by Jean Ure
“I don’t think she can have done, do you? I mean, not unless she has ears like a bat.”
I wasn’t so sure, and I could tell that Chantelle wasn’t, either.
“I know she’s brought it all on herself, but she is kind of pathetic.”
“It’s not her fault,” I said.
“You keep saying that!”
“Yes, because it’s true. Honestly,” I said, “she can’t help being the way she is.”
“Hm.” Chantelle frowned. I thought for a moment she was going to relent. Maybe even have a word with Fawn. Surely Fawn would listen to her best friend? “I dunno.” She shook her head. “You can’t keep making excuses for people. I think you should go and talk to her. Go and tell her it’s nothing personal.”
But it was! Rachel hadn’t been invited cos Fawn didn’t want anything more to do with her.
“Tell her it’s a wrap party. Just for members of the cast.”
I said, “If she heard us, she’ll already know.”
“But if she didn’t hear us, she’s bound to find out and then she’ll wonder why she hasn’t been invited. You should definitely,” said Chantelle, “go and tell her.”
But I didn’t want to!
“I don’t see that it would hurt to invite her,” I said.
“Fawn won’t. She’s still really cross.”
“That’s not right,” I said. “People shouldn’t bear grudges.”
“No, and people shouldn’t let people down,” said Chantelle. “This means a lot to Fawn.”
I sighed. I knew that it did. It was more than just being in competition with the others. As far as Fawn was concerned, it was a matter of professional pride.
“D’you think by next term she’ll have forgiven her?” I said.
Chantelle shrugged. “Dunno.”
If she did, it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, we broke up in a few days’ time.
“She still won’t be one of us,” said Chantelle. “Not like you are.”
For just a few seconds I glowed; but then she went and ruined it.
“You’re going to have to decide,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
I looked at her, alarmed. “What d’you mean?”
“Well –” Chantelle shrugged – “it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s either her or us. You can’t expect to go on being one of us and stay friends with Daffy.”
And then I said it. The words came blurting out before I could stop them: “I’m not really friends with her!”
“She thinks you are,” said Chantelle.
Auntie Helen did too. Auntie Helen was depending on me. She thought I was looking out for Rachel. So did Mum. Mum had told me to stay loyal. Denying that I was friends with Rachel wasn’t loyal.
Oh, why did life have to be so complicated? I just wanted to be left alone to do my own thing!
“Here, Daffy!”
We were in the dorm the next morning, bed-making and generally tidying up, which was what we always had to do straight after breakfast. Chantelle had obviously been down to fetch the post. She sent an envelope skimming across the room on to Rachel’s bed.
“One for you!”
I deliberately kept my gaze turned the other way. I wasn’t sure I could bear to watch, especially if we were going to be treated to the usual big production, all sighings and swoopings. This was somebody who was actually sending letters to herself. How crazy was that?
I concentrated on neatly folding clothes and putting them away. In Enid Blyton they’d had servants for that sort of thing, but here at St With’s we were expected to do it ourselves. I’d been quite surprised, at first. I’d even remarked on it to Mum and Dad. Dad, in his Dad-like way, had said he was “very glad to hear it”. According to him it would be disgraceful to think that teenage girls had people clearing up after them, to which Mum had given a bitter laugh.
“Why not?” she’d said. “They do at home.”
That is so not true! I always pull the duvet up after I get out of bed. I may not be quite as tidy as I am at school, but at school it is one of the rules, and they are very strict about it. In any case, it is more fun when you are doing these menial tasks with other people.
I turned to cram my hockey socks into a drawer. They were a bit muddy, but that was OK, it was almost the end of term.
I heard Dodie, in tones of wonderment, say, “Not even going to open it?” and looked round to see Rachel rather grimly stuffing her letter into her book bag.
“Isn’t it from your boyfriend?”
That was Dodie again. I could tell she was trying very hard to be friendly. She was obviously feeling bad about Rachel not being invited to the wrap party.
Normally if anyone had spoken to Rachel about her boyfriend – her so-called boyfriend – she would have responded with a delighted giggle. Today she just made a kind of choking sound and rushed out of the dorm. Dodie looked bewildered.
“What?” she said. “What did I say?”
“Who knows?” said Fawn. “Just be thankful we didn’t get all the drama-queen stuff.”
“But I didn’t mean to upset her!”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Fawn.
It is simply no use telling a sweet person like Dodie not to worry. It is going against her nature.
“You don’t think –” the question was addressed to me – “you don’t think they’ve broken up, or something?”
I didn’t know what to think. How can you break up with an imaginary boyfriend? Or if you do – if you suddenly come to your senses and decide that enough is enough – why would you find it upsetting? More of a relief, I would have thought. Kill him off before anyone finds out.
“Do you think I should say something?”
Dodie was still appealing to me. I was Rachel’s friend! I ought to know what the problem was if anyone did. But I didn’t.
“Maybe we should just leave her,” I said.
Dodie looked at me, doubtfully.
“Hey!” Tabs gave a sudden cry. “I just realised …”
She pointed, dramatically, in the direction of Rachel’s cubicle. We all swung round to see what had caught her attention.
“Omigod!” said Chantelle. “It’s gone!”
The big glossy photograph of Danny had disappeared.
If I hadn’t left a book on my bedside locker, I wouldn’t have had to go back to the dorm at lunchtime to collect it.
And if I hadn’t gone back to the dorm, I wouldn’t have discovered Rachel, sitting frozen and cross-legged, on her bed.
Obviously we are not supposed to leave books on our lockers, we are supposed to bring everything we need into school with us. As Ms Pringle said when I asked permission to go and fetch it, “If you’d tidied up properly, Zoe, this wouldn’t be necessary.” We are not allowed back to the dorm until bedtime without asking one of the teachers, so it was quite a shock to find Rachel there. I didn’t reckon anyone would have given her permission just to come and sit.
“What are you doing?” I said. I could hardly pretend not to have noticed her. “Did you get permission?”
She didn’t say anything to that; just hunched a shoulder. I picked up my book.
“I came to get this. For English,” I added.
Rachel made a small grunting sound by way of acknowledgement. I hesitated. I really really didn’t want to ask her what was wrong. I knew what was wrong! She’d obviously heard Fawn inviting us all to the wrap party. All of us except Rachel.
You must be joking! You think I’m going to ask HER?
If I’d heard someone talking about me like that, I’d probably be sitting frozen on my bed. But I so didn’t want to get into conversation!
I sidled towards the door.
“Are you coming down?” I said.
She shook her head.
“You’ll get into trouble,” I warned her, “if anyone finds you here.”
Even that didn’t have any effect. Generally speaking, Rachel was a model of good behaviour. She never le
ft books in the dorm or got told off for talking in class. She was always very anxious not to break the rules.
I stared at her, helplessly. I was tempted just to leave her sitting there and go back into school. But I kept hearing Auntie Helen’s voice, I can’t tell you how happy I am that Rachel has you for a friend!
I heaved a heavy sigh.
“Is something wrong?” I said.
Rachel bent her head.
“What is it?” I said. “Is it …”
Is it because of the wrap party? is what I’d been going to say. Instead, what came out was, “What’s happened to your photograph?”
Why? Why? Why did I say that? I didn’t want to talk about the photograph! To my horror, Rachel’s eyes immediately filled with tears.
“It’s over,” she whispered.
Excuse me? Over?
“You mean –” I waved a hand – “you mean you’re not together any more?”
“He’s found someone else.”
I swallowed. I couldn’t think what to say.
“One of the girls at his drama school,” said Rachel. She smeared the back of her hand across her eyes. “He told me at the weekend.”
If I hadn’t known the truth, I would actually have believed her. I almost did believe her! She made it sound so convincing.
Weakly I said, “I thought you had a letter from him just this morning?”
The tears came spilling out again. “That was to tell me he was sorry!”
I swallowed again. “I see.” Not that I did, but I had to say something. Rachel was obviously in a state, even though it was all completely made up. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else,” I said. I almost added, Maybe next time it’ll be someone real, but that would have been unkind. Plus I had this feeling that it could be dangerous, trampling all over a person’s fantasy.
“I really think you should come back down,” I said. “You can’t stay up here all afternoon. And what about lunch? Did you have any?”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
I thought I’d missed her in the refectory. I thought she’d just taken herself off to another table, what with Fawn and the others being so unwelcoming.
“Please, Rachel,” I said, “dry your eyes and come back into school. You’ll find someone else, I promise you will!”
I managed to get her back in time for the first lesson of the afternoon, which was English, but she sat in the one empty desk as far away as possible from me and Fawn and the rest of us. I found it almost impossible to concentrate. I kept glancing across at Rachel to check she wasn’t crying again.
I didn’t think that she was, though from where I was sitting it was hard to tell. Miss Seymour said, “Rachel!” and I saw her start like she wasn’t quite sure where she was or what she was supposed to be doing. Very politely Miss Seymour suggested that perhaps she might like to carry on reading from where Tabs had left off.
“If it’s not too much trouble?”
In this faltering voice, Rachel began to read. Reading out loud was something she was usually quite good at. Today she did nothing but fumble and fluff. I saw Fawn roll her eyes and Dana and her friend Maddy pull faces at each other. I wanted to stand up and shout, “Stop it! She can’t help it!”
Because it was all falling into place. Rachel had been unhappy for so long. Ever since Fawn and the others had started to turn against her. That was when it had all started. I thought back to the night I’d stayed at her place, when we’d been in the bedroom, sipping cocoa, and Rachel had asked me if I had a boyfriend. I’d told her about John Arthur, and how we’d gone out for a bit. That had led us to talking about Fawn. Rachel had said, “I bet she’s got one,” and I’d said, “Oh, well, Fawn!” Like, She would have. And then Rachel, all pink and excited, had come bursting out with her big news: she might have a boyfriend too!
Had she just suddenly decided? Or had she been planning it? And if so, why? What had made her do it? Did she really think it would impress Fawn and the others? That they would think more of her? I could have told her it wouldn’t work. If anything, it had just irritated Fawn even more. The thought of Daffy, of all people, having a boyfriend that was a) gorgeous and b) an actor! It was like trespassing on Fawn’s private territory. She was the theatrical one. She was the one that had gorgeous boyfriends.
I wondered what had made Rachel take her photograph down. She had been so proud of it! She could have kept the story going at least until the end of term. Nobody had ever suspected the truth. (Apart from Nat, who didn’t count.) And while it was definitely a bit weird, making up an imaginary boyfriend, I could sort of understand why she’d felt the need to do it. I could even – just about – understand how a person could come to believe in their own fantasies. I sometimes had fantasies about bumping into Jez Delaney at one of his rock concerts and him asking me out. (I wish!)
What I couldn’t understand was why all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, Rachel had decided to bring it all to an end and make herself even more miserable than she already was. I also couldn’t really understand why it was making her miserable. Even if she’d come to believe that she actually did have this gorgeous boyfriend, she couldn’t seriously believe he’d ditched her in favour of someone else? That didn’t make any sense at all!
I gazed across the room at Rachel’s bent head as she stumbled her way through Jane Eyre. That was when it came to me. A flash of what I think is called insight. Could it be that she had killed off her big romance to give herself an acceptable reason for being so unhappy? Cos maybe the real reason – Fawn and the others turning their backs on her, not inviting her to the party – was just too painful? Or too embarrassing, or too humiliating. Or maybe all of those things together.
I could still remember how I had felt, back in Year Six, when I had had this huge great row with a girl called Denice Robbins, who had once been my friend. She’d accused me of spreading lies about her, which I absolutely hadn’t been. But she’d got it into her head that I had. She’d screamed at me that I was a horrible person and she didn’t ever want to talk to me again. When I got home I was all quiet and subdued, which is something I never am, and Mum had been quite anxious and asked me what was wrong.
“What on earth has happened?”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. It is very belittling to admit that people think you’re horrible and won’t talk to you. Instead, I’d pretended I was upset cos I’d broken the clasp on the little silver bracelet that Gran had given me for my birthday. Mum couldn’t understand it.
“For goodness’ sake, is that all? We can easily get it mended!”
As far as she was concerned, it was just one great big fuss over nothing. Galloping hordes of wild horses wouldn’t have dragged the real story out of me.
So maybe, I thought, it was the same with Rachel. Maybe her imaginary boyfriend fancying another girl was her way of hiding the real problem? Maybe she thought that when people found out they might even feel sorry for her and stop being so mean? Because they were being mean. Fawn, mainly, but where Fawn led, the others followed.
I switched my gaze away from Rachel and transferred it instead to the back of Fawn’s head, directly in front of me. Even the back of her head looked poised and full of confidence. It was so easy to be confident if you were Fawn. Someone like Rachel didn’t stand a chance. And yet she had tried so hard! She’d come bouncing into school at the start of term, all bright and eager, just wanting to be liked and to fit in. Now it had all fallen to pieces and I, who was supposed to be her friend, hadn’t helped her one little bit. I’d just felt resentful and blamed Nat for giving me the chicken pox, and even Rachel herself for making demands.
“We will be best friends,” she’d said, “won’t we?”
What was I supposed to say? No?
Saying no would have been rude and unkind, but if I really hadn’t wanted to be friends, I could have found ways of discouraging her. Instead – as I was forced to remind myself – I’d actually been only too happy to agree. Of course
we’d be friends! I might not have been too sure about best friends, but I’d certainly been grateful to have a friend. It was only later, when she started to embarrass me, that I’d got all resentful.
Even after I’d discovered why she was embarrassing, I didn’t do anything very much to stick up for her. Just mumbled that she couldn’t help it, then immediately backed down when Fawn got irritated. I’d always been more anxious to stay in Fawn’s good books than to defend Rachel.
I was still contemplating the back of Fawn’s head when Fawn turned round to look at me. She raised both eyebrows as if to say, Well? That was when I became aware that Rachel’s voice was no longer droning on and that another voice – Miss Seymour’s – was rather sharply addressing me.
“If you could possibly bring yourself to return to us, Zoe?”
Fawn shook her head, reprovingly. I thought, She can be so smug at times. She had absolutely no idea what it was like to be an ordinary mortal with a dad who was a handyman (even if he had won the lottery), let alone what it was like to be Rachel, isolated from the world by a mad and horrible granddad that crushed people and wouldn’t even let her listen to the radio or play harmless games like Snakes and Ladders.
Miss Seymour said, “Zoe?”
I snatched at Jane Eyre and prayed I was on the right page. Fawn sucked in her lips as a sign of disapproval. I knew what her problem was: she was terrified Miss Seymour would put my name in the order-mark book and that come the end of term we would lose out to the Buttercups. Last term, she had already proudly informed me, we had had fewer order marks than either the Buttercups or the Days. Why did she have to be so competitive all the time?
“Zoe, if you’re ready?” said Miss Seymour. “We don’t have all day.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I lost my place.”
Fawn gave me such a look. But my mind was made up: I was going to have to say something. I couldn’t let things go on like this!
I didn’t want to say anything to Fawn any more than I’d wanted to talk to Rachel. Not that I actually had talked to Rachel; I’d been too much of a coward. I have to confess that I was almost a coward again. I got as far as saying, “Hey, Fawn …” and then couldn’t bring myself to go on.