'Yes, I know. I'll shut up, I promise. But I can't wait till you meet him, Sylvie, j u s t so you can tell me if I'm making a total fool of myself. In f a c t . . . we were thinking, Gerry and me, would you come and join us today?'
'No! Don't be silly. You don't w a n t me.'
'We do! Gerry's dying to meet you. I've told h i m so m u c h about you. You could come swimming with us. You love swimming, and it's such a fantastic pool. Then we could all have Sunday lunch together. Yes, it'll be great! H a n g on j u s t one tick and I'll phone Gerry—'
So it wasn't properly arranged. Maybe they h a d n ' t even discussed it. I could j u s t imagine Mum's furtive whispering on t h e phone: 'Yes, I know, I'm sorry, darling, I wanted it to be just us too, but I feel so bad about leaving Sylvie again.
It's so sad, she just keeps moping after her childhood sweetheart when anyone can see that isn't going to get her anywhere.'
'No, Mum!' I said angrily, as if she'd actually said it.
'Why not?' Mum said. 'You'll like him, I know you will. And you'll have to meet him some day, won't you?'
'Well. I will. If it lasts,' I said.
M u m h a d expressed exactly t h e same doubts b u t it was mean of me to say it back to her. She didn't get cross with me or tell me I was acting 210
like a horrible jealous baby. She kept smiling at me bravely, and patted my shoulder.
'OK then, pet. Well, I'll let you get back to sleep. I'll come and say goodbye when I'm off, right?'
She walked slowly out of my bedroom, waiting for me to snap out of it and say something sweet. I kept quiet. She trailed down the landing to t h e bathroom – b u t after five minutes I h e a r d h e r singing Knowing Me, Knowing You, in her bath, even doing a funny voice for t h e Ah-ha! part.
I p u t my head under my pillow and tried to blot h e r out, to blot out Carl and Paul and Miranda, to blot myself out entirely until I was the blackness and the blackness was me.
Mum lifted the pillow an hour later. 'Anyone hiding in t h e burrow?' she whispered, b r e a t h i n g fresh smells of coffee and perfume and tooth-paste into my black lair. 'I'm off, sweetie. I feel terrible leaving you, b u t I'm still going to do it!
I've j u s t h a d a chat with J u l e s — '
'No!'
'She says lunch is around half one, b u t come round a n y time.'
'Nor
'Oh, for God's sake, stop being so difficult,'
Mum said. 'Now, I have to go, I'm late already.
Give me a kiss goodbye, eh?'
I sucked in my lips until they disappeared.
M u m b u r s t out laughing. 'You used to do t h a t when you were cross with me when you were 211
two!' she said. 'OK then, don't kiss me. Love you, babe.' She patted the duvet above my bottom and t h e n walked to the door.
'Kiss kiss,' I mumbled under my pillow.
T h e n I went back to sleep, down down down, though there was a ringing and a banging, and t h e n a knock-knock-knocking.
'Sylvie, dear, are you awake?' Miss Miles was at my door.
'I'm having a bit of a lie-in,' I said.
T o u r friend's downstairs, dear,' she said.
I jumped right out of bed, tugged on jeans and a T-shirt, and r a n barefoot out of my room, past Miss Miles, down the stairs – b u t it wasn't Carl.
Miranda was sprawling on our living-room sofa, h e r boots propped up on t h e arm.
'What are you doing here? And get your boots off t h a t sofa, you're making all dirty marks,' I said.
'You certainly got out of bed t h e wrong side this morning,' said Miranda, raising her eyebrows. 'Dear, dear. Shall I m a k e you a cup of coffee? You look as if you need one.'
She swung h e r legs off t h e sofa and waltzed off to t h e kitchen as if it was her house.
'Would you like a cup of coffee too?' she asked Miss Miles, who was hovering in t h e hall.
'Thank you, dear, but I'll leave you two girls to have a nice chat together,' she said, starting back up the stairs to her own room.
I went up the stairs, too. 'I wish you hadn't let h e r in,' I whispered.
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'Well, I didn't exactly. She was knocking very h a r d at the front door so I h a d to open it. Then she immediately barged s t r a i g h t p a s t me, demanding to talk to you. I j u s t about managed to make h e r wait in the living room. I h a d to use my fiercest teacher's voice too. She's one formidable young lady. I'm sorry if I've made things awkward for you, Sylvie.'
I softened towards her. 'I'm sorry I moaned, Miss Miles.'
'Not to worry,' she said brightly. 'It's good to have friends, you know, even very pushy ones.'
I took her point. Miss Miles didn't seem to have m a n y friends at all.
I went to t h e loo and washed my face a n d cleaned my teeth and brushed my hair, so t h a t I looked marginally better when I went downstairs again.
Miranda h a d a mug of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen table.
'Has your granny gone upstairs?' she asked.
'Who? She's not my g r a n d m a , she's our lodger.'
'Oh, yes, the lodger? said Miranda, as if it was the most eccentric thing to have, like a pet llama in the living room.
'What do you want?' I said coldly.
'Well, let's hope t h e granny-lodger stays upstairs, because I've got an eye-bulging tale to tell.'
'You and your stories,' I said. 'Maybe I've h e a r d enough of them.'
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'Why are you being so mean to me?' said Miranda. She put down her own cup of coffee and threw h e r arms round my neck. 'You're m e a n t to be nice to me. You're my best friend!'
'Yes, I thought we were best friends, but then you cleared off when we were all playing t h a t stupid game of Hide and Seek a n d left me all alone in Kew Gardens!'
'Oh, Sylvie, you poor little diddums, did you get fwightened?'
'Yes, I was frightened!' I said, shaking h e r off.
'It was horrible and I couldn't find any of you and the gates were about to close. How could you j u s t walk out on me and leave me there?'
'I thought t h a t was what you wanted so t h a t you a n d Carl could cosy up together. I thought you'd fixed it all up with Paul. That's w h a t he said, I swear. You mean t h a t was all a dirty great lie?'
'Well. Not exactly. He did talk about us pair-ing up. You were the one who insisted we all hide separately.'
'Yeah, yeah, well, that's me, baby. I like to fly solo,' said Miranda, striking a pose and tossing h e r hair, sending herself up. 'Not t h a t it really worked out t h a t way. I did hope I might j u s t catch your Carl and indulge in a teeny bit of hanky-panky in the shrubbery, b u t no such luck. I couldn't find him. I h u n g around for ages.
You weren't the only one, chum. Then Paul found me and he was in a really weird state, all fired up and telling me how much he fancied 214
me. He actually said he loved me, truly. No one's ever said the 1-word to me before so I thought, OK, we'll go with the flow on this one. I thought you must have caught up with Carl by this stage so I was happy to head off with Paul.
And wait till you h e a r w h a t happened!'
'You said you thought they h a d a fight?' I said quickly.
'What? Oh, Paul and Carl. Well, something happened, but Paul j u s t clammed up and wouldn't say. W h a t did Carl say then?'
'He wouldn't say anything either.'
'Boys! They can be so moody at times, especially your Carl, if you don't mind me saying so. Any way, Paul was absolutely all over me, saying such sweet stuff. He can be really romantic when he puts his mind to it. Yes, I know, it doesn't seem likely but I swear it's true. He offered to walk me all the way home from t h e station, and I said I h a d taxi money, b u t he wouldn't h e a r of me going in a taxi on my own.
So he came home too. Mum and Dad were out at some boring dinner party, and Minna, our au pair, was holed up in h e r bedroom, crying on t h e phone to her boyfriend back home, so I asked Paul down into the
den and . . . well, we did it!'
'Oh yeah, like I believe you.'
'We did,'
'I'm not Patty and Alison and all t h a t gang. I know you like to kid people you do all sorts of stuff.'
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'I don't kid you, Sylvie. I swear to you, we did it. Well. Sort of.'
'Aha.'
'We tried to do it. We lay on the sofa and snogged for a while. It's all a bit hazy because we h a d quite a lot to drink, and for t h e first time ever it all started to mean something. I wanted him to do it and he kept mumbling t h a t he'd be careful—'
'I can't believe this!'
'Yes, all right, I know, I've h a d all the safe-sex lectures too, b u t somehow in t h e h e a t of the moment I didn't really care. But then the moment got too heated, if you see w h a t I mean.'
I looked at her blankly.
Miranda sighed impatiently. 'It was all over before he could quite get started. I didn't realize at first. I wondered why he didn't get on with it.
It was all a bit embarrassing, actually. I didn't mind too much – in fact I kind of sobered up and decided it was maybe j u s t as well. I was a bit scared it might hurt, and I decided I could sort of count it anyway. But Paul got angry, punching the a r m of the sofa and swearing.'
'Angry with you?
'Angry at himself, I think. Though he didn't seem to w a n t much to do with me, I m u s t admit.
So much for all the sweet-talk! He cleared off.
Goodness knows how he got home. I did wonder about phoning him but I didn't w a n t him to t h i n k I was chasing him. Maybe you could get Carl to phone him?'
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'No.'
'Oh, go on. Look, let's pop next door and see Carl.'
'Absolutely not,' I said.
'Go on, go on, go on,' said Miranda. 'I'm dying to see his Glass Hut.'
'He certainly won't take you there,' I said.
'How do you know?' said Miranda.
'I know Carl,' I said. 'And he w a n t s to be on his own right now.'
'Why?'
'He's upset.'
'Then he'll w a n t to see us because we're his friends,' said Miranda. 'Come on.'
'You can't j u s t barge in on him.'
W h y not? He can always tell us to get lost.
You're hopeless, Sylvie, you always make things so complicated. You think things over and over in your head and dither about and end up not doing anything. Why won't you j u s t go for it?'
'All right,' I said. 'Come on then. We'll go next door.'
If I'd been by myself I might have gone t h e back garden way to see if Carl was in t h e Glass H u t , but I wasn't going to do t h a t with M i r a n d a .
I took h e r out of our house and round to t h e Johnsons' front door. I r a n g t h e bell. I h e a r d Jules shouting from t h e back of t h e house.
N o t h i n g h a p p e n e d . M i r a n d a r a n g t h e bell again, insistently.
'Miranda!' I hissed, grabbing h e r h a n d .
Jules opened t h e door a w k w a r d l y h e r h a n d s white with dough, as if she was w e a r i n g p a s t r y gloves.
'I'm busy making a pie, and will any of my idle men folk stir themselves to answer the door? No!'
She smiled at us both. 'Hello, Miranda. I didn't know you were coming to lunch too.'
'Neither did I, b u t t h a n k you very much 218
for asking me,' she said, marching in.
"Well, it's very kind of you to ask us both, Jules, b u t really we j u s t popped round for five minutes to see Carl.'
'Ah. Well. I'm not sure he's in the mood for visitors,' said Jules. 'He's a bit down at the moment.'
'Then we'll cheer him up,' said Miranda. 'Is he upstairs?'
'Yes, b u t — '
She was already bouncing up t h e stairs, short black n e t skirt swaying, her fishnet calves t a u t above h e r killer boots.
'Well, maybe she'll divert him,' J u l e s muttered, raising her eyebrows.
'I'm so sorry,' I said, and r a n after Miranda.
She went flying off in the wrong direction, briefly knocking at the first door she came to and t h e n bursting in without waiting for any response. J a k e was stretched out beside his bed wearing his boxer shorts, doing press-ups. He s t a r e d boggle-eyed at M i r a n d a , lost all concentration, and crashed onto his chin.
'Whoops! Wrong guy!' Miranda giggled.
'No, no, feel free! Invade my bedroom any time,' said J a k e , rearing his head up like a seal and rubbing his chin. 'Hi, Miranda. Hi, Sylvie.
Give me one second to find my j e a n s and I'll be able to stop blushing.'
'It's actually Carl we're chasing,' said Miranda. 'But t h a n k s for the open invitation.'
She marched out again.
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'How about you staying, Sylvie?' said Jake.
'I'll serenade you with my guitar.'
'Er, maybe not,' I said, and rushed after Miranda.
Carl m u s t have heard us r a t t l i n g along the corridor. I heard the quick click of his door key.
Miranda tried to barge into his room but she couldn't get the door open.
'Hey! Carl! It's Miranda. Miranda and Sylvie.
Come on, let us in,' she said, rattling the door handle impatiently.
Carl said nothing. I wondered if he was standing right the other side of the door. Miranda had the same thought. She went down on her knees and tried to peer through the keyhole, but the key on the other side was blocking her view.
'Carl, come on. We know you're in there.
Please!' Miranda started knocking h a r d on the door. She tapped with both h a n d s , making an insistent drumming beat.
'Don't make so much noise!' I said.
'That's the point. He'll open t h a t door in a m i n u t e j u s t to shut me up,' said Miranda, banging harder.
She underestimated Carl. He stayed silent behind his battered door. Miranda h a d to give up eventually. She stood t h e r e , b r e a t h i n g heavily, shaking h e r h a n d s in t h e air.
'All right, don't come out,' she said. 'See if we care. We'll go round to Paul's instead.'
I thought I heard Carl's intake of breath, but he still said nothing. Miranda sighed heavily, rolling 220
her eyes. She stamped down t h e corridor, motioning me to do the same. She stopped at the top of the stairs, her finger on her lips, waiting.
'What?' I mouthed at her.
'I bet he'll look out in a minute, j u s t to check we're gone,' she whispered, as if she was the one who'd known Carl ever since he was a small boy.
J a k e came out of his room, now dressed in his j e a n s a n d baseball boots and his coolest biker T-shirt, obviously i n t e n t on i m p r e s s i n g Miranda. He took hold of both h e r hands. Their palms were still red.
'Great drumming,' he said. 'You can play in my band if you want.'
'Ssh!'
'Look, if you girls are hoping for a glimpse of the r a r e Greater Spotted Carl Tit you'll be here all day'
'He's right, Miranda,' I said.
'He'll have to come out to have a pee sometime,' said Miranda.
I blushed, hating the way we were talking about Carl, worrying t h a t he could h e a r us.
'He's got a sink in his bedroom,' said J a k e .
'Oh yuck, that's revolting,' said Miranda, laughing, forgetting all about being quiet.
'Let's go downstairs,' I said. I raised my voice.
'Let's all give Carl some peace.'
So we went downstairs, out into the garden, where Mick was sitting in a deckchair m a r k i n g essays. His eyes slid past J a k e and me. He stared at Miranda.
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'This is Sylvie's friend Miranda,' said Jake.
'I'm Carl's friend too,' she said.
Mick raised his eyebrows. 'Are you and Sylvie in t h e same year at school?' he asked, as if this was astonishing.
'Yep. I'm the new girl,' said Miranda. She sat down beside him, picking up his essays and peering
at them.
'Hey, don't get them out of order,' he said crossly, but she j u s t laughed.
'God, these look boring,' she said.
'They are,' said Mick, yawning. 'And I've got twenty more to go.'
'Are you a school teacher then?' said Miranda.
She was sitting in a consciously kittenish way, h a n d s round her plump knees, boots neatly pointed, head tilted up at him.
'I teach at the university'
'Ah, a lecturer. Cool,' said Miranda. She was practically batting her eyelashes, chatting him up.
'In Politics,' said J a k e . 'Boring!'
Mick glared at him. 'What does your father do, Miranda?'
'Oh. Telly stuff.'
'He's an actor?'
'No, no, he makes documentaries. My mum's an actress – well, sort of. It depends w h a t mood she's in, who she wants to impress. She used to be a model but she's too old now. She'll say she's an actress or a jewellery designer or an artist, but she hasn't been any of t h e m properly, she j u s t plays at it.'
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'No h a r m in that,' said Mick. 'My wife Jules is an artist a n d you would probably say she plays at it because she's not recognized or h u n g in galleries and she doesn't make any money selling h e r paintings but she doesn't t h i n k t h a t matters. She teaches a r t to kids as a day job and then paints for the sheer joy of it.'
I loved it t h a t Mick spoke about Jules so proudly.
'I paint too,' said Jake, desperate to impress.
He'd always done big sploshy work with paint dribbles a n d smudges all over. He used to paint dogs and rabbits and horses and big coiled snakes, his fantasy pets, but now he painted great pink women with breasts like water-melons, his fantasy girls.
His painting style couldn't have been more different to Carl's careful i l l u s t r a t i o n s in coloured ink, as exquisite as i l l u m i n a t e d manuscripts.
'I hear Carl paints too,' said Miranda. I sometimes felt she could read my mind. 'Where does he keep his paintings? In this special Glass Hut? Let's go and look.'
'No!' I said. 'No, you can't, Miranda. They're private.'
'OK, OK,' said Miranda, standing up and showing a great deal of h e r legs in t h e process.
Mick averted his eyes, sighing. J a k e stared.
'I won't look at a single painting t h e n – b u t I simply have to see the famous glass collection.'
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