‘I know what you mean. I don’t think anyone does.’
‘Some of the stuff I’m scared of is really stupid, which doesn’t help.’
‘Everyone’s scared of stupid stuff, though,’ Chantel says. ‘My mum’s scared of newspapers.’
‘Newspapers?’
‘Yeah. The print. When she was a kid she put newspaper in her hamster’s cage and it died, because the print was toxic. Anyway, since then she won’t touch newspapers of any sort. She thinks if she reads enough newspapers over a long enough period of time the print might be toxic enough to kill her too. How stupid is that?’
‘It’s quite logical, in a way.’
‘Yeah, but you can take logic too far, can’t you?’
It’s warm and secretive in the wardrobe. Julie feels safe in there.
‘You OK?’ Chantel asks.
‘Yeah. I feel much better.’
‘It’s still bad out there, though.’
‘We’d better stay in here, then,’ Julie says. ‘Unless . . . ?’
‘No, I’m cool. I like it in here, actually. I’ve never sat in a wardrobe before.’
‘Me neither. I’ve sat in cupboards, of course.’
Chantel laughs. ‘You’re mental. You remind me of my granddad.’
‘Your granddad? How?’
‘He was scared of planes, storms, any loud noises in the sky. It was because of the war. He died about five years ago but when the Gulf War was on he insisted we turn off all the lights. He thought we’d have to have another blackout, and even though we explained it wasn’t that type of war, he still insisted on keeping all the lights off at night. Imagine, though, thinking every plane that flies overhead is going to bomb you or something. That’s what his life was like for about fifty years. It was like the world moved on but he couldn’t. Well, I suppose if you’d seen the things he’d seen, how could you?’
Julie thinks every plane that flies overhead is going to fall out of the sky. She can almost imagine what that would be like. But she doesn’t have a reason like he did. She has no idea why she finds planes so terrifying. Julie finds planes so terrifying that when she cried at the end of Casablanca, it was because she thought the plane the Laszlos left in was going to crash. In the wardrobe, though, it feels almost like planes don’t exist, and it’s like wartime in here, but a special wartime with no planes and no actual war: a cosy bunker, underground.
‘I don’t even notice planes going overhead,’ Chantel continues. ‘But he noticed every single one. I think the worry almost sent him mad.’ She looks really sad. ‘He was such a great bloke, you know? I loved my granddad so much. You know how people sometimes say things like, “All old people go on about the war all the time,” like it’s boring? I hate people like that. It isn’t boring. Some of the stories Granddad told me were things I’ll never forget. And also, we’re only all here living in freedom because of what our grandparents did. I just can’t understand why people our age wouldn’t show those people some respect because of that, because they were so brave and did all that stuff people do on their PlayStations now – but actually for real, and actually for a reason. How many people of our generation would actually see someone get killed? And if you did, you’d get shoved into grief counselling or something. In the war, you just had to get on with it. Do you know the saddest thing?’
‘What?’ says Julie, pushing her hair back.
‘Soon there won’t be anyone left who remembers the war, and people won’t go on about it, and no one will complain about old people talking about the war any more, because there won’t be any of that generation left. Don’t you think that’s weird? All my life, old people have talked about the war. But I realised that soon you’ll have a new generation of old people who’ll just talk about DIY and cruises or something. They’ll have been too young to have been in the war. I suppose maybe some of those people would have lost their parents in the war, so they might talk about it a bit. Then there’s us, and even though our parents and grandparents might have been affected by it, we don’t talk about it much, and then there’ll be our children, who’ll be like, “What war?” It’s sad, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. When you put it like that . . . It really is.’
‘My granny was a lesbian during the war,’ Chantel says, almost proudly.
Julie laughs. ‘Only during the war?’
‘Pretty much. She loved my granddad loads but they didn’t have sex before marriage in those days, I don’t think, and in the end they were more like companions. I think she always wanted to be with a woman. She used to hint at it, but she never really did anything about it. I don’t want to be like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Not experiencing the things I want to experience.’
‘Oh.’ Julie laughs. ‘I thought you meant you didn’t want to go through life not being a lesbian.’
Chantel laughs too. ‘I do want to try it out,’ she says. ‘Seriously.’
‘Try what out?’
‘Doing it with a girl. I was telling Luke the other night.’
‘I bet he loved that.’
‘Oh, he did.’
They both laugh.
‘Maybe everyone’s just bisexual anyway,’ Chantel says. ‘I read that somewhere.’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard that, too.’
Chantel shrugs. ‘Could be true, I suppose.’
‘Have you ever fancied a girl?’ Julie asks.
Chantel wrinkles her nose. Julie can only see her vaguely in the dark of the wardrobe. ‘No, not really. I’m still trying. Maybe Drew Barrymore.’
‘Hmm.’ Julie couldn’t picture herself fancying Drew Barrymore.
‘What about you?’ Chantel asks.
‘Huh? Me what?’
‘Have you ever fancied a girl, you muppet.’
‘Oh. Yeah, I did once, actually.’
Chantel squeals. ‘Really? Truly?’
‘Yeah. And, well, don’t tell anyone this . . .’
‘I won’t.’
Julie takes a deep breath. ‘It was Charlotte.’
‘Wow. Did you ever tell her?’
‘Not exactly. I think she knew but nothing ever happened.’
‘Are you glad?’
‘Maybe. I’m not sure we’d still be friends if . . .’
‘Yeah. Doing it with friends is never good.’
‘I know. Charlotte was really confused at the time as well. She thought she might be a lesbian because she wanted to leave her boyfriend. Then he died. I don’t know what she thinks now.’
‘She isn’t. A lesbian, I mean.’
‘Oh. How do you know? Did you talk about it?’
‘Yeah. Last night. I was going on about it again – you wouldn’t think I’m actually quite shy, would you? I can’t remember how it came up in conversation in the first place . . . Oh, yeah, we were saying you were pretty, and then we wondered if that made us sound dykey, or at least I was wondering about that – well, sort of hoping, actually. Charlotte told me about how she went around Europe after she stopped living here – she was trying to find herself or something. She was hitching, and she ended up doing a few hundred miles with a lesbian truck-driver. I think that convinced her that the whole thing wasn’t her scene.’
Julie’s still blushing from the idea of two girls finding her pretty. Obviously Charlotte didn’t mention that there was any possible connection at all between her finding Julie pretty and ending up going around Europe. But now Julie thinks about it, there probably wasn’t.
‘In what way?’ Julie asks.
‘She said she couldn’t stand the thought of having to be all girly or all blokey. And she kept going on about mullets, about how all dykes seemed to have mullets.’
‘That sounds like Charlotte.’
‘Yeah.’ Chantel laughs. ‘So . . . Have you ever liked any other girls?’
‘No, I don’t think so. With Charlotte I think I was just caught up in a moment. I never could have done anything sexual with her.’
&
nbsp; ‘That’s the key, isn’t it? I mean, I can fancy girls if I really try, but I can’t ever really think about kissing one. Maybe it’s because I’ve been with so many blokes. I don’t know. I’ll have to keep trying.’
‘Why, though? Why’s it so important? Can’t you just give up trying?’
Chantel sighs. ‘This is going to sound stupid.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, just before I won the Lottery, my gran died . . .’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Julie says.
‘Yeah. I was devastated. Still am, actually. I was much closer to her than I am to my mum. I mean, my mum’s all right but we don’t totally get each other. She wants to be normal and I don’t . . . Or I do, but our ideas of what normal is are a bit different, if that makes any sense. Anyway, my gran seemed to have everything so sussed out. She loved my granddad, but she obviously had – or had at some point – this secret life. Not just the girl thing but other stuff, and I so wanted a way into knowing about it. If you gave her sherry, she’d hint at it, you know? But I never found out exactly what she’d done or what sort of person she’d been when she was young. But I’ve always wanted to be like her. And so far, I’m turning out just like my mum. I don’t want to be common and shag loads of guys and use my money to buy a pub and loads of gold jewellery. I know this makes me sound like a snob, but . . . I want to do something different, or interesting. I thought if I started shagging girls I’d be able to be different to Mum, and more like Gran. It’s stupid, really.’
‘Maybe you should just stick to surfing,’ Julie says, smiling.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘By the way,’ Julie says. ‘What’s with all the elephants?’
‘Huh?’
‘I noticed that you’ve got loads of elephants in your room.’
‘Oh, yeah. I like them. They’re my favourite animal.’
‘Why?’
‘They never forget. And they don’t mind being fat.’
The storm passes eventually and Julie has to come out of the wardrobe, although she felt better inside it than she’s felt anywhere recently. The sun’s shining through the dark-blue clouds outside, and although it’s still raining, it looks like it could brighten up soon.
Chantel’s smoothing down her skirt.
‘Do you want to come to Wales?’ Julie says suddenly.
‘OK,’ says Chantel, grinning. ‘I’d love to. I could do with an adventure. So what do you want to do about this camper van?’
‘Well, I suppose we definitely won’t all fit in my car . . .’
‘We’ll go van shopping tomorrow, then. My treat.’
‘And we’re going to have to make a space-suit,’ says Julie.
Chapter 28
No one can think of anyone who can sew, apart from Leanne.
‘Please, no,’ says Charlotte. ‘Anything but that.’
‘We don’t really have any other choice,’ says Julie.
‘Maybe I can learn,’ Charlotte suggests. ‘We’ve got all day today and most of tomorrow.’
It’s Friday now. The plan is to leave as soon as possible after it’s dark on Saturday night.
‘We need a sewing machine anyway,’ Julie points out. ‘And Leanne’s got one. We’re going to have to ask her. There’s no other way.’
‘Can’t we just buy one?’ Charlotte suggests.
Chantel shakes her head. ‘No one would know how to use it, would they?’
Charlotte, Julie and Chantel are in Julie’s bedroom. David, who’s been on a silver-foil-gathering mission since just before midnight last night, is still missing in action. His plan involved breaking into The Edge, stealing all the silver foil and then pissing in Owen’s office. No one knows if he succeeded but Julie’s hoping for the best because the foil is going to be one of the main parts of Luke’s space-suit. David was supposed to be here an hour ago. This is the first official meeting of the Going Out Committee.
Charlotte’s flicking through Auto Express. ‘There are loads of camper vans in here,’ she says. ‘So that bit shouldn’t be too difficult.’ She looks at her watch. ‘We should think about going to see some of them before too long.’
‘So who’s going? What’s the plan?’ Julie asks.
‘Well, you’re the only one who can drive apart from David and he’s not here. I think he’s banned anyway, so you’ll have to go look at the camper vans and test-drive them,’ Charlotte says. ‘And I’m not staying here on my own sewing with Leanne, so I’ll come with you . . .’
‘Hang on,’ says Chantel. ‘If we all go and get the van, who’s going to make the space-suit?’
‘Leanne, apparently,’ Charlotte says. ‘And Luke, when he wakes up.’
‘We’ll have to help, though. And we’ve still got to go and ask her if she’ll do it.’
‘Well, how long will it take to get a camper van?’ Charlotte asks.
Chantel and Julie both look blank.
‘It can’t take that long, can it?’ Charlotte says. ‘Leanne and Luke can start off the suit and we can all help tonight. And David, if he ever shows up again. I’ll start ringing these numbers while you two go and ask Leanne. Can I use your phone, Jules?’
‘Sure,’ says Julie.
Leanne isn’t at home. She’s at work.
‘I hope David’s all right,’ Julie says, as she drives into the retail park.
The Edge looks funny now, a place Julie knows she’ll never go to again.
‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ says Chantel.
Blockbuster has changed. The usual carpet now has a piece of yellow brick-effect linoleum looping across it, joining the ‘Manager’s Choice’ section to the popcorn and then around to the tills, where there’s a backlit display of Wizard of Oz-inspired films, including Wild at Heart, ET, My Own Private Idaho and the Back to the Future series.
‘Hi, Chantel, hi, Julie,’ Leanne says. ‘Do you like our yellow brick road?’
‘It’s nice,’ says Chantel uncertainly. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’
As well as her usual Blockbuster uniform, Leanne’s wearing bright-red shoes, blue ankle socks and has her hair tied in two bunches. She is also wearing blue eyeshadow, and has painted several freckles across her nose with what looks like brown eyeliner.
‘I’m Dorothy,’ she explains.
Chantel looks her up and down again. ‘Dorothy . . .?’
‘It’s Wizard of Oz week, dummy.’
Julie tries not to laugh. ‘We wanted a favour,’ she says.
‘I did wonder what you were doing here,’ Leanne says. ‘Owen’s not happy with you. I’m surprised you’d even show your face on the retail park now . . .’ Julie makes a face and Leanne pauses. ‘So anyway, what’s this favour?’ she asks suspiciously.
‘You can sew, can’t you?’ Chantel says.
‘Yeah, course I can. You know I can. Why?’
‘We’ve got a sewing project,’ Julie says. ‘We need your help.’
A customer comes up to the counter with three children’s videos and a PlayStation game. Leanne glares at Julie and Chantel and they move away from the counter. The man cheerfully places his choices on the counter and hands over his blue-and-yellow laminated membership card, smiling. Leanne scans the card and sort of tuts.
‘Oh dear,’ she says. ‘We’ve got some outstanding fines here.’
‘That’s OK,’ the man says, still smiling. ‘I think I dropped a couple of late ones in the box the other night . . . The kids always want to watch their films at least three times. I can’t understand it. I’ll be glad when these floods are over and they can get back to school. It’s driving me nuts . . .’
‘The fine is £12,’ Leanne says.
The man looks shocked. ‘Twelve quid? Wow. Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Lolita. It was four days late.’
‘Lolita?’ Now the man looks really confused. ‘Are you sure?’
‘What would you like to do, sir? You can pay by credit card, cheque or cash. I’m afraid I can’t let you hav
e these videos until you’ve cleared the fine.’
‘Look,’ he says, nicely. ‘The fine isn’t the problem, I just . . .’
‘If you can’t pay the fine, sir, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to take any more videos out until it is cleared,’ Leanne says. She picks up the man’s videos and his game and places them out of his reach behind the counter, as if he’s about to run off with them.
The man looks pissed off now. ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t pay the fine,’ he says slowly. ‘I am just saying that I don’t understand how it got there. Sure, I’ll pay it, if it’s mine, but I’m not sure it is, that’s all. And I don’t particularly like being spoken to as if I’m a . . .’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to clear the fine before you can take . . .’
‘I can pay the bloody fine,’ he says loudly, as if Leanne can’t hear him. ‘That’s not the issue. I’ve just never taken out – what was it? – Lolita. I only ever use this place to get stuff for the kids. My kids are six years old, eight years old and ten years old. Why would they want to watch Lolita?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but the computer clearly says . . .’
‘Are you suggesting your computer knows more about what I do than . . . I do?’
Leanne doesn’t answer. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she repeats, ‘but you’re going to have to . . .’
He takes his wallet out, frustrated now. ‘Are you a robot?’ he asks.
‘The computer says that . . .’
‘Here.’ He throws a selection of credit cards at her. ‘Take your fucking pick.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
The man takes a deep breath. He seems like the kind of person who’s never been ejected from any establishment in his life. ‘OK, look. I am going to pay this fine and then – rest assured – you won’t ever see me in here again. I’ll be using Videos Videos Videos on the High Street from now on. And you’ll be hearing from my solicitor about this.’
Leanne sighs. ‘I’ll clear this fine,’ she says. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t allow your membership here to continue. And I won’t be able to give you back your card.’
‘Can you not even lip-read?’ the man says. ‘I just said I’m never coming in here again. You can stick my membership card up your . . .’
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