You've Got a Friend

by Judi Curtin

  To Beth and me, Billy was just a very annoying little boy, but I guess for a quiet seven-year-old like Eddie, he was totally scary.

  ‘That’s so mean,’ I said. ‘Did you tell your mum and dad what happened?’

  ‘Yes,’ his voice was quiet. ‘Daddy said I need to learn to fight my own battles.’

  ‘And what did your mum say?’ I asked.

  ‘She said, “Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me”.’

  ‘That’s not even true!’ I said. ‘Names can be really hurtful. We did this anti-bullying thing in school and it said name-calling can be very damaging.’

  ‘So what happened next?’ asked Beth.

  ‘Now all the other kids call us names too,’ said Eddie. ‘Well they call me names. They can’t call Stephen anything ’cause he’s not here – and now no one will play with me.’

  Eddie had tears in his eyes. Maybe his brother could have protected him from Billy the bully. Maybe the two of them could have been strong together, but on his own…? The poor little guy had no chance. I couldn’t resist anymore. I leaned across Pablo, who was still fast asleep, and hugged the kid who was going to grow up to be my dad.

  ‘I’m too big for hugs,’ he muttered as he pulled away from me.

  ‘Billy’s just a pathetic loser,’ I said. ‘All bullies are. You can still write stories – but maybe don’t share them with Billy if he’s not smart enough to appreciate them. Maybe keep them to yourself for a little bit.’

  ‘I’m not going to write anymore,’ said Eddie.

  ‘But you said you love writing,’ said Beth. ‘You have to keep it up. You can’t let Billy win.’

  ‘Writing’s stupid,’ said Eddie.

  ‘You don’t really believe that?’ I said.

  ‘I think I do,’ he whispered.

  He looked up at me with his huge green-brown eyes, and I had to sit on my hands to stop myself from hugging him again.

  ‘Eddie! Time for dinner. Come in quickly before it goes cold.’

  The voice was coming from the back of the house.

  ‘It’s Mammy,’ said Eddie, looking nervous. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  He put Pablo onto his cushion, and stroked his head.

  ‘Er, Eddie,’ I said. ‘Maybe it’s best if you don’t tell your mum about …’

  He folded his arms and suddenly he looked older than seven.

  ‘No one else is allowed up here ’cept Stephen and me. I’ll be in trouble if Mammy knows you’re here.’

  ‘No need to mention it then,’ said Beth.

  ‘So will you come out here again later?’ I asked, suddenly wanting to spend more time with the sweet little boy.

  He shook his head. ‘I have to help Daddy with jobs after dinner.’

  ‘What kind of jobs?’ I asked, looking at the skinny kid in front of me.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ he said. ‘Boys’ jobs – polishing all the shoes in the house and emptying the bins.’

  Beth giggled. ‘And what would girls’ jobs be?’ she asked.

  Eddie counted them off on his fingers. ‘Mammy says cooking and washing-up and ironing are jobs for girls because girls aren’t as strong as boys.’

  I thought of my mum – she would kill anyone who talked like that. I smiled at Eddie. ‘You’re only a kid now,’ I said. ‘But one day you’re going to grow up and get married – and, here’s a little tip – maybe your life will be easier if you forget old-fashioned ideas like that.’

  ‘Eddie! Come inside at once!’ Now his mum sounded really angry.

  ‘Coming, Mammy,’ he called. ‘Bye, Molly. Bye, Beth.’

  And then my little-kid dad scrambled down the ladder and was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘OMG!’ said Beth. ‘I think he must be the cutest little kid I’ve ever seen. Why do boys have to grow up?’

  ‘Well, if that particular little boy hadn’t grown up, I’d never have been born, and you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.’

  ‘I guess. Hey, Moll, it was really nice seeing your adorable dad today, but it didn’t really get us anywhere, did it?’

  ‘You’re right. Dad didn’t sound like he was fighting with Stephen – he was just sad that he wasn’t around – and I guess he felt a bit left out while his parents were fussing around Stephen, but would that be enough to make them grow up the way they did?’

  ‘And Pablo is alive and well too. I’m glad about that because he’s so sweet – but it doesn’t help us understand stand why your dad won’t get a cat now that he’s all grown up.’

  ‘Maybe we got here a few years too early?’

  Beth shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Every time we’ve gone through Rico’s door we’ve ended up where we need to be, so maybe …’

  I jumped up. ‘Maybe we need to get out of here. My scary granny could be along any minute, giving us “girls’ jobs” to do.’

  ‘OK,’ said Beth, getting up too. ‘Let’s go for a walk. We might meet Billy again, and we can give him a hard time for picking on your dad. Maybe that would help things a bit.’

  ‘I so don’t fancy running through the back garden,’ I said, as we climbed down the ladder. ‘What if someone sees us?’

  ‘How fast can you run?’

  ‘Not as fast as you.’

  ‘Look,’ she said then, pointing at a small hole in the hedge. ‘I think we could get through there.’

  So we went to where the hole was, made it a bit bigger, and wriggled through into a narrow laneway.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Beth, as we walked along the lane and ended up in front of Eddie’s house. ‘Our own secret entrance. Now, which way will we go?’

  Just then two girls on a very funny-looking bike stopped beside us. It was bright purple, with red and yellow writing. It had high handlebars, a big back wheel and a small front wheel. The two girls were sitting, one in front of the other, on a long, black saddle. I know it’s rude to stare, but I couldn’t help it – it was the weirdest bike I had ever, ever seen.

  One of the girls was staring back at me. ‘What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you ever seen a Chopper before?’

  ‘You mean a helicopter?’ I said.

  The girl rolled her eyes and slapped the bike’s high handlebars. ‘What swamp did you just crawl out of? This is a Chopper.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘It’s very nice. I’ve always wanted one of those.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said the girl, suddenly all friendly. ‘Do you two want to hang around with us?’

  Before I could decide what to say, Beth decided for both of us. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Let’s all hang … around.’

  ‘We can go to my place,’ said the other girl. ‘No one’s home.’

  Beth and I followed as the girls wobble-cycled a little way up the road, and into the front garden of a house. They dropped the bike against a hedge and for the first time I could see that each girl had a tartan scarf tied around her wrist. I wanted to ask why, but I was worried that they already thought Beth and I were idiots, so I kept my mouth shut.

  ‘I’m Donna,’ said one girl as she unlocked the front door.

  ‘And I’m Pam,’ said the other girl.

  ‘We’re Molly and Beth,’ I said, as we followed them up the stairs and into a small bedroom.

  ‘This is my room,’ said Donna. ‘Mum and Dad let me decorate it myself. What do you think?’

  I thought that it made my head hurt, but it didn’t seem polite to say that. I looked around for a minute, trying to think of something nice to say. Next to me, Beth was silent too. Two of the bedroom walls were painted dark navy, and decorated with hundreds of stars that looked like they’d been cut out of tinfoil. A third wall was painted a sickly mauve colour, and had dark purple footprints going all the way up to the ceiling. The fourth wall was covered with posters of what looked like a boyband – a very weird boyband.

  ‘Don’t you just love The Bay City Rollers?’ asked Pam.

  ‘Er, sure we do,’ sai
d Beth.

  ‘Totally,’ I said, suddenly understanding why Pam and Donna had those weird scarves tied around their wrists.

  What’s not to love about five guys dressed in short baggy trousers, with tartan shirts and tartan scarves and stripy socks?

  What’s not to love about five guys with very dodgy haircuts who seem to need braces to hold up their pants?

  ‘Wanna hear my favourite song of theirs?’ asked Donna.

  ‘That’d be great,’ I said. Surely these guys couldn’t sound as bad as they looked?

  ‘Can you pass me that cassette, please?’ asked Donna.

  I had no clue what a cassette was, but she seemed to be pointing at a grey plastic thing on the dresser. I handed it to her and she put it into a big clunky machine. She pressed lots of buttons and I could hear weird squeaky noises, like someone was scraping their fingers up and down a blackboard. In the end she pressed another button, and the music started to play. Donna didn’t seem to mind that it was already halfway through the song – she and Pam got up and danced around the room, waving their tartan scarves in the air, singing ‘Bye, bye, baby’ at the top of their voices.

  As the song came to an end, I could hear a slamming door and then a man’s voice. ‘For pity’s sake, Donna, turn off that infernal racket – it’s not even proper music – it’s just noise.’

  Beth and I jumped up. ‘Molly and I had better go,’ she said. ‘Sounds like your dad is home.’

  Her words didn’t sound funny to me, but Donna and Pam fell around laughing. It was hard not to feel a bit insulted, and maybe Pam noticed that Beth and I didn’t look too happy.

  ‘Her dad’s not here now,’ she said.

  ‘But I just heard him!’

  She explained patiently, and when she was finished Beth and I stared at each other. ‘So you’re saying that when you hear a song you like, you run over and hold that giant-sized machine next to the radio and press those buttons, and it records the song, and anything else that’s going on in the background too?’ I said.

  Donna nodded. ‘I don’t understand how you two don’t know that, but yeah.’

  She pressed some more buttons on the machine. ‘Milly ruined “Shang a Lang” when I taped it last week,’ she said. ‘Listen to this.’

  Another jangly pop song started to play, and halfway through, I could hear loud howling and barking.

  ‘Please say that Milly’s a dog,’ said Beth and everyone laughed.

  After that, things were really nice. Donna and Pam might have had weird hairstyles and clothes and very strange taste in music, but in all the important ways, they were pretty much like Beth and me. Pam was worried about a history test that was coming up, and Donna was hoping to get picked for the basketball team.

  Donna picked up a pair of jeans. ‘I’ve just finished sewing these,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they great?’

  ‘You can sew?’ I said.

  ‘Sure I can,’ said Donna. ‘Can’t you?’

  ‘My granny showed me how to sew in a button once,’ I said. ‘But that was ages ago, and I’ve forgotten how to do it.’

  Donna held up the jeans so we could see them properly. They looked like they’d been pretty ordinary once upon a time, but Donna had cut one of the seams right up to the knee, and sewn a huge triangle of bright flowery material into the gap.

  ‘They’re lovely,’ I said, wondering why anyone would turn sort-of-OK straight jeans into very weird, colourful flares. I guess fashion makes people do crazy things.

  ‘Donna and I sew all the time,’ said Pam. ‘When your jeans get too short, you can sew some of the same material on to the ends – or you could use this,’ she said, pointing to the hem of her own jeans. Now that I looked closely, I could see that her jeans really were much too short for her, but it wasn’t obvious, because she had a strip of gold-coloured braid sewn to the ends – a good idea, except the braid looked a lot like the trimming on my granny’s favourite armchair.

  ‘Where are your mum and dad, Donna?’ asked Beth then.

  ‘They’re both at work,’ she said. ‘And, boy, am I glad about that.’

  ‘I’d hate if my mum went out to work,’ said Pam. ‘I like having her home, baking cakes and making things nice for me when I get home from school.’

  Donna rolled her eyes. ‘It’s 1975, you know, Pam. Women weren’t put on earth to bake cakes and do housework.’

  ‘It’s not just housework,’ said Pam. ‘Who’s supposed to mind the children if all the women go out to work?’

  ‘And that’s how women are meant to spend their lives?’ said Donna.

  ‘They wouldn’t have to work every single minute,’ said Pam. ‘When the kids are at school, the mums can go to coffee mornings and things. That’s what women do.’

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

  Could these girls not imagine a world where women could choose how to live their own lives?

  And is there anything more embarrassing than being caught up in someone else’s argument?

  Then Pam smiled at Beth and me. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Donna and I have been having this fight nearly every day for the past two years.’

  ‘What happened two years ago?’ I asked.

  ‘They changed the law – and Mum was able to go back to work.’

  ‘There was a law against work?’ said Beth.

  Donna and Pam stared at her. ‘Everyone knows that,’ said Pam.

  ‘How come you don’t know that, Beth?’ I asked her, giggling.

  She gave me her evil look. ‘You know I don’t read the papers much, Molly,’ she said in a fake-sweet voice. ‘Why don’t you explain the law to me?’

  ‘Er, I’m not very good at explaining things,’ I said. ‘Will you tell her, Donna?’

  Donna sighed. ‘Anyone ever tell you two that you’re a bit cracked?’ she said.

  But then she went on to explain. ‘Mum used to work in the bank, and she really loved it, but, like all women, when she got married she had to give up her job.’

  ‘She had to give up?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Donna. ‘That was the law – and Mum hated not going out to work – but luckily they changed the law a couple of years ago – or Mum would still be hanging around all the time, annoying me.’

  I tried to imagine a world where women had to choose between having a job and getting married – but I couldn’t. It was much too scary for me.

  ‘I’m glad women are getting so many rights these days,’ said Donna.

  ‘Like what?’ I asked, not sure that I wanted to hear the answer.

  ‘Oh,’ said Pam. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I heard that by the end of this year, women will be allowed to read the news on the television.’

  At first I thought she was joking, but she looked perfectly serious. ‘You mean—?’

  Before I could finish my question, Donna pulled a magazine from under her pillow. ‘Have you read this week’s Jackie yet?’ she asked.

  Beth and I shook our heads so the four of us lay on the brightly patterned carpet and read. Four people reading one magazine is kind of dodgy anyway, but I wanted to see what kids in 1975 were into.

  The first page had a big ad. ‘PET ROCKS RULE’, it said, with a picture of a stone on a pile of straw inside a cardboard box.

  ‘What on earth are pet rocks?’ I asked.

  ‘They’re just rocks,’ said Pam. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t heard of them. Everyone wanted one for Christmas last year.’

  ‘But they are pets too,’ said Donna. ‘They come with a manual, so you can teach them tricks.’

  ‘What kind of tricks can a rock do?’ I asked.

  ‘Well the best one is playing dead,’ said Donna, laughing. ‘Pet rocks are really good at that.’

  Now we all laughed, and Pam turned to the next page.

  The magazine had lots of pictures of pop bands, all dressed in weird and wonderful clothes. There were heaps of stories about things to say to get boys to notice you, and thing
s to wear to get boys to notice you. It was actually kind of boring.

  For a minute Pam and Donna had a row about who was nicer – David Cassidy or David Essex. I had to admit that they both looked kind of cute – but a proper haircut would have made them a whole lot cuter.

  Then Pam turned to a page that was a big ad for face cream. It told the story of a girl who had spots, but then used the cream every day, until her spots disappeared. In the end she was all excited, telling her friends – ‘I’m getting married – and it’s all thanks to the super cream.’

  ‘That’s so lame!’ said Beth.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Pam.

  ‘That story,’ said Beth. ‘It’s basically like, if you’ve got spots no one will marry you.’

  ‘And if you get rid of your spots, your reward will be a lovely husband,’ I said, giggling.

  ‘Appearance shouldn’t matter,’ said Beth.

  ‘But it does matter,’ said Donna. ‘Everyone knows that.’

  ‘OK,’ said Beth. ‘I guess we all like to look our best, but it’s not the most important thing in the world – and neither is getting a husband.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ said Pam, and I couldn’t work out if she was joking or not.

  ‘So what should the ad say?’ said Donna.

  I thought for a minute. ‘I guess they need to sell their cream, so maybe they have to say that getting rid of your spots will change your life – even if that’s a big lie.’

  ‘Molly’s right,’ said Beth. ‘If you were sad before, I guess you’d still be sad afterwards – except without a spotty face.’

  ‘But maybe the ad should say that when the girl’s spots were gone, she got a great job in a tech company, or became an influencer or something?’ I said.

  ‘What’s a tech company?’ asked Donna. ‘And an influencer?’

  Pam was staring at Beth and me. ‘You two girls are very …’

  I could guess what was coming next. I was enjoying hanging out with Donna and Pam, and for a minute I’d managed to forget how much the world had changed since 1975.

  ‘Er, I think maybe it’s time for us to go, Beth,’ I said, getting up. ‘It’s been really nice, though. Thanks for letting us hang ou— I mean, hang around with you.’