by Sue Limb
‘Maybe we should seek shelter in the house, my friends,’ said Fred in an old-fashioned voice. ‘’Twould be tragic if we were to be struck by lightning and killed. Well, ’twould be tragic if I perished, anyway.’
‘NO!’ said Jodie. ‘We’re much better off where we are!’
She was certainly better off where she was – with Ben Jones’s arms around her. His expression wasn’t exactly ecstatic, though. You could never quite tell what Ben was thinking, but it was obvious that if he really wanted, he could do much better than cuddling up to Jodie.
Eventually, after a few more rumbles of thunder and much synchronised screaming, the rain eased off and the thunder seemed to roll away into the distance. They stepped out into the saturated field. The dark cloud was scudding off towards the horizon. Sun now poured down and the grass actually steamed.
‘Oh, look!’ cried Flora. ‘A rainbow!’
There it was, cutely poised over Auntie Rose’s house. Moments later, Auntie Rose ran into view, clutching her camera. She aimed it at the sky and fired. Then she turned back and waved.
‘Everybody OK?’ she called. ‘Nobody drowned or struck by lightning?’
‘All OK!’ yelled Jodie. And then added in a kind of whisper, ‘Oh no! Remember she said there were only supposed to be six of us! Quick, let’s go down to the river.’
Everybody took off at speed, with Jess and Fred bringing up the rear. Jess hated sport and never worked out; Fred was just a feeble swot.
‘And the plucky English girl is fading fast!’ puffed Fred in his sports-commentator voice. ‘The French are in the lead! They’re going to get gold and silver! The British team is absolutely nowhere!’
Fred’s account of things was not quite true. Ben Jones seemed to have won the race down to the river, and Gerard was second. Edouard came in third, because his legs were shorter.
‘Hey! Why don’t we have a picnic lunch down here?’ said Flora.
‘But it is wet ze grass!’ objected Marie-Louise, looking down in horror at the glistening earth.
‘We could get a blanket or something,’ said Jodie thoughtfully. ‘Maybe Auntie’s got a sort of tarpaulin thing. I’ve seen them in the barn.’
Suddenly, Jess felt a raindrop hit her nose. Oh no! Another shower! Before anyone could decide what to do about it, another fierce little storm blew up. There was no thunder or lightning this time, just rain, and plenty of it. At first everyone sheltered under a tree, but then the tree itself started to drip. Flora got the giggles.
‘Oh, who cares!’ she cried, and waltzed out on to the open grass. She looked up to the heavens, stretched out her arms and laughed. ‘Rain on me as much as you like!’ she yelled. Rain ran down her face. She laughed and sort of danced about, getting wetter and wetter. ‘If you can’t beat it, join it!’
‘Flora Barclay of Ashcroft Harriers seems to have taken leave of her senses,’ said Fred in his commentator’s voice. ‘They’re sending in the St John’s Ambulance people now, and I suspect they may be escorting her along to the nearby Fred Parsons Memorial Psychiatric Unit.’
Gerard joined Flora in the field, and they held hands and whirled around at speed.
‘Zey are a bit stupide,’ said Marie-Louise quietly. She was still clinging to the tree trunk, trying to shelter, and casting longing glances up the hill to the tents, or even better, the farmhouse.
‘So, Ben, when are you coming back to school?’ asked Jodie, grinning eagerly. The sight of Flora and Gerard dancing in the rain didn’t seem to have upset her one little bit.
‘Yeah … on Monday,’ said Ben. His voice was divine: growly and somehow golden.
The rain stopped and the sun came out, possibly as a result of Ben Jones having spoken. Everybody was a little damp, but Flora and Gerard were absolutely saturated.
The group relaxed a little, and moved away from the tree. It was too wet to sit down, so they just stood about. Ben Jones caught hold of the ropes that were hanging from the branch of the tree, above the river. He disentangled them.
Ben tested them, selected one, took hold of it carefully and, with a great push, launched himself across the river. He didn’t drop down on the other side – he just swung to and fro. Everybody watched. All the girls were mesmerised. Even Flora stopped dancing about with Gerard and stared in admiration at Ben for a while.
Then, all of a sudden, Gerard grabbed the other rope and also started swinging to and fro. He raised his feet and next time he swung past Ben, he gave him a friendly but firm push. It didn’t seem to affect Ben at all, but it threw Gerard totally out of line. Gerard’s rope sort of whirled round and round, out of its usual pattern and came back, heading for a big collision with Ben.
‘Feet up!’ yelled Mackenzie from the bank. They both raised their feet and collided – or, at least, their trainers did. Gerard’s rope went whirling around again, out of control. Now Ben’s rope was swinging in a dangerous random way, too.
‘And the French have lost it,’ said Fred in his commentator’s voice. ‘That was almost a foul. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a yellow card for that, or possibly a penalty point and one hand cut off for cheating.’
Gerard and Ben swung towards each other again, and this time Gerard, rather stupidly, gave one huge heave with his feet – so much, in fact, that he lost his grip on the rope, swore (in French) and fell. The girls screamed. Everything seemed to go into slow motion.
Jess hoped he wasn’t going to fall in the river or hit his head. Luckily he landed on the bank, on his feet. But he hit the ground awkwardly, at an angle: his ankle buckled under him and he fell heavily on his side, letting out a terrible howl. He grabbed his ankle and kept yelling, ‘Ma cheville! Ma cheville!’ And he went a truly horrible shade of green.
Flora flew to his side, knelt down beside him and panicked in a really irritating way, like somebody in a silent movie. She stroked his head, she tried to hold his hand, she touched his leg, she generally made herself totally useless.
‘What shall we do?’ she shouted. ‘What shall we do? What shall we do?’
‘Fetch Auntie Rose, somebody!’ said Jodie, also kneeling down by Gerard. Marie-Louise ran a few steps uphill, then came back.
‘I cannot speak ze English enough good!’ she said.
‘Ben!’ shouted Jodie. ‘Run!’
Ben set off.
‘No, wait, come back!’ yelled Jodie. ‘You don’t even know Auntie Rose. You don’t know where the kitchen is or anything. Fred, you go.’
Fred shrugged, looked useless and set off. Ben came back and squatted down by Gerard.
‘It could be broken, it could be just sprained,’ said Mackenzie. ‘Give the guy time.’
‘Sorry, mate,’ said Ben, looking at Gerard with true concern. Gerard ignored him.
Jess watched the whole event in a kind of freeze-frame. What if Gerard had broken his ankle? How totally, utterly awful. And what if the pain was so bad he was sick? His face was that horrible green colour. Jess hoped that, even if he had broken his ankle, Gerard would have the heroic self-control not to be sick. But Gerard did something worse. He cried.
It was embarrassing. Flora grabbed his hand and stroked it, but he pushed her away. Marie-Louise fussed about, getting out her hankie but feeling too embarrassed to offer it. Edouard hovered nearby, just in case a healing insect might be required. Ben Jones stayed right beside Gerard, with one hand on his shoulder. Mackenzie just gabbled.
‘I’m sure it’s not broken, cos we’d have heard the crack. Did anybody hear a crack? I didn’t hear a crack.’
After what seemed like a century, Auntie Rose came hurtling down the field, with Fred following. He was far too cool to be seen running, especially in the company of a middle-aged woman carrying a shopping bag.
Auntie Rose arrived, examined Gerard’s ankle, spoke to him quietly in French, rummaged about in her bag and produced a pack of frozen peas, which she slapped on his foot.
‘That should stop the swelling,’ she said. ‘I’ve rung Geoff on h
is mobile and asked him to come down here with the four-wheel drive. He’ll be down in a few minutes. I don’t think it’s broken, but maybe we should take him to the A&E unit, just in case. Geoff will know what to do. The animals are always hurting themselves.’
‘It’s a good job he’s not a racehorse,’ said Fred. ‘Or he might have to be shot.’
‘Shut up, Fred!’ snapped Jess. When not being totally brilliant, Fred was the biggest idiot in the world.
Chapter 35
Jodie’s uncle Geoff turned up in a 4x4, liberally garnished with cow poo. He was a huge guy, covered in straw and looking a bit annoyed. He and Aunt Rose helped Gerard into the back (still holding the pack of frozen peas on his ankle) and drove him up to the house. The rest of the gang trudged back up the field. It was raining again.
‘Oh, I hope Gerard hasn’t broken his ankle!’ said Flora.
‘Course he hasn’t,’ said Jodie. ‘He’s just making a fuss. He’s such a cry-baby.’
‘Rather harsh,’ said Jess. ‘I frequently cry at adverts for old-fashioned bread, especially if they involve grandpas. And you only have to say “kittens” to Flora and she’s off.’
‘Yes, but he’s a bloke,’ said Jodie. ‘Guys are supposed to be strong and manly and stuff. I could never fancy a bloke who cried when he sprained his ankle. I went right off him.’
‘Really?’ said Flora coldly. ‘It only made me like him more.’
They walked on in silence until they reached the tents. Fred and Edouard climbed into the boys’ tent. Ben Jones and Mackenzie walked off to where they had left their mountain bikes under a tree, and got out their jackets. The girls went into their tent to try and find dry clothes. Jodie looked grumpy and martyred.
‘I suppose I’d better get up to the house and sit by his side and hold his freakin’ hand,’ she said, with just the faintest hint of grim triumph.
Flora, who was drying her hair, stopped suddenly, fiddled with her rings and looked at the ground.
‘Could I come, too?’ she asked timidly.
Jess hated her for this. Why couldn’t she just keep her dignity intact? Why did she have to beg Jodie for another chance to drool all over Gerard?
‘The thing is,’ said Jodie, with a furtive look on her face, like a politician who is lying at a press conference, ‘I’m beginning to think we should cancel the weekend and go home. All this rain and stuff. We’re all soaked. Especially you.’ She glared at Flora, who was still saturated from her mad dance of love in the rain. Flora blushed slightly.
‘Yeah, well …’ Flora said, shrugging and trying unsuccessfully to look as if it was all the same to her whether she ever saw Gerard again. ‘My dad did send me a text saying they’d changed the weather forecast and the rain’s going to come back and get worse.’
‘It is stinking cold as well,’ said Jess, pulling on an extra fleece. This camping business had turned a little sour.
‘I’d better go and see how he is,’ said Jodie.
‘I’ll come, too – just for a minute,’ said Flora.
‘Knock, knock!’ said a voice outside the tent. It was Mackenzie. Ben Jones was standing behind him, looking dreamily down towards the river as if he didn’t really mind if he saw any of the girls or not.
‘We’re going now,’ said Mackenzie. ‘Cos it’s all gone pear-shaped with all this rain and people’s legs hanging off and stuff.’
‘Whatever,’ said Jodie. ‘See you on Monday – and don’t forget, Ben, you’re going to show us your scar!’ She reached out and gave the waistband of his trousers a playful little pull. She was such a shameless tart in her bulldozing way!
Ben Jones looked startled and embarrassed, but managed a rueful smile. Just for a split second Jess caught his eye, and they exchanged a psychic message.
Sorry Jodie is such a slapper, was Jess’s mental message.
Don’t worry, she doesn’t bother me, replied Ben telepathically. You’re the one who intrigues me. I want to be alone with you. I want to stare deep into your magnificent eyes. I want to hold your hand for a century. I want to be your partner in Britain’s Olympic kissing team.
Well, that’s what he said in Jess’s imagination, anyway. The New Improved Ben Jones was really über-gorgeous. Jess sighed. He looked away again.
Jodie and Flora went off to the farmhouse, and Ben Jones and Mackenzie said goodbye and strolled off to collect their bikes. Jess admired Ben’s back. His bum was five-star perfection. Mackenzie, though short, was kind of cute, but he just wasn’t in the frame. Flora had said once she thought he looked a bit like Elijah Wood. But right now, Jess had eyes for nobody but Ben, and Flora had eyes for nobody but Gerard.
Jess zipped up her fleece and stepped back inside the girls’ tent. Marie-Louise was packing. She looked up.
‘We are goingue ’ome, yes?’ she enquired.
‘I think so,’ sighed Jess. ‘It’s all gone pear-shaped.’
‘Excuse me?’ Marie-Louise frowned slightly. Jess sighed again.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Just an English phrase. Time to call it a day.’ Marie-Louise frowned again. ‘Oh, sorry. Another English phrase. Er … how about, the party’s over?’
‘Ah!’ Marie-Louise smiled. ‘I h’understand.’ She went back to her packing. She was doing it immaculately, rolling up items of clothing and smoothing them down in her dinky little bag. She looked as if she was really enjoying herself.
‘I’d better go and tell Fred and Edouard,’ said Jess. She stepped out of the tent and sighed again. The image of Ben Jones appeared in her mind’s eye, surrounded by shimmering light and hovering slightly above the ground. Supernatural rays played around his golden head and he seemed to smile mysteriously while beckoning her to some divine destination, preferably adorned with palm trees.
‘Oh, cut it out, for goodness’ sake!’ she said to herself, aloud. ‘He may be well fit but he’s not the actual Son of God. Control yourself, woman!’ Obediently she stopped thinking about Ben Jones. But she sort of stashed him away in a secret corner of her mind, and she was looking forward to revisiting that sacred corner in the very near future.
Fred stepped out of the boys’ tent, carrying his Stephen King book, which was the size of a brick.
‘So what’s next in this endless round of pleasure?’ he asked, tucking his book inside his jacket to shelter it from the rain. ‘Did I hear a barn mentioned? Shall we adjourn there? Would you like me to read you deeply disturbing extracts from my book until you go screamingly insane?’
‘Normally I’d jump at the chance,’ said Jess. ‘But apparently the show’s over, and we’ve all got to pack. Jodie’s decided, what with Gerard’s ankle and the rain and everything.’
‘Well, thank goodness for that,’ said Fred. ‘I thought the torture would never end.’
‘I’ll just tell Edouard to pack up his spiders and get ready to roll,’ said Jess. She stepped inside the boys’ tent, which predictably smelt of pongy socks. Edouard was sitting on his neatly folded sleeping bag, playing with his phone as usual.
‘We go home now,’ said Jess, speaking, for some reason, like an Indian guide in an old-style Western. ‘Rain. No good. Go home today. Now. I ring mother.’ She got her phone out.
Amazingly, Edouard seemed to understand. He put his phone away and started to pack. Jess called her mum.
‘Thank goodness you rang!’ said Mum. ‘I was getting really worried. Are you all right?’
‘I’m all right, but Gerard’s done something to his ankle,’ said Jess.
‘Oh no!’ gasped Mum in horror. ‘I knew it! I just knew it! Whatever will I say to his parents?’
‘Gerard, not Edouard,’ said Jess. ‘Calm down, for heaven’s sake, Mum.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ said Mum. ‘I lost it for a moment there, because they both end in “ard”.’
Jess could see that there was a joke tucked away in there somewhere, but she didn’t have time for it right now.
‘OK, but listen,’ said Jess. ‘Can you come and collect
us? Like, now? Because apparently this rain’s going to get worse.’ Fred loomed up beside Jess and started to perform a charade. ‘Oh – and can we give Fred a lift home?’
‘Of course, of course, I’ll come right away,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll be there in half an hour.’ She rang off, sounding hugely relieved, as if she’d been imagining Jess being chased by cattle, falling in the river and having her heart broken a hundred different ways.
Come to think of it, something very similar had indeed happened, but it didn’t seem to matter now.
‘I just hate the way Jodie throws herself at Ben,’ Jess said, putting her phone away. ‘If you were a guy – and you sort of are – wouldn’t it put you right off?’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said Fred. ‘I’d run a mile.’
‘I’d rather be an eccentric old spinster than hurl myself at boys the way Jodie and Flora do,’ said Jess.
‘Just as well,’ Fred replied. ‘As you’re clearly destined to be an eccentric old spinster anyway. I mean, who’d have you?’
Jess pulled Fred’s hair and punched him playfully in the ribs. He gave her a Chinese burn. Edouard looked up from his packing in alarm, then realised it was only a joke.
‘Anyway,’ said Jess, ‘I’ll leave you to do your stuff. Get a move on. My mum will be here in half an hour.’
‘It’ll only take me two seconds to pack,’ said Fred. ‘What else is there to do?’
‘I believe this is your tent?’ said Jess tauntingly. ‘Someone has to take it down … ? And fold it up nice and tidily so it fits in the back of my mum’s car … ?’ Fred went pale.
‘Information overload,’ he said. ‘Help me, please!’
‘Sorry,’ said Jess. ‘Stuff to do!’ And she ducked out of the tent and skipped off through the rain towards the loo. Before she got there, Jodie came barging down the path.
‘We’re taking Gerard to A&E as a precaution!’ she said importantly. ‘For an X-ray, you know … Flora’s just snogging him goodbye. She’ll be here in a min – I just wanted to say …’ Jodie leant in towards Jess and dropped her voice to a whisper – well, by Jodie’s standards, anyway. ‘… congrats on your utterly brilliant revenge! Water, mud, five-star pain: it was all there, exactly as promised!’