by Susan Lewis
Liking the idea, Paige said, “That would be so cool, wouldn’t it? Especially if it was Poetry Emotion. I agree with Dad, I reckon that would make a brilliant film, or TV series.”
“We can always dream,” Jenna said with a smile. “Do you have much homework?”
“Some. What time are we eating?”
“About six, unless Dad calls to say he’s going to be late.”
“Which would be typical. How come he didn’t go into Cardiff today?”
“Irene Evans needed some help with her dog, so he decided to put it off till Thursday. Ah, that’ll be Colin delivering some wood,” she declared as someone knocked on the utility room window. “I’ll just go and—”
“Paige! Paige!” Flora cried, dashing into the kitchen, her skinny blond ponytail spilling out of its pearly band and pink-rimmed spectacles steaming up with excitement. “You have to sponsor me,” she declared, grabbing Paige’s hand. “Mum already did and Grandma. It’s only ten p and it’s for charity.”
Allowing herself to be dragged from her toast into the sitting room, Paige said, “What do you have to do?”
“I’m doing it too,” Wills told her, from his upside-down position against the wall. “The boys have to stand on their heads for twenty seconds without toppling over.”
“And the girls have to do fifty skips without being out,” Flora finished. “She’s sponsoring me, not you,” she told Wills, “because I asked first.”
“That’s not fair. I was practicing. Mum! Tell her Paige’s got to sponsor me too.”
“It’s all right, I will,” Paige assured him. “Where are your glasses?”
“I took them off so they wouldn’t get broken.”
“You’re cheating,” Flora cried. “You’re not supposed to put your feet against the wall, is he, Paige?”
“I’m practicing,” Wills yelled. “Mum said she’ll come and hold me steady in a minute so I can try without the wall.”
“How many skips can you do?” Paige asked Flora, lifting her up and treating her to a boisterous hug.
“I did thirty-nine just now,” Flora replied proudly as she hugged Paige back. “I would have done more, but I got a bit tired.”
“She’s useless,” Wills declared, coming down from the wall.
“You are,” she shot back.
He poked out his tongue, so she did too.
“You’re such a baby,” he jeered. “Look at you, having cuddles.”
“You’re just jealous. Isn’t he, Paige?”
“Definitely,” Paige agreed. “But I don’t mind giving you a cuddle too,” she told Wills, starting toward him.
“No way,” he squealed, diving over the arm of the sofa. Suddenly he yelped, “Ow! Ow, ow, ow!”
“What’s wrong?” Paige sighed.
“I hurt my arm,” he wailed. “Look, it’s bleeding.”
Quickly putting Flora down, Paige went to check the injury, which didn’t look serious, but what had caused it probably was.
His blue eyes rounded with horror as she picked up his broken glasses.
Flora gasped. “That’s the fourth time—”
“Shut up!” he shouted. “No one asked you.”
“But it is, and Mum said—”
“If you tell her, I’ll beat you up.”
“You have to tell her,” Paige pointed out.
“Not if you mend them.”
“I can’t, the arm’s broken off. They’ll have to go back to the optician.”
“You take them.”
Paige laughed. “Like I’m really going to do that. I don’t even have a car to get there, never mind the money to pay.”
His little face started to crumple. “I hate them anyway. Who cares if they’re broken? They’re just stupid.”
“What’s going on?” Jenna asked, coming into the room with Paige’s toast, lavishly buttered. “Wills, why are you crying, sweetheart?”
“He’s broken his glasses,” Flora told her.
Jenna’s eyes closed. “Again, Wills? What’s the matter with you?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” he cried. “I didn’t mean to do it, did I Paige?”
“No, he didn’t,” she told her mother, taking the toast. Deciding to leave them to it, she went to grab her school bag and made for the stairs.
“Can I come with you?” Flora cried, jumping up and down. “Please? I’ll sit on your bed and be quiet, I promise. I won’t get on your nerves.”
“Later,” Paige replied, running up to the landing.
“I’m just popping out to get Josh,” Jenna told her. “If you feel like giving Grandma a hand with the ironing, don’t let anything stand in your way.”
“I’ve got homework,” Paige reminded her. Quickly closing her bedroom door, she dumped her bag on the bed and went to turn on her computer. How totally, unbelievably amazing it would be if there was a message from Oliver. The mere thought of it set her heart skittering about like a bunch of trapped butterflies. She had no idea what she’d do if there was; she guessed it would depend on what it said. But since there was absolutely no way in the world she was going to find anything, she should get a grip on herself and start chilling out.
She was right, there was nothing from him, and it was totally dumb to feel depressed about it when they didn’t even know each other, for God’s sake.
Hearing Waffle scratching at the door, she went to let him in. She gave him the last corner of her toast and put some music on before checking out one of the many chat rooms she belonged to. There was loads going on about all sorts of stuff, most of it to do with sex, which she rarely contributed to, but it could be hilarious to read.
Horny honcho here looking for cam-to-cam with a horny girl, message me.
Want more than just chat, join our virtual world for adults.
Please talk with me and tell me what you like best.
Someone called Bobby popped up to chat with her, but she quickly closed him down, then clicked through to YouTube to watch Oliver’s video for the gazillionth time. It was totally amazing. He was the most brilliant singer ever, writing all his own stuff and performing it like he was a real professional. She loved it when he closed his eyes; it was like he was feeling really passionate and deep, and she could imagine him being that way with her as they kissed and he laid her down on the bed and did stuff she loved to think about but knew she’d probably never have the courage to do. She felt so connected to the words as he sang them that he might have written them just for her.
Every time you smile, you make my heart go wild,
Every time we kiss, I feel your sweet tenderness.
She wished she could tell him how amazing she thought he was, that she was certain he was going to be famous one day, but even though she’d been on his Facebook page a hundred times or more, she’d never plucked up the courage to send a friend request. Instead she read the exchanges between him and his friends, not always understanding them, but relieved to see that they were mostly about sports, or music, or stuff they were studying. Though it said he was in a relationship with Lindsay French, there were no pictures of her or messages that she could find, so maybe they weren’t together anymore. She liked to think they weren’t; it was easier that way.
After watching the video three times, she clicked on to another chat room and was just about to join in a row about Ellie Goulding, one of her favorite singers, when someone private-messaged her on Facebook.
It was Julie Morris.
Hey, how are you?
I’m cool, Paige typed back. Are you going to tell me who you are now?
Like I said yesterday, I’m a friend. I mean, if you’ll let me be.
But that’s just weird, being friends and not knowing who you are.
It’s complicated, but I promise I’ll explain when I know I can trust you. I heard Bethany Gates pushed you over in netball.
Not dumb enough to trust someone who could easily turn out to be Bethany Gates herself, Paige replied, Who told you?
; I just heard. They’re real b*s that lot.
Though she’d like to go a lot further with what she thought of the Durham gang, she decided it was best to get off the subject just in case. Where do you live? she asked.
Just outside Oxwich.
Do you have any brothers and sisters?
There was a long pause before the answer came back. Yes, I do, and you’ve got a sister and two brothers.
How do you know?
It’s on your FB profile.
She was right, it was.
I understand now why you don’t want to go out with Owen.
Paige frowned at the screen. What do you mean?
Just that I get it. There’s no point if he’s gay.
Stiffening, Paige typed, Who says he’s gay?
You, on your FB page.
Paige’s heart missed a beat. She hadn’t posted any such thing. Quickly going through to check she saw the post with her own profile picture next to it, and her heart stopped beating altogether.
Owen Masters is gay. I am not his girlfriend, so everyone can just stop thinking I am.
“Oh my God,” she murmured in a panic. How had this happened? She definitely hadn’t put it there herself, but Owen was going to think she had. She had to ring him.
She tried his number over and over, private-messaged and texted him, but he didn’t respond, and by now all sorts of horrible comments calling her a two-faced bitch, a total fucking waste of space, even a c——t, were flooding onto her FB page.
“So where are you now?” Jenna was asking as she opened the car for Waffle to jump into the back.
“Still in Swansea,” Jack replied.
“Did you remember to take Wills’s glasses?”
“Yep, they’re already fixed.” He went off the line for a moment, saying something to someone else that she couldn’t quite hear.
“Are you still at Martha’s office?” she asked when he came back.
“I am, and she says hi.”
“Don’t let’s forget about that lunch,” Martha shouted out.
“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Jenna called back.
“OK,” Jack said, “I’m about to drive over to Cardiff to check out what this email’s all about from the Arts Council.”
Jenna slipped into the driver’s seat. “Tell me what it said again.”
“Hang on, I’ll get it up on the screen.”
As she waited Jenna reversed out of the forecourt and started down through the village. It was a dismal morning, with every shade of gray glooming the sky and a cloying mist shrouding the fields, but at least the rain had stopped, so she was grabbing the chance to take Waffle down to the beach for a run.
“I can’t find it now,” Jack grumbled irritably, “but it’s on my phone somewhere, so I’ll forward it to you when we’ve finished. Basically they’ve invited me to drop in for a chat the next time I’m in town.”
“Do you think they’re going to increase our grant?”
“It might not be about that, but it could be an opportunity to bring the subject up. It was all very casual, signed from someone called Lewin, or Lewis, but I thought we shouldn’t hang about.”
“Absolutely not,” she agreed. “Remember, you’re going to be there on Thursday anyway.”
“True, but as I don’t have much else on at the moment, I thought instead of going up to London at the weekend to see my mother. I’ll go straight from Cardiff today and come back on Friday.”
“What about the bank?”
“I can always change that.”
“And Wills’s glasses?”
“Oh hell, I forgot about them. Tell you what, I’ll pop over to The Landings and drop them off with Paige. How was she this morning, by the way? She was in a strange mood last night, I could hardly get a word out of her, and the way she yelled at Josh over nothing at all…”
“It’s probably her time of the month,” Jenna sighed. “She always gets moody then. Or it could be the pressure of schoolwork. She has GCSEs next year, remember? Even so, it can’t be good for her to spend so much time shut up there in her room, always reviewing, or doing homework, or chatting with her friends. We hardly see anything of her these days.”
“That’s great news about her video, isn’t it? Her teacher thinks she had some excellent material.”
“I hope you’re not giving yourself all the credit.”
“No way. I mean, I played a part, obviously…Hang on, Martha’s trying to get my attention.” To Martha he said, “What for? I don’t know…OK, OK, I’ll put her on. She wants to talk to you,” he told Jenna.
As Martha came on the line Jenna was passing the church in Port Eynon, turning down toward the seafront, where she could already see foaming whitecaps charging for the shore.
“Hey,” Martha said in her usual cheery voice, “how are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Jenna replied. “How are you?”
“I’m cool. Kind of busy, but that has to be a good thing.”
“Absolutely. So how’s the upload problem coming along? All fixed now?”
“More or less. Actually, it’s why I wanted to talk to you. I was going to email a list of instructions, but if it’s convenient for you I’ll come over and show you how the changes will work.”
“That’s great, but I can always come there.”
“It’s no problem. Let’s say tomorrow or the next day. I’ll give you a call when I’ve looked at the calendar. Maybe we can fit that lunch in while we’re at it, have a nice cozy chat, just the two of us.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Good. Here’s Jack.”
Before he came back on the line Jenna heard him talking to Martha in a tone that didn’t sound too friendly, until he suddenly laughed and said, “Of course I don’t have a problem with you seeing my wife, and no, I’m not feeling left out.”
“I think you are,” she heard Martha tease.
Apparently ignoring her, he said to Jenna, “I should go now, but I’ll call you later, let you know how it goes in Cardiff.”
By the time the call ended Jenna was parking the car in the middle of the port, where—surprise, surprise—Irene Evans’s poodle was standing with its back to the road and nose pressed up against a steel waste bin.
“Oh, Charlie,” she sighed, going to attach the dog to Waffle’s lead, “I guess we’d better get you home before any harm comes to you.” Opening the back of the car for Waffle to jump down, she let him run on alongside as they headed into the jumble of white cottages.
“Hello, Irene.” She smiled warmly as the old lady opened her front door. “Look who I found by the beach.”
“Oh my goodness, he got out again,” Irene cried, clasping her wrinkled old hands to her powdered cheeks. “I didn’t even notice he’d gone. Thank you for bringing him back. Will you come in and have a cup of tea? Clare, isn’t it?”
“Jenna.”
“Of course, it’s just that you look like a Clare. Pretty name, Jenna. Where is it from, do you know?”
Unable to be rude when the old lady was so sweet, she said, “Well, my dad, who chose it, told me its origins are Arabic and it means ‘heaven.’ ”
“Oh my, that’s just lovely, so it is. Heaven. Do you know what Irene means? It means ‘peace,’ so I think we go very well together, don’t you?”
“We certainly do,” Jenna agreed with a smile. “I’m afraid I have to be going now. I want to walk the dog before the rain starts again.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I don’t want to keep you. I’ve just boiled the kettle, though, so if you want to change your mind…”
“That’s very kind of you. Perhaps another time.”
“You’re always welcome. Same goes for that lovely husband of yours. How is he? I haven’t seen him for a while.”
Deciding it might not be kind to remind her that he’d been there only yesterday, Jenna said, “He’s fine, thank you. I’ll tell him you asked after him.”
“Yes, please do that. I’ve
been away, you see, at my daughter’s in Swansea. She brought us back this morning, me and Charlie. It’s lovely seeing her, she’s very helpful, but there’s nothing like your own home, is there?”
“No, nothing,” Jenna responded, confused, until she realized that Irene’s sense of time was probably as dodgy as her memory. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked. “I’m going to Tesco’s later if—”
“Oh, I’m all stocked up, thank you, my love. Our Ginnie saw to that before she left. So I’ve got plenty of biscuits if you decide you’d like a cuppa when you get back from your walk. By the way, you know, don’t you, that a peewit on the Bryn means snow in seven days?”
Surprised, Jenna said, “Why, have you seen one?”
“No,” Irene replied. “Not this year.”
Unable to suppress a smile, Jenna squeezed the old lady’s hand and headed off for the beach.
Half an hour later, dripping wet and thinking she’d like nothing better than a cozy little chat with Irene in front of her gas fire, Jenna was on her way to the vet. Waffle had cut a paw on a shell and was limping badly. “If you haven’t already got them,” she was saying to Jack on the phone, “I can pop in and pick up Wills’s glasses.”
“I’ve just given them to Paige,” he told her.
“Oh, OK. How was she?”
“She seemed fine.”
“Did you ask if she was all right?”
“Was I supposed to?”
“You said yourself that she was in a strange mood last night.”
“And you reminded me of why that could be.”
Since she had, she said, “Did you get Josh’s text about ten minutes ago? He’s been picked for the school football team on Saturday.”
“No kidding. Way to go, son! He’ll be as proud as Punch.”
Her heart flooded with love as she imagined Josh’s delight when his name was called. In truth, he wasn’t all that good a player, but it never seemed to put him off trying, even though he spent most matches sitting on the bench.
“Are you going to come and watch?” she asked.
“I should think so,” he replied. “I guess it depends if I’m back in time.”
“You said Friday.”