I brushed my hair and I brushed my teeth and I brushed my shoes. I did this varied brushing ultra thoroughly, and at each stroke of the brush I made a wish that our luck would change and that somehow or other Dad could stay cooking his chip butties for ever.
Billy the Chip came in to mind the café while Dad was taking me to Rhiannon’s. He was clutching his Racing Post.
‘Come on, young Flossie, pick me a winner,’ he said.
‘Oh Mr Chip, I’m rubbish at picking winners. Birthday Girl was hopeless, and Iced Bun was worse.’
‘Have another go, darling.’
‘What, you think it’ll be third time lucky?’ I said.
‘Yes!’ said Billy the Chip. ‘Look! Third Time Lucky is running at Doncaster! We’ve got to back it now. What about you, Charlie? Shall I put something on for you?’
‘I haven’t got anything left to bet with, mate. I think it might be a bit of a waste anyway. Look at the odds. It hasn’t got a chance.’
12
RHIANNON WAS ESPECIALLY sweet to me. She was almost like the old Rhiannon, before she started thinking Margot wonderful. And I felt almost like the old Floss, when I still had two homes and I could see Mum whenever I wanted.
We went to play in Rhiannon’s beautiful blue bedroom, and it was so peaceful lying back on her soft flowery duvet and seeing the clean white paint and fresh blue ruffles. It felt as if we were floating up into the sky. Rhiannon let me shake all her snowdomes and wind up her Cinderella musical box and flick from channel to channel on her own little white television.
She let me try on all her coolest clothes. She even let me try walking in her brand-new boots with pointy toes and real heels. She didn’t want to try on my jeans and T-shirt, so I let her wear my birthday-present rose-quartz bracelet. It looked very pretty on her slim white wrist. I asked her where her friendship bracelet was.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Think I must have lost it.’
‘Oh. Well. Never mind,’ I said. ‘I’ll make you another if you like. Tell you what, we could use that kit I gave you and make each other a friendship bracelet now.’
Rhiannon wrinkled her forehead. ‘Like, boring!’ she said. ‘No, we’re going shopping – I said. Mum’s taking us to Green Glades.’
Rhiannon’s mum drove us there in her big Range Rover. Rhiannon and I knelt up at the back and made faces at people in the cars behind.
‘I bet you wish you had a big car like our Range Rover,’ said Rhiannon.
‘It’s lovely – but actually my dad’s van is just as big,’ I said.
‘Yeah, but, like, that’s just a transit van,’ said Rhiannon.
They obviously didn’t compare so I kept my mouth shut. I was starting to feel a bit sick. I hadn’t realized Green Glades was so far away. I wriggled round in my seat and stared straight ahead. My jeans were starting to be a bit too small for me. They pressed uncomfortably into my tummy. I closed my eyes, praying that I wasn’t going to disgrace myself.
‘Hey, don’t go to sleep on me, Floss!’ said Rhiannon.
‘No, no, leave her be, darling,’ said Rhiannon’s mother. ‘She looks as if she could do with a good sleep. She’s looking so peaky, poor lamb. I know her dad is doing his best but I bet he doesn’t get her to bed on time.’
I wanted to argue, but I knew if I sat up and opened my mouth I would actually start spouting vomit. I stayed still as a statue, eyes shut, tummy clenched, sweat trickling down inside my T-shirt with the effort of keeping my breakfast in place.
Seemingly many many years later we got to Green Glades and parked the car. I rushed to the nearest ladies, and when the cubicle door shut me away from Rhiannon and her mum I threw up as silently as possible.
‘Oh darling, you do look weak and feeble,’ Rhiannon’s mother cooed, when I staggered out. ‘You haven’t been sick, have you?’
‘No!’ I said emphatically, because she’d only start on about my dad’s chip butties. I suddenly soooo wanted my mum, who would know exactly how to deal with Rhiannon’s mother. I hated being the poor sad sickly girl, especially when I was feeling so poor and sad and sickly.
I wanted to talk to her on the phone. Dad was going to phone her tonight to tell her that he thought I should go to Australia. My stomach started churning again. I wanted Mum but I wanted Dad too. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. He’d said the heavies would move in. I didn’t really know what a heavy was. I pictured an army of huge red-faced prickly-headed guys, all of them punching my poor dad and then kicking him out of our café with their big heavy boots as if he was a bag of rubbish. I saw him sitting in the gutter, crawling inside his cardboard box.
I had to run right back to the ladies’ loo and throw up all over again. I didn’t even have anything to be sick with any more; it was just horrible bile stuff. I couldn’t fool Rhiannon and her mother this time. I suffered a lecture about suitable diet for the next half-hour, though I told them truthfully I’d simply had a small bowl of cornflakes for my breakfast.
‘Margot has the most amazing mango and pineapple smoothies for her breakfast. We made them ourselves. It was so cool,’ said Rhiannon.
‘When were you having breakfast with Margot?’ I said.
‘When she had this sleepover,’ Rhiannon said airily.
I was stunned. I had been so scared of upsetting Rhiannon by having Susan over for tea, and yet here she was casually telling me that she had actually stayed the night at Margot’s.
‘What?’ said Rhiannon, seeing my expression. ‘Oh Floss, lighten up. It’s OK. You don’t have to be, like, jealous.’ She actually laughed at me.
‘I’m not jealous,’ I mumbled foolishly.
‘Don’t worry, dear. You’re still Rhiannon’s special friend,’ said Rhiannon’s mum.
She didn’t say ‘best’ friend. ‘Special’ made me sound embarrassing and needy, the poor little saddo you had to be nice to because you felt so sorry for her.
I felt my cheeks burning. I didn’t want Rhiannon as my friend any more, best or special. I wished wished wished I’d made real friends with Susan.
I was stuck with Rhiannon and her mother. We went up and down every single arcade and walkway of the Green Glades shopping centre. I’d have liked it if I was there with my mum. We’d look at things together and try on different stuff and strike mad poses like fashion models and tell each other we looked drop-dead gorgeous.
Rhiannon and her mother took their shopping seriously. They tried on outfit after outfit, reciting the designer labels as if they were magic charms.
‘You must try on anything you fancy too, Floss,’ said Rhiannon’s mum. ‘I’m determined to treat you, darling. We can’t have you wandering about like a sad little scarecrow.’
She bought me new white socks. She wanted to buy me new shoes too, but I said that my trainers had been a special birthday present from my mum and I wanted to wear them all the time.
‘They’re starting to look a bit shabby already, dear,’ said Rhiannon’s mum, but she didn’t press it.
She did press me to choose some new clothes. She didn’t say anything disparaging about my jeans and T-shirt, but she shook her head and sighed, so it was plain what she thought of them.
I didn’t want her to buy me anything. I didn’t even want the socks, though I needed them badly. But there was no way I could keep saying no without seeming rude and ungrateful. I tried picking out the cheapest top and jeans I could find on the bargain rails so that they would cost as little as possible, but this didn’t please Rhiannon or her mother.
‘Oh God, Floss, you can’t possibly like that tacky old T-shirt. It looks like something off a market stall,’ said Rhiannon. ‘And those jeans! I wouldn’t be seen dead in them. Look at the cut of the leg. They are, like, so old-fashioned.’
‘You’re not really into fashion, are you, dear?’ said Rhiannon’s mother. ‘Don’t worry, Rhiannon’s always been a bit forward – she could suss out a designer label when she was still in her buggy. We’ll help
you, darling. You don’t need to dress in those little girly-wirly togs just because you’re so small. We’ll find you an outfit with a bit of oomph.’
I didn’t know what oomph was. I didn’t much like the sound of it.
I was right to be wary.
Rhiannon went rushing round collecting armfuls of clothes, including a denim outfit studded with rhinestones, with a matching cap.
‘Oh darling, that’s so cute. Hey, pick one out for Floss in a smaller size. I’m sure she’ll look wonderful in it.’
Rhiannon looked sort of wonderful in the tiny tight skirt and little studded bomber jacket and the sparkly skimpy vest that showed her tummy. She slipped the cap on at a jaunty angle and struck a pose, as if a million cameras were flashing.
I didn’t look at all wonderful. The little skirt looked weird way up my spindly legs and I hardly dared move in it in case my knickers showed. The bomber jacket hung on me oddly and the vest looked as if it had shrunk in the wash. The cap wouldn’t stay on unless I clamped it down hard over my curls.
‘You look so sweet, Floss,’ said Rhiannon’s mother, tugging at the cap and twitching the jacket. ‘There, that’s the ticket. You and Rhiannon look just like sisters. We have to buy it for you.’
‘No, please. It’s very kind of you but it’s much too expensive,’ I protested, truthfully enough. The price of each outfit would have clothed an entire orphanage of children from head to foot in ordinary non-designer denim. Besides, I hated the whole outfit, only I couldn’t really say so when Rhiannon and her mum thought it so wonderful.
I let them buy it for me. I said thank you over and over again. Rhiannon and I wore our brand-new outfits there and then. Rhiannon swished and strutted around the shopping centre and nearly everyone turned and smiled and stared at her. They stared and smiled at me too, but they also raised their eyebrows. It was like they had thought bubbles over their heads. They thought, What a beautiful child when they looked at Rhiannon. They thought, What a sad little weirdo when they looked at me.
I hoped we were done. We weren’t. We went in heaps more shops before we went for lunch in the Green Glade Grotto. It had grass-green velvet chairs and fake grass carpet and rocks instead of walls, with real trickly waterfalls. Rhiannon’s mother ordered Rhiannon and me a Green Glade Super Special Drink (lemonade and lime juice with slices of real lime and little green flowers cut out of cucumber and tiny green umbrellas).
‘You can eat the lime and the cucumber, but not the umbrella!’ said Rhiannon’s mother, as if I was Tiger’s age. ‘Now, what would you like to eat, dear? I know you love your chips, and they do do very nice French fries here, but I think Rhiannon and I will be having a Green Glade Super Special Salad. Would you like to try one too?’
So I tried one. It came on a green glass plate patterned like a lettuce. The food was very prettily set out like a flower, with strawberries in the centre, pink grapefruit petals and rocket leaves.
‘There! You’re really enjoying it, aren’t you?’ said Rhiannon’s mother, as if she was introducing me to the concept of salad for the very first time.
‘It’s delicious,’ I said, as limply as the lettuce.
‘What’s up with you?’ said Rhiannon, kicking me under the table.
I didn’t really know. If I’d been spending the day with my best friend Rhiannon last month, being treated to new clothes and lovely meals, I’d have been over the moon, the stars, orbiting in outer space. But now I wanted to be anywhere else. I wanted to be in Australia with Mum and Steve and Tiger. I wanted to be back home in the café with Dad and Billy the Chip and Old Ron and Miss Davis. I wanted to be playing on my swing with Susan.
Oh, Susan.
I looked at Rhiannon. I realized I really didn’t like her any more.
‘What?’ said Rhiannon, tipping her cap at an even cuter angle. My rose-quartz bracelet slid prettily up and down her arm. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? Honestly, Floss, you are, like, soooo moody at times.’
‘Now now, Rhiannon,’ said Rhiannon’s mum. ‘What did I say about being kind to Flossie? Imagine how you’d feel if I went off and left you.’
‘My mum didn’t leave me. She’s coming back in six months – just over five months – and I feel fine. I’ve got my dad,’ I said.
‘Yes, dear,’ said Rhiannon’s mother, but the expression on her face made it obvious she didn’t believe a word of it.
Rhiannon yawned and picked up a magazine. ‘Oh wow! Look! It’s Purple!’ she said.
‘Purple what?’ I said.
‘Purple! They’re just the coolest boy band ever, especially Danny. He is, like, fantastic,’ said Rhiannon, kissing her fingertip and pressing it to Danny’s pouty photo mouth.
‘I bet Margot likes him,’ I said.
‘She’s only got tickets for their latest tour! Her dad’s taking her, and she can choose a friend to come too and she said she wants me to come instead of Judy.’
‘Can’t Flossie come too?’ said Rhiannon’s mother.
‘Floss isn’t into cool bands like Purple. She’d never even heard of them,’ said Rhiannon. ‘Hey, can we go to HMV, Mum? Can I get their latest album? Please!’
‘What sort of music do you like, Flossie?’ said Rhiannon’s mother.
I shrugged. I liked all the Golden Oldies Dad played on the van radio, and we sang them together. Dad often sang the women’s songs, making his voice very high-pitched, putting in lots of oohs and coos. I sang the guy parts in a deep growl. We could rarely reach the end of any song because we kept cracking up laughing.
Rhiannon would certainly crack up laughing if I said I liked Crazy Little Thing Called Love and Stand by Your Man and Dancing Queen. So I just kept shrugging, like I was doing shoulder exercises.
‘Rhiannon, you should tell Flossie all about these boy bands,’ said Rhiannon’s mum. ‘Don’t worry, Floss, we’ll take you in hand.’
I felt I was growing smaller and smaller and smaller and they were scrunching me up in their hands. I didn’t want to be turned into a little replica of Rhiannon.
‘Now, dear, what would you like to do most of all?’ said Rhiannon’s mother.
Go home! I longed to say, but I knew that would sound very rude indeed, especially as she was trying to be so kind to me. So I said I’d like to go to HMV too and Rhiannon smiled at me and went ‘Yay!’
We spent the rest of the afternoon at Green Glades doing Rhiannon things. I was good at suggesting all the right places. We went to heaps more clothes shops and a special scent shop, spraying on samples until we reeked, and then we spent hours trying all the testers on Boots’ makeup counters.
All the time I played a game in my head choosing the places that Susan and I might like. We’d both want to spend ages in the bookshop, and we’d maybe like the art shop too, and perhaps Susan wouldn’t laugh if I wanted to go to the Bear Factory. We wouldn’t necessarily have to spend any money. We could have fun choosing our best books and our favourite set of colouring crayons, and we could each decide on a factory bear and name it and choose different outfits for it.
I could list our choice of books and crayons and little bear clothes and Susan could count them all up in her head. We’d wander off to the swankiest restaurant and pretend to choose a special meal in celebration. But before we ordered Susan would say, ‘I don’t know, this all sounds totally delicious but do you know what I really fancy?’ and I’d say, ‘Mm, yes, I think there’s only one possible choice,’ and then we’d both laugh and shout, ‘CHIP BUTTIES!’
But Susan wouldn’t ever want to come back to the café with me to have chip butties because I’d betrayed her. Dad was being thrown out of the café anyway. He wouldn’t be able to make his special chip butties.
I couldn’t stop the tears welling in my eyes. I kept my head bent and blinked hard but Rhiannon still saw. She edged up very close so that her mother wouldn’t hear.
‘Baby!’ she hissed in my ear.
I sniffed and tried to stop crying. It didn’t work.
> ‘Oh Floss, don’t cry,’ said Rhiannon’s mother. ‘Come here, you poor little thing.’ She put her arms round me and gave me a powdery hug. She used the same perfume as my mum. I cried harder.
‘Oh dear, oh dear. Maybe we’d better take you home now,’ she said.
I was still a bit sniffly when we got back. I rubbed my eyes hard and straightened my stupid cap.
‘Thank you very much indeed for the lovely day out,’ I said as politely as I could. ‘And thank you for the green meal and the socks and the fantastic outfit too.’
‘You’re very welcome, dear. I just wish you’d let me do more for you.’
We drew up outside the café. Rhiannon’s mum looked at the HARLIE’S CAFÉ sign and sighed.
‘I think I’ll come in and have a little word with Dad,’ she said.
‘Oh no, don’t, please. He’ll be too busy serving all his customers,’ I said quickly, though I knew there’d only be Billy the Chip, Old Ron and Miss Davis sitting there, stirring their tea at separate tables.
‘Oh, well . . .’ said Rhiannon’s mum doubtfully.
‘Bye, Rhiannon,’ I said, climbing out of the car.
Rhiannon waved her arm. The rose-quartz bracelet slid up underneath the sleeve of her denim jacket.
‘My bracelet—’ I said, and then I stopped.
‘Oh Rhiannon, give poor little Floss her birthday bracelet back,’ said Rhiannon’s mother.
‘No, it’s all right. I’d like her to have it,’ I said.
‘But we gave it to you,’ said Rhiannon’s mother, sounding faintly irritated.
‘You’ve given me much too much. Rhiannon can keep it now. She lost the other bracelet I gave her.’
‘Which bracelet?’ Rhiannon’s mother asked. ‘I didn’t know you gave Rhiannon a bracelet.’
‘Just some old thready thing,’ said Rhiannon. ‘Are you sure I can keep the rose-quartz bracelet?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
I didn’t want it any more. I didn’t even care that Rhiannon obviously hadn’t liked my friendship bracelet, even though it had taken me hours to make it, and I’d chosen Rhiannon’s favourite colours, pink and blue and purple, and fastened it with a little silver heart. There was no point having a friendship bracelet if you didn’t want to be friends any more.
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