by Rob Keeley
Justin was picking at the top of the little iced cake he had brought, carefully removing the chocolate drop. “My sister made these.”
“Yeah?” Liam crunched his apple.
“With my Nan.” Justin swallowed the chocolate drop and bit into the cake.
“Weird what kids do,” said Liam. “When they’re little.”
“They went on a trip,” Justin said in an explosion of crumbs. Liam dodged. “Last week. The big museum. Not this one. The one near the Jolly Ferret pub.”
“Oh yeah.” Liam nodded.
“Doing the Egyptians,” Justin went on. “I saw her drawing a picture after. She’s a good drawer. There was an Ancient Egyptian standing next to a pyramid. He looked a bit like me.”
“Must’ve been one of your ancestors,” Liam suggested. He sniggered. “Yeah! That’s it! You’re an Ancient Egyptian, J!”
There was a long silence, during which Justin looked bewildered.
“My Dad came from Ilford,” he said eventually.
There was another silence.
Liam rolled his eyes.
Then the two of them returned in silence to their lunches.
“I haven’t even answered half these questions.” Justin flicked through the worksheets on his clipboard. “Where was the Great Depression Zone, anyway?”
“Just before the street,” Liam answered. “The bit with all those fellas in flat caps queuing up for soup.”
“All those poor people starving.” Justin stuffed some chocolate into his mouth. “Horrible.”
They fell silent once again.
“You coming fishing tomorrow, then?” Justin asked.
“Yeah.” Liam nodded. “Come over. Mine. ‘Bout eleven o’clock, twelve o’clock, something like that. Don’t come any earlier, because tomorrow, I, will be having a lie-in. Followed by, a big breakfast.” He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “And then, a day’s fishing.”
“Hmm.” Justin paused. “Liam?”
“Yeah?” Liam asked.
“Have you ever actually caught anything?”
There was silence for quite some time after that. Liam was rather coldly eating a muesli bar.
“I’m sick of all this health food,” he said finally.
“Want some chocolate?” Justin held out what was left of the bar.
“Ta.” Liam took a piece. He put it into his mouth, and instantly looked happier. “Ah, magic.”
Justin had got the chocolate on his hands. He wiped them carelessly on his grey school trousers. He took a look around the room at their classmates.
“Was Sophie’s hair always that colour?” he wondered.
“Nah.” Liam finished the chocolate. “Had it dyed, didn’t she?”
“I reckon Miss Harper’s had hers done too,” Justin said. He looked round the room again. “Where is she?”
“Popped out,” Liam said. “Left Jenkins in charge.” He pointed out their own teacher, who was sitting on the other side of the room, looking stressed and eating a passion fruit yoghurt.
“The word on the street is, they’re going out,” Justin said matter-of-factly.
“You what?” Liam spluttered through an orange drink.
“Miss Harper,” Justin explained. “And Jenkins.”
“Them two?” Liam gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“Nah,” Justin insisted. “I got it off Kimberley. Her auntie works in that restaurant near the station. And she saw them in there together one night after school. They’ve got an Early Doors menu there.”
“I don’t believe it!” Liam was grinning.
“Oh yeah,” Justin went on, “there’s soup or a starter, and about six mains, and it’s only nine ninety-five per…”
“I mean them, twit.” Liam took a long, thoughtful sip of his drink, then smirked. “Jenkins and Miss Harper! I’m keeping an eye on them.”
“Reckon they’re going to get married?” Justin asked.
“Nah,” Liam said. “Too different, aren’t they?”
“What d’you mean?” asked Justin.
“Well,” Liam said. “Different lives. I mean, he does all the PE and Technology stuff, doesn’t he? And she does Maths Group B. Wouldn’t work.”
“Ah, no,” Justin agreed. He finished off his can of cola.
There was another silence.
“OK, you lot!” Mr Jenkins called.
Miss Harper had re-entered the room, but Mr Jenkins didn’t look at her. Watching, Liam and Justin shook hands. They had this sussed.
“Finish off and put your stuff away! We’re going now to the Welfare State Zone. And then it’s back here to build those timelines!”
“Come on, then.” Liam shoved his sandwich box into his bag. The rest of the class were also getting their things together, ready to move off.
Justin seemed to be deep in thought again.
“There’s just one thing,” he said finally.
“Yeah?” Liam asked.
“Well…” Justin wiped his hands again, this time on his sweater, then stared at them. “The Ancient Egyptians did all them…hieroglyphics. If that’s where I came from…why aren’t I better at drawing?”
Wish I Was There
“I’m going to Florida again,” Amber said. She brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “Going to do all the theme parks. Stay in a hotel.” She leaned back in her chair. “We have to be up so early to go to the airport.”
“We’re going to France,” Lauren said. “The South. My Dad knows someone who’s letting us use their cottage. It’s near a village where there’s a café bar. And there’s a cheese man comes round every week.”
“Well, we’re going on safari,” Georgia announced.
“Whoa!” The other girls looked seriously impressed.
“In Africa.” Georgia smiled triumphantly. “Kenya. They’ve got, like, these guides, who take you out in a 4x4. And you get to see zebras. And lions.”
“Mind they don’t eat you.” Amber sounded miffed.
“Where are you going, Emma?” Lauren asked.
There was silence.
Sitting opposite Georgia, Emma was looking down at the table.
“Yeah, where are you going?” Amber repeated. “You haven’t even told me yet.”
Again Emma said nothing.
She had been dreading for weeks this coming up. It was all right for the others. Georgia’s parents had the money to take her on safari.
“You not going anywhere?” Georgia said, loud enough for the class next door to hear.
“‘Course she is!” Amber said. “Aren’t you, love?”
It was all right for Amber. Her Dad ran his own business.
“We can’t afford to go abroad,” Emma’s Mum had said, again. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know, babe. But your Auntie Sandra’s invited us again. To Littlecombe.”
Littlecombe might not have been so bad, thought Emma, if everyone else hadn’t been going abroad. At least it was by the sea. And she’d have her cousin Katie for company.
But Littlecombe was in England. She’d be there in an English summer, which probably meant rain. And when everyone else was going to Florida, or Africa, or the South of France, and sent postcards with fancy foreign stamps, and came back suntanned…
“Where, then?” Georgia insisted.
“Spain.” It was the first thing that came into Emma’s head.
She was horrified as soon as she heard herself say it.
“Spain!” Amber sounded at least fairly impressed. “That’s cool. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
We’ve only just booked it.
“We’ve only just booked it,” Emma said. “A last minute booking. On the Internet.”
“I’ve been to Spain loads,” Georgia said. “Whereabouts?”
Help!
“Marbella.” Emma had heard the name on TV. She hoped desperately that it was in the right country.
“Hmm,” Georgia replied grudgingly.
Yes. It was.
“Where are you going to stay?” Lauren asked.
Where were they going to stay. In Spain.
“A villa.” Desperately, running out of ideas, Emma next stole one from Lauren. “We’re borrowing it from someone my Mum knows.”
“If you know them…” Georgia was sticking her nose in, as usual. “Why d’you need to book it on the Internet?”
There was a long silence. Then Emma gave up.
“I don’t know. My Mum booked it.”
“Hmm.” Georgia smiled to herself, secretly, slyly.
Emma looked at Georgia nervously. Amber and Lauren believed her. But she had a horrible feeling Georgia didn’t.
Georgia could never keep her big mouth shut. If she found out the lie… This could be really bad.
“I’ll show you some photos of the villa tomorrow.”
Again, Emma couldn’t quite believe it was her own voice she could hear speaking.
“Oh.” Georgia suddenly looked less smug. “OK.”
That was something, anyway, Emma thought.
But what on earth was she going to do now?
As soon as the bell rang, Emma ran.
“Don’t forget those photos tomorrow!” Georgia called after her.
Emma’s head was spinning.
There was no going back. She couldn’t tell the girls that she’d made it all up, that she and her Mum weren’t going to a sunny Spanish villa but to Littlecombe, probably with gales, and chip papers blowing along the promenade.
If she was going to survive, Emma needed photos. And fast.
Emma could only book the Internet for fifteen minutes in the local library.
Quickly, she hammered the word “Spain” into her search engine. Then she realised she’d have to say more. She added “Marbella”, hoping it was spelt right, and then “villa”.
When she saw what came up, and the prices, she nearly fainted.
She quickly moved her cursor away from “Book this” and up to “Print”.
“That’s dead nice.” Lauren sounded envious the next morning. “Five minutes from the beach. Is that the view? Oh, that’s gorgeous.”
“It says this place sleeps ten,” Georgia objected. “Thought there was only you and your Mum going. Bit expensive, isn’t it?”
“They’re borrowing it from someone, aren’t they?” Amber pointed out. Emma could have hugged her.
For the time being, Georgia shut up.
They let it go for a bit after that. There was no more mention of Emma’s holiday that day, or the next. And then suddenly it was the final week, with the end of term disco, and a picnic, and the last Assembly.
By the final day of term, Emma had almost forgotten about her lie. The printouts of the Spanish villa were squashed right down at the bottom of her schoolbag.
Then, just before hometime on the last day, when they were all waiting for the final bell like greyhounds awaiting the start of a race, Amber came up to Emma.
“So when are you off to Spain then?”
And Emma’s heart sank.
“Monday.” At least she had to give the real dates when she’d be away.
“I won’t see you before, then.” Amber gave Emma a big hug. “Have a good time. See you when you get back. And don’t forget to send us a postcard, will you?”
Emma held on to Amber for dear life.
Over Amber’s shoulder, she could see Georgia. And Georgia was smirking.
“This isn’t too boring for you, love, is it?” Auntie Sandra asked at breakfast on the first day of Emma’s holiday. She had cooked them all a huge meal of scrambled eggs, forgetting as usual that Emma didn’t like them. Next to Emma at the round kitchen table with its checked cloth sat Katie, a year younger than Emma, stuffing herself with toast and peanut butter.
“No,” said Emma hastily.
She looked moodily out of the window. It wasn’t raining. Yet. But the sky was cloudy and stormy. It wouldn’t be long.
“We could go to the promenade after breakfast,” said Katie, through peanut butter.
Emma nodded.
She wondered what Amber was doing now. And Georgia. Georgia would be setting off for Africa in two weeks’ time.
Emma walked down with Katie to the promenade. It was quite early and there weren’t so many holidaymakers about yet. The funfair, with its brightly- coloured rides, wasn’t yet open. The cafes, snack bars and amusement arcade were, and a few other kids were mooching about, buying hot dogs, or trying to get soft toys out of machines with the little mechanical cranes. And failing. Two older couples were walking along the seafront, beside the rough and choppy waters. A cool breeze was blowing off the sea onto the beach, and only the odd toddler had yet been brave enough to attempt a sandcastle.
It wasn’t like the sign, thought Emma. The one she’d seen when Mum had driven into the town the day before. Littlecombe extends a warm and sunny welcome to all its visitors. Where was everyone?
There did seem to be a lot of traffic passing along the seafront though.
“They’re all off to Buschels,” Katie said.
“Uh?” Emma was thinking of Amber, getting ready to go to Florida in three weeks’ time.
“The new supermarket,” Katie said. “Opened just outside town. My friend’s Mum has one of the shops on the prom, and she was so mad. All the people from the shops were. The supermarket’s taking people away from them. And everybody drives there from, like, miles.” She smiled. “I like it there though. The stuff’s dead cheap. It’s one of them foreign supermarkets. All foreign stuff you’ve never heard of. But it’s cheap.”
Emma stopped walking suddenly.
All at once, she thought she had an idea. Or the start of one…
“Can we go?” she said abruptly.
“You what?” Katie skidded to a halt.
“To that supermarket,” Emma said.
“You want to go to Buschels?” Katie frowned.
“Well...” Emma thought fast. “You said it was good...and cheap.”
“OK.” Katie shrugged. “Guess we can walk there.” She grinned. “Don’t let ‘em give you one of their stickers though. “I’VE BEEN TO BUSCHELS.” I forgot, and I went into one of the shops on the front, and I was still wearing it. And everyone was like...” She opened her eyes wide in a terrifying glare. “Scary.”
Ten minutes’ walk brought them to the outskirts of town.
Buschels, Katie explained, had been built on the site of an old pub, the Ship, which had been knocked down. The Ship had once been a big part of life in Littlecombe. That was another reason why the local people didn’t like Buschels coming to town.
It was the typical modern glass-fronted supermarket.
Katie wandered round after Emma, looking rather bored. She found some lollipops for them, and some makeup she wanted to buy.
Emma was interested in more unusual things. The foods at Buschels were certainly different. Or at least, the brand names were.
“What are you looking for, anyway?” Katie asked.
“Something for my friend Amber,” Emma said. “Maybe my other friends too.”
“There’s all the gift shops on the front,” Katie pointed out.
“No.” Emma shook her head. “I want something... different.” She spotted some biscuits. “How about those?”
“We bought some,” Katie said. “They don’t taste of anything.”
Emma shrugged.
A few moments later, they were at the sweets and chocolates.
“Hey.” Emma reached up to one of the higher shelves. “How about these?”
The chocolates were in a red and white box. The picture showed them - small, plain. Not very exciting- looking. But it was the name that interested Emma. Bonbones.
“What language is that?” Katie asked.
“Spanish.” Emma smiled. “I think...” She took down two more boxes of the chocolates from the shelf and headed for the checkout. “These’ll do fine.”
They had to queue for a few minutes.
The shop was obviously much more popular with those not from the town.
The blonde woman in front of them didn’t seem in any hurry. She was chatting to the woman serving at the till.
“You been away then?” she asked.
“Nah.” The checkout lady was plump and middle- aged, with very frizzy brown hair. She had a deep, rather orange tan.
“Got the tan though,” the blonde woman said.
“Just body lotion, innit?” The checkout lady grinned. “With a bit of fake tan. Rubs on each day. Good as the real thing. Everyone thinks you’ve been to the Costa Brava.” She turned her attention to the next customers - Emma and Katie. “Hiya.” She reached out a ring-covered and orange hand to swipe the girls’ purchases through the till.
Emma was staring at the hand, and at the checkout lady’s chubby face.
It didn’t really look like a real suntan. But it wasn’t bad...
“You just get it at the pharmacy,” the checkout lady told the blonde woman. She looked at the readout on her till and turned back to the girls. “That’s eleven ninety-eight, then.”
“I don’t get you.” Back on the seafront, Katie walked along beside Emma. They were sucking their lollipops. “All that way and that’s all you bought.”
Emma didn’t answer. She was staring out to sea.
The sky was still grey, and it didn’t look as if she’d be coming back from this holiday with a tan.
But the checkout lady had given her an idea...
“Emma!” Katie yelled suddenly, but too late. “Ow!” There was a cry.
Emma came back to reality to find she’d walked straight into a girl of about her own age, who had been making her way in the opposite direction along the promenade.
The girl had red hair. She looked mean. And very stroppy.
“Can’t you look where you’re going!” she snapped.
“Sorry.” Emma backed off.
The red-haired girl tutted very loudly and dramatically, then moved off.
“Ow.” Katie grinned. “You were, like, miles away then.” She looked at her watch. “Coming to the arcade, then, or d’you want to go on the beach? Mum wants us back home for lunch at one o’clock, ‘cause she’s taking us to the Pavilion this afternoon for Summer Show.” She rolled her eyes to Heaven. “She’s been thinking up stuff to do with you for, like, weeks. Said she wanted to make it a real holiday for you.” She moved on.