Boys Beware

by Jean Ure

  We could, of course, just go downstairs and knock on the door and give him an invitation. We have discussed this, but Tash is worried in case he turns out to be hideous. I said, “How hideous could he be?” and we speculated for a while, and frightened ourselves with visions of a Kevin Trodd type creature, so now we have decided that we will give him until the weekend to show himself. If by then we still haven’t managed to check him out we shall have to ask Auntie Jay. We would really rather not as we know she’ll only laugh, but we certainly don’t want any Kevin Trodds turning up!

  Thursday

  Meg has promised that she will try to get her cousin Tom to come to the party and Zoella says that she knows a boy she can bring, so things are definitely starting to look up! We asked Ali this evening who she’s going to invite. She said she hadn’t thought of inviting anyone. She thought it was our party, not hers.

  It made us feel guilty, when she said that. We do have this tendency to leave her out of things.

  “You must at least ask Louise, “I said.

  Tash said yes, and anyone else she could think of. “Like any boys you might know, for example.”

  We live in hope!

  I have just been reading through Mum’s list of Do’s and Don’ts, which she stuck on the back of the door before she left. This is the first time I’ve really looked at them. These are some of the things that we must DO:

  . Check cooker is turned off before leaving home

  . Check taps are turned off in sink and bath . Check TV is turned off

  . Check windows are closed

  . Check door of food cupboard is closed

  . Check door of fridge is shut properly.

  Oh, and CHECK IN WITH AUNTIE JAY BEFORE GOING TO SCHOOL AND AGAIN ON RETURN. We have had long lectures on that one.

  As for the others … all I can say is, well! I can understand about the food cupboard, cos if Fat Man got in there and found anything even remotely consumable he would eat himself silly, but the door of the fridge? Pur-lease! Does she really think we are dumb enough to leave a fridge door open???

  Still haven’t seen him downstairs.

  Friday

  Got back from school to find huge puddle of water on carpet. Thought at first that Fat Man had had an accident, but not even Fat Man could wee that much. In any case, he has his litter tray in the bathroom. It was Tash who traced it to the fridge … the door was open just the tiniest crack, and all the insides had melted. I cried, “Which blithering idiot didn’t shut the door properly?” I knew it couldn’t be me. I mean, I had read Mum’s list of Do’s and Don’ts.

  “Who was the last one to go there?” said Tash.

  We both looked at Ali.

  “Who put the milk away after breakfast?”

  “You did,” said Ali.

  “Me?” I was outraged. How dare she blame me? “What about the butter? Who put the butter away?”

  “The same person that put the milk away?” said Tash.

  It’s not true! I’m sure I didn’t put the butter away. I didn’t even touch the blasted butter. I bet it was Tash!

  We have come to the conclusion that there is obviously something wrong with the fridge door, since it takes such a superhuman effort to close it. We’d rather not tell Auntie Jay in case she thinks it’s something we’ve done, so Ali has come up with the bright idea – she gets them, occasionally – of leaving a bucket of water jammed in front of it. It is simple, but it does seem to work. In the meantime we have mopped up the floor and just hope that nothing has leaked down through the ceiling into the O’Shaugnessys’ flat, but we don’t think it can have done as Mr O’Shaugnessy would surely have been up here complaining?

  Still no sighting of Gosh. Is he some kind of recluse???

  Week 2, Saturday

  Well, it has finally happened. We have seen him! Tash came bursting into the room going, “GOSH!” in tones of great excitement. It was the moment we have been waiting for, and I am pleased to record that I was ready for it. Tash plunged back out, and I immediately plunged after her. We bundled together, bumping and jostling, down the stairs, and there he was, standing in the hall, sorting through the post on the hall table. I think he was quite surprised when we came cantering up. He spun round, dropping a handful of letters as he did so, and it is definitely a case of oo-er, mushy peas and soft ice cream! How Ali could have described him as “just a boy” is quite beyond us. Surely even she could see that he is totally gorgeous? His hair, for instance, is not just a boring brown, as reported by Ali, it is golden brown, like he’s had highlights put in it, except you can see that it’s quite natural. And he has this little dimple thing in his chin, which is just so cute! I am not good at descriptions, but I think it’s enough to say that both me and Tash have gone into total meltdown. We have turned to liquid!

  Before we liquidised, we managed – just about – to get through our double act. Tash said, “Hi!”, beaming fit to bust.

  Gus said, “Hi,” still seeming a bit, like, startled. I guess we did rush him, rather.

  Tash was the one who got in first, though it doesn’t actually matter which of us starts cos we know the script off by heart.

  “This is my sister, Emily –”

  “And this is my sister, Tash.”

  “You probably don’t think we look much like each other?”

  “Even though we were born on exactly the same day.”

  “Exactly the same year!”

  “Which ought to make us twins.”

  Pause.

  “But we’re not!”

  Surprise, surprise!

  “See, her mum –”

  “Married her dad.”

  “So in point of fact – ”

  “We are not actually related at all!”

  Ho ho! Sometimes people laugh, and sometimes they look kind of nervous, like they think we’re a bit mad, or something. Gus just blinked and said, “Cool!”

  I nodded. “We think so.” And then I nudged at Tash, and she nudged at me, and both together we said, “Would you like to come to a party we’re having?”

  It’s funny how often we find ourselves doing this sort of thing … talking like we’re a chorus. We don’t do it on purpose; it just seems to happen.

  “So would you like to?” said Tash.

  Gus said yeah, great, that’d be cool. He then added that in fact he had already been asked. “Just now, by your sister.”

  “Ali?” She’d gone off a few minutes earlier to meet her friend Louise in town. How sneaky of her!

  “I suppose she’s your sister?” said Gus.

  “Yeah,” I said, “she’s mine.” I said it with some reluctance. I am not always that keen on laying claim to Ali. I was desperately trying to remember what she had been wearing and thinking please, please not let it be her horrible saggy T-shirt and the bum-baggy trousers again. It creates such a bad impression, when me and Tash try so hard to make the best of ourselves.

  The really important thing, however, is that Gus is coming. Hip, hip, hooray! A boy all of our own. Not a cousin or a brother, but a real genuine boy invited by us. Well, by Ali, I suppose, but it comes to the same thing.

  “Of course, you’re the one he’ll fancy,” moaned Tash, as we came back upstairs and hurled ourselves on to the bed. I don’t know why she said that. She is far prettier than I am! I said this to her, and she said that she wasn’t, and that in any case I was taller and skinnier and blonde.

  I said, “But I haven’t any boobs,” and Tash said that neither had she, and we both heaved big sighs. We think we may have to start doing special exercises. I have read that there are some, and really, if this carries on, I mean this continuing horrible flatness, we shall have to take some kind of drastic action. It is so unfair! Ali has boobs, and doesn’t even want them. They’re not very big, but at least they are there. And then she goes round all hump-shouldered, as if she’s ashamed of them! When I have boobs, even just the tiniest, faintest beginnings of them, I shall make sure that they are – ahe
m! – well to the fore. So to speak. I shan’t show off about them, cos that would be vulgar, but I shall certainly not try to hide them!

  Ali has just come in, and oh, God, she is wearing the t-shirt and the baggies! Tash is asking her about Gus. I shall have to stop and listen to this.

  OK, we have the story. Ali was on her way out to meet Louise and lo and behold, what happens? She bumps into Gus – again – on the stairs.

  “You said you wanted boys to come to the party, so I asked him. He didn’t seem all that keen so I told him he could bring his girlfriend, if he wanted.”

  “What?” We screeched it at her.

  “We don’t want girlfriends,” said Tash.

  “Well, it’s OK,” said Ali, “Cos he hasn’t got one. He’s coming by himself.”

  Phew! Relief! That was a nasty moment. I suppose in a way, it has to be said, Ali has done us a favour. Now at least we know there is no competition! Not at his school, either, cos Simon Standish is all-boys. Things are looking good.

  Sunday

  We have done our first weekly shop! We felt very important, going to Tesco’s all by ourselves. We are taking the bus there, but coming back by cab. Mum said this is what we are to do, to save bothering Auntie Jay. Before we went, we made a long list of stuff we had to buy, including boring things such as washing-up liquid and toilet rolls. We were quite proud of ourselves.

  Ali said, “Mum always buys toilet rolls.”

  But it is really difficult, thinking what to eat all week – especially as it’s my turn to cook! I am already beginning to have a bit more sympathy with Ali and her baked beans, but I am determined to do proper meals and not rely on tins. Mum left us a cook book called “Simple Meals for Busy People” and I have been poring over it. So far I have thought of: pancakes, omelettes, spaghetti, cheese on toast and burgers. I asked Tash if she reckoned these would be OK, but she just waved a hand and said, “Whatever!” She has been preoccupied all day. She says that we are doomed. Last night on the television they had a programme about terrorist attacks and how we all had to be prepared. Tash has really taken it to heart. She told us, as we went into Tesco’s, that we must stock up with loads of tins and bottled water.

  “And batteries! We have to have batteries!”

  Ali (who was off somewhere with Louise and didn’t watch the programme) said, “What do we need batteries for?”

  Tash cried, “For the radio! And the torch!”

  I pointed out that we didn’t have a torch. A big mistake, as she immediately insisted on buying one. “A proper one! Not some piddling little thing. If the electricity goes off it’s the only light we’ll have!”

  To set her mind at rest we put a large (and hugely expensive) torch in the trolley, plus some large and hugely expensive batteries to go with it, and this calmed her down a bit until Ali had to go and point out that we couldn’t get batteries for the radio as we didn’t know what sort of batteries it used, whereupon Tash cried out hysterically, in the middle of Tesco’s, that in that case we would have to buy “Lots of batteries, loads of batteries!” A whole selection of batteries.

  I said, “But there are dozens.”

  “Then we’ll have to get dozens! You heard what they said … we can’t risk being without a radio!”

  I had no idea she had taken it so seriously. Well, I mean, it is serious, of course, and I am sure that Mum and Dad would want us to be prepared, but we do have a budget to stick to and I don’t think even Mum and Dad would expect us to spend all our money on dozens of useless batteries. In the end we managed to talk her out of it, but only by promising that as soon as we got home we would check the radio and then, on the way back from school tomorrow, we could call in at one of the shops on the High Street.

  “After all,” I said, “they’re not going to come today.”

  The terrorists, I meant. I was trying to calm her down, but in fact I only succeeded in getting her all agitated again as she has now taken it into her head that they could attack at any moment.

  This, unfortunately, happens to be true, and therefore just made me agitated, as well. I sometimes think that Ali has the right idea. It must be so much easier to go round with your head in the clouds, blissfully unaware of all the terrible things taking place on this planet.

  I am quite surprised at Tash, however; she is obviously a lot more sensitive than I thought. She says that I, on the other hand, am totally insensitive. I wonder if that’s right? I don’t believe it is as I cried buckets when poor Fat Man got knocked down by a car that time, and we had to rush him to the vet. It’s just that you can’t let these things take over your life. You would never leave home, or go anywhere, or do anything, but would spend your whole time hiding in a cupboard with bottles of water and batteries.

  I said this to Tash and she told me that I have no imagination, which is certainly not right. I have a great deal of imagination! So much that I really don’t want to think about it, and if you ask me Tash would be better off not thinking about it, too, since it gives her so much grief. I really wish we had never watched the stupid programme in the first place! I would have turned it off if I had known it was going to upset her.

  Anyway, what with Tash being so fussed about terrorists, it made her completely useless when it came to planning the week’s menu, and Ali wasn’t much better. All she could think about was getting in enough food for Fat Man. She went off by herself with a basket and came back beaming, with about ninety-eight tins of cat food. She said, “You know how fussy he is … we need to make sure he has plenty of choice.”

  I peered into the basket, and quite frankly I nearly had a seizure.

  “Lobster!” I shrieked. “You’ve got him lobster!”

  Ali said yes, it was a special gourmet cat food. She said a woman she had been talking to in the cat food section had recommended it.

  “She gets it for her cats as a treat … she’s got ten of them. She says they’re like her children. Look! See? There she is.” And she pointed down the aisle at this totally dotty-looking woman pushing a trolley that was full to the brim with cat food.

  Why is it that Ali is for ever talking to mad people? Why can’t she ever talk to anyone normal? They are always raving nutters, which I know is not politically correct but even Mum says that Ali has a knack. For picking out weirdoes, that is. I mean, honestly! Buying lobster for a cat. I sometimes seriously think that Ali should be kept tethered to either me or Tash, so that every time she starts up one of her zany conversations with someone she can be immediately dragged away. It is such a bad habit! Look where it’s got us … a cupboard full of cat tins and practically nothing else.

  Tash has just philosophically announced that if the worst comes to the worst we can always eat Whiskas. She is obviously feeling more settled.

  Monday

  Went downstairs this evening to ask Auntie Jay if she had some bread we could borrow. With all the frenzied buying of bottled water and cat food we clean forgot about it. Bread! The staple of life!!! Auntie Jay wasn’t back from work but her friend Jo was there. She said, “You really just want to borrow it? What kind of state would it be in when you gave it back?” So then of course I had to explain that I needed it for cheese on toast (my menu for today) and she said in that case she would give me a loaf.

  “But once you’ve used it, please don’t even think of giving it back … not in any shape or form!”

  Jo is really funny. She makes me laugh! I was quite surprised that she was here on a Monday, but according to Ali she has now moved in on a permanent basis.

  “The lease ran out on her flat and she needed somewhere in a hurry.”

  I said, “How do you know?”

  Ali said, “Auntie Jay told me.”

  When did Ali get to speak to Auntie Jay? She is so sneaky! I don’t know half the things she gets up to.

  The cheese on toast was really tasty. Though I say it myself, and I suppose it may sound a bit like boasting, I believe I may be rather a good cook! For afters we had fresh fruit
, which at first made Tash turn her nose up. She said it was “Boring.” But I reminded her that we are supposed to eat “a rainbow a day,” and I told her to make sure she recorded it in her Food Diary.

  “And put whose week it is for cooking!”

  Tash promised that she would. She’s feeling happier now as we’ve bought spare batteries for the radio.

  Wednesday

  Last night in bed me and Tash had a long and intense discussion about Auntie Jay. We think that she and her friend Jo might be a couple. In fact we think that they almost certainly are. After all, they are both in their thirties and neither of them are married. And Jo is quite a manly sort of woman. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way! I really like her, and we are the hugest fans of Auntie Jay. She is so bright and sassy, and a truly inspiring person to have as your aunt. We don’t in the least mind if she is gay! We are not fussed about it. We are very relaxed about anything to do with s. e. x. There is this teacher at school, Ms Meadows, that we are as sure as can be has had a sex change operation. But that’s all right! We are quite cool about it. We think it’s interesting and should like to know more.

  We are not saying anything about Auntie Jay to Ali as Ali is still so naïve, in spite of being almost fourteen. We wouldn’t want to shock her.

  This evening, Fat Man ate his lobster. We had spaghetti. Ho hum! I say no more.

  Thursday

  Bumped into Gosh – Gus! – on our way back from school. Me and Tash, that is. We walked up the road with him and Tash prattled – it’s the only word for it! She prattled – about the party. Sometimes at school she gets told off for talking too much, and really I am not surprised. She’s like a mouth on a stick! Poor Gus couldn’t get a word in edgeways, and neither could I. I do hope she hasn’t scared him off. There are some boys where it wouldn’t matter, as they are convinced they are God’s gift and that all girls fancy them like crazy, but Gus is not like that. He’s really quiet, so that you do have to make a bit of an effort. You do have to be just a little bit forward. That, however, is not to say that you should go way over the top, which is what Tash was doing.