Girl, 15: Flirting for England (16 page)

The field was divine. The sun was shining. It was gloriously warm for so early in the year, and Marie-Louise was already showing a convenient appetite for chores. She was unpacking all the catering stuff and arranging it tidily on a couple of boxes, near where they planned to have the campfire. Jodie’s uncle had brought them a load of dry wood. Jess was looking forward to sitting round the campfire and possibly singing silly songs tonight, under the stars.

The girls’ tent was a fabulous modern one which had kind of leapt into shape all by itself, enabling Flora, Jodie and Jess to sit on a blanket and jeer while they watched the boys struggling with Fred’s father’s old army tent. It didn’t really have any bloodstains and bullet holes, but there were loads of guy ropes and poles and things and the whole thing kept sagging in the middle.

‘It’s a good job Gerard’s so tall,’ sighed Jodie, proudly watching as her dreamboat held up one end of the tent. Gerard was wearing a vest-type T-shirt which revealed his olive skin. Occasionally he looked over to the girls, grinned and shrugged in a cool kind of way, but nobody could tell who he was grinning at because, of course, he was wearing his shades.

‘On the other hand, it’s a disaster that Fred’s so tall,’ said Jess. Fred was fussing with the other side of the tent and tripping over the tent pegs.

‘It’s a shame Edouard is such an insane little dork,’ said Jodie. ‘Never mind, Jess, maybe it’ll be your turn next year.’

This was Jodie’s way of warning Jess and Flora that Gerard was, in some territorial kind of way, utterly hers. Even though everybody had noticed Gerard’s tendency to escape from Jodie’s side whenever possible and chat to other girls.

‘Don’t forget that Fred and I are practically married,’ said Jess with a broad wink, in case Marie-Louise overheard. Although Edouard hadn’t been so gross as to reveal a sordid passion for her, she didn’t want to encourage him by appearing available. ‘And anyway, I absolutely adore Edouard. I’ve taught him to beg for biscuits and I’m having him wormed and de-flea’d next week.’ Flora giggled uncontrollably. Her laugh was infectious, like a rippling stream that just went on and on.

Edouard was floundering about somewhere inside the boys’ tent, trying to hold the thing up from the inside. He appeared to be enjoying himself in a grim kind of way. He was interested in nature and had already found some really fascinating beetles by the stump of a dead old tree. He hadn’t even looked at Jess for hours. It was wonderful.

‘Oh, this place!’ drooled Flora, shaking her golden locks in the dazzling sunshine. ‘It’s absolute heaven! Look at that lovely stream down there. I’m going to sunbathe. I’ll have to send my dad a text promising him I’m wearing Factor 30, though.’

Jess decided she would text her dad, too, even though he hadn’t rung back on the night of the Permission to Camp crisis. He’d texted her much, much later that night.
SORRY FORGOT TO RING AND NOW TOO LATE. USELESS. SORRY. SORRY SORRY. SHOOT ME – IT’D BE KINDEST IN THE LONG RUN. USELESS DAD. XXXX

‘I’m going to go and paddle in the stream,’ said Flora, getting up. ‘Anybody want to come?’

‘
Somebody’s
going to get the fire going,’ said Jodie in a martyred kind of way. ‘And cook the supper.’

‘Marie-Louise loves cooking,’ said Flora. ‘And she’s already unpacked all the stuff.’

‘So stop moaning, Jodie!’ said Jess. ‘Maybe Gerard can help you to get the fire going.’ The boys’ tent was nearly sorted. ‘Once we’ve had our paddle we’ll come back and help with the grub.’

Jess linked arms with Flora and they strolled off down the slope to the stream. It was sometimes slightly tricky when Jodie was around. She had a tendency to attach herself to them, and then try and boss them about, while permitting them no quality time alone to gossip and giggle.

‘Gerard could probably kindle fire just by giving the twigs a smouldering look,’ Jess whispered into Flora’s ear. ‘Honestly, he’s so up himself!’

‘He is slightly gorgeous, though,’ said Flora.

‘Hmmm,’ said Jess. She didn’t want to admit she’d already had an exciting dream about Gerard. Well, exciting apart from that bit at the end where he had turned into a baboon. ‘I suppose he’s OK if you like that sort of thing. And personally, of course, I
do
. I don’t know what’s the matter with me at the moment. I fancy everybody.’

‘Me, too,’ said Flora. ‘I even fancied a traffic warden yesterday.’

‘I hope there’s nothing too revolting in that water,’ pondered Jess as they arrived at the stream. ‘Or I might just have to fancy it.’

They sat down and took their shoes and socks off. The stream was rushing along, making a fabulous, splashy, gurgling sort of sound – a bit like Flora laughing, of course. There was a rope hanging from a tree – evidently kids had been down here playing at Tarzan and swinging across.

‘Right, then,’ said Jess. ‘Off you go. You’re the team leader, obviously, and you have to inspire your team by wading in bravely.’ Jess was secretly planning to stay on the bank if Flora’s scream as she entered the cold water was too piercingly loud.

‘How deep do you think it is?’ said Flora warily, getting to her feet and wriggling her toes.

‘Hardly up to your ankles,’ said Jess. ‘You can see the bottom, right? Wait! Maybe you should send a text to your dad.
AM PADDLING IN STREAM, DAD, BUT RELAX, IT’S ONLY SIX INCHES DEEP.
’

Flora picked her way gingerly to the water’s edge and hesitated for about three hours.

‘Stand on that big brown stone,’ suggested Jess. ‘But be gentle with it, because I’m starting to fancy it, in the absence of any male animals.’

Flora extended her beautiful foot and trod on the stone. It rocked treacherously, jolting her off-balance. She staggered about in the stream, splashing and screaming with laughter, and somehow managed to avoid falling over.

‘It’s absolutely freezing!’ she yelled. ‘I’m coming out!’

‘Well done, though,’ said Jess. ‘You could win a gold medal at paddling for England.’

Flora lurched out and landed on the grass. Her feet were muddy and kind of mottled with shock, but they were still, of course, the most beautiful feet for miles.

‘We should have brought a towel,’ said Flora. ‘I’ll have to go back to the tent. Coming?’

‘I don’t know . . .’ said Jess. ‘I think I’m just going to text my dad. I’ll come up in a minute.’ Flora went off, and Jess got out her phone.

AM SITTING BESIDE STREAM IN WHAT I BELIEVE IS CALLED ‘NATURE’. HOPE YOU’RE IMPRESSED. ALL WELL. BOYS SHARING TENT, GIRLS SHARING DIFFERENT TENT. NO DRUGS, NO ALCOHOL. ONLY THREAT TO HEALTH UNDERCOOKED SAUSAGES. HOPE EXHIBITION GOES WELL. LOVE, JESS.

She whizzed off the text and then sat and stared at the stream for a while. Then her phone buzzed in reply.

WISH I WAS
there
ALTHOUGH I DO REALISE THAT WOULD BE DISASTROU
S for you.
HAVE FUN. PRIVATE VIEW STARTS IN 2 HRS. MUST GO AND SUGAR MY HAIR. LOVE DAD XX

Jess smiled. She just
had
to go to Cornwall and see Dad this summer. She’d never even visited his new house down there. He often came up to town and they’d had a million laughs and done lots of crazy things, and seen movies and gone skating and had pizzas and stuff, but Jess really wanted to see where he lived, so she could imagine him just chilling out at home. She sighed.

Suddenly she heard footsteps and the chink of bottles. She turned round and there was Gerard, sauntering down towards her and carrying an armful of lemonade, Red Bull and Coke.

‘Hi, Jess!’ he said. Behind him, up at the top end of the field, Jess could see smoke – the campfire had evidently got going. Gerard carefully put the bottles on the grass and sat down beside her.

‘Jodie h’asked me to cool zese bottles,’ he said, ‘in ze stream.’ He lifted his shades up off his eyes and parked them on top of his head.

Wow, his eyes were amazing. A sort of wonderful green with little flecks of gold in them. Jess stared at Gerard, and, rather amazingly, Gerard stared right back. And very much against her will, Jess felt that the campfire was not the only thing starting to smoulder and fizz. Now that Gerard had arrived, she didn’t have to fancy that boring old stone any more. Here was a much more promising object.

Chapter 22

‘Right . . .’ said Jess. Suddenly her mind had gone blank.

‘Say somesing phoney, Jezz,’ said Gerard in a soft, low, purring voice. ‘You are h’amusing.’

Jess blushed. Gerard’s divine eyes were kind of melting her soul, to put it mildly. How could she think of anything phoney to say at a time like this?

She rolled over on to her tummy and picked up a bottle, then crawled to the water’s edge.

‘We can stick them in the mud so they don’t get carried off downstream,’ she said. As witty remarks go, it wasn’t prize-winning, but it was at least words in a row which made sense. Considering how fast Jess’s heart was beating, this was quite an achievement.

Gerard wriggled up beside her and they placed all the bottles in the stream. The silence was kind of ominous. They were lying so close together, their arms were almost touching. Their hands were in the water. Gerard scooped up a handful of mud.

‘How you say?’ he asked.

‘Mud,’ said Jess. Then she realised it sounded like the one word of French everybody knows:
merde
. Meaning, of course, poo. ‘Mud,’ she repeated. ‘Not
merde
.’

Gerard laughed. ‘You are phoney!’ he said.

‘Er – funny, not phoney,’ said Jess. ‘Fuh-nee.’

‘You are
fuh-nee
!’ repeated Gerard, grinning sideways at her.

‘What’s the French for mud?’ asked Jess. Not that she cared. It was just that every time Gerard looked at her, a kind of firework show went off inside her, and normal conversation was impossible, so she might as well learn a bit of French.

‘Ze mud –
la boue
,’ said Gerard.

‘What? Boo?’ asked Jess. What a weird language French was. So if you hid behind a door, then jumped out and said ‘Boo!’ in French, you’d be saying ‘Mud!’

‘
Oui, la boue
,’ said Gerard, staring deeply into her eyes. ‘I ham your French teacher.’

‘You sure are, sweetie!’ cried Jess, unable to contain a surge of delight. She scooped up a handful of mud. ‘And
boue
to you!’ she added playfully, and slapped the mud all over his hand. She was flirting for England, and in line for the gold medal.

‘And
boue
to you, too!’ said Gerard, laughing, and he scooped and slopped a handful right back on to her hands. Wow! Jess could suddenly understand the charm of mud-wrestling. Just as long as she could do it with Gerard.

Suddenly Gerard grabbed her hand under water. He pretended he was washing the mud off. A few crazy rockets went off in Jess’s chest. Gerard started playing with her fingers, and then basically squeezed her hand, hard, and wouldn’t let her go. He peeped sideways at her with a smouldering grin. Jess felt delightfully sick. And amazed. Could this really be happening? Could a guy she fancied actually be holding her hand? But there was a snake in this paradise.

‘What about Jodie?’ whispered Jess. Jodie was miles away at the top of the field, but still Jess could almost feel her watching.

Gerard shrugged – even though he was lying down. An English guy would never be able to do something like that. These Latin lovers were so supple.