“Mum, I don’t want Aisha’s friend in my room,” he whines.
“It’s my room too, Aziz!” groans Aisha.
“But girls are smelly,” he squeaks back.
“They don’t smell nearly as badly as wee boys with mingin’ socks and unwashed pants,” says a gruff voice from behind us. “And you are the smelliest of the lot. Get lost, Aziz.”
It’s Imran and he is both funny and handsome, but I still don’t want to go out to sea in his rowing boat. He looks like he should be in a boy band, with his short, glossy black hair, clear olive skin and long-lashed brown eyes.
He smiles politely as Aisha introduces us, and says that of course I’d be welcome to come out in Seaspray. I smile back just as politely and say that’s very kind, but I would rather not. Aisha’s face falls. She clearly thought that I would take one look at her gorgeous brother and change my mind.
“Why on earth are you making such a fuss, Lily?” she says, quite crossly. “It’s a trip in a rowing boat, not a round-the-world cruise. We’d only be out at sea for a couple of hours.”
“I’m just not keen on boats,” I say lamely.
“You didn’t have a problem coming over on the ferry,” snaps Aisha.
Imran frowns at her and puts a warning hand on her shoulder. “Aisha, that’s enough now. Lily said no. Leave it at that.”
“Would you like to stay for dinner, Lily?” asks Aisha’s mum.
“I’d love to, but my gran will have made my dinner by now. In fact, I’d better be getting home,” I say hurriedly. “It was really nice to meet you all,” I add, sticking my tongue out at Aziz as I turn to leave.
Aisha says nothing, and doesn’t walk me to the door. She is clearly sulking and I hear Imran and her mother telling her off for her bad manners as I step out.
***
On Thursday it’s so wet and stormy that I don’t leave the caravan at all and spend the whole day playing cards and watching television with Gran.
“Are you all right, Lily?” she asks worriedly. “You’re not bored?”
“No, this is fun. It feels like we’re marooned in the middle of the ocean.”
I’m lounging across the bench seats, head on a cushion, listening to the howling wind and the crashing of the waves against the rocks. It feels really warm and cosy in the caravan. There’s even a flame-effect electric fire.
“I hope we don’t end up floating out to sea in this,” says Gran, as the lights flicker and the caravan wobbles dramatically in the wind.
“Do you think that’s possible?” I ask, suddenly anxious, sitting up and looking out at the crashing waves, imagining us suddenly being engulfed by a tsunami like you see on the news. My promise to the ghost suddenly seems a bit pointless if the sea is going to come and get me.
“No, this is just a summer storm,” laughs Gran. “We’ll not come to any harm, though I hope we don’t get a power cut. I fancy another cup of tea.”
Thankfully the power stays on and the sea stays where it should be. We have many more cups of tea and buttered toast and everything is fine.
I’m just hoping very much that the weather isn’t like this tomorrow – falling out with Aisha has really made me miss Rowan and David.
Chapter 12
Things I love about this holiday:
Bacon and eggs for breakfast.
Cycling wherever I want.
Picnics on the beach at Fintry Bay.
Things I hate about this holiday:
Imran’s stupid boat.
Scottish weather.
Ghostly nagging.
When I wake up on Friday morning, the first thing I do is throw back the duvet and pull the yellow curtains wide. The sun isn’t shining. It’s dull and cloudy, and disappointment shrouds me like fog. David and Rowan won’t come if it stays like this.
I really want to see them. I miss them both. Aisha’s great company (when she isn’t in a sulk), but she is quite full on and that can be tiring. The time I spend with Rowan and David seems more relaxed, somehow. I know Rowan was angry with David and me when I last saw her, but I’ve never known her to stay angry.
Maybe I just haven’t known Aisha long enough yet. Perhaps our friendship will grow stronger; or perhaps, I think sadly, it’s all over already if she hasn’t forgiven me for refusing to come out in her brother’s stupid rowing boat.
“Lily, your bacon’s burning!” shouts Gran and I hurry through to the living area, where Gran is standing over the tiny hob, cooking bacon and eggs in a pan.
“There you are at last,” she says, scooping two rashers and a fried egg on to a plate. “Eat up. You’re far too much of a skinnymalink.”
“Thanks Gran,” I say gratefully, feeling a bit sad that I’ll be home soon, and will have to make my own breakfast in the morning if I want to eat. Mum doesn’t usually bother with cooked breakfasts, and sometimes the milk is sour and the bread is stale.
“Does your mother make you breakfast?” asks Gran suddenly, her sharp eyes boring into me. I wonder if she just read my thoughts. “Sometimes I think those wee ones are famished when they arrive at my door in the mornings.”
There’s no way I’m going to tell Gran the truth. It’s not that I get some kick out of telling lies, like Aisha seems to, but I don’t want Gran to think less of my mum than she does already.
“We usually have cereal and toast, Gran, not big fry ups,” I tell her. “And sometimes we have beans or scrambled eggs on toast.” That’s not a real lie, as we have had beans and toast for dinner lots of times this year, just not for breakfast.
I slide along the bench with my plate and sit down at the table, looking out the window at the leaden sky and the frothing, foam-flecked waves.
Gran notices my scowling face and reads my mind for the second time this morning.
“Don’t worry about that grey sky,” she says briskly. “The forecast is for sunshine in the afternoon. The woman on the radio says that it’s to get quite hot, though that’s hard to believe looking at those rain clouds. If the sun does come out, I’m going to sit outside on my chair and sunbathe with a magazine and cups of tea. Are you going to join me or have you got plans for the day?”
I beam delightedly. I suddenly have lots of plans.
“I’m going to head into Millport and hang around there in case Rowan and David come after school ends at twelve,” I say. “And if they don’t make it, Aisha and I might walk up to the viewpoint and have a picnic. We can buy sandwiches in the wee supermarket.”
Gran nods happily. She seems really pleased that I am having such a great holiday, and probably equally pleased that I am leaving her in peace to enjoy herself in her own way. Poor Gran spends such a lot of her time running about after all of us. I’m glad she is getting time to relax, for a change.
After a lazy morning chatting with Gran and writing in my journal, the weather is looking more promising. I put on my skinny jeans, my orange shoes and a grey t-shirt with TEE embroidered on the front in white.
“I wish that Rowan and Dave will make it over here today,” I whisper as I remove my water lily charm from my backpack and put it on the zip of my jeans. Maybe it will bring me luck.
I look at myself in the small mirror and am glad I ventured to the dreaded shower block during last night’s storm, as my hair looks good. The sun has lightened it, so it’s almost as if I’ve got highlights.
“Hurry along, Lily. Stop admiring yourself and get out in the fresh air. You’re wasting the last day of your holidays!” shouts Gran.
I wave goodbye to her and grab the bike. Tomorrow my precious bike is going back to its rightful owners, and I am dreading losing the freedom it has given me. I whizz along the single-track road, tyres scrunching on the gravel, and head towards the town. Wet brown seaweed, bleached driftwood and the odd plastic bottle are scattered on the shoreline, blown in on last night’s storm.
When I get to Millport, I cycle up and down the length of the promenade, scanning the street and the beach. I get off the bike and walk along the pavem
ent, looking in all the shop and café windows, just in case Rowan and David have somehow arrived early.
I feel like I must be the only eleven-year-old girl in the world who doesn’t own a mobile phone, although phone reception is a bit iffy on the island anyway, so I could easily miss a text or phone call. Still, not having a phone makes me feel different from everyone else and I already stand out enough as it is. Maybe I can talk Gran into getting me one when I start secondary. I could tell her it would be useful in emergencies. It wouldn’t be a lie.
When I pass the Wedge, Aisha crosses my mind. It’s the end of term for her too and I wonder what she’s doing. I consider going up and knocking on her door, but I’m a bit nervous in case she’s still cross with me. I decide that if I go right to the end of the town and back, and Rowan and David still haven’t appeared, then I’ll go up and see her and hope that she’s in a better mood.
As I wander past the Garrison, a red Citroën slows down and two people leap out of the back seat.
“Hi, Lily! We made it!” shouts David. They’re here! Rowan’s mum is driving the car and their bikes are strapped on a rack at the back.
“Oh, this is great!” I say, leaning my bike against the Garrison wall and hugging them delightedly.
“My mum was dead against the whole idea yesterday but then, when she saw the forecast this morning, she changed her mind and said she would take us over on the ferry straight from school,” explains Rowan. “She’s going to meet up with some friends who have a holiday flat here.”
“I was gutted when I got up and saw all those clouds,” David laughs. “But it’s brightening up already. We’re going to have a brilliant day!”
I am totally thrilled to see my best friends and give them both another hug. It looks like Rowan has forgiven us.
“Are you having a good holiday?” asks Rowan. “Or have you been missing us too much?”
“I’m having a fun time,” I answer truthfully. “But it’s even better now that you two are here.”
I help them unstrap their bikes while Rowan’s mum fusses over the details.
“Don’t forget to meet me at seven o’clock outside the Garrison, Rowan. I’m going out with your father tonight and we must get the half-seven ferry home.”
“No problem, Mrs Forrest,” says David, smiling sweetly. “We’ve got our mobiles so we will keep a good eye on the time.”
David has a real talent for dealing with difficult adults.
“And be careful on those bicycles. Wear your helmets. And use the suntan lotion that I’ve put in the picnic bag,” she witters on. “And take care when you’re crossing roads!”
I think worriedly that the day will be over before Mrs Forrest stops giving out safety instructions, but she eventually runs out of ways we could injure or kill ourselves. We wave goodbye and walk with the bikes across the street to the long promenade.
“I’ve got picnic stuff in my backpack,” says Rowan excitedly. “We’ve got ham and cheese sandwiches and hummus and breadsticks. The hummus was my mum’s idea – we can feed it to the seagulls. And there’s iced ginger cake, cans of coke and grapes.”
“Let’s head for Fintry Bay and eat. I’m ravenous,” says David, who’s always ravenous.
We cycle up the hill, past the park and out of the town. Then we get off the bikes and walk for a bit so that we can chat. I ask them to tell me all about the last week of school.
“The dance was great,” says Rowan, at exactly the same time as David says:
“The dance was a nightmare.”
“So which was it?” I laugh. “There seems to be a difference of opinion here.”
“Rowan looked very pretty in her Little Mermaid dress. And she knows all the steps of the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ and ‘Strip the Willow’, so she had a great time” sighs David. “I looked a total dork in my ridiculous kilt and I have two left feet, so I loathed every minute. No, make that every second. The minutes were endless.”
“It was really good fun, Lily,” says Rowan. “We sang Auld Lang Syne at the end in a big circle.”
“Did Mrs McKenzie join in?” I ask. It seems as unthinkable as the Queen doing karaoke.
“Yep,” says Rowan. “She danced nearly all night. Did I not see her dancing with you a couple of times, David?”
“That was so I wasn’t left sitting on my own at the edge of the dance floor like a sad wallflower,” sighs David. “Though I think I preferred being Nigel-no-mates. Mrs McKenzie kept standing on my toes.”
“Doug the Thug was dead cool in his kilt. He looked like a Celtic warrior out of Braveheart,” says Rowan. “All the girls were amazed by how well he scrubbed up. You might have fancied him, Lily.”
“I think not,” I reply. “If I ever decide I want to go out with a boy, the ability to speak in words of more than one syllable will be the deciding factor, not whether or not he looks handsome in a kilt.”
“I thought he looked pretty good,” says David thoughtfully, and Rowan and I glance at each other and grin.
“What about yesterday’s end-of-term service?” I ask. “Was that a real schmaltz-fest?”
“It was lovely,” says Rowan wistfully. “Some of the parents were actually crying when we sang ‘Child of Tomorrow’.”
“That might have been because Mrs McKenzie had just made a speech about how we will be teenagers soon,” says David. “Parents never want to hear that. They were genuinely distressed.”
“David made a lovely wee speech,” breaks in Rowan. “He said that Mrs McKenzie had inspired him to work hard and to follow his dreams of being a film director one day. She got quite tearful too.”
“It only seemed lovely,” retorts David, “because it followed Big Cheryl’s unscripted number about how she hated primary school and couldn’t wait to see the back of it.”
“Oh, you should have seen Mrs McKenzie’s face during Cheryl’s speech,” says Rowan. “If I’d been Cheryl, I would have been very afraid. Mrs McKenzie was giving her the demon glare.”
“Lily’s never seen Mrs McKenzie’s demon glare, Rowan,” laughs David. “She’s far too much of a teacher’s pet.”
I listen to my friends batting their words back and forth. I am starting to feel a little twinge of excitement about starting secondary school, replacing the dread. It won’t be so bad if I have Rowan and David with me. I feel suddenly more confident that we will all stay friends forever, and hopeful that Rowan still cares more about me and David than she does about her netball girls.
And it’s not a bad thing if we all make new friends too. Friends like Aisha, hopefully.
“I’ve gotten to know a girl here on Millport who’ll be at secondary school with us in August,” I say. “Her name’s Aisha and she’s good fun. Do you want to meet up with her later?”
“Sure, that’ll be good,” they say. “What’s she like?”
We get back on the bikes and cycle on towards Fintry Bay while I try and describe Aisha.
***
The picnic is delicious, especially the iced ginger cake. David throws some hummus at a lurking seagull, but it turns up its beak.
“No wonder, the stuff looks like cat sick,” I say.
After lunch, we sunbathe on the beach. The sun has come out, just as Gran said it would, and it’s a glorious day. I borrow some of Rowan’s suntan lotion and slap it on. People with ginger hair and pale skin should never venture out in the sun without taking major protective measures. I’ve learned that the hard way.
Rowan even goes in for a wee paddle, but sees a jellyfish, and splashes out of the water screaming as though she’d just spotted a great white shark.
We explore the rocky foreshore and Rowan and David are quite impressed that I know my curlews from my oystercatchers and my cormorants from my gannets. I scan the shoreline, hoping to be able to show them a leaping porpoise or the fin of a basking shark, though remembering Rowan’s hysterics over the jellyfish, perhaps that wouldn’t be a good plan.
In the middle of the afternoon
we head back into town and mooch about the shops for a little while. David is entranced to find Star Wars figures in the toy shop and we have trouble dragging him back out into the sunshine.
I show them where Aisha lives and we are about to head up to her flat, when she appears in the doorway. Maybe she has been watching from her window, because it seems quite a coincidence. She looks enchanting in a short green summer dress and soft leather sandals.
She rushes over and greets me warmly, Wednesday’s quarrel seemingly forgotten.
I introduce Rowan and David and they all grin at each other, a bit awkwardly.
“What are your plans now?” asks Aisha. “Are you going to cycle round the island? I believe it’s compulsory for day-trippers. If you haven’t been round at least once, they won’t let you on the return ferry.”
Rowan laughs and I can see she is falling for Aisha’s charm. I feel proud that I met her first.
“We’ve already cycled to Fintry Bay,” says Rowan. “I don’t know if I’m up for another bike ride already. You’re a local. What are Millport’s hottest attractions? Besides the rock that has been painted to look vaguely like a crocodile, I mean. That’s a bit desperate.”
“There’s the Lion Rock and the Indian Rock too,” I laugh. “We could do a Rock Tour.”
“My brother’s got a wee boat,” says Aisha, coolly. “We could ask him to take us out in it. It’s only a rowing boat but it should get us out as far as Little Cumbrae. There are seals and they’re so cute.”
I try and glare at her, but she isn’t looking my way. She has Rowan and David in her sights and delivers a killer shot.
“Imran was out in the boat last weekend and he was followed around by a young dolphin that just wanted to play, and was leaping in front of the boat. He said it was the most amazing thing ever.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. She knows I don’t want to go on the boat. Ok, I haven’t given her much of a reason, but I’ve said no several times. I glare again, but Aisha is avoiding my eyes.
Rowan and Dave have no idea that I have vetoed the whole boat thing and think it’s a brilliant idea. When they see Imran, I know they will be even more convinced.
The Mixed-Up Summer of Lily McLean Page 10