Girl, 15: Flirting for England (15 page)

‘OK, never mind.’ Jess felt herself plummeting down into doom again. ‘It’s obvious you can’t help. Talk to you again soon. Bye.’ She put the phone down without even waiting for Dad to say, ‘Love you’,
like he usually did. And she hadn’t said, ‘Love you’ herself either. She felt slightly sick about that. But she was furious that Dad wouldn’t back her up. He was so spineless sometimes – especially when it came to talking to Mum.

Jess went downstairs into her room and sat glumly at her desk. The photo of Edouard was still pinned to her noticeboard. His smile didn’t look glamorous any more, now she knew he was barely five feet tall. She ripped it off the board and threw it in the bin. Then she suddenly thought that, if by some preposterous accident Edouard might come into her room, he might see his photo in her rubbish bin and feel hurt. So she picked it up and put it out of sight in a drawer.

Her mobile buzzed. There was a text from Flora:
WORKING ON IT. GIVE ME TIME.

Jess instantly texted back.
I BEG YOU, FIX IT AND I WILL WORSHIP YOU ALWAYS.

Amid the deep, desolate, echoing despair there was the faintest hint of hope.

Chapter 20

Jess got out her homework books. They weighed a ton. How ironical it was that her granny could continue to talk to her grandpa after he’d been dead for months, when her stupid parents couldn’t exchange a few words on the phone, even though they were still alive. Especially as whenever her mum talked to anybody about the divorce, she always smiled in a superior kind of way and said, ‘It’s all very amicable.’

If this is
amicable
, thought Jess,
don’t let me ever have to experience
hostile
. She did some homework. It felt almost soothing, it was so far removed from her present traumas. Jess had to draw a map of the world and shade in the area covered by coniferous forests. For a brief half hour she imagined a carefree life spent frolicking in the forests with Flora and Fred, but eventually she realised that the frolicking would probably be forbidden by feeble parents worried about fierce, ferocious, fanged wolves, bears and other feral fauna.

The phone rang. Jess’s heart leapt and she jumped up, but she was only halfway to the door when her mum answered it, upstairs in her study. There was a moment’s pause, and then she called, ‘Jess! It’s Dad!’

Jess ran out to the kitchen, grabbed the phone and said, ‘Hello!’ She heard the faint click of her mum replacing the phone upstairs.

‘You hung up on me,’ said Dad.

‘Sorry,’ said Jess. ‘I was in a total strop. I do love you, though. Honest.’

‘I do love you, too,’ said Dad. ‘And I’ve had a think about it and I’ll talk to Mum about the camping trip if you like.’

‘But, Dad – you spoke to her just now.’

‘Yes, but I thought I’d better talk to you first and see if anything else had happened since we spoke. Any more developments to the melodrama.’

‘No. I’ll get her now. Hang on!’

Jess raced upstairs, only to see her mum disappearing into the bathroom.

‘Mum! Wait!’ she called. ‘Dad wants to speak to you!’

Her mum didn’t even pause. She just kind of flared her eyes slightly as she closed the bathroom door in Jess’s face.

‘I’m having a bath now!’ she said through the door. ‘Apologise to him for me! We can catch up later on.’ Jess heard the bath taps being turned on.

Jess’s heart sank yet again. She went into Mum’s study and picked up the phone there.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ she said. ‘Mum’s in the loo, and she’s running a bath, and she’s already getting undressed, and she can’t come out because of Edouard.’ She felt she had to exaggerate her mum’s situation so Dad wouldn’t be offended. She seemed to spend so much of her time as a kind of diplomatic go-between, when her parents, being technically adults, should have been able to communicate politely themselves.

‘Oh well.’ Dad sounded relieved that he didn’t have to speak to Mum. He just couldn’t hide it. ‘Never mind. Maybe later. Or tomorrow.’

‘You’re such a wuss,’ said Jess. ‘I can see you’re wriggling out of it. By tomorrow it’ll be too late. Ring in about an hour, OK?’

‘OK,’ said Dad doubtfully. ‘I’ll try.’

‘
Try?
’ snapped Jess. ‘You pick the phone up, dial and speak. What’s so difficult?’

‘Sorry,’ said Dad. ‘I admit, I am hopeless.’ But even the way he said it was kind of satisfied. Jess felt irritated, but she decided she simply had to keep her temper now and say goodbye in a civilised way.

Suddenly she heard Edouard’s door open. He went downstairs – normally, this time.

‘OK, Dad,’ she said. ‘The French boy’s just gone downstairs. I ought to go and be with Granny. She speaks even less French than I do, which is totally nil.’

Dad said goodbye, and Jess paid a fleeting visit to Mum’s bedroom mirror, shuddered in dismay and went downstairs. She had assumed that Granny would be watching TV and Edouard would be standing about awkwardly, but to her surprise they were both sitting at the kitchen table, and Granny had got out her packs of cards and was shuffling them.

‘Ah, hello, dear,’ she said. ‘We were going to play Bezique, but we can play Belote instead if you want to join us, because Bezique’s just for two.’ Jess was amazed. Her granny’s packs of cards had been a constant part of Jess’s childhood, but she hadn’t realised that some of the games Granny played had French names. Edouard was looking relaxed for once.

‘Yes, why not?’ said Jess. ‘And afterwards maybe we can play poker for matchsticks.’

Half an hour later, Jess realised she was beginning to feel a lot better. Edouard had smiled a few times. Granny seemed to have melted him, the old charmer that she was. He had won most of the card games. They were planning a hot chocolate and chocolate biscuit break in five minutes, which would surely transform him into a purring pussycat.

Then the phone rang. Jess jumped up to answer it, half expecting it would be Dad again. But it wasn’t.

‘Hello,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Could I speak to Mrs Jordan, please? This is Rose Bradshaw.’ The woman sounded quite posh, but sort of shy and dreamy.

‘Oh, yes, of course. Hang on a minute, I’ll go and find her,’ said Jess, slightly intimidated. She ran upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. Mum was having one of her endless soaky baths.

‘Mum!’ she called. ‘There’s a phone call for you! A strange woman! She sounds important! Her name’s Rose Bradshaw!’

‘Rose Bradshaw?’ said Mum, sounding startled.

‘Maybe it’s somebody from the library!’ said Jess. ‘Come quick!’

‘I don’t know that name at all. Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,’ said Mum, sounding flustered. Jess could hear splashy sounds of her getting out of the bath.

Typical
, thought Jess.
When an unknown woman rings, Mum scrambles out of the bath in ludicrous haste; when my actual dad rings, her literal ex and only husband, she locks herself in the bathroom even though she hasn’t even started undressing.

‘Don’t tell her I was in the bath!’ added Mum, sounding foolishly guilty for some reason.

‘Why not?’ asked Jess. ‘It’s not illegal.’

‘If you say I was in the bath, she’ll feel guilty she rang so late,’ said Mum. ‘Oh, don’t bother – I’m nearly ready . . .’ And then suddenly the bathroom door was flung open and Mum, swathed in towels, rushed past into her study. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it,’ she added, and picked up the phone.

‘Hello?’ she said. Jess loitered on the landing, eavesdropping. ‘Yes . . . Yes. Ah, I see . . . Jess!’ called her mum. ‘Please could you go downstairs and put the phone down? I can hear Granny talking.’

Jess went downstairs. Granny was making the hot chocolate and merrily telling Edouard about her arthritic hip. He couldn’t have understood a word, but he didn’t seem to mind. Granny had found the chocolate biscuits and he was getting stuck in. Jess replaced the phone.

A few minutes later, Mum came downstairs in her naff old jog pants and fleece.

‘That was Jodie’s aunt,’ she said. ‘She had a long talk with me and reassured me that this camping trip is going to be properly organised. Apparently Fred’s providing a big tent for the boys and Mrs Bradshaw’s providing a big tent for the girls, and she’s going to keep an eye on you all, and if it rains you can move to the barn.’

‘So it’s OK, then?’ Jess hardly dared breathe.

‘I suppose so,’ said Mum, with just a hint of reluctant sulkiness.

‘Brilliant!’ said Jess.

Later that evening, after a lot more card games, Jess had a call from Flora, who explained how it had all happened.

‘My mum rang Jodie’s mum and got Jodie’s auntie’s number,’ she said. ‘And my mum talked to her. And then Jodie’s mum rang a friend of hers who has an amazing tent. And then I rang Jodie and persuaded her to let Fred come. And then Mum rang Fred’s mum and, and then . . . oh, there were loads more phone calls with the grown-ups all faffing around and fussing about details, and eventually they got it all sorted.’

‘You beauty!’ said Jess. ‘A gold star for fixing! Tomorrow I shall kiss your feet – no, wait, your hand – no, sorry – well, I’ll refrain from punching you. Will that do?’

‘Oh yes, that’s such a relief!’ said Flora. ‘Anyway, I hope this camping trip lives up to the promise. I mean, after everything we’ve been through to get it sorted, it’d be terrible if it was a disaster, wouldn’t it?’

‘What can go wrong?’ said Jess confidently. She just knew it was going to be brilliant.

As she kissed Granny goodnight later, Granny gave the thumbs-up.

‘So pleased your camping trip is on after all!’ she whispered. They were in Jess’s room, where Granny was going to sleep, but Mum could just have overheard. ‘I expect it was Grandpa’s influence!’ And Granny gave a ludicrous wink. Jess didn’t have the heart to tell her that no, it had been Flora and Flora’s mum.

But then, who knows? Maybe Grandpa had sent down some positive vibes. Jess did hope that Granny would cut down on the supernatural stuff soon, though. It was just a tad creepy and weird.

Chapter 21