by Cathy Cole
Polly sat on the small spindly chair at the back of the shop as Eve exclaimed over the shining chrome rails of little beaded tops and trousers. This wasn’t the kind of place Polly was used to shopping in. Everything looked too perfect. Even a little boring, if she was honest. Polly enjoyed bright colours and fun patterns.
A price tag brushed against her face. She glanced absently at the tag.
A hundred and fifty pounds for a cardigan? Polly thought, glued to her chair. That was insane.
“Here,” Eve said, thrusting a thin sea-green jumper into Polly’s arms. “Just your colour. Have you thought about dying your hair again? I’m not sure the black works with your skin tone. A softer blonde would be better. That’s your natural colour, isn’t it?”
Polly’s palms felt damp. She hardly dared touch the cardigan, imagining sweaty handprints all over the delicate fabric. “It’s not really … me, Eve,” she managed to say, gingerly hanging it back up again.
“Shame,” Eve sighed.
A phone buzzed in Eve’s pocket.
Eve reached into her pocket and took out Polly’s phone. She looked at the screen and tutted. “Ollie again.”
Polly reached for her phone. “Please, Eve, let me at least see it!” she said.
“Play it cool,” Eve instructed, pocketing the phone. “Remember?”
Polly gritted her teeth. “If you’re going to keep my phone hostage, Eve, then at least let me take you to my kind of shop,” she said.
Eve grumbled but let Polly drag her back out on to Marine Parade again.
“Where were you thinking of?” she said.
“There’s a great charity shop on Church Road,” said Polly.
Eve’s face fell. “Second-hand clothes? You have to be kidding.”
Polly felt a little more in control now they’d left the cashmere shop. “My favourite vintage store’s right next door. We’ll do them both. Trust me, Eve. I know what I’m doing.”
How often has Eve said that to me in the past few days? Polly wondered. It felt good to be dishing out the same medicine.
Eve stood uncertainly in the middle of the Happy Hospice shop as Polly rifled through the rails.
“It smells in here,” she complained. “Do you often shop in this place?”
“All the time. What do you think of this jumper?”
Polly held up a thickly knitted blue and white striped jumper. It would look fun over the pink button-down shirt she’d found the last time she’d come to the Happy Hospice. She could see that Eve was struggling for something nice to say.
“Come on then,” she said, relenting. She put the jumper back. “We’ll try Truly Vintage next door.”
Truly Vintage had started as a market stall behind the high street. With the recent surge of interest in vintage clothing, it had moved to its current premises on Church Road. It was Polly’s favourite shop in the whole of Heartside Bay.
“You have to admit, this is adorable,” Polly coaxed, lifting a little green sequinned blouse off the rail by the window and holding it up for Eve to admire.
“It’s quite Gatsby, I suppose,” Eve said, tilting her head to one side.
Polly could hear buzzing sounds coming from Eve’s pocket. One, two, three buzzes. Three texts on her phone. Were they all from Ollie?
“I don’t think anyone’s ever worn it. Try it on,” Polly said, pressing the Gatsby blouse into Eve’s arms. “Go on, the changing room’s lovely, really light and spacious. And you could try this too. And this.”
Polly pressed a grey jacket with military-inspired buttons and a black and gold art deco patterned skirt into Eve’s hands. They were both a bit more quirky than Eve would have gone for on her own, but Polly could tell Eve was intrigued.
“Fine,” Eve sighed. She shrugged off her coat and handed it to Polly. “Hold on to this, will you?”
As soon as Eve swished the curtain shut, Polly took her phone out of Eve’s coat pocket and checked her messages.
Still waiting for an answer
Can’t wait until Friday
Meet me after football Mon?
STILL WAITING! xx
Polly wanted to sing with happiness. Didn’t she deserve a little happiness? If she could just stop overthinking everything, maybe she and Ollie could work out. She stroked the kisses at the bottom of his fourth text, grinning foolishly to herself. If she was quick, she could answer before Eve came out of the changing room.
Mon after football sounds good.
Can’t wait.
She hesitated. Was “can’t wait” a bit needy? Should she add kisses?
“Are you ready?” Eve called from the changing room.
There was no more time. Polly swiftly tapped send and put the phone back as Eve pulled back the curtain.
The sequinned blouse looked gorgeous with Eve’s hair, and the jacket fitted her slender shoulders perfectly. “I love these,” Eve confessed, stroking the jacket and blouse. “But the skirt isn’t very me.”
Polly wondered if Eve could see the guilt on her face. It’s my life, she reasoned. Not Eve’s. If I want to go out with Ollie, I can.
“Try the blouse and jacket with this instead,” she suggested, passing Eve a dark blue high-waisted skirt.
“Polly, you are clever,” Eve marvelled, checking her new reflection out in the mirror five minutes later. The skirt made her long legs look endless. “How did you know this would look so good? And it’s so cheap!”
Polly blushed, feeling pleased. “I’m glad you like it. Now can we go back to the Happy Hospice? I’m still thinking about that striped jumper.”
It was past lunchtime when they emerged from the Happy Hospice. Polly had found a round-collared blouse that she decided would look even better with the striped jumper than the button-down.
“This has been the best shopping day ever,” Eve announced as they started walking home in the afternoon sunshine. “I hope your mum will like the scarf I bought for her. What’s for tea, do you think?”
It’s now or never, Polly decided.
“Eve?” she said a little hesitantly. “You’ve been away from home for two days now. Don’t you think maybe you should go back?”
Eve was silent. Polly ploughed on.
“Your mum was probably just a bit shocked by your news,” she said. “She’s had two days to calm down. I’m sure it will be easier to talk to her now. And what about your dad? Don’t you miss him?”
Eve’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course I miss him. He’s the only person at home who loves me for who I am.”
“Go home,” Polly said gently. “I’ll come with you for moral support. We walk past the end of your road on the way back to mine anyway.”
Eve swallowed and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I haven’t even spoken to Daddy since I left on Friday. I have to go back, don’t I?”
They reached Eve’s sweeping driveway in five minutes. Two gleaming cars were parked outside the pillared portico of the house. Eve’s house always freaked Polly out a little. It felt too big to be allowed.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Polly asked.
Eve shook her head. “I have to do this by myself. But thank you for everything, Polly. The bed, the vintage stuff. The friendship. I really appreciate it. I’ll send Paolo round to pick up my stuff. Oh, and here’s your phone.” She pressed Polly’s phone into her hands. “Don’t text Ollie until tomorrow at least,” she said sternly. “And give your mum that scarf from me, won’t you?”
“Eve!”
Eve’s father was hurrying out of the door, taking the steps at the front of the house two at a time. “Evie! You’re back. I’ve been so worried!”
Polly backed away as Eve ran into her father’s arms. She had no place being here. With her father’s support through this, Eve would be fine, she knew. It was time to go home. Her
room – and bathroom – were her own again. She felt giddy with happiness. Eve was back home, she would have her room to herself again … and she had a date with Ollie!
FIFTEEN
The Heartside High football pitches were up on the cliffs above the town. On a fine day, the views were astonishing, and enough to make anyone take their eyes off the football. On a cold day like today, the wind whistled in like a knife. It was starting to give Polly earache.
She shivered, and tried to get comfortable on the long hard benches that ranged along one side of the pitch. She’d chosen her clothes carefully that morning, spending ages changing in the toilets after school. Her outfit felt strange – close-fitting, a bit revealing – but she blended in with the other football groupies on the bench for a change.
Ollie was in the middle of the field with a group of fifteen other boys, running up and down, his red and black football strip billowing in the wind.
He had never looked so gorgeous. Polly lost herself in admiring his long muscular legs and the way his thick blond hair had whipped itself into an effortless bedhead look that most guys spent hours in front of the bathroom mirror to achieve. His blue eyes sparkled, and he smiled happily, seeming to love every moment. Polly kept pinching herself in the knowledge that Ollie liked her. It seemed to defy the laws of nature, somehow.
The game was flowing and the forwards ran up and down in a practised line, although the wind was doing some crazy things to the ball. Polly sifted through her brains for some of the football facts she’d read on the sports page on the back of her mum’s newspaper that morning, so she would have them on the tip of her tongue when Ollie came over. She adjusted her pink miniskirt, trying to keep warm in the wind.
“He’s so hot,” someone sighed a little further down the bench. “I can’t believe he’s single right now.”
Polly glanced sideways, to see Megan Moore resting her chin in her hands, her dark heavily made-up eyes following Ollie’s every move. Megan was in year nine, the year below Polly and her friends.
“You should go after him, Megan,” said Julianne, one of Megan’s friends. “You two would look so great together.”
Megan swept her long dark hair out of her eyes. “Maybe,” she said. She gave a sudden gasp. “Look, he’s got the ball again!”
Polly’s insides felt like someone was tying knots in them. Megan Moore was after Ollie. Megan was beautiful. How was she supposed to compete?
Ollie likes you, she reminded herself.
She clasped her phone tightly, thinking about the texts she and Ollie had exchanged today. Dozens of them, all flirtatious and full of promise. What did Megan know about that?
She tried to concentrate more on the football. Ollie and the other players were all at the other end of the pitch now, which was confusing her. She could have sworn Ollie had been aiming at the other goal a moment ago.
“Ollie’s so dreamy,” Megan sighed again.
“He’s totally fit,” agreed Julianne.
“Sexy,” said Tanya, sitting on Megan’s other side.
The three of them fell about laughing.
Don’t Megan and her friends talk about anything else? Polly thought with some irritation. It was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist at all. It was all boys, boys, boys. No art, no politics, no literature. No ambition for the future, beyond perhaps marrying a footballer. Megan and her friends probably didn’t even know the name of the prime minister. It was all deeply depressing. Polly wondered what on earth she was doing, sitting here on a freezing bench with such a vapid bunch of people. She felt like a completely different species to them.
The wind was really hurting her ears now. She hunched her head a little further down inside her coat and tried to focus on Ollie. She was here for him. No one else.
She suddenly sat up, the pain in her ears forgotten, as a familiar figure headed towards her. Lila’s glossy brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, her school skirt rolled up to show her long legs.
Intelligent company at last!
Polly rose to her feet and waved. “Lila! Over here!”
Lila didn’t seem to see Polly. She kept walking, her hands deep in her blazer pockets, towards a group of footballers lounging on the sidelines. Polly just had time to register how much make-up Lila was wearing before her friend ran into the arms of a burly football player. They started snogging, to whoops and catcalls from the player’s mates.
Polly had never seen Lila even talking to this guy before, let alone kissing him. Who was he? What was going on? She wondered uneasily if the make-up she had put on in her attempt to fit in with the other girls made her look as over the top as Lila.
“Lila Murray will kiss anything,” said Megan Moore.
“I saw her with another player last week,” said Tanya, a gossipy gleam in her eye. “That Liam guy. They were practically eating each other. It was gross.”
“Ever since she broke up with Ollie and then Ryan died, she’s been snogging anything that moves,” Julianne agreed.
Polly felt anxious. Lila had stopped kissing her football guy and was now flirting with his friends. What was going on? She had an uncomfortable memory of Lila telling them all on the beach that she was going “to live like there was no tomorrow”. There had been bad times for Lila when she’d lived in London, Polly knew, though she suspected she didn’t know the whole story. She’d thought her friend had put all that behind her, but the evidence before her eyes told a different story.
Lila was heading for trouble.
Megan and her friends were still giggling and gossiping. Polly knew she couldn’t just sit here and let them bad-mouth Lila. She had to say something.
Before she could open her mouth, the atmosphere suddenly changed. Megan, Julianne and Tanya sat up like meerkats in the African desert as the final whistle blew. The players high-fived each other and headed for the benches.
“Ollie’s coming,” Julianne hissed in excitement.
Megan and her friends scrambled out of the benches and stood on the sidelines as Ollie approached, football under his arm. Within moments, he was surrounded.
“You were brilliant, Ollie!” Megan said warmly. “I can’t believe you scored from that corner!”
What corner? Polly wondered. She hadn’t noticed any corners. She stood up, tugging down her pink skirt, her heart hammering in her chest.
“You could score anywhere,” sighed Julianne.
“And you’re so hot,” murmured Tanya, placing a bold hand on Ollie’s sweaty football top. “You’re steaming like a racehorse.”
Ollie’s eyes were sparkling from the exercise. He smiled at them all, still slightly out of breath.
“Hey, girls. Megan, can I talk to you?” Ollie pulled Megan aside and whispered something in her ear. Polly stiffened as Megan whispered something back. What were they talking about?
Paranoia filled her from tip to toe. Her mind rushed through a hundred reasons for Ollie and Megan’s cosy little chat, and all of them were bad. Ollie was arranging to meet Megan right after practice! He’d been secretly dating Megan already for weeks! He…
Ollie let go of Megan and pushed his way past her to stand in front of Polly’s bench.
“Hey!” he said, beaming up at her.
Polly’s stomach turned to liquid. He had never looked more gorgeous. She was utterly confused.
“Hey yourself,” she managed. “Nice shorts.”
Polly cringed internally. Nice shorts? Her brain may have been scrambled with thoughts about Megan Moore, but that was no excuse. What was she thinking?
Ollie looked down at his worn football shorts. “What, these?” He scrambled over the benches and pulled Polly into a hot, sweaty hug, kissing her soundly on the cheek. “I’m so glad you came,” he said. “What did you think of practice?”
Polly was reeling from the heat and warmth of his body. He felt
so strong when he put his arms round her. Did he mean it, or was he just the world’s most accomplished flirt?
“Pretty good,” she said. “I especially liked the bit when you hit the ball.”
Ollie shouted with laughter. “We tend to kick the ball in football,” he said, grinning down at her. “It’s a technical term, I know. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”
Polly cursed herself for such a basic mistake. She had to get this conversation back on the right track.
“I support Chelsea United,” she said brightly. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“Chelsea,” Ollie corrected. “Not United.”
“The players are really hot,” Polly ploughed on. “Like you.”
Urgh. That sounded wrong.
Ollie looked puzzled. “Are you winding me up?”
“It must be amazing to sign for a big club,” Polly continued doggedly. “You’d have all the money you could ever want.”
“Since when were you impressed by footballers?”
Polly smiled awkwardly up at him. She felt like she was dying inside. This was going terribly. It wasn’t her at all – what was she thinking, trying to talk about football? What had Ollie been talking about with Megan?
“It’s a recent interest,” she mumbled.
Ollie stared down at her. He seemed about to say something, then apparently changed his mind. “Let’s go,” he said.
Ollie led her through the benches. Megan, Julianne and Tanya watched in disbelief as Ollie slid his warm palm into Polly’s cold one, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“I can’t believe Ollie’s with Polly Nelson,” said Megan in a hiss, just loud enough for Polly to hear.
“She’s a total geek,” said Tanya. “Did you hear that stupid comment she made about hitting the football?”
“He’s totally out of her league,” Julianne agreed.
Polly faltered, loosening her grip on Ollie’s hand.
Were they right? She was trying so hard to fit in with Ollie’s interests, but was she setting herself up for heartbreak? Were she and Ollie destined to fail before they’d even begun?