All Mates Together

by Cathy Hopkins

  She was laughing. ‘You’ve got to see this,’ she said, and ushered us into her kitchen where she spread the paper out on the table.

  ‘Oh. My. God!’ I said when I saw the front page.

  Local Ladettes On Fun Girls’ Night Out, read the headline underneath a big picture in colour of all the girls on Jen’s hen night in various states of dishevelment and Squidge, Mac, Jamie and Ollie in their undies. It was hilarious and everyone looked like they were having a whale of a time.

  Underneath the photo, Mr Gibbs had written a scathing article about how modern girls were out binge-drinking at younger and younger ages, which was unfair because Lia, Becca and I had only had cokes.

  ‘But it wasn’t like that,’ I said. ‘We weren’t being louts and it was her hen night.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Squidge. ‘It wasn’t as if anyone was sick on the pavement or anything.’

  Mrs Squires waved her hand dismissively. ‘Oh don’t worry about old John Gibbs. He thinks it’s clever to have a go at everyone. Typical journalist. Making a story out of nothing.’

  I hope it does come to nothing, I thought. My teachers and everyone in the village is going to see that paper. I hope they don’t all think we’ve turned into ladettes over the summer holidays.

  Mrs Squires must have seen that I looked worried. ‘Hey, let it go, Cat, love. Everyone knows you’re not a lout.’

  I tried to tell myself she was right, but it didn’t help when Becca and I rode back through the village and a bunch of Luke and Joe’s mates were outside the newsagent’s and starting acting drunk and falling over when they saw us.

  ‘Just ignore them,’ said Becca.

  And then Mrs McNelly from the post office saw us and acted out glugging from a bottle then staggering about.

  ‘Very funny,’ I said with an attempt to smile.

  It didn’t stop with her. It appeared that everyone had seen the paper. The lady from the off-licence waved at us from the window when we drove past and pointed at a pile of cans of lager. The ladies in the baker’s laughed when they saw us and danced a quick conga round the shop.

  As we got closer to my house, a silver-blue Mercedes sports drove by and slowed down in front of us. ‘Oh, probably someone stopping to ask for our autograph,’ said Becca, ‘seeing as we’re the most famous non-drinking lager louts in the country.’

  A stunning-looking middle-aged blond lady got out of the car and came towards us. It was Mrs Axford.

  ‘Hey, you two,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Axford,’ we chorused.

  ‘Hey, Cat, Lia told me about your predicament re Jen’s wedding,’ she said, ‘and I’d love to do what I can to help. I have a company I use up in London and they’re used to last-minute requests. I’ve already spoken to them and they can let us have a marquee. One of those red-and-gold Arabian-type ones. Holds about a hundred. Would that do?’

  ‘Oh gosh, yes, that would be perfect. Do you know how big it is exactly, because our garden isn’t that huge.’

  Mrs Axford smiled her mega-watt smile. ‘How about we put it up on the beach at the bottom of our garden? You know, where Lia held that Moroccan barbecue for Squidge? Do you think your dad and Jen would like that? It would be so romantic when the sun goes down and there’s plenty of parking up at the house for all the guests.’

  I felt as if I’d won the lottery or something. Suddenly everything seemed to be working out.

  ‘Like it? They’d love it!’ I said. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘Pleasure. So that’s sorted then,’ said Mrs Axford and went back to her car. ‘Ask Jen to give me a call and we’ll finalise details.’

  ‘What a day,’ I said to Becca as the Mercedes started up and drove off. ‘My room – sorted. Wedding location – sorted. Squidge’s fear of getting back on his bike – sorted. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how things can change? One day everything seems hopeless, then it can all turn around again out of the blue and work out to be better than you ever imagined.’

  ‘Nil desperandum,’ said Becca. ‘I think that means: never give up or despair, or something like that, as you never know what’s around the next corner.’

  At that moment, a white van came whizzing round the bend. We could see that the man in the passenger seat was reading the local paper. He glanced at his paper, then at us, then back at the paper, then waved out the window. ‘All right, dahlings?’ he called.

  I grinned back at him. ‘Actually I am,’ I called back. ‘All right and double it!’

  IT WAS THE MORNING of the wedding and the house felt strangely quiet, seeing as it was The Big Day.

  Squidge’s mum was upstairs doing Jen’s hair.

  Emma was in her room next door with Jen’s best mate, Carole, who was painting her toenails.

  Dad had gone off early to get changed at his best man’s house.

  Joe and Luke had already gone off up to the church at Rame Head, where they were acting as ushers. They’d looked so cute before they went, in their navy suits with their hair brushed, their faces all shiny.

  I had been ready for over half an hour.

  In my dress.

  Make-up on.

  Hair blow-dried.

  Sitting on my bed.

  Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.

  I got up and looked out of the window in case the car arrived early, and my pre-wedding butterflies were suddenly taken over by an overwhelming feeling of distress. I found myself taking a loooooong deep breath as if something was happening that was hard to take in. This really was it. Jen would be Mrs Kennedy, Dad’s wife from today on. Not my mum any more. My Mrs Kennedy was deceased. Gone. And I felt desperately sad about it. It’s strange. So many times I thought that I’d come to terms with her death. Accepted that I’ll never see or hear her again – and then it happens, like a tiger jumping unexpectedly out of the bushes at me, I feel knocked over with grief and paralysed with the finality of it all. The fact that I’ll never hear her voice again. See her face. Her smile. She’s not coming back. How can people just be there one day and not the next? Where do they go?

  I needed to see her. To feel something of hers. So I pulled the trunk out.

  As I was looking at the pictures, there was a knock on the door. I’m not going to cover these up, I thought, I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t looking at them, whoever it is knocking. She was my mum and part of this family, although you’d hardly know it. A couple of days ago, I had finally shown the contents of the trunk to Luke, Joe and Emma. I thought it was going to be such a big thing for them, but Emma looked at them like she would one of her comics. Interested for a moment, then it was like, so what? Old photos. They could have been of anyone. A stranger. I don’t think she grasped their importance at all. Maybe she will later, I told myself. When she’s older. Joe didn’t seem that bothered either. He flicked through, then shrugged and went back to playing a game on his computer. He was three when she died. Did he remember her at all? Only Luke stayed and went through them. He looked sad. He was five when she died. Younger than Emma is now, but old enough to have some memories. ‘I wish I could remember more,’ was all he said before he too left me alone with her relics.

  I looked up from the photos as my door opened. It was Jen.

  ‘Hey,’ she said and tip-toed in. She was still in her dressing-gown, but her hair and make-up were done.

  ‘You look fab,’ I said. ‘Don’t think much of the wedding dress, though.’

  She laughed and gave me a twirl. ‘That would be a laugh, wouldn’t it? Turning up like this? Yeah, let’s go in our jim-jams. God, I’m neeeeervooooous.’ She glanced down at the photos and saw what I’d been doing and came and sat next to me on the bed. ‘Looking at your photos of your mum, hey?’

  I nodded. ‘I was thinking that you’ll be Mrs Kennedy after today.’

  She put her hand over mine. ‘I’ll be Jennifer Kennedy. Your mum will always be Laura Kennedy. Actually, Cat . . . I was thinking about all the things you found,’ she said. ‘And I have a suggestion. Rather th
an leaving it all in that trunk under the bed, I was thinking, why don’t you do something with it all . . . ?’

  ‘Do something? Like what?’ I held my breath. For a moment, I imagined that she might be about to ask me to throw it all out or give me a lecture about letting go of the past.

  ‘Make a journal or an album of some sort,’ said Jen. ‘A book of your mum’s life – as a tribute to her. Put in examples of her work, her photos, maybe even testimonies from people who knew her. Get in touch with all her relatives and old friends. Ask them for anecdotes. Write them down. Ask them for any photos you maybe haven’t seen. And then maybe frame your favourite ones for the house. We can put them wherever you like.’

  I let out the breath I had been holding in and, at first, I didn’t say anything in response. I thought it was the most brilliant idea and already my mind had gone into overdrive picking a photo for the cover. Thinking about how I could lay it out. I could get TJ to help, as I know she runs the school magazine at her school up in London and knows about layout and stuff. Squidge could help me photograph her favourite places down here. Yes. What a fab, fab idea. I would make it the most beautiful book ever. I knew that later in their lives, Emma, Joe and Luke would want to know more about Mum. It would be fantastic to have it all there, not shoved away, forgotten, unimportant, gathering dust. She was part of all our lives and deserved to be recognised for that.

  Jen looked worried. ‘Oh God, have I done it again?’ she asked. ‘Overstepped the mark?’

  I turned and hugged her. ‘No. Nooooo. Jen, it’s the best idea I have ever, ever heard. Thank you so much. I love it.’

  Jen looked delighted at my reaction and, for a moment, I saw her eyes shine with tears. It was going to be that kind of a day, I thought, and at that moment, I knew that it was really was going to be a good new chapter in all our lives.

  ‘You ready?’ I asked as I brushed my own tears aside.

  Jen took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yes. No. Almost.’

  ‘How you feeling?’

  Jen let out another long sigh. ‘Arghhhhhhh. Scared. Nervous. Petrified. Happy. Ready. Almost. Oh God . . .’

  I stood up and put my hands on my hips. ‘What we need in this house is music!’ I declared. ‘This place is way too quiet for a pre-wedding.’

  I raced downstairs and found a CD amongst Dad’s classic collection from the sixties. I put on the track I wanted and turned the volume up. The sound of the Dixie Cups’ ‘Chapel of Love’ rang out of the speakers at full blast: ‘Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married. Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married. Gee, I really love him and we’re gonna get married. Going to the chapel of love.’

  Suddenly there was a commotion in the hall and I went out to see what it was. Emma, Carole and Squidge’s mum had appeared in the corridor, each with a hairbrush in her hand like a microphone. With Mrs Squires leading the other two, they went into a dance routine, shimmying a couple of steps to the left and then to the right like they had been rehearsing for weeks. They made the most hysterical girl band: tiny Emma in her fairy outfit (back from the dry-cleaner’s and pristine again), Carole with her blond hair still in big rollers, and Mrs Squires in her hairdressing overall. But to the left and right they grooved in perfect time, waving their arms in the air to the rhythm of the song. Jen and I clapped our appreciation, then we all danced up and down the stairs, then along the downstairs hallway, singing at the top of our voices: ‘Going to the CHAPEL OF LOOOOOOOOVE.’

  Outside, the wedding car tooted its arrival.

  ‘Oh God, I’m not even dressed!’ cried Jen, and it was like someone pressed the fast forward button on a DVD, and we all went into top gear getting ready. Jen putting her dress on, Carole taking her rollers out, me applying a last slick of lip-gloss and squirt of my Lacoste Touch of Pink perfume.

  It was going to be a great day.

  ‘She’s here, she’s here,’ called Luke, and ran into the church when the limo drew up outside the church on the lane up to Rame Head.

  Jen stepped out of the car and a couple of latecomers stopped to stare and say, ‘Ahhh.’

  She looked an absolute picture. Radiant, elegant and immaculate. She smiled at me nervously as she made her way through the little gate and up the path towards the church. Once outside the porch, we stopped, we all took deep breaths, then a grinning Luke and Joe opened the tall doors.

  It was time.

  As we stepped inside, immediately the music to the song The Rose by Bette Midler started up. Dad was standing at the front and turned, and when I saw his expression when he looked at Jen, for the third time that day, I had to choke back tears. The pews were full of familiar faces and, as we walked up the aisle, everyone’s smile was on full beam. It was amazing. Like walking through waves of love that were rolling towards us. I had never experienced anything like it and felt my face split into an enormous grin. Most of the village was there, all done out in their best clothes. Even Mr Miserable Gibbs from the local paper was there, looking on with wet eyes. Dad was a popular member of the community, as Mum had been, and it seemed that everyone was glad to see him happy again after his loss. On the bride’s side were Jen’s family and all her mates from the hen night, plus a few others. Most of them looked like they were torn between smiling and crying.

  On Dad’s side were the villagers, a few cousins and aunts and uncles, my new London friends, looking like they’d stepped out of a magazine: Nesta, TJ, Lucy, and next to them the Axfords and Jamie, who wasn’t looking at Jen, he was looking at me. At the front, Squidge was videoing the arrival of the bride, Mac beside him taking photos of the guests on the digi-camera. And on the right, Izzie was at a microphone singing The Rose with Becca.

  It felt like a perfect moment. I glanced over and caught Dad’s eye for a second. He looked so young and hopeful and I thought, I really do hope he is happy with Jen. He deserves a second chance. He smiled and nodded before turning towards the altar and the priest, who began to speak.

  ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . .’

  Dearly beloved. I looked up at the altar and wondered if Mum was somewhere looking down on us. There is so much we don’t know, I thought, so much we don’t understand, but whatever happens, a part of her will always live on in me and in my memories of her, and I will always cherish them. Yes, she has gone, but she will always be there as an important part of my past. The beginning chapters of my life. In the meantime, I’m still here. We’re still here. Dad, Luke, Emma, Joe and now Jen. My family. I glanced back at the pews where my lovely friends, old and new, were now seated together: Becca, Lia, Mac and Squidge, Jamie, Lucy, TJ, Izzie and Nesta. They all saw me look round, beamed back at me and Izzie gave me the thumbs-up.

  So much has happened in this holiday, I thought. So much has changed. New house. New stepmum. New friends. It’s the end of August. Another week and it will be back to school. Into Year Ten and hopefully lots of good times ahead. I know sometimes my life will still feel like a rollercoaster ride, but that’s OK, because that seems to be the way of things as far as I can make out. Up, down, round and round we go through all the changes.

  As the priest continued, and Jen and Dad stood facing each other saying their vows, I felt a wave of happiness begin to rise in me. Yes, there would be good times ahead. I could feel it. The past has gone, the future is a closed book, but this present moment is real – and here we are in it, the dearly beloved, all mates together.

  The complete Cathy Hopkins collection

  The MATES, DATES series

  1. Mates, Dates and Inflatable Bras

  2. Mates, Dates and Cosmic Kisses

  3. Mates, Dates and Portobello Princesses

  4. Mates, Dates and Sleepover Secrets

  5. Mates, Dates and Sole Survivors

  6. Mates, Dates and Mad Mistakes

  7. Mates, Dates and Pulling Power

  8. Mates, Dates and Tempting Trouble

  9. Mates, Dates and Great Escapes

  10. Mates,
Dates and Chocolate Cheats

  11. Mates, Dates and Diamond Destiny

  12. Mates, Dates and Sizzling Summers

  Companion Books:

  Mates, Dates and Flirting

  Mates, Dates and Saving the Planet

  Mates, Dates Guide to Life

  Mates, Dates and You

  Mates, Dates Journal

  The TRUTH, DARE, KISS, PROMISE series

  1.White Lies and Barefaced Truths

  2. Pop Princess

  3.Teen Queens and Has-Beens

  4. Starstruck

  5. Double Dare

  6. Midsummer Meltdown

  7. Love Lottery

  8. All Mates Together

  The CINNAMON GIRL series

  1.This Way to Paradise

  2. Starting Over

  3. Looking For a Hero

  Find out more at www.piccadillypress.co.uk

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