe and Biggles, bounding after him. He smiled cheerily. I looked away, embarrassed.
‘Hi Kate,’ he said. ‘Mum, is it OK if I go with Kate? I have to take Chloe and Biggles out anyway.’
His mum frowned a little. ‘I really wanted Kate to see how she got on by herself,’ she said. ‘Can’t you go later?’
‘Oh Mum,’ moaned Greg. ‘If I promise not to interfere, can I go? If I promise to just stand back and let them molest small children, kill rabbits and cause road accidents?’
He was smiling his most winning smile. I could see his mum wasn’t proof against it and, sure enough, she gave in.
‘Oh, all right then,’ she said. ‘Kate, I’m trusting you – if he starts to interfere, you let me know, all right?’
I smiled. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘And I’ll let you know if he misbehaves too.’
It took me about three seconds to realise what I’d just said and I wanted to die. How, how, how could I have said anything quite so suggestive?
‘Right,’ I said, bending over Fairport, pretending to check her lead to cover my flaming cheeks. ‘Let’s go then, OK?’
‘Fine by me,’ said Greg, only too obviously amused by my embarrassment.
‘Oh Greg – just a moment,’ said his mum. ‘Seeing as you’re going too, can you drop a couple of letters in the postbox, please?’
‘Mum, that’s right out of our way,’ said Greg, clearly annoyed. ‘I was going to head out into the fields.’
‘Well, do that another night,’ said his mum. ‘The dogs’ll be just as happy with the park.’
‘Yes, but I might not be,’ Greg muttered. Even so, we waited for the letters. There are all sorts of things that I’m not sure I like about Greg – but at least he’s not foul to his mum like some boys are. Of course, I’m foul to my mum sometimes – but that’s different. It’s horrible when you see other people doing it.
We chatted very happily as we walked down the lane towards the shops and the park. I rather liked the way people turned to look at the four enormous, beautiful dogs in our charge. I felt very proud of the way they all walked nicely to heel, even though it’s no thanks to me! It made me want to ask lots of questions about the training and the care and what’s required for competitions and Greg managed to make it all sound remarkably interesting. Then we got onto school and exams and what we might do in year 12 and all that sort of normal stuff and then Greg asked about my family and that kept us going for ages. I realised that I was really enjoying myself. I felt relaxed and happy and it was fun to find out more about Greg. I’ve always been so wary around him and so conscious of how fit he is, that I’ve always been too tense to talk at any length with him. It was only as we were leaving the park that he suddenly put me back in the place I thought we’d left behind ages ago.
‘Oh Kate,’ he said. ‘You are great, you know. If ever you get fed up with Chas, you know where I am, OK?’
I nearly choked. It was shock that made me say what I said next. ‘What makes you think Chas and I are together?’ I gasped. ‘If we were, do you think I’d be here now – with you?’
‘You mean you and Chas aren’t an item?’ Greg looked startled.
Suddenly I realised I was getting into deep water. ‘Err…well…yes and no,’ I said.
‘Yes and no?’ said Greg. ‘What does that mean?’
I pulled a face. Now look at the hole I’d dug myself into! ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Let’s not talk about it, OK?’
Greg shrugged. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But I don’t get it.’
No, I sighed to myself. Neither do I. Neither. Do. I.
It was then that I saw the couple coming out of the chip shop, a tall, lean, dark –haired boy and a willowy, girl with long blonde hair, bleached by the sun. I would know the boy anywhere, of course. Chas. I couldn’t be mistaken. But the girl? Who was she? I couldn’t remember seeing her ever before in my life. I was going to call out – but then I stopped myself. Just what was going on here? Just what was Chas up to?
As I stared at the two of them, laughing over the chips they were sharing, Chas suddenly gave the girl a quick squeeze. Just an arm round the shoulders – ever so quick – nothing more than that. But it still gave me a jolt. Who was she? Why didn’t I know about her? Where had she come from?
I was standing stock-still. Greg could hardly avoid noticing what had caught my attention. He let out a low whistle.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘News to you then, Kate?’
To my undying shame – I’m cringing now as I write this – I began to cry. Not huge racking sobs. Just my eyes filling and overspilling and a bit of a snuffle. I really tried to hold back. I really didn’t want Greg to see how upset I was. But that was impossible.
‘I don’t have a tissue, I’m afraid,’ he said and, as if that was any sort of excuse, he leaned forward and kissed my cheeks where they were wet.
Well, I don’t know if you’ve tried snogging someone while you’re holding two dog leads and they’re holding two dog leads. It’s a bit of a challenge, I can tell you. But we managed it. And it was so not like snogging Chas. I don’t want to say quite how – but it was so not. Maybe it was because Greg was so – what? – enthusiastic. But I didn’t want him to stop and I didn’t even think about pulling back. It was just about the most exciting thing I can ever remember happening to me. We had to stop in the end because Chloe began to paw at Greg’s leg. And so we walked back to Greg’s place hardly speaking. And when I said goodbye, Greg just looked at me and mouthed ‘I’ll ring.’ I nodded and walked home in a daze and, I’m not joking, this has completely done my head in. I am so confused – really, really confused. I can’t wait for Greg to phone. But I’d still like to know exactly who that girl is that was eating chips with Chas.
Friday, 11 April 2008
Not the green-eyed monster!
I hummed and haa-ed about it for ages. I nearly rang Vicky – but I just knew what she would say. She’s really anti-Greg. She thinks he’s a slimy, manipulative, opportunistic Casanova who thinks he’s God’s gift to womankind – and the gift is as toxic as Snow White’s apple – and that’s on a good day.
‘But he was very kind when Gran died,’ I’ll say. ‘And he was really nice to me at his party.’
‘Only because he wanted to get inside your bra,’ Vicky insists. ‘Any boy’ll be nice when that’s a possibility. It’s called grooming, kiddo!’
She is so crude sometimes – and cynical. Why does it always have to be about sex when we’re thinking about boys? They must be motivated by something else sometimes – surely? Just being friendly and considerate, for example? Is that such an outrageous idea? I’ve heard people say that boys think about sex every two minutes. Just how is that possible? I mean, there you’d be, doing some complicated Maths calculation and half-way through it you’d completely lose track! On second thoughts, girls do consistently get better results at school than boys – maybe that’s why. And the world is in a terrible mess and it tends to be run by men. Actually, this theory could explain a lot. Depressing though, isn’t it? That so many big decisions might be the result of blokes thinking about boobs rather than bombs.
Anyway…to get back to Greg. In the end, at about half-past eleven, I texted Chas.
Are you awake? Need to talk, I wrote.
Half a minute later, my phone rang.
‘What’s up?’ said Chas. ‘I was just about to turn off the light.’
He didn’t sound at his most receptive but I’d disturbed him then and I knew if I didn’t talk to someone about it, I’d just lie awake and worry.
I explained.
‘So?’ said Chas. ‘What’s the problem?’
Maybe I was over-tired. Maybe I was annoyed that after all that worrying, he was taking it so calmly, as if it was nothing to be worried about at all. Maybe I wanted him to be jealous rather than completely OK with me going for a walk with Greg. Whatever. I wasn’t pleased. In fact, I felt like he’d just kicked me in the stomach.
‘Don’t you care?’ I said (well, squeaked actually, if we’re being brutally honest).
‘Care? How d’you mean?’
It was too embarrassing and difficult to say. How could I explain that, given our relationship, I kind of expected him to make slightly more fuss about me going dog-walking with a guy who had been (and maybe still was) one of his competitors? If he suddenly did the same with Cute Carly (his ex-girlfriend) I'd be really suspicious – even if it was for a job. That just made me feel so mean and petty that I couldn’t say anything at all for a moment. But then maybe I’d read all sorts of things into our relationship that weren’t there. I mean, all we’ve done is snog – and not even that very much. We spend a lot of time together – I mean, he’s my best friend, has been for ages now – but whenever we start getting physical, it never lasts very long. I see people at school or at the cinema sometimes and you’d think they were having a three-course meal, the way it goes on and on and on. But we don’t. It’s a quick fling and then one or other of us stops or makes an excuse. If it’s me, it’s because…well, frankly, it’s because I’m scared, actually. I don’t know quite what’s coming next and I’m not sure I want to go there at the moment. Well, I want to – but I’m not sure it’s right. I don’t know why Chas stops. Maybe he doesn’t really fancy me – maybe he’s just experimenting a bit. I mean, according to Vicky, once a boy starts, he’s almost impossible to stop. It’s like a launch at Cape Canaveral. And maybe the fact that he doesn’t seem to care about he going dog-walking with Greg proves he doesn’t fancy me.
Ouch! I’m sitting here, staring at this screen and I’m trying not to cry. I finished the conversation with Chas pretty quickly.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘So that’s all right then. You think it’s OK for me to go.’
‘Yeh – course. He’s not going to rape you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know he’s a bit of a player but he’s OK.’
‘No – I didn’t think that. I just thought with him – well, you know – he did want me to go out with him…’ I trailed off, lamely. Chas just didn’t get it, obviously.
‘Kate, you need the job,’ said Chas. He sounded exasperated. ‘If he gets fresh with you, just tell him where to get off. Anyway, you’ll be a bit safer going with him, than just on your own.’
‘Safer?’ I said. ‘I’ll be with at least two huge dogs!’
‘Whatever,’ said Chas. ‘I’m trying to make you feel OK about, all right? And I’m tired.’
‘Oh, OK,’ I said, in a small voice. ‘Thanks very much. Night night.’
‘Night night,’ said Chas. And that was that.
Doesn’t exactly sound passionate about me, does he? Not exactly keen to defend my honour or fight off all bids for my attention. And I thought we had something special going on – something beyond friendship. The trouble is, I do get jealous so easily. When he snogged Lisa, this cow in our year group who gives me a really hard time because she so fancies Chas, I was terribly jealous. And when I thought he fancied our au pair, Belle. And when he was going out with Cute Carly. But he just doesn’t seem to do jealousy. I can’t understand it. If you care about someone, surely you get jealous? Surely the fact that he doesn’t, means he doesn’t care? Or not much?
Sigh! He once said that whatever’s going on for him and whoever he fancies, he’s never really happy if he’s rowed with me – and I took that to mean so much. But maybe I read far too much into it. I mean, I’d be unhappy if I’d rowed with Vicky and I’m certainly not in love with her. Oh well. At least I know what I’m doing tomorrow. Going dog-walking with Greg. Sorted.
‘But he was very kind when Gran died,’ I’ll say. ‘And he was really nice to me at his party.’
‘Only because he wanted to get inside your bra,’ Vicky insists. ‘Any boy’ll be nice when that’s a possibility. It’s called grooming, kiddo!’
She is so crude sometimes – and cynical. Why does it always have to be about sex when we’re thinking about boys? They must be motivated by something else sometimes – surely? Just being friendly and considerate, for example? Is that such an outrageous idea? I’ve heard people say that boys think about sex every two minutes. Just how is that possible? I mean, there you’d be, doing some complicated Maths calculation and half-way through it you’d completely lose track! On second thoughts, girls do consistently get better results at school than boys – maybe that’s why. And the world is in a terrible mess and it tends to be run by men. Actually, this theory could explain a lot. Depressing though, isn’t it? That so many big decisions might be the result of blokes thinking about boobs rather than bombs.
Anyway…to get back to Greg. In the end, at about half-past eleven, I texted Chas.
Are you awake? Need to talk, I wrote.
Half a minute later, my phone rang.
‘What’s up?’ said Chas. ‘I was just about to turn off the light.’
He didn’t sound at his most receptive but I’d disturbed him then and I knew if I didn’t talk to someone about it, I’d just lie awake and worry.
I explained.
‘So?’ said Chas. ‘What’s the problem?’
Maybe I was over-tired. Maybe I was annoyed that after all that worrying, he was taking it so calmly, as if it was nothing to be worried about at all. Maybe I wanted him to be jealous rather than completely OK with me going for a walk with Greg. Whatever. I wasn’t pleased. In fact, I felt like he’d just kicked me in the stomach.
‘Don’t you care?’ I said (well, squeaked actually, if we’re being brutally honest).
‘Care? How d’you mean?’
It was too embarrassing and difficult to say. How could I explain that, given our relationship, I kind of expected him to make slightly more fuss about me going dog-walking with a guy who had been (and maybe still was) one of his competitors? If he suddenly did the same with Cute Carly (his ex-girlfriend) I'd be really suspicious – even if it was for a job. That just made me feel so mean and petty that I couldn’t say anything at all for a moment. But then maybe I’d read all sorts of things into our relationship that weren’t there. I mean, all we’ve done is snog – and not even that very much. We spend a lot of time together – I mean, he’s my best friend, has been for ages now – but whenever we start getting physical, it never lasts very long. I see people at school or at the cinema sometimes and you’d think they were having a three-course meal, the way it goes on and on and on. But we don’t. It’s a quick fling and then one or other of us stops or makes an excuse. If it’s me, it’s because…well, frankly, it’s because I’m scared, actually. I don’t know quite what’s coming next and I’m not sure I want to go there at the moment. Well, I want to – but I’m not sure it’s right. I don’t know why Chas stops. Maybe he doesn’t really fancy me – maybe he’s just experimenting a bit. I mean, according to Vicky, once a boy starts, he’s almost impossible to stop. It’s like a launch at Cape Canaveral. And maybe the fact that he doesn’t seem to care about he going dog-walking with Greg proves he doesn’t fancy me.
Ouch! I’m sitting here, staring at this screen and I’m trying not to cry. I finished the conversation with Chas pretty quickly.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘So that’s all right then. You think it’s OK for me to go.’
‘Yeh – course. He’s not going to rape you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know he’s a bit of a player but he’s OK.’
‘No – I didn’t think that. I just thought with him – well, you know – he did want me to go out with him…’ I trailed off, lamely. Chas just didn’t get it, obviously.
‘Kate, you need the job,’ said Chas. He sounded exasperated. ‘If he gets fresh with you, just tell him where to get off. Anyway, you’ll be a bit safer going with him, than just on your own.’
‘Safer?’ I said. ‘I’ll be with at least two huge dogs!’
‘Whatever,’ said Chas. ‘I’m trying to make you feel OK about, all right? And I’m tired.’
‘Oh, OK,’ I said, in a small voice. ‘Thanks very much. Night night.’
‘Night night,’ said Chas. And that was that.
Doesn’t exactly sound passionate about me, does he? Not exactly keen to defend my honour or fight off all bids for my attention. And I thought we had something special going on – something beyond friendship. The trouble is, I do get jealous so easily. When he snogged Lisa, this cow in our year group who gives me a really hard time because she so fancies Chas, I was terribly jealous. And when I thought he fancied our au pair, Belle. And when he was going out with Cute Carly. But he just doesn’t seem to do jealousy. I can’t understand it. If you care about someone, surely you get jealous? Surely the fact that he doesn’t, means he doesn’t care? Or not much?
Sigh! He once said that whatever’s going on for him and whoever he fancies, he’s never really happy if he’s rowed with me – and I took that to mean so much. But maybe I read far too much into it. I mean, I’d be unhappy if I’d rowed with Vicky and I’m certainly not in love with her. Oh well. At least I know what I’m doing tomorrow. Going dog-walking with Greg. Sorted.
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Dog trouble!
Aagh! What have I done about it? That was months ago and since then, things have moved on a lot! I think I had a row with Mum about it everyday for a month. She was just so determined to get on and do it and drag me with her, kicking and screaming, and I was so determined not to have anything whatsoever to do with it.
So who’s won? Me? Well, yes and no. Her? Also yes and no. She’s doing it, oh gosh, is she doing it. She had a mega-clear out of the garage. That caused another row – I so didn’t want her to get rid of some of that stuff – my spacehopper, for example, and my little pink bike, the first one I ever had.
‘But the twins will want them!’ I protested.
Mum held up my space-hopper which, I had to admit, looked more like squashed pumpkin than something you might have a good bounce on.
‘Yeh, right,’ she said. ‘And the bike was third-hand when we got it and has definitely seen better days.’
Yeh, right? Who does she think she is? I so hate it when Mum tries to be cool and ‘down with the kids’. And I so hate that none of my friends seem to mind! Just one person who said, ‘Gosh Kate, your mum is so irritating!’ – uh – I would love them for ever and ever and ever, amen! But no, even Chas, who is my best friend in the world bar none, can’t see it.
‘She’s such a laugh,’ he says. ‘You’ve just got to admire her. She cares so much about stuff.’
‘Chas, she cares about cardboard coffins!’ I said. ‘How mad is that?’
‘That’s because she cares about the environment and she cares about people not being ripped off when they have to have a funeral. Those are good things to care about, Kate – you know that really.’
I pulled a face. I hate it when Chas is right – and he is about that. But Mum is not right to try to force me into working for her, however good a cause it is. She’s also into human rights and freedom of speech and stuff – so I’m standing up for my human right to choose what work I do. I’m sure there’s one about that – there certainly is about not being a slave. Oh,OK, she was going to pay me and it was in line with the minimum wage but that’s not the point – it wasn’t work I wanted to do.
Anyway, I’ve solved it. Or I thought I had – till tonight that is. The arguments went on and on. Mum just didn’t give up. She’d leave it for a while and then have a little go about the amount of money I seem to need and how I was forever wanting to borrow from next month’s allowance and then she’d say, ‘Of course, there’s plenty of work you could do for me, Kate – you know that!’ And that would just send me ballistic.
And then, just when I thought I was going to have to give in because I couldn’t stand it any longer – and I can see that Mum does have a lot of work – it’s surprising how many people want flat-pack cardboard coffins – I managed to find myself another job!
I saw it advertised in the local shop:
DOG WALKER REQUIRED. FLEXIBLE ARRANGEMENTS.
GOOD RATE OF PAY.
Well, I didn’t think the law would be too strict about dog-walking so I rang the number. It was only when I heard the woman’s voice on the other end that I put two and two together.
It was Greg’s mum. Gorgeous or Grotty Greg, depending on your point of view – he who I once fancied like mad and who….well, I’m coming to that later. Greg’s family have loads of dogs – huge Newfoundlands mostly – they breed them. They also run a kennels and a dog-training centre. It was for the kennels that they needed dog-walkers.
There’s a bit of history between me and Greg – well, quite a lot actually. But I decided not to let that bother me. It was a job – a flexible one that paid quite well and that I would quite enjoy. I moaned like mad when our family got our dog, Rover, but now I love him to bits and even like walking him sometimes. It’s good exercise, and if you’re feeling like the world hates you and you hate it, then it’s great to get out and stomp around. And you make the dog happy which always makes me smile – well, almost always. So I reckoned that a dog-walking job was my ideal solution. Mum was actually quite polite about it when I explained. Now that she’s got the business up and running – Ben and Chas have given her masses of help with creating a web-site and using e-bay – she admits she doesn’t need me anything like as much as she thought she would – but she still thinks it’d be good for me to have a job.
‘The trouble is, Kate,’ she said, ‘that you just don’t know the value of money…’
I walked out at that point. I mean, how irritating is that? She just means that I spend too much – well, a job will solve that, no worries.
No worries? Well, actually, lots of worries. I was all sorted to start the job tomorrow – I’ve said I’ll do two evenings a week, straight after school, and a Saturday morning – and then this evening, I got a phone call. It was Greg.
‘Hey, Kate,’ he said. ‘I hear you’ve got a job with my mum.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said cautiously.
‘Well, I walk my dogs after school too, you know.’
‘Really?’ I said. He has at least one Newfoundland himself – I don’t know if he has more now.
‘Yes – so I thought, how would it be if we walked them together? It’d be more fun that way. What d’you think?’
What did I think?! I had no idea what to say. The thing is, I didn’t know how Chas would feel about it. We’re not going out as such – but occasionally we…well, we get a bit physical. Neither of us wants to get too serious – I mean, we’re only 15, we’ve got GCSEs, we don’t want to get all heavy, split up and never been friends again – but I still wasn’t sure whether I felt OK about going dog-walking with Greg.
I could feel myself blushing, just thinking about it. Does Greg still fancy me? He definitely did at one point – and there was a really great, embarrassing day when I slapped him because he was getting too pushy. And do I, even just a little bit, still fancy him? I just don’t know.
What should I say? I really wished my friend Vicky was there to advise me.
‘I’ll think about it, Greg,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you at school tomorrow. The thing is, I quite like the peace and quiet at the end of a day at school.’
I was bluffing wildly but he didn’t know that.
‘Oh, OK,’ he said. ‘Just make sure you do. See you tomorrow then, all right?’
‘See you tomorrow.’
Aagh! What have I done? What on earth am I going to say to him tomorrow?
So who’s won? Me? Well, yes and no. Her? Also yes and no. She’s doing it, oh gosh, is she doing it. She had a mega-clear out of the garage. That caused another row – I so didn’t want her to get rid of some of that stuff – my spacehopper, for example, and my little pink bike, the first one I ever had.
‘But the twins will want them!’ I protested.
Mum held up my space-hopper which, I had to admit, looked more like squashed pumpkin than something you might have a good bounce on.
‘Yeh, right,’ she said. ‘And the bike was third-hand when we got it and has definitely seen better days.’
Yeh, right? Who does she think she is? I so hate it when Mum tries to be cool and ‘down with the kids’. And I so hate that none of my friends seem to mind! Just one person who said, ‘Gosh Kate, your mum is so irritating!’ – uh – I would love them for ever and ever and ever, amen! But no, even Chas, who is my best friend in the world bar none, can’t see it.
‘She’s such a laugh,’ he says. ‘You’ve just got to admire her. She cares so much about stuff.’
‘Chas, she cares about cardboard coffins!’ I said. ‘How mad is that?’
‘That’s because she cares about the environment and she cares about people not being ripped off when they have to have a funeral. Those are good things to care about, Kate – you know that really.’
I pulled a face. I hate it when Chas is right – and he is about that. But Mum is not right to try to force me into working for her, however good a cause it is. She’s also into human rights and freedom of speech and stuff – so I’m standing up for my human right to choose what work I do. I’m sure there’s one about that – there certainly is about not being a slave. Oh,OK, she was going to pay me and it was in line with the minimum wage but that’s not the point – it wasn’t work I wanted to do.
Anyway, I’ve solved it. Or I thought I had – till tonight that is. The arguments went on and on. Mum just didn’t give up. She’d leave it for a while and then have a little go about the amount of money I seem to need and how I was forever wanting to borrow from next month’s allowance and then she’d say, ‘Of course, there’s plenty of work you could do for me, Kate – you know that!’ And that would just send me ballistic.
And then, just when I thought I was going to have to give in because I couldn’t stand it any longer – and I can see that Mum does have a lot of work – it’s surprising how many people want flat-pack cardboard coffins – I managed to find myself another job!
I saw it advertised in the local shop:
DOG WALKER REQUIRED. FLEXIBLE ARRANGEMENTS.
GOOD RATE OF PAY.
Well, I didn’t think the law would be too strict about dog-walking so I rang the number. It was only when I heard the woman’s voice on the other end that I put two and two together.
It was Greg’s mum. Gorgeous or Grotty Greg, depending on your point of view – he who I once fancied like mad and who….well, I’m coming to that later. Greg’s family have loads of dogs – huge Newfoundlands mostly – they breed them. They also run a kennels and a dog-training centre. It was for the kennels that they needed dog-walkers.
There’s a bit of history between me and Greg – well, quite a lot actually. But I decided not to let that bother me. It was a job – a flexible one that paid quite well and that I would quite enjoy. I moaned like mad when our family got our dog, Rover, but now I love him to bits and even like walking him sometimes. It’s good exercise, and if you’re feeling like the world hates you and you hate it, then it’s great to get out and stomp around. And you make the dog happy which always makes me smile – well, almost always. So I reckoned that a dog-walking job was my ideal solution. Mum was actually quite polite about it when I explained. Now that she’s got the business up and running – Ben and Chas have given her masses of help with creating a web-site and using e-bay – she admits she doesn’t need me anything like as much as she thought she would – but she still thinks it’d be good for me to have a job.
‘The trouble is, Kate,’ she said, ‘that you just don’t know the value of money…’
I walked out at that point. I mean, how irritating is that? She just means that I spend too much – well, a job will solve that, no worries.
No worries? Well, actually, lots of worries. I was all sorted to start the job tomorrow – I’ve said I’ll do two evenings a week, straight after school, and a Saturday morning – and then this evening, I got a phone call. It was Greg.
‘Hey, Kate,’ he said. ‘I hear you’ve got a job with my mum.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said cautiously.
‘Well, I walk my dogs after school too, you know.’
‘Really?’ I said. He has at least one Newfoundland himself – I don’t know if he has more now.
‘Yes – so I thought, how would it be if we walked them together? It’d be more fun that way. What d’you think?’
What did I think?! I had no idea what to say. The thing is, I didn’t know how Chas would feel about it. We’re not going out as such – but occasionally we…well, we get a bit physical. Neither of us wants to get too serious – I mean, we’re only 15, we’ve got GCSEs, we don’t want to get all heavy, split up and never been friends again – but I still wasn’t sure whether I felt OK about going dog-walking with Greg.
I could feel myself blushing, just thinking about it. Does Greg still fancy me? He definitely did at one point – and there was a really great, embarrassing day when I slapped him because he was getting too pushy. And do I, even just a little bit, still fancy him? I just don’t know.
What should I say? I really wished my friend Vicky was there to advise me.
‘I’ll think about it, Greg,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you at school tomorrow. The thing is, I quite like the peace and quiet at the end of a day at school.’
I was bluffing wildly but he didn’t know that.
‘Oh, OK,’ he said. ‘Just make sure you do. See you tomorrow then, all right?’
‘See you tomorrow.’
Aagh! What have I done? What on earth am I going to say to him tomorrow?
Saturday, 10 November 2007
Outrageous!
This is outrageous! I ought to be ringing Childline! I talked to Dad and he sees absolutely no problem with what Mum's planning to do! Get this! He said he thought there was actually a need for it and that I should be proud of her and - wait, for it, this is worse - that she was quite right that it was about time I started doing a bit of work around the place to earn some money and not always be expecting things to drop into my lap! Drop into my lap? In this madhouse? It took until Mum got post-natal depression for her to give in and let me have a mobile phone! And I'm convinced that if Dad wasn't a hairdresser, I'd be expected to keep my hair a metre long or have it shaved off to save money! It's not that we're that hard up - but Mum seems to have this band of virtual Third World orphans that inhabit her imagination and continually remind her that we don't really need most of what we've got. And I suppose our family has virtually doubled in size in the last couple of years - and we're having to pay for an au pair too - so I guess a bit of extra cash wouldn't go amiss. But why Mum has to come up with quite such a weird idea to make money, God only knows - probably quite literally - she's always chatting away to him! And why I should be dragged in, is beyond me. You'd think that in my GCSE year, my parents would be keen for me to just get my head down and study - why this sudden urge to get me working? And just how do you explain to your two best friends that you've got a little part-time job at home selling...wait for it...you're just never going to believe this...selling CARDBOARD COFFINS!
Yes, that's it. Mum's brilliant idea is to sell very basic, very reasonably priced cardboard coffins over the Internet. She went to a big exhibition all about DEATH at the NEC in Birmingham - yes, OK, they called it something a bit more sensitive that - The Funeral Resources Show, or something - and off she went. What is she like? Who, in their right mind, packs up their babies and their au pair and takes them to look at urns and coffins all day? And says the babies had a lovely time playing in the plastic gravel! You know the sort of stuff? They scatter it on the tops of graves to make them look nice. Honestly, normal people let their babies play in ball pools, not grave gravel! My baby sisters are going to end up seriously warped!
Anyway, I suppose I should be grateful she's not decided to market grave gravel as the next best thing for babies. Instead she came back ranting about how outrageously over-priced cardboard coffins are and how their ought to be a more basic option available. At first she was thinking we could offer a customising service - coffins in your football colours, for example - but at least Dad had the sense to point out that that would be extremely time-consuming. I saw her eyes flicker in my direction and knew exactly what she was going to say.
'But Kate's quite good at art...'
I was ready for her. 'No,' I said. 'Just no, OK? I could maybe do an hour or so a week, answering queries or something - but decorating flat pack coffins is right out!'
'She's right, Jo,' said Dad. 'You need to start small and simple with this - and if you're trying to provide a budget range, then you don't want to do anything fancy. Kate could help get you going - she knows far more about the Internet than you do - and, as she says, with answering queries or packing the product - but that's all, I think.'
Packing the product? What is this? It sounds far too serious to me! Any moment now and these two'll be trying to get on 'The Dragon's Den'.
Little brother Ben, of course, has been no help whatsoever. He just thinks it's a huge laugh.
'What d'you expect?' he said. 'Mum's over the baby blues now, she doesn't want to increase her 'vicar' hours but she does want to do something extra. You can tell she's been champing at the bit for weeks. Just be glad it's something that might actually earn us some money, for once.'
'Yeh, but she wants me to do some of the earning! How is that fair? I notice she hasn't mentioned it to you!'
'That's because I'm too young,' said Ben, looking smug.
'I'm sure you're not too young to be employed by your family!'
'Yeh, but the point is that they know you're old enough to have a paper-round - and when you're sixteen there'll be loads of other jobs you can do - but you've never shown any interest.'
'Why should I?' I said. 'I want to study for my GCSEs!'
Ben pulled a face. 'Yeah, right,' he said.
'What's that meant to mean?' I said, irritably.
'It means, if you don't want them to nag you to get a job, stop spending so much time doing MSN. They reckon if you've got enough time for that, then you could do a job and "contribute to the family economy"'
'And how do you know that, Smarty-pants?' I growled.
'Heard them talking,' said Ben. 'Actually, I think it's bluff - I think they just want to scare you into doing more schoolwork and less MSN - but I could be wrong.'
'Well, I'm not going to put up with it,' I raged. 'I'm not going to be bullied into earning money when I don't want to.'
'OK, then,' said Ben. 'What are you going to do about it?'
What do you think Kate is going to do? Cast your vote and visit again to see what happens next!
Yes, that's it. Mum's brilliant idea is to sell very basic, very reasonably priced cardboard coffins over the Internet. She went to a big exhibition all about DEATH at the NEC in Birmingham - yes, OK, they called it something a bit more sensitive that - The Funeral Resources Show, or something - and off she went. What is she like? Who, in their right mind, packs up their babies and their au pair and takes them to look at urns and coffins all day? And says the babies had a lovely time playing in the plastic gravel! You know the sort of stuff? They scatter it on the tops of graves to make them look nice. Honestly, normal people let their babies play in ball pools, not grave gravel! My baby sisters are going to end up seriously warped!
Anyway, I suppose I should be grateful she's not decided to market grave gravel as the next best thing for babies. Instead she came back ranting about how outrageously over-priced cardboard coffins are and how their ought to be a more basic option available. At first she was thinking we could offer a customising service - coffins in your football colours, for example - but at least Dad had the sense to point out that that would be extremely time-consuming. I saw her eyes flicker in my direction and knew exactly what she was going to say.
'But Kate's quite good at art...'
I was ready for her. 'No,' I said. 'Just no, OK? I could maybe do an hour or so a week, answering queries or something - but decorating flat pack coffins is right out!'
'She's right, Jo,' said Dad. 'You need to start small and simple with this - and if you're trying to provide a budget range, then you don't want to do anything fancy. Kate could help get you going - she knows far more about the Internet than you do - and, as she says, with answering queries or packing the product - but that's all, I think.'
Packing the product? What is this? It sounds far too serious to me! Any moment now and these two'll be trying to get on 'The Dragon's Den'.
Little brother Ben, of course, has been no help whatsoever. He just thinks it's a huge laugh.
'What d'you expect?' he said. 'Mum's over the baby blues now, she doesn't want to increase her 'vicar' hours but she does want to do something extra. You can tell she's been champing at the bit for weeks. Just be glad it's something that might actually earn us some money, for once.'
'Yeh, but she wants me to do some of the earning! How is that fair? I notice she hasn't mentioned it to you!'
'That's because I'm too young,' said Ben, looking smug.
'I'm sure you're not too young to be employed by your family!'
'Yeh, but the point is that they know you're old enough to have a paper-round - and when you're sixteen there'll be loads of other jobs you can do - but you've never shown any interest.'
'Why should I?' I said. 'I want to study for my GCSEs!'
Ben pulled a face. 'Yeah, right,' he said.
'What's that meant to mean?' I said, irritably.
'It means, if you don't want them to nag you to get a job, stop spending so much time doing MSN. They reckon if you've got enough time for that, then you could do a job and "contribute to the family economy"'
'And how do you know that, Smarty-pants?' I growled.
'Heard them talking,' said Ben. 'Actually, I think it's bluff - I think they just want to scare you into doing more schoolwork and less MSN - but I could be wrong.'
'Well, I'm not going to put up with it,' I raged. 'I'm not going to be bullied into earning money when I don't want to.'
'OK, then,' said Ben. 'What are you going to do about it?'
What do you think Kate is going to do? Cast your vote and visit again to see what happens next!
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