Blue Lavender Girl

by Judy May

  c) heard something on the radio about teenagers

  d) decided my frozen pizza pockets for dinner were so bad that I must be evil …

  Or anyway something has made them feel like making a decision about me.

  Now I have three days to come up with a ‘constructive and educational’ plan for the summer or I am being sent to Aunt Maisie’s for six weeks.

  Aunt Maisie is a proper aunt, she buys me things, leaves me alone when I need it, doesn’t ask awkward questions, talks to me, doesn’t boss me about … did I mention she buys me things?

  She is more fun than the rest of us put together and being with her instead of Mum and Dad would be bliss. BUT I couldn’t stand to live in the countryside.

  Mum says it’s not the middle of nowhere (but it is) and that there is plenty to do. There is plenty to do if you are a granny, not if you are a teenager. I do not consider making rag dolls from old socks to be a ‘fun activity’, even if I did love it when I was seven. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, I’m not going. I’m off to talk to Kira’s mum, she’s a genius at coming up with stuff to get me and Dee off the hook with our folks.

  DAY 7

  FACT: I am now just about angry enough to do something reckless, but too angry to think what that might be. If not even Kira’s mum is on my side, then it’s safe to say that everyone is against me.

  Kira was sitting there too and we were all drinking chamomile tea because they had just read up about it. While Kira’s mum said, ‘Tia, I think it would be a really good idea for you to get away for a while,’ Kira was nodding like she was the wise woman of the west or whatever.

  Then they both started this double-attack about me not being happy. Well, show me anyone who is happy! They are not even happy, they’ve just got more feel-good sayings and CDs than the rest of us. Really.

  I called Dee and said that if I can get out of this Aunt Maisie plan then we can both go into town this weekend and hang out at the market stalls and see if we can pretend we are sixteen and get jobs. She said that she was hanging out with Timmy this weekend, except that it took her half an hour to say it because she kept going on about all the cool things he said about her.

  I called Aidan and he was out.

  INTERESTING INFO: If you get my dad away from my mum you can sometimes encourage him to have an independent thought. But the plan was bigger than the both of us and he said that he and Mum would visit every second weekend, which for some bizarre reason was supposed to make me feel better.

  No-one wants me here.

  Well FINE!

  I will probably be dead in two days anyway from having eaten nothing but cornflakes. I even had to make milk out of yoghurt and water tonight, which doesn’t really work.

  DAY 8

  I’m glad I didn’t waste brain cells thinking of anything else to do for the summer, because I just found out that I’m going to Aunt Maisie’s anyway. She always comes here so I’ve never seen her place. Mum tells me it’s a large cottage in its own grounds, but if she thinks that will change me into one of those Pride and Prejudice girls she’s very much mistaken.

  I’m sort of relieved though, because I hate everyone right now, but I won’t let them know that.

  I need to use every minute I have to make it so they won’t go into my room while I’m away. That way they can’t pull another stunt like the salmon-coloured, flowered wallpaper that appeared when I was off on the weekend school trip to that farm. I am going to push all the mess near the door so it’s impossible to get through.

  I put all my favourite clothes into a big suitcase and then took them all out again deciding to wash everything first in case she doesn’t have a washing machine. I know she will, I just … God, I don’t know.

  I went around to meet Kira and Dee at the burger place, but they sounded worse than my mother. They kept saying that I’d have a good time and they wish they were going and that I might find a boyfriend there. I told them I don’t want a boyfriend, but I didn’t say that I didn’t want to be all ridiculous like they are over the Timmys. The other guy’s name is not actually Timmy I just can’t be bothered learning any more names of guys they like, so from now on they are all just Timmy. Once we are all ancient and they get to the altar, then I’ll learn the guys’ real names.

  I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly because Dee’s brother’s friends arrived in, and this needed the girls’ full attention in case things don’t work out with the current round of Timmys.

  I had to ask Dad for money and he said ‘How much?’ That bugs me because he should really have thought of it and then he should have given me more than I asked for just to make sure I was OK. Instead he gave me exactly what I said and counted it out really carefully like it was a million.

  Mum put her head around the door to say goodbye. Then said she had to give me a hug as she wouldn’t be seeing me for a couple of weeks, and gave me one of her hugs where there is enough room for two extra people between us, so it’s really just her hands on my shoulders and bending a bit to the left.

  Trundle used to snuggle up to me and nuzzle my hair with his nose. Aidan gives these big bear hugs, but only when he is coming or going for ages, or on special occasions. He still hasn’t called back, which makes me feel like I’ve lost my only real parent.

  I looked up at the sky and wondered what’s happened to the stars these days. There are never any when I think to look up. When I was really little and we spent time in Dad’s uncle’s place by the beach, there were loads of stars. We used to all lie on the beach and Dad would teach us the names of the stars and Mum would get them all muddled up and not on purpose. It was such a laugh, but I haven’t explained it very well. It was one of those ‘you-had-to-have-been-there’ things.

  I nearly forgot to pack this diary, good thing it was on top of my jeans with the beads otherwise I would have left it behind. It’s weird that I have written more in this than in English class for the last year.

  ***

  I am in bed early.

  PRETEND REASON: To get enough sleep to be up bright and early to get to the train in time.

  REAL REASON: I am so angry with them that I keep wanting to bite someone’s head off whenever either of them says anything, and I don’t want to fall out with them just before I go or they might never let me come home.

  DAY 9

  Dad was already in the car so he didn’t hear Mrs Traynor go ‘coo-eee’ over the wall. Seriously, she does that. It’s like living next door to someone from a washing powder ad.

  ‘Off on a little trip, dear?’ she said with this fake smile.

  ‘Reform school. See you when I’m eighteen.’

  And she looked all flustered and scuttled back inside.

  Dad stood there with me on the platform until the train came, but I know he was dying to go.

  He kept saying, ‘Got your ticket?’ Then, ‘Got your money?’

  I even said, yes I had got my raincoat, even though I don’t own one.

  I was glad Mum wasn’t there so I didn’t have to see her smile apologetically at strangers for my ripped black sweater and long black skirt. As if her lace-up brown shoes were not the most disturbing things anyone ever paid money for.

  The train ride was fine. I bought some sandwiches from the trolley, but for some reason eating on my own makes me feel really sad, which is why I always do it in front of the TV. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat.

  As we were pulling into the station I got a strong feeling that something strange is going to happen during this visit. Not that Kira is right about me being psychic, she just says that to everyone when she wants something out of them, that they are ‘psychically attuned’.

  Aunt Maisie looks way younger than she must be, and is nothing like my mother, I guess she was the family rebel. She’s like one of those older models you see in expensive magazines for elegant country homes. My mum would look ridiculous in jeans, but Aunt Maisie looks better than I do. She’s always so stylish. Her hair is now red and to her shoulders,
but I know that it could change again by next week.

  The station is so small that she could pretty much park on the platform. I don’t remember what we talked about first, but once we got to the house she told me that she was really pleased that I had finally agreed to come and visit. That means that I was invited before now and they didn’t tell me!

  ‘So, rough few months then?’ she sort of half-said and half-asked.

  I like that about Aunt Maisie, she gets right to it. She says stuff in two seconds that it would take my mum and dad two centuries to get out of their mouths!

  I said, ‘Yeah, rough enough,’ and she smiled and left it at that.

  We had hot crumpets with blackcurrant jam and big cups of tea in the glass conservatory, looking out over the herb garden. I felt so good and relieved just to be somewhere where people weren’t against me. I’m sure I won’t be serving my full six-week sentence here, but for now it’s nice.

  Then she said, ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ and I smiled and said, ‘Black,’ and she said, ‘Well, what would be your favourite colour to sleep in?’ I thought that was a very Kira and Kira’s mum type question, so I said ‘Huh?’ to buy a little time.

  She explained that she’d left off redecorating the room I’m to sleep in, and that we might paint it and it would be ready for tomorrow night. I thought how not being ready for me was just like my mum, but in fact Aunt Maisie had all this amazing stuff done and had waited on purpose so I’d get a colour I liked. I felt more welcome when she showed me the new towels she had bought, and the handmade soaps and the new mirror. The mirror is quite small, but as there is no sound system I won’t be dancing in there anyway, so I don’t really need a mirror. The room is smaller than my room at home, but because there’s nothing thrown on the floor it’s way bigger in reality. The brass bed is huge and there’s a soft, light-blue carpet and cotton curtains in the same colour; the window looks out to the back garden.

  I don’t know what I’ll do without being able to shut the door and just put on a track and dance, it’s like my version of stress release. But maybe I won’t be so stressed here.

  Driving to the village we passed this huge field of lavender that looked amazing so when we got to the paint shop I chose pale lavender paint. I am now worried that it is close enough to lilac to make me a total hypocrite, but it’s not really lilac, it’s more of a bluish kind of lavender. Anyway, what’s OK for walls is not necessarily OK for wearing outdoors where people can see you.

  When we were in the paint shop this almost-ancient man in muddy jeans and a checked shirt came in and started bossing everyone around and not waiting his turn. He ordered twenty tins of Jasmine White and looked as pleased with himself as if he had ordered twenty cars. He must live in a pretty big house, or else he owns a bridge! He was really nasty and reminded me of my geography teacher who shouts because he has a crap haircut and can’t get anyone to marry him. (That’s my theory anyway.)

  We got my room painted pretty fast because of these new spongy roller things and the fact that Aunt Maisie had already covered the carpet and taped the bits near the windows and all that.

  Tonight we brought the duvet down to the living room and pulled out the sofa bed so I can sleep here while the paint dries. This is the coolest ever room, with bookcases of old books (duh!, like what else would be on bookcases, Tia?!), statues, leather chairs, a huge writing desk with antique pens, paintings … all sorts.

  I don’t know why, but I really feel like crying since yesterday, and I never cry. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Once they see you cry they think they are better than you and walk all over you. But I guess it’s OK to cry in front of old portraits, and it’s just because I’m tired from the journey.

  DAY 10

  Aunt Maisie woke me up with a cup of tea and stayed chatting while I drank it.

  We went to the garden and cut some flowers which I’ve forgotten the names of already and put them in this vase in my room. It looks great that there is no clutter, just the vase and the mirror.

  I spent the afternoon looking through the books but didn’t find any that I liked, they were all too old and boring. Even though it is beautiful and all that, I am going to die of boredom here. She doesn’t even have a television.

  Because I had nothing else to do I went and put all my clothes away neatly and arranged the stuff in the bathroom. I have never had my own bathroom before. It’s really modern, tiled in white and gold, and the sunken bath is huge. I spent an hour in it until I was so spongy and wrinkled that I worried I might get stuck like that.

  Aunt Maisie is as good a cook as Aidan. We had a salad for lunch, but not like the ones we have at home with tomatoes and cucumber and watery lettuce, this one had so many things in it, all kinds of stuff that made it not taste like salad but like a real meal.

  After we cleaned up I said, ‘What will I do all day?’

  And Aunt Maisie said that if you don’t know what to do, it’s your job to discover what you should be doing. That is a bit like when Dad says there is no such thing as being bored only being boring, (which is something he should know all about).

  So I looked at some books, got more flowers for my room, and refolded my clothes. I saw a TV documentary about a thing called OCD or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder once, where people wash their hands every minute and fold things all day and I hope I don’t turn into one while I’m here.

  After we finished dinner I just wandered about the garden because I couldn’t think what to do. I was too pissed off to even talk to Aunt Maisie or phone anyone, so I cleaned the kitchen, and had another bath (but not in an OCD way).

  I wonder if anyone has ever actually died of boredom, or if you get so bored that you just lie there and germs take over and you die of that?

  DAY 11

  In the morning, Aunt Maisie brought me my cup of tea. That really feels good, waking up to someone being nice, not yelling that you will be late and don’t use all the hot water and don’t eat the bread because it’s a bit green.

  After breakfast (pancakes! I’ve never had pancakes for breakfast before) I walked around the garden for a bit and found a bike in the shed. I thought I might as well to go into the village to see if I could buy some magazines. I would not normally ride a bike in case anyone saw me, but no-one lives around here so I knew I was safe enough.

  It’s a straight road over to the village and on it I cycled past this girl walking a dog who looked about my age (the girl, I have no idea how old the dog was), but I didn’t stop. Then when I cycled past her on the way back she waved. I wish I’d stopped to say ‘Hi’, but what if she was just waving and didn’t really want to talk to me?

  It was weird, she looked so like me, shortish, with blue eyes, pale skin with a few freckles, long straight hair, except she has blonde hair and mine is black. If either one of us dyed our hair we could be twins.

  It reminded me of this book that Aunt Maisie used to read to me when I was a little girl, a fairy tale called Snow White and Rose Red. I can’t remember what happened except it involved two sisters, two princes and one big fish, but I remember I loved it and used to get her to read it to me again and again.

  ***

  LATER

  I was going to mention the book to Aunt Maisie at teatime, but was too scared that she wouldn’t remember and then I’d feel stupid for saying it and it would be ruined, you know, the idea of it. But then when we were having mugs of hot chocolate at bedtime I did ask, and she knew exactly what I was talking about and went out to her office and came back in with the exact book. She had kept it all this time. I have been reading it over and over to myself in bed and only stopped so I’d get to write in this before falling asleep, which is going to happen any minute now. I had totally forgotten where the fish came into it.

  I would love a prince to come along and take me away from all this. Not very likely I know.

  DAY 12

  Today I saw that blonde girl again, this time in the supermarket. I was buying soy milk w
hich is like regular milk, but not from a cow. Aunt Maisie says it’s better for you. The girl was wearing a yellow sun-dress and waltzing with the manager in the fruit and veg section. He is an old guy, about seventy, and he was teaching her how to do the steps, and all these old ladies were standing around and loving it and talking about when they used to dance like that in the old days, and what a nice figure the girl had and how they used to have that figure in the old days, and on, and on, and on … My parents never dance, or at least I have never seen them dance, or touch each other come to think of it.

  The girl was humming this waltz music and laughing as he whirled her around. Usually I would think that doing something like that was really pathetic, looking for attention, but she seemed OK.

  I have now bought and read every magazine in the village so I’m stuck for what to do for the next week. I thought about taking the train back without a word to anyone, but that would just lead to massive numbers of reasonable discussions, so I know I have to stay here at least until Mum and Dad visit next weekend. Technically it would not be running away as I would be going home, but I won’t chance it just yet.

  Aunt Maisie caught me sighing on the sofa (she said, ‘like a Victorian consumptive’, which I think is not good) and asked if I wanted to read the book that was her favourite when she was my age. I thought it would be an adventure thing with boats and pirates, but instead it was a really old and impossible book about a girl who looks a bit ugly if that’s her on the front. It’s called Charlotte Brontë, by Jane Eyre. No. Wait. It’s called Jane Eyre, and the writer is called Charlotte Brontë. Not that it matters, except to her maybe, and she’s dead by now.

  In school this year we had to read Pride and Prejudice and it was OK except I couldn’t work out who they were talking about because they sometimes said ‘Miss Bennett’ and it meant one of them and then it meant another sister, and the main girl was called Elizabeth, Liza, Lizzie, Eliza, and a million other names so I got too mixed up. It didn’t help that I never actually read the thing, I just watched the film!