Love and Kisses

by Jean Ure

  Which I did. I told Mum I was going to the newsagent to buy a magazine. I might just as well not have bothered, cos even the older man wasn’t there. This was starting to become a bit scary. Suppose the boys had just been helping out for that one day? I couldn’t bear it! Already I was getting obsessed. I kept remembering the way he’d smiled. A little bit shy. A little bit…uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure it was the thing to do. Unlike the rude winking boy, who obviously thought far too much of himself. I didn’t care if I never saw him again. But Jimmy…he was even better-looking than the real Jimmy. And he’d smiled at me. At me!

  Why hadn’t I smiled back? Why hadn’t I? Because I was too stupid and turned in on myself. Unless maybe I’d smiled without knowing it? Like sometimes you do, automatically. I really hoped I had!

  Monday morning, Dad drove me in to school, which meant we whizzed past the flats so fast they were practically just a blur. But Monday afternoon…He was there! He smiled at me again, and this time I did smile back. I suspect my face looked like the setting sun, but I did manage to smile.

  And again on Tuesday. Morning and afternoon. And on Wednesday, and on Thursday. It was like he was keeping a watch out, making sure he was at the front of the house so he wouldn’t miss me. Then on Friday I was late, cos of choir practice. I thought at first he wasn’t there, and my heart just, like, plummeted. And then suddenly he appeared, racing down a ramp from a van on to the pavement with his wheelbarrow, zonk! Right into me. Well, actually I just managed to skip into the gutter, which was a pity in some ways cos otherwise he might have run me over and then help, help, I would have needed picking up and it could have been really slushy and romantic! Even as it was, it was quite romantic. First off, he dropped the wheelbarrow, looking absolutely stricken. Then I said, “Oops!” (which on reflection is a silly thing to say, but I didn’t have time to choose my words) and he said, “Sorry! Very sorry! I hurt?”

  Not Irish. Some kind of foreign.

  I mumbled that I was fine, and he said again, “Very sorry! I not look where I go.” I assured him that I was OK (unfortunately!) but he still seemed anxious.

  “I really not hurt you?”

  “No, honestly,” I said.

  “Is my fault! I very stupid person. I look, next time”.

  I said, “Me too!”

  And then I idiotically stood there, not wanting to move but not able to think of anything else to say. Fortunately he was less tongue-tied than me, in spite of not speaking the language too well.

  “You live in road?”

  “Up there.” I pointed.

  He said, “Nice houses.”

  “They’re just ordinary,” I said. “I’d rather live in one like this.”

  He pulled a face. “This one old.”

  “I like old! I like to think of all the people who have lived there before.”

  “Ah! You—” He stopped and waved a hand, frustrated. “I not think of word!”

  “It’s history,” I said. “I like history.”

  “History. Yes!” He nodded at the house. “Much history.”

  “Ours is new. It’s quite boring.”

  “Not boring! Very nice.”

  We chatted on about houses for a bit; and then, just as I thought I should be heading home he said, “You like maybe go out with me some time?”

  My heart immediately went into some kind of mad squirming overdrive. My cheeks lit up like beacons.

  “I tell you my name! My name Alex. What your name?”

  I swallowed. “T-Tamsin.”

  “Tamsin…OK, Tamsin! You like we go drink coffee?”

  My head started nodding, up-down, up-down. It wouldn’t stop!

  “We go Sunday, maybe?”

  Before I knew it, we’d arranged to meet up the road in Starbucks on Sunday afternoon. I went on my way feeling like I was drifting on a cloud. I had a date. A real date with a real boy! My first ever…

  Me and Katie weren’t doing a sleepover that weekend. We hadn’t even officially arranged to meet, but I couldn’t resist ringing her.

  “Is it OK if I come round? I’ve got something to tell you!”

  Katie said, “What? Tell me, tell me!”

  “I can’t on the phone. I’ll come round!”

  Needless to say, I looked for Alex as I went up the road. I was all ready to smile at him, and wave. I’d even got specially dressed up in my best pair of jeans and a new top. But he wasn’t there. Only the older man and the other boy, who had the cheek to wink at me again in a decidedly knowing fashion, like “Ho ho, who’s going out with my mate?” I ignored him. And I wasn’t worried, now, about Alex not being there, because tomorrow I would be in Starbucks with him…yay! Most unlike me. I am not at all a showy-off kind of person; I leave all that sort of thing to Ellie. But yay again! I was going on a date!

  Katie flung open the door the minute I arrived. She’d obviously been hovering there, eager to know what my news was. I must have sounded even more excited than I’d realised.

  “OK!” She dragged me inside and hauled me up the stairs. “Talk!”

  I said, “Right. Well! You’ll never guess…” I hooked my hair back over my ears. “I’m going on a date with Jimmy Doohan!”

  “What?”

  “Jimmy Doohan.” I giggled, in slightly hysterical fashion. “The boy from the flats on my road?”

  Katie said, “You’ve gotta be joking!”

  “I’m not joking. He asked me! Tomorrow afternoon…I’m meeting him, we’re going to Starbucks.”

  “You’re going out with a boy from a building site?”

  “Why not?” I bristled. “He’s nice, he’s polite. He’s foreign. Polish, I think. Maybe Russian? I don’t know! Anyway, his name’s Alex and he’s definitely not Irish.”

  Katie said, “Oh, well, that’s all right then.”

  I had this feeling she was being sarcastic. I said, “Jimmy Doohan’s Irish. You’d go out with Jimmy Doohan fast enough!”

  “Jimmy Doohan doesn’t work on a building site.”

  “He might do! In his holidays. How do you know?”

  “Holidays are different,” said Katie.

  Of course, I suddenly realised: she was probably a bit put out. Even, maybe, a bit jealous? Still, I didn’t like the thought of her feelings being hurt. She was my best friend, after all.

  “It’s so weird,” I said, “the way things turn out. I mean, me living in the same road…if it had been you living there, it’d probably have been you he asked.”

  “I wouldn’t go,” said Katie.

  Well! How ungracious was that? And there I’d been, thinking we could chat about what I should wear, the way other girls do.

  “No point getting the hump,” said Katie.

  Pardon me? I wasn’t the one getting any hump!

  “I just think it’s a bit dodgy, going out with someone you haven’t even properly met. I mean, who is he? You don’t know the first thing about him!”

  “So I’ll find out,” I said. “We’ll talk.”

  “He could be anything.”

  “So could Jimmy Doohan,” I said. “Who knows what he gets up to in his spare time? He could be a drug dealer, for all we know. Could go round bashing old ladies over the head. I reckon you have to have a bit of trust or you’d end up never going out with anyone.”

  She grew a bit hot and pink at that. I immediately wished I hadn’t said it. But quite honestly you can’t afford to leave these things too late or you’ll run the danger of never getting going at all. Ellie might be only ten, but already she knew far more about boys than either me or Katie. The situation was growing desperate!

  “Have you told your mum?” said Katie.

  It was my turn to grow pink. She’d asked a good question, cos the answer was no: I hadn’t told my mum.

  “Are you going to?”

  Slowly, I shook my head.

  “Dunno why not,” said Katie. “If there isn’t anything wrong with him.”

  “There isn’t anyt
hing wrong with him! He’s really sweet. It’s just…you know what mums are like.”

  “I know what mine’s like; shouldn’t have thought yours would mind.”

  Katie always says that my mum, being an actor, isn’t as strict as other people’s. Like she doesn’t care what me and Ellie get up to. It’s true she doesn’t fuss and flap, but I wasn’t sure she’d be too pleased at me going off on a date with a boy I’d only just met. She’d want to know who he was, and where he lived, and how old he was, and all stuff I couldn’t tell her. All I really knew was his name, and that he worked down the road. It was probably guaranteed to get even my mum in a flap.

  “So if you’re not telling her…” said Katie.

  “I thought I’d say I was coming round to you!”

  There was a pause. “Is that all right?” I said.

  For a moment I thought she was going to say an outright no, or even suggest she came with us. We were so used to doing everything together I could understand if she took it as her right. In the end, somewhat grudgingly, she said she would think about it. “I’ll let you know.”

  I said, “Please Katie, pretty Katie, please!”

  She didn’t even smile; just repeated that she would let me know. I definitely sensed a coolness between us.

  The last time we’d had a coolness was when Katie had been asked to Millie Simms’s party and I hadn’t. I’d felt really hurt. I’d almost felt that if I couldn’t go then Katie oughtn’t to, either. So I didn’t hold it against her, but I didn’t want to ask her to join us. She might be my best friend, but Alex had asked me. And I wanted it to be a proper date!

  I wondered if perhaps I could tell Mum I was going round to Beth’s. That’s Bethany Dewar, who’s in our class. She’s not a particularly special friend, but she lives quite near and she knows about boys, and about the need for sometimes having to keep things from your mum. She’s what my nan calls fast. Some of the girls say she’s a slag, but that’s unfair; she just has this reputation because boys find her attractive. What’s so wrong with that? I wouldn’t mind boys finding me attractive!

  I decided that I would call Beth and tell her the whole story. In fact, to be honest, I was dying to tell her the whole story! Swear her to secrecy and soon it would be all over the place…guess what? Tamsin Mitchell’s got a boyfriend! And at least that way I wouldn’t run the risk of Katie having second thoughts.

  I was sitting on the bus, on the point of dialling Beth’s number, when a text came through. It was from Katie.

  U can tell ur mum ur with me OK. I wont split. Luv Katie.

  How do people exist without friends??? I wasted no time in texting back:

  Fank U, fank U. I will do the same 4 U.

  She rang me almost immediately to say that I wouldn’t ever have to do the same for her “cos I wouldn’t ever go out with someone I didn’t want my mum to know about!”

  “It’s only just this once,” I pleaded.

  “That’s what you say now,” said Katie.

  I couldn’t help feeling a little tingling of excitement…

  CHAPTER THREE

  I spent practically the whole of Sunday morning trying to decide what to wear for my date with Alex.

  First of all, I put on my best pair of jeans—skinny, with little diamantés—and a blue top. Then I thought maybe jeans might be a bit too boyish.

  So I took off the jeans and put on a skirt, only the skirt didn’t go with the top, so I took off the top and put on a blouse, but the blouse had a weird flat sort of collar which made my neck stick out like a broom handle. (I have rather a long sort of neck, which Mum tries to make me feel better about by saying that it is elegant.)

  Crossly I tore the blouse off and scrunched it up and shoved it in the back of a drawer. Why had I ever bought the stupid thing in the first place? Ellie wouldn’t have done. She’s hugely fashion conscious, is Ellie. Always designer labels and nothing older than about six months, cos if it’s older than six months it’s past its shelf life. And Mum encourages her! So does Dad; they both think looks are important. Which I guess they are, if you’re going to be an actress. If you’re just a boring boffin like me, then who cares? I’d always known I couldn’t compete with Ellie, so I’d just never bothered. I always told myself that looks didn’t matter. I might even have believed it…until now.

  Suddenly, I was in a panic. I tried on another top, another skirt. A short skirt, a long skirt. A plain top, a stripy top. An off-the-shoulder top. A crop top. A dress. Another dress. Denim trousers, white; combat trousers, green. I even tried a pair of shorts! I was that desperate. In the end, with the entire contents of my wardrobe scattered across my bedroom floor, I went back to what I’d started with, the skinny jeans and the blue top.

  At that point Ellie came battering at the door, demanding to be let in. She knows she has to knock, but it’s a totally empty gesture since she never actually waits to be invited. She just barges her way in.

  She said, “Yikes! What’s all this?”

  I said, “Clothes. What’s it look like? Don’t trample on them!”

  “I can’t help it, there’s nowhere to walk. What are you doing? Are you going out?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Just taking an interest. Where you going?”

  “I’m going round to Katie’s, if you must know. What d’you want?”

  “Um…” She pressed a finger to her nose, then giggled. “I can’t remember! Why are you getting all dressed up just to go to Katie’s?”

  “Cos I want to. Get out!” I gave her a shove. “I’m busy!”

  “Cool jeans,” said Ellie. “Oh—” She stuck her head back round the door. “I just remembered…I’m on telly in half an hour!”

  On telly! Pur-lease. One of about five thousand faces in a crowd. She’d gone to the filming of some kids’ TV show. Now you’d think she was the big star.

  “I’m sure they got me, I was smiling like crazy at the camera. Dad’s going to record it!”

  “In that case, I can see it later,” I said. “Now, go! I’ve got things to do.”

  I wished I could have told her I had a date, but she’d never have been able to keep quiet about it. She’d go and blurt it out to Mum and Dad, and then they’d want to know who I was seeing and where we’d met, and I just knew if I said “He works on the buildings down the road” Mum would freak. Dad too probably.

  I filled in the rest of the time until lunch by putting on lipstick and taking it off again. Then putting it on again, then taking it off again. Then plaiting my hair, then unplaiting it. Then putting it up, then letting it down. God, this was frightening! I wasn’t fit to go out on dates. I just had no sense of style whatsoever.

  I went down to lunch minus the lipstick, with my hair hanging loose. Then immediately after lunch I rushed back upstairs and did my lips with Topaz Glow and put my hair into a sort of complicated pleat thing. That was better! Now I looked sophisticated. I felt it was important to look sophisticated. Alex wasn’t just some silly little spotty schoolboy like everyone else went out with. He was practically grown-up!

  “So when can we expect you back?” said Mum, as I left.

  “Oh…I dunno!” How long should a first date last? Would we just have coffee and that would be that? Or would we…go for a walk, maybe?

  “I mean, you’re not planning to spend the whole evening round at Katie’s? Because you know we’re going to Giovanni’s.”

  I said, “Are we?”

  “To celebrate Ellie’s first TV appearance.”

  She had to be joking!

  Mum gave a little giggle. “I know it’s daft, but the

  camera really loves her…they went back to her twice!”

  Big deal. But what did I care? I had a date! I assured Mum that I would be back in plenty of time.

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to take you over to Katie’s? I can, if you like. And do you want one of us to pick you up?”

  I said, “No!” And then, because it came out as a
sort of yelp, I added, “It’s OK, honestly. I can get the bus,” and shot out of the gate and up the road as fast as my slinky strapless backless sandals would carry me. Which wasn’t very fast as I kept falling out of them.

  Alex was already there, in Starbucks, waiting for me. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and looked just, like, totally gorgeous. There are some boys who can wear T-shirts and some who can’t. I think it is so wimpy, for instance, when boys have these thin, white, weedy arms without any muscles, so that the sleeves just flap. Alex had arms that filled the sleeves. And they were heavenly brown, from all the healthy outdoors work that he did.

  He stood up when he saw me. I thought that was just so polite. Most boys, at least the ones I know, just have no manners at all. Although maybe I’m being unfair; if you actually went on dates with them they might act a bit differently, and not treat you like you’re just a piece of the furniture. Alex even pulled out a chair for me, which made me all flustered. I thought, God, why am I so pathetic??? Why couldn’t I manage to be elegant for once, and show a bit of maturity? It’s not much use, putting on lipstick and doing fancy things with your hair if you are then going to ruin it all by behaving like some kind of social retard.

  At first, what with me being almost completely retarded—i.e. not saying a word—and Alex speaking so little English, it seemed like we were doomed to sit in awkward silence. I sought frantically for something to say, but my brain seemed to have gone into a state of permanent hibernation. If it hadn’t been for Alex, we might never have said a word from start to finish. He ordered two cappuccinos, then smiled at me across the table and said, “I glad you here. I think maybe you not come.”

  I said, “W-why would you think that?”

  “I not—” He waved a hand. “I not sure you like me. I not sure…you want see me. I hope—but!”

  I said, “B-but?”

  “If you not here…” He smiled again, and my heart started on its walloping act. “I understand, but I be unhappy. I happy when I see you! I wait ten minutes…quarter hour. I think, she not come—”

  “You’ve been waiting quarter of an hour?” My voice suddenly squeaked into action. “I wasn’t late, was I?”