But for just about the first time in my life I can’t face talking to my two best friends. I know they’d be sweet to me, but it would be just so humiliating, especially after showing off about Russell so at school and writing that stupid poem . . .
I can understand why Nadine would barely talk to me when she was so cut up about Liam. He was a hateful pig who just wanted to have sex with her – but at least he went out with her lots of times and made her think she was really special. Russell couldn’t be bothered to go out with me once.
I go upstairs to bed very early, wanting to be well out of the way before Dad comes home. In my bedroom, I take out my sketchbook. I look at the portrait of Russell. Then I take my fattest blackest crayon and scribble all over it, again and again until it’s just a black crumpled mess. Then I pull it out of the book and tear it into tiny little shreds and empty them out of my window. They flutter into the night air like black confetti.
Right, I’ve torn him up. Now I shall forget all about him. He’s not worth another thought.
I know this. But I do think about him. Half the night. I have a lie-in until really late in the morning, huddling right down under the covers so I can’t see the daylight. I dimly hear the telephone ringing. Then Anna’s light footsteps.
‘Phone for you, Ellie.’
For one lunatic second I wonder if it could possibly be Russell ringing to apologize – and then I remember he doesn’t know my number, he doesn’t even know my full name.
It’s Magda.
‘Were you still in bed? So you had a seriously late night with the divine Russell, right?’
‘Wrong,’ I mumble.
‘What? Oh, is your dad around?’ says Magda.
Dad’s actually out at the swimming baths with Eggs. Thank goodness.
I mumble something even less intelligible to Magda.
‘I can’t hear you! Look, just answer yes or no if your dad’s ear-wigging. Did you have a good time with Russell?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, so you had a bad time with Russell?’
‘No.’
‘Well, make up your mind!’
‘Look, I can’t talk about it, Mags.’
‘Well, meet me this afternoon, OK? And Nadine?’
‘I’m not allowed out. Dad won’t let me,’ I say, and I put the phone down.
‘Your dad will let you go out with Magda and Nadine,’ says Anna.
‘I don’t feel like it anyway,’ I say, and I droop back up the stairs.
‘Are you going to have a bath?’ Anna asks.
I don’t feel like having a bath. I don’t feel like getting dressed. I don’t feel like having breakfast. I don’t feel like having any communication with the outside world ever again. I don’t even want to talk to Anna any more.
I go back to my rumpled bed and huddle up, my knees under my chin. I wish I still had my old blue special elephant. I wish I was a really little girl again. I wish I still thought boys were stupid mucky creatures who picked their noses and ate it and yanked the arms off Barbie dolls. I wish Eggs didn’t exist and Dad hadn’t met Anna. I wish my mum was still alive.
My throat aches and my eyes burn and I start crying because I suddenly miss Mum so much even though she died long ago. I cry under the covers for ages. When I eventually crawl out at lunchtime my eyes are sore and swollen. I come downstairs to have bacon sandwiches. Anna has obviously said something to Dad and Eggs. They both stare at me but after one fierce glance from Anna they start nattering on about swimming. Eggs demonstrates his version of freestyle so wildly that his sandwich crusts go flying and he nearly pokes me in the eye. Dad tells him to calm down. Eggs gets wilder. Dad gets cross. Anna intervenes. I let it all wash over me. As if I care about any of this stuff. As if I care about anything any more. It’s not like I’ll ever have a family of my own. It’s obvious no boy is ever going to want to go out with me, let alone form a proper partnership. My first boyfriend Dan was a total nerd. Anorak Boy with a capital A, and yet even he fell out of love with me. And Russell couldn’t even be bothered to turn up on our very first date. I am going to lead a totally solitary unloved uncherished life.
A tear drips down my cheek.
‘Oh Ellie,’ says Dad. ‘I can’t bear to see you so miserable. Look, I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you meet up with this boy yesterday.’
I glance at Anna. She raises her eyebrows a fraction. I decide it’s safer to say nothing.
‘Ellie’s crying,’ says Eggs, unnecessarily.
‘Just finish your sandwich, Eggs, and leave Ellie alone,’ says Anna.
‘I feel like I’ve overplayed the heavy father role,’ says Dad. ‘You do understand, Ellie, it was just because I care about you.’
No-one else cares about me. No need to worry about Russell going too far with me, Dad. Russell doesn’t want to get anywhere near me.
I don’t say any of this. I simply sniff.
‘Anna says you told Magda I wouldn’t let you meet up with her this afternoon. Ellie, I’m not that mean. You can go out with your girlfriends, for goodness’ sake.’
I just shrug and shrink back into my bedroom.
But Magda and Nadine don’t give up on me that easily. There’s a knock at the door ten minutes later. Magda. And Nadine. Dad answers the door and walks right into it.
‘Oh, Mr Allard! Look, we’ve come round to plead with you,’ I hear Magda say.
‘We know you’re cross with Ellie. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on straight away. It’s partly my fault,’ says Nadine.
They badger and flirt and flutter. Dad is clearly enjoying the situation and lets them carry on for ages. Then he pretends to weaken.
‘Well, girls, I’d hate to spoil your afternoon. OK, you’ve persuaded me. Ellie can go out with you.’
They squeal gratefully then come bounding upstairs. Magda clatter-clatters in her platforms, Nadine bounce-bounces in her trainers. They barge into my bedroom like two knights in armour rescuing a princess. I feel more like the loathsome monster.
They show off about their supposed victory and I try to act grateful.
‘Though actually I don’t really feel like going out,’ I protest weakly.
I pretend it’s because I’ve got a bad period. They are as suspicious as Mrs Henderson. They are both peering at my sore eyes and blotchy face.
‘Come on, Ellie,’ says Magda. ‘Tell us about Russell. Oh God, didn’t he turn up?’
‘You’ve got it,’ I say, and I start sniffing again.
‘Oh Ellie, what a creepy mean rotten thing to do. How long did you wait for him?’ says Nadine.
‘An hour!’ I wail.
I tell them all about it. Magda puts her arm round my neck and Nadine puts her arm round my waist and they both pat me sympathetically. Nadine says she thought his eyes were too close together and he had this really seriously shifty look which should have been a warning. But then she’s not one to talk, looking at her and Liam. Magda says he seemed awfully juvenile for his age anyway, just wanting to show off about himself, but she’s no-one to talk either, she went out with Greg who had all the sophistication of Dennis the Menace.
I start to feel a bit better. Nadine goes to the bathroom, comes back with my flannel and bathes my eyes. Magda whips out her own make-up bag and powders them deep grey and outlines them in black and I now have new eyes and old friends and I feel a lot better.
‘Coming out now?’ says Magda.
Nadine gets my jacket, and off we go, the three of us. I start to wonder why on earth I was so upset over Russell. Boyfriends are OK, but they aren’t a patch on girlfriends who’ve stuck by you and care about you for ever.
We go down the town to Flowerfields and I actually manage to be funny about a sad little ghost of Ellie still standing waiting there. We wander round the clothes shops for a while, trying on different stuff and hooting with laughter.
‘There! I knew you’d cheer up if we took you out,’ says Magda. ‘Forget Russell, forget all boys. They’re
not worth it.’
At that precise moment her eyes are following three boys in tight jeans fooling around outside the HMV shop. They disappear inside.
‘I’m wondering about buying that new Best Ever Love Songs compilation album,’ says Magda. ‘Can I go and have another listen?’
Nadine catches my eye and we have a giggle.
We saunter into HMV and Magda eyes up the boys while Nadine and I have another flip through our current favourites, playing the If-I-had-a-hundred-quid-to-spend game. The Claudie Coleman album is high on both our lists.
‘Hey, look!’ says Nadine, pointing to a Claudie Coleman poster above the counter. ‘She’s singing at the Albert Hall next month.’
‘Oh wow, let’s go!’ says Magda, actually distracted from the boys. ‘I’d love to see her in person, wouldn’t you?’
‘Well, the tickets would be seriously pricey,’ I say cautiously, wishing I wasn’t always so strapped over cash. ‘But maybe Anna would help me out.’
‘Look, I’ll help you out if needs be – and you too, Nadine,’ says Magda. ‘But us three girls have simply got to go and see Claudie, right?’ She’s scribbling down the phone number for the ticket office. ‘I’ll get my dad to book them on his credit card the minute I get home, OK?’
We take it in turns singing along with Claudie at the listening station. There’s one particular tune that I can’t get enough of. Claudie’s singing very close up, soft and breathy, like she’s whispering in your ear.
‘Don’t even think about him
He’s not worth it, worth it, worth it.
Who needs a man to feel a woman?
You’re doing fine without him, girl.’
I replay it till I know it off by heart and we sing it as we go all around Flowerfields. I sing it as a duet on the bus with Nadine. She’s bought the album, lucky thing, but she’s promised to do a tape for me. Then I hum a solo version as I walk back from her house.
Who needs Russell? Who cares about Russell? Don’t even think about him.
‘Ellie, guess who came calling round here this afternoon?’
I stand staring and wait.
‘Guess,’ says Dad.
‘I don’t know,’ I say, shrugging.
‘A certain young man.’
I miss a beat.
‘Which young man?’
‘With floppy hair. Rather full of himself. Sketchbook tucked slightly pretentiously under his arm.’
‘Russell!’
‘The very one.’
‘But how did he know where I live?’
‘Ah. That was my question too. And he had a rather impressive answer. He knew vaguely the area, so he’d worked his way up and down several roads describing a certain young lady called Ellie – and eventually someone somewhere recognized the description and suggested he call at our house.’
‘Oh my God! Are you serious, Dad? Russell really did come round?’
‘He did indeed. He was very worried about last night. Russell’s dad kicked up merry hell because the lad was late back on Thursday night. Apparently he hadn’t deigned to tell his dad he was going walkabout after school and when he sauntered home at midnight he was so angry with him he wouldn’t let him out at all yesterday, even though young Russell begged and pleaded and moaned and groaned. So he couldn’t meet you at your special trysting place – which is just as well because you were similarly shut up by your equally outraged parent. Yes?’
‘Yes, yes, right! So what else did Russell say?’
‘Not a lot. He seemed a little dismayed by my reaction. I was extremely angry with the young man. He had no right to purloin you and whisk you off to the park.’
‘You didn’t really get cross with him, did you, Dad? I can’t believe this. He didn’t stand me up? He really couldn’t help it? And he went all over the place trying to track me down this afternoon just to explain?’
‘Just to explain?’ says Dad. ‘He needed to explain until he was blue in the face. Positively ultramarine.’
‘Oh, Dad, you weren’t really heavy with him, were you?’
‘You bet I was. That young man won’t dare so much as blink in your direction without my say-so. And I say no.’
I stare at Dad, desperate to suss whether he’s serious or not. I think he’s teasing me, but I can’t be sure. I just wish Anna was here and she could sort him out for me. Why did Russell have to come round when I was out, for heaven’s sake! But imagine – going from house to house asking for me. That sounds like he’s really serious about seeing me!
‘So what exactly did he say, Dad?’
‘I told you, I did nearly all the talking.’
‘And how was it left?’
Dad shrugs. ‘I think he sees the error of his ways.’
‘Dad. I wish you wouldn’t be so annoying. I mean, did Russell say anything about . . . seeing me again?’
Dad shakes his head. ‘Certainly not, seeing as I’d expressly forbidden it.’
‘You didn’t! Really, truly, you said I couldn’t go out with him?’ I’m still pretty sure he’s winding me up but I can hear my voice getting shrill all the same.
‘Really, truly . . . possibly!’ Dad says.
‘Did he suggest seeing me or not?’
‘You always insist you’re a liberated young woman. Maybe you should make the running. If I were to allow you out again, which I doubt.’
‘So how can I make the running, Dad? Did Russell tell you his address?’
‘Nope.’
‘He really didn’t?’
Dad shakes his head but he’s still got that irritating grin on his face.
‘So how can I get in touch with him? Do I have to go on an equivalent quest all around Pembridge Park?’
‘You could,’ says Dad. ‘Or he could have jotted it down in this letter.’ He brings out an envelope from his pocket and waves it in the air at me.
I snatch it and tear it open. My eyes skitter down the page. ‘See you – I HOPE! Russell.’ And a little picture.
My heart is thudding.
‘Well?’ says Dad.
Aha! It’s his turn to be curious.
‘Yes, he’s very well,’ I say, smiling.
‘And you are now, too, I take it?’ says Dad.
‘Yep.’ I dance off to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee, reading Russell’s letter while the kettle boils. Then I read his letter again while I drink my coffee. And again and again.
Dear Ellie,
I’m so so so so extra sorry. I felt so bad about not being able to make it on Friday night. And kind of humiliated too, because my dad went completely off his head and wouldn’t let me out simply because he got fussed last night.
I can’t believe his attitude – and it’s bloody hypocritical too, going on about what I’m getting up to when he’s smooching all over our house with his girlfriend. But anyway, he can’t keep me locked up permanently. Will you meet me after school on Monday – at McDonald’s? I’ll be there as soon as I can make it – around twenty to four. I’ll wait for you and hope very much that you’ll come. I’ll be the one looking stupid and saying sorry over and over again.
See you – I HOPE! Russell.
He’s done a small sketch of himself – floppy hair, earnest expression, pencil in one hand, sketchbook in the other. There are little initial letters on the sketch-book, so tiny I have to hold them up to my eyes and squint. R L E. Rule? Role? No, Russell. R for Russell, E for Ellie? L? L? L? L? L? L? L? L? L?
Russell Loves Ellie.
I feel as if I’m on a giant switchback, swooping up and over, up and over, up and over.
‘Aren’t you making your old dad a cup of coffee too?’ says Dad, coming into the kitchen.
‘Sure.’ I shove the letter quickly into my pocket.
‘Nice letter?’
‘Hmm.’
‘He wants to see you again?’
‘Sort of, yeah.’
‘So what are you going to do? Your dad expressly forbids it.’
&
nbsp; ‘What?’ I stare at Dad. ‘Are you serious?’
Dad is trying to frown but his eyes are twinkling. ‘Sort of,’ he says. ‘Look, Ellie, I got seriously panicky about Thursday night. It’s the first time you’ve ever been out after dark like that and I couldn’t stand it.’
‘I bet you went out with girls when you were my age.’
‘Maybe that’s why I panicked. I remember all too clearly what I was like when I was Russell’s age. It makes me cringe now. I didn’t treat girls like people. I was trapped in this awful stuffy boys’ school so I never knew girls properly. They were just amazing exotic creatures and we were struck dumb in their company and it was like this sick competition seeing how far you could go with them—’
‘Dad!’
‘I know, I know. And then we’d boast about it afterwards to our mates – exaggerating obviously, saying all this degrading stuff.’
‘Look, Dad, that was way back when boys were like Neanderthals. Russell isn’t a bit like that,’ I insist, though I feel myself getting pink in the face, remembering the way we kissed.
‘I know, I know,’ says Dad. ‘As soon as I met him I could see he’s just a nice decent kid who wants to be friends with my daughter. He told me you had this long intense conversation about art. He showed me his sketch of you, by the way, and it’s good. His style needs a bit of fine-tuning but for his age he’s got a great sense of line. Anyway, I felt like a total prat. I believed he was a sex-crazed loony slobbering all over you when all the time you were having this totally platonic artistic discussion.’
‘Yeah, that’s just the way it was, Dad, I told you,’ I say, still pink in the face. ‘So, as you realize times have changed, is it OK if I go out with Russell? To do some sketching together!’
‘That’s the thing, Ellie. Times have changed. When I was young I stayed out till really late as a teenager and no-one turned a hair. Even when Anna was young she went out to local discos and youth clubs when she was thirteen or fourteen. But now there aren’t any harmless little discos, it’s all wild raves. And you know I don’t want you going anywhere near Seventh Heaven again after they did that drug raid there.’
‘OK, OK, I promise we won’t go to Seventh Heaven.’
‘I don’t feel happy about you and Russell going anywhere, Ellie, not after dark. The town is attracting a whole load of yobs who just want to roam around picking fights and getting into trouble. I’m not surprised Russell’s dad was really worried about him being out late.’
Girls Out Late Page 6