‘Money makes money. Isn’t your mum always saying that? Anyway . . . what would you do?’
‘Travel. Goa. Los Angeles. Phuket. Save some. Get a band together and a demo CD. Stuff like that.’
I began scraping the cards. ‘OK, here goes.’
First one. Nothing.
Second one and my heart began to beat as I saw £100,000 appear. Then another £100,000.
‘OhmyGod . . .’ I held my breath as I scraped off the rest of the card.
Then my heart sank. £6. £10. £25.
Ah well, three more cards to go.
I could see Izzie having to bite her tongue as I finished scraping the last one. She was dying to say, ‘I told you so.’
I waved the last one in her face. ‘I’ve won!!!’
‘Really!’ she gasped. ‘How much?’
‘A pound,’ I said. ‘Whoopee. Let’s go and collect our winnings.’
After we’d picked up the pound coin from the newsagents, we walked a bit further down to a garage. The man at the till hardly even glanced up at me so I bought ten cards. Once again, a thrill of anticipation ran through me. This was serious fun. It was really exciting as each time I got a handful of cards, I felt full of hope. Possibilities. Until I scratched the cards, there was a chance I might win. Change my life. Change Mum and Dad’s lives.
We sat on the brick wall by the road and I scraped five and Izzie did five. This time I won two pounds. Never mind, I told myself, I still had fifteen pounds left.
‘Oh, let’s go,’ said Izzie. ‘You’ve lost half your money. I can’t bear it. Maybe your horoscope was right, and you’ve got your windfall – three pounds. Let’s buy some chips with the winnings and go and collect Lucy.’
There was no way I was giving up then. It was far too exciting and it wasn’t over yet. And I hadn’t lost all my money. Only half of it.
And I’d won three pounds.
And what if? What if I did give up and the very next card I was going to buy was the one? The winning card?
I couldn’t back down now.
But which shop was the winning card in? The newsagents? The corner shop?
‘Let’s try the Post Office’ I said and set off eagerly.
‘I’m going to Lucy’s,’ said Izzie. ‘Are you coming with me?’
‘No way,’ I said. ‘I’ll only be another ten minutes. Why won’t you stay?’
‘Because this is a total waste of your money and it’s painful to watch.’
Killjoy, I thought. There was no way I was going to stop now. I had to carry on. I couldn’t even think about stopping.
‘I’ll meet you at Lucy’s when I’ve finished,’ I said. ‘Be prepared to celebrate.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Izzie, heading for the bus stop. ‘Later.’
Honestly, I thought, as I puffed my way back up the High Road. She’s got no sense of adventure, that girl.
I saw another sign for the Lottery outside the Post Office. I bet that’s where the winning card is, I thought. I can just feel it in my bones. I was just about to go in when I saw one of our teachers, Miss Watkins, in the queue. I did a quick turn around. She was the last person I wanted to bump into.
I walked a bit further up and found a corner shop that sold scratchcards and there I bought seven. I decided to buy some of the ones with lesser prizes of two thousand five hundred, just in case Izzie had been right and you stood a better chance of winning.
I put them in my bag then went back to the Post Office.
I quickly checked that Miss Watkins had gone then, seeing that all was clear, I joined the queue. I was feeling really elated. I was sure the winning card was here.
An old woman in front of me bought some writing paper and when I saw she’d finished at the counter I stepped forward.
But then the woman turned back. She looked at the scratchcards. ‘Oh go on,’ she said to the lady behind the counter. ‘I’ll have three.’ Then she saw me. ‘Oh, sorry love,’ she said. ‘Do you want to go? I’m in no hurry.’
Oh no, I thought, panicking. Decisions. Should I let her have the next cards or should I buy them? Should I wait and let her go before me or should I butt in and take the next cards? What if the very next card is The One and I let her buy it? Aaaghhhh!
‘No, you go ahead,’ I said.
She bought her cards and I stepped forward again.
‘Eight of the hundred thousand pound cards,’ I said, laying my money out on the counter.
The lady behind the till smiled. ‘Feeling lucky?’ she asked as she ripped eight cards off the roll.
‘Yeah,’ I said. But I wasn’t so sure any more.
On the bus to Lucy’s, I sat at the back and got busy scraping the cards from the Post Office. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Nothing. Not even a pound.
Then I got out the seven cards from the newsagent’s. Maybe I’d have to settle for one of the smaller prizes. Scrape, scrape. One, two, three, four, five, six. Nothing.
The feeling of anticipation had now been replaced by disappointment. And horror. I’d spent all my money. I had nothing left to last me through the rest of the holidays.
I had one card left. I was about to start scraping but stopped myself and put it back in my purse for later. As long as I didn’t look at it or scrape it, there was still a chance, some hope that it was a winner. I’d do it when I got to Lucy’s.
But already there was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had no money left at all now. That hadn’t been part of the plan.
When I reached Lucy’s, she took the card I handed her and scraped off the last bits of silver.
She looked up at me sadly. ‘I am sorry, Nesta,’ she said. ‘Nothing.’
I sighed. ‘Do you think I need to go to Gamblers Anonymous?’ I asked. ‘Now that I’m an addict.’
Izzie laughed. ‘Not yet. But I do think that the only kind of Instant you should stick to in the future is the mashed potato variety.’
Lucy’s dad dropped us in Camden. He drove us there in their hippie-dippie car and as always people stared at us when we drove by. The car does make quite a statement. It’s an old Volkswagon Beetle and it’s bright turquoise with a big lilac flower painted on the boot. No one batted an eyelid when we got to the Lock. The hippie-dippie look has come back in fashion there along with flares and tie-dye T-shirts.
‘Ben says the shop is under the arches in the stable part of the market,’ said Izzie, leading us through a gate behind the main market.
The courtyard was heaving with people who looked like they were either at a fancy dress party or a meeting of different tribespeople. There were skinheads, goths, hippies and punks. And wandering round in the middle, looking amazed by the sights, were little groups of tourists all dressed neatly in Benetton best. Music of every variety pounded out from different stalls: techno, Latin, garage, turbo, trance, hip-hop, sixties, seventies, heavy metal. Every way you turned there were sounds. And smells.
The delicious aroma of garlic, spices and onions hit us as we pushed our way through the crowds.
‘You like some noodles, pretty lady?’ called a Thai girl from behind an enormous steaming wok.
‘I’d give anything for noodles,’ I said. ‘But I have no money.’
The girl pulled a sad face, then called to a crowd of goth girls behind me.
‘Wow,’ I said, pulling Lucy’s arm. ‘Look, look, behind, a posse of death-cult zombie girls.’
Lucy giggled as a group of teenagers dressed in goth black drifted by. Their faces were plastered in white make-up and their hair was black with purple streaks and so lank it looked like it hadn’t been washed. Ever.
‘I can’t imagine what there is here,’ I whispered to Lucy. ‘I mean, most people we’ve seen are either retro, goths or punks – nothing really new.’
‘Ben says it’s the most happening place in London at the moment,’ said Izzie.
‘And I’m hoping I can pick up some tips for my design work,’ said Lucy. ‘All the paper
s say that what’s happening is vintage mixed with new. I need to check out if that’s right.’
The seductive smell of caramel hit my nostrils as we passed a stall selling roasted nuts. I groaned. ‘Oh. I’m hungry,’ I wailed.
Izzie raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ she said.
I stuck my tongue out at her back as I hurried along behind her into a passageway. Soon the smell of food was replaced by a strong smell of joss-sticks.
Loud music was pulsating from an entrance under one of the arches in a corner.
‘Here it is,’ said Izzie, pointing up to the sign ‘Cyberdog’.
As we stepped inside, the music was throbbing and the ground shaking with the base.
It was like we’d walked into a spaceship. Brick walls were painted silver, orange and turquoise. Perspex tables lined the walls where people were seated playing on iMac computers and sipping cappuccinos. Dry ice was being pumped up from the floor, giving the place an otherworldly look.
Izzie disappeared off to look for Ben and Lucy and I went through an archway into what looked like a clothes shop.
The clothes on the rails looked like they’d been stolen from the set of Star Trek. One top was made of rows of red Perspex, the ridges made to look like ribs. And the shop assistants looked like alien mutants. They were all dancing wildly to the music.
Lucy and I stood and stared. One girl in front of me had her head shaved except for a pink fluorescent ponytail at the back. She was wearing head-to-foot canary yellow. On her calves she had huge yellow furry leggings. Through her earlobes, she had about twelve rings, a stud through her nose and another through her mouth.
‘I feel sorry for whoever has to snog her,’ I said.
‘Oh, wow. Look at these,’ said Lucy, pulling me over to look at the racks displaying jewellery. Most of it was made out of transparent Perspex plasticky stuff. Chokers and gauntlets, with metal studs and spikes. ‘I’ve seen this stuff. It glows in the dark in clubs.’
‘Cool. And definitely different,’ I said. ‘Cressida may say it’s all happening in Notting Hill, but this takes some beating.’
‘Yeah, it’s like galaxy princess meets Olive Oyle,’ said Lucy as an assistant wearing a tiny black dress and striped tights walked past in knee-high lace-up boots with four-inch rubber soles.
‘New rock,’ said Ben, appearing behind us and pointing at the boots. ‘Everyone’s wearing them.’
Even Ben had made some concession to the style of the place. He’d replaced his usual John Lennon glasses with silver goggles and wore white overalls and silver space boots.
‘Where’s Iz?’ asked Lucy.
‘Getting changed.’
At that moment Izzie appeared at the end of the aisle.
‘Like it?’ she asked, looking shyly at Ben.
She looked amazing. Transformed.
She had on a short black dress with no sleeves and a scoop neck, but the skirt was extraordinary. It stuck out, as if someone had lined the hem with coat hanger wire. Like crinoline skirts from ages gone by. On her legs she wore a pair of the furry leggings like the assistant was wearing, only Izzie’s were blue. On her arms she had a pair of turquoise gauntlets and round her neck a turquoise choker with metal spikes.
‘You look like an alien rock singer,’ I said.
‘Rock chickerama,’ said Lucy.
‘I thought I’d get some electric blue eyelashes,’ said Izzie. ‘And maybe some blue hair extensions, you know, the ones that look like dreadlocks. What do you think, Lucy?’
Lucy’s eyes were shining. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘that this place is the biz boz. I mean, why look like your mum when you can look like an alien borg babe? This stuff is trekkie heaven.’
Nesta’s Diary
Deaf Diary
Had an awful day. I went gambling and lost all my money. Then I went to Camden with the girls and saw a million things I wanted but couldn’t afford. I couldn’t even buy a cappuccino and felt very miserable. Ben bought me one and I was very glad that Izzie didn’t let on to him about me being a hopeless gambler drowning in materialism. Although I wouldn’t mind drowning in it a bit.
I think I have learnt a BIG lesson today, if I hadn’t lost all that money I could have had a really nice time at Camden. I could have had Thai noodles and roasted nuts and even bought one of the galaxy princess chokers that are out-of-this-world fab.
I tried not to let on but actually 1 was v. fed up.
Chapter 11
The hall where the gig was to be held looked like a boy scout’s hut. There was a tatty plywood stage at one end, battered plastic tables and chairs lining the walls and threadbare curtains at windows that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a decade.
‘Good turn-out,’ said Lucy, looking round at the people gathered.There were to be three bands on and it looked like everyone had brought friends and family along for support.
‘I can’t wait to see Cressida’s face when she sees this joint,’ I said.
‘Shabby chic is not a look to be sniffed at,’ said Lucy.‘It can take years to perfect.’
A few moments later,I saw Simon appear at the back door with the Portobello Princesses. Predictably Cressida’s face fell.
‘Oh, here’s WC,’ said Lucy. ‘Looks like she has a bad smell under her nose.’
‘What else is new?’ I said. ‘Oh do let me introduce you properly.’
Simon was as sweet as Cressida was sour. Immediately after the introductions, he asked who wanted what to drink and went off to the bar in the adjoining pub. I went with him to use the ladies’.
I fixed my lipstick, then went into a cubicle and, not long after, I heard the door open and footsteps.
‘What a dive,’ said a voice I recognised. It was Cressida. ‘And erlack, this place stinks. I would never have come if Tony wasn’t going to be here.’
‘So does this interest in him mean that you’ve finally got over Simon?’ Tanya’s voice.
Very slowly and quietly, I lifted my feet up in case either of them decided to check under the cubicle doors. I wanted to hear what they had to say.
‘Oh, yah. Though one can’t see why he’s going out with the zebra.’
‘The zebra?’ asked Tanya.
‘Nesta. Half black, half white,’ sniggered Cressida.
Inside my cubicle, I gasped.
‘That’s really mean,’ said Tanya. ‘You’re jealous because she’s stunning and Simon fancies her and not you.’
You tell her, Tanya, I thought. I was tempted to yell out, ‘Earth is full. Go home!’ But I bit my tongue. I wanted to hear what else they had to say.
‘Nah. He doesn’t fancy her, not really. He’s only doing it to be different,’ said Cressida. ‘He’s far too good for her. He probably wants to upset your parents. Going out with a middle-class mixed-race girl is his way of rebelling. It’s a phase.’
Agghhh. I thought. Aaaghhhh.
Tanya was silent for a moment. ‘You know what, Cressida? You can be a total bitch sometimes.’
‘You say that as if it’s a bad thing,’ laughed Cressida.
I heard someone open the door then slam it behind them. Tanya, I presume.
Then I heard some rustling and the hiss of a spray, then a scent of vanilla. I heard the door open and close again. Then it was quiet.
I waited a few seconds before lowering my feet back on to the floor. It felt like someone had hit me in the stomach and I bent over in pain. I unshed I hadn’t heard.
It couldn’t be true, could it? Simon was only going out with me because I was like, a novelty? He wanted to appear different? My eyes pricked with tears. I thought Simon really liked me. And his mum seeemed very nice when I met her the other day. She hadn’t seemed unduly upset, but had she just been acting polite and was secretly appalled?
It felt like someone had taken my breath away and I gasped for air. Then, suddenly, the flood gates opened and tears started running down my face.
Graffiti scrawled on the back of
the loo door stared harshly back at me. ‘Life’s a bitch,’ it said, ‘and then you die.’ Life is a bitch, I thought. My boyfriend’s using me to upset his parents. My parents haven’t got jobs. All I seem to do these days is want things I can’t have. I’ve become really shallow. And I don’t know anything any more.
Suddenly, there was a timid knock on the door.
‘Are you all right in there?’ It was Izzie’s voice.
I unlocked the door. ‘It’s me,’ I sobbed.
‘Oh, Nesta,’ she cried, pushing the door open properly. ‘What’s the matter?’
I took great gulps of air and tried to get out what I’d overheard. Izzie listened quiedy but by the time I’d finished she looked angry.
‘What a cow,’ she said. She handed me a bit of loo paper and put her arm round me. ‘I’d like to sock her in her stupid snotty face. I saw them just now, standing at the back of the room like, so superior. Like they’re so above the rest of us.’
‘Tanya’s OK,’ I said. ‘She stuck up for me.’
‘Then I don’t know why she hangs round with Cressida. She should dump her. And have you seen them? It’s like they’re both stuck to their mobiles. They haven’t had them off their ears since they arrived.’
‘They’re always like that,’ I said.
‘We should call them Mobile Sloanes,’ said Izzie, smiling wickedly. ‘I might even write a song about them. Mobile Sloanes. Ice-blonde clones . . . Yeah, I’ll work on it.’
I was beginning to feel a bit better.
‘Mobile Sloanes,’ I laughed and blew my nose. Then, for the first time, I noticed what Izzie was wearing. She had on the gear from Cyberdog but she’d done her makeup bright silver with electric blue eyelashes and glittery blue nail polish. Her hair was gelled back into a high ponytail and she had a blue lightning symbol painted on her forehead like a cosmic third eye.
‘Wow, Izzie, you look totally amazing.’
‘You think? Not too much?’
Yeah, yeah, too much. That’s why it’s so cool. You look really beautiful. Like a galaxy princess. I feel so boring beside you.’
‘You look great, as well,’ said Izzie. ‘That biker-babe look really suits you.’ I’d worn my old favourites - black leather trousers and jacket. ‘You look a ton better than those two sloane clones out there. At least you have your own style.’
Mates, Dates and Portobello Princesses Page 8