Girls, Muddy, Moody Yet Magnificent (3 page)

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5

I rushed out into the garden, panicking on all cylinders. ‘No, listen!’ I hissed, ‘
I’ve
got us a job!’ I thought I’d mention the rate of pay later because it was a side issue.

‘But I’ve already told them we’ll start on Monday!’

‘Well, I’ve told
my
job we can start on Monday and my job is way more exciting than any other job could be!’

‘What’s so damn exciting about it?’ demanded Chloe.

‘It’s on a farm!’ I told her. ‘The same farm where Oliver Wyatt is working! In fact, he fixed it up for us!’

‘A farm?’ yelled Chloe. ‘No way! I’m frightened of cattle! It’ll be mank and smelly with piles of poo everywhere! My job is way more stylish and fun!’

‘What’s your job, then?’ I asked impatiently. I was so fixated on working on Oliver’s farm I couldn’t really care less about Chloe’s precious job, but I kind of had to ask.

‘It’s with that events company that Beast is working for,’ said Chloe. ‘Organising weddings and parties and catering and stuff. He says they need an extra two staff and we’ll spend the summer in a haze of continuous parties!’

‘I might have known you’d go running off to Beast!’ I sighed.

‘I so did
not
go running off to him!’ shouted Chloe. ‘I happened to bump into him in the street again, just after I left you, and we went for a coffee.’

‘Oh, well, if you’re determined to let him break your heart all over again . . .’

‘I
so
am not!’ snapped Chloe. ‘I am totally over Beast, OK? I swear to you on the sacred name of Orlando Bloom that I am completely and utterly over him.’

‘Well, in that case,’ I said, ‘I’m glad and stuff, obviously, but I am so
not
over Oliver, and my job is a chance for me to see him, like, every day and really get to know him.’ There was a brief silence.

‘How much does your job pay?’ demanded Chloe.

‘About the same as yours,’ I lied recklessly.

‘What would we be doing?’

‘Working in lovely fields and stuff.’ I was busking it a bit, now. ‘I think Oliver said something about the veg fields.’

‘I hate veg,’ said Chloe grumpily.

‘You don’t have to eat them, Chloe,’ I said. ‘Only, well, harvest them, maybe. Or feed them and water them and exercise them or something.’ I may have been thinking of horses – I’m so inexperienced, I’ve never ridden fifty metres on a horse, let alone a turnip.

‘What do we have to wear?’ asked Chloe crossly. ‘Horrible cagoules and stuff, I suppose.’

‘No – only lovely T-shirts and shorts and things.’ I was trying to make the job sound like a holiday. ‘We could get a tan.’

‘Zoe! I burn to a crisp in the sun! You’re talking serious health risks!’

‘A hat and some sunscreen!’ I blustered. ‘Long-sleeved shirts! We won’t be working outdoors all the time anyway! Some of the time we’ll be in a lovely cool barn!’ I was winging it, here, in desperation.

‘And what would we be doing in this lovely cool barn?’ asked Chloe in a sarcastic voice.

‘We’d be looking after baby lambs,’ I assured her. ‘With their cute big eyes and their fluff and their clip-clop little hooves.’ There was a long silence.

‘OK,’ said Chloe with a massive martyred sigh. ‘Beast’s job was going to be loads of fun – they’re doing a party on a river boat next week for a start – but if you’d rather wallow in piles of dung that’s up to you.’ Then her voice changed, softening slightly. She heaved another huge sigh. ‘I realise that what with Oliver working there, it’s too big a deal for you to miss.’

‘Oh, Chloe!’ I gushed. ‘You’re a star! Thanks so much! I’m sorry I was on your case about Beast! I’ll never mention him again.’

‘OK,’ said Chloe briskly. ‘He’s going to be really gutted, but never mind. How do we get there? Where is this joint?’

‘Sheepscombe-on-Stour.’

‘Sheepscombe-on-Stour? Sounds like a sandwich!’ Chloe quipped acidly. I laughed long and loud to encourage her in this new sportive mood.

‘The number forty-six bus goes right there,’ I said, having got these details from Martin. ‘And Old Hall Farm is only a half-mile walk from the bus stop.’

‘So high heels are out, then,’ Chloe commented archly. She doesn’t often wear high heels anyway these days – not since she fell off her wedges and sprained her ankle at a gig.

‘So see you at the bus station at 8.15 on Monday morning,’ I said excitedly. ‘Thanks so much for going along with this, Chloe. I owe you big time and I won’t forget it.’

After I’d rung off, I just stood in the garden for a moment and took some deep breaths. Thank God Chloe had been so generous about it, so totally, unexpectedly nice. She was a star. Now I could go and tell Mum all about the fabulous job I’d fixed up, and maybe she’d be impressed for once.

Suddenly Tam appeared, fumbling with her cigarette packet again. ‘Ed just sent me an amazing text,’ she said. ‘It was a poem. Amazing!’

‘Let’s see it, then.’ I held out my hand. Anything for a laugh. Tam looked embarrassed and hid her moby in her sleeve.

‘Er – it’s a bit personal,’ she said. ‘God, Zoe, I wish you could meet him! He’s kind of tall, well, taller than Dad, about six foot two I should think, and he’s got this amazing hair . . .’

‘Hair!? I’m amazed.’ I grinned, but she wasn’t even listening.

‘It’s, well, fair,’ said Tam, ‘but not ordinary fair. It’s halfway between straw and – uh . . .’

‘Grass?’ I enquired. ‘Tobacco?’

‘Tobacco, yes, exactly!’ said Tam. She hadn’t realised I was taking the piss. ‘His eyes are brown, too, kind of hazel. So unusual!’

‘Amazing,’ I commented.

‘Yes, he looks kind of old-fashioned. Like an Elizabethan lord in an old oil painting!’

‘What about his nose?’ I enquired. ‘Is that also like the amazing nose of a lord in an oil painting?’

‘To be honest,’ Tam was so focused on describing her beloved that she was totally oblivious to my sarcastic asides, ‘his nose is a bit small, for a man. It’s kind of cute and turned up. If we had a daughter . . .’ She went off into a thrilling fantasy for a moment. I stared at some stones to pass the time. ‘If she inherited his nose, that would be perfect.’

‘Although she might inherit Grandpa’s nose,’ I said, ‘which, let’s face it, is more like an elephant’s trunk.’ Tam wasn’t listening. She was lighting another cigarette.

‘What does Ed think of you smoking?’ I asked sharply. She looked up defiantly.

‘Oh, Ed smokes,’ she said airily with a toss of the head. ‘He hates all this politically correct crap.’

‘It’s not
politically correct
not to smoke,’ I explained slowly, as if to a foreign child. ‘Smoking kills. It says so on the packet.’

‘Oh, shut up, Zoe! Stop preaching all the time!’ snarled Tam. I decided to leave her to her foul habits and turned back towards the house. ‘Wait! Zoe!’ Tam clutched at my sleeve. ‘I’m sorry.’ She peered at me earnestly. ‘I’m in a bit of a state. How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘In fact, I’ve just found a job on a farm for me and Chloe, so we can earn enough money to pay for our hol in Newquay. But don’t mention Newquay to Mum, because I haven’t actually had a chance to run it past the parents yet.’

‘Amazing, amazing,’ sighed Tam dreamily. ‘Working on a farm . . .’ I could tell she was fantasising about herself and Ed pulling turnips or possibly rolling in the hay. She linked her arm through mine and chucked her cigarette into the flower beds.

‘Do I smell of smoke?’ she whispered as we neared the patio doors.

‘You smell like the Great Fire of London,’ I said.

‘Mum will kill me if she finds out I’m smoking again,’ said Tam. ‘Now listen,’ she went on in a whisper, ‘on Monday I’m going to stage a collapse, so I don’t have to go to Granny’s – I want you to back me up, yeah?’

We entered the sitting room. Mum was sipping her tea and watching yet more depressing news.

‘Have you come to your senses yet?’ Mum asked Tam. I saw Tam bristle. But she controlled her impulse to throw things.

‘OK, Mum, sorry – yeah, I’ll go to Granny’s, fine – I just need to reschedule a few things . . . But never mind about that – guess what!’ She skilfully changed the subject. ‘Zoe’s got a summer job on a farm!’

Mum’s face broke out in sunny smiles. She patted the sofa beside her. ‘Well done, darling!’ She beamed. ‘Come and tell me all about it!’

‘Isn’t it great?’ Tam went on. I knew her game. The more Mum was pleased with me, the less cross she would be about Tam. ‘Now Zoe will be able to save up enough for her amazing holiday in Newquay!’ announced Tam with a dazzling smile.

My heart lurched in horror. That idiot Tam! She had totally forgotten my warning about not mentioning Newquay! Maybe she hadn’t even heard it! She’d been dreaming about Ed! If I ever met him, I would kill him. I’d kill him
twice
.

The sunlight faded from Mum’s face and an ominous cloud gathered between her brows.

‘What holiday in Newquay?’ she glared. ‘This is news to me.’

‘Well, it’s almost news to me too,’ I said, lying through my teeth. Chloe and I had been dreaming about Newquay for months. ‘We only cooked up the idea yesterday.’ I had to fight hard to refrain from glaring at Tam. I would kick her later – in stereo, with both legs at once. I would grow an extra leg to kick her threefold. But right now I had to convince Mum that this was the best idea since sliced bread. Although Mum actually hates sliced bread, to be honest.

‘You’re far too young to go on holiday on your own,’ snapped Mum. ‘I’m glad about the job, that’s fine, well done. But as for a holiday on your own – forget it!’

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6

My stomach tied itself in a knot, a gallon of red-hot adrenalin hurtled up my neck, and my hands curled themselves into iron fists.

‘But you haven’t even discussed it!’ I yelled. ‘You don’t know anything about it!’ Mum raised her hand, like a policeman stopping traffic.

‘You’re damn right I don’t know anything about it,’ she said in a quiet, steely voice. ‘And that’s the first of the many reasons why this is simply not on.’

‘Well, let’s discuss it now!’ I demanded, grabbing the remote and switching off the TV. Mum looked quietly at me. We were sitting side by side on the sofa – a bit too close for a row, but I had to get on with it.

‘Fine,’ said Mum in calm-and-deadly mode (the worst). ‘Where are you staying? Who’s going with you? How much is it going to cost?’

She waited. I could feel myself blushing in panic as I realised I couldn’t answer any of these questions properly.

‘Everybody’s going!’ I flapped. ‘Chloe, and Tobe and Ferg, and – and – and loads of people. Everybody goes to Newquay! Tam went to Newquay when she was my age!’ I pointed dramatically and accusingly at Tam, who had backed towards the door and was about to escape.

‘Tam was a year older,’ said Mum swiftly. ‘And she went with Kirsty and her family, as I recall.’

‘Well, Chloe’s mum might come!’ I yelled recklessly. I knew this was a stupid thing to say, but I couldn’t help myself. I was totally out of control. Tam was such an idiot to pitch me into this.

‘Assuming she doesn’t, though, where are you planning to stay?’ enquired Mum. I hesitated. She arched a perfect eyebrow.

‘We haven’t decided yet!’ I said. ‘A surf lodge, probably.’

‘And do they accept people your age travelling on their own?’ asked Mum, as if she knew they didn’t.

‘We haven’t done all the research yet!’ I cried miserably.

‘So how much money have you saved up for this?’ she asked.

‘I did have £137,’ I said. ‘But I gave some to the flood victims.’ I was hoping Mum would admire me for my charity. ‘But we’re earning over £140 a week at the farm, so when we’re finished I’ll have £560, so I’ll end up with about £640 altogether.’

For a split second Mum looked impressed that I was going to be so loaded. But instantly she reverted to negative mode.

‘“A fool and her money are soon parted,”’ she quipped icily. I hate those sneery proverbs.

‘That’s a bit rich coming from a woman who’s just bought a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes!’ I yelled. ‘How much were they? £350?’

‘£340,’ said Mum sternly. ‘And they were for Aunt Alice’s funeral.’

‘So it wasn’t a treat for you, it was a tribute to Aunt Alice?’ I sneered. ‘Nice one.’

‘Don’t take that tone with me, please, Zoe,’ snapped Mum. ‘I’ve had a very trying day.’

‘Well, I’ve had a very trying day too!’ I shouted.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ sighed Mum, lying back on the sofa and looking at the ceiling. She held up her hand again in the policeman gesture. This means Be Quiet or Else. I didn’t care. I had run out of things to say. I was now trying hard not to cry. ‘I assume nothing’s actually booked, yet?’

I didn’t answer. I just stared sullenly at the carpet. ‘I’ll take that as an affirmative,’ said Mum. ‘If nothing’s actually booked, then no harm’s done. We’ll see you get a nice holiday after you’ve finished your job at the farm. Chloe can come too.’

‘What, you mean a family holiday?’ I asked.

‘Yes, why not?’ said Mum brightly. ‘It’ll be lovely.’

I got up off the sofa and glared down at her.

‘Forget it!’ I said crisply, and walked out of the room. If she was going to tell me I could
forget
my holiday, she could freakin’ well
forget
hers. I went up to my room and slammed the door.

My teddy bear, Bruce, was lying on his back on the bed with his legs in the air. I threw myself on my bed and cried into him for about five minutes. Eventually, though, I began to feel more angry than sad, and stopped crying. It took me five minutes with make-up remover wipes to deal with the mascara crisis. Then I started to plan. Bruce was giving me an encouraging smile.
Don’t give up
, he seemed to be saying.
You’ll think of something
.

I grabbed my mobile and rang Chloe on hers. Voicemail. I rang her landline. Voicemail. I rang Toby. He replied right away.

‘Tobe!’ I cried. ‘Disaster! My mum’s said I can’t go to Newquay!’

‘Mine did at first,’ said Toby. ‘Don’t worry, you can make her change her mind.’

‘How did you manage it?’

‘Well, I started with blackmail,’ said Toby.

‘
What!?
’

‘I told her that if she didn’t let me go, I’d tell Dad that she’s only been to the gym three times. He shelled out big time for her membership.’

‘But, Tobe! I don’t know any of my mum’s naughty secrets. And she’s not nice and flexible like your mum.’

‘You could stop eating,’ suggested Toby. ‘Parents get terrified when you do that.’

‘Toby! When have you ever refused to eat?’

‘I did once, when they said I couldn’t go to Glastonbury.’

‘How long did you refuse food for?’

‘About half an hour.’

‘Oh, come on, Tobe! Get serious! This is a major life crisis!’

‘Just stop speaking to her,’ he suggested. ‘Go into a massive sulk.’

‘I’m doing that already,’ I said. ‘But I can’t keep it up for four weeks.’

‘I think bribery works best,’ said Toby. ‘I promised my mum I’d wash the car every week, vacuum one room in the house every day, and clean out the fridge every Tuesday. Plus I’m mowing the lawn about twice a week and putting the bins out.’

‘Tobe, you’re an angel!’ I cried. ‘You deserve to go to New York for all that, never mind Newquay.’

I cheered up a bit, and went into planning mode again. We still had nowhere to stay. I asked Toby if he and Ferg had found anything yet.

‘Not yet,’ admitted Toby. ‘But Ferg is on the case in every spare moment. We’re planning to camp somewhere.’

The thought of camping by the sea was so wonderful that for a split second my eyes filled with tears of impossible longing. Then reality kicked in and I realised that camping would mean no bathroom, and even more crucial, no bathroom mirror. How could I deal with my mascara obligations and slosh enough cover-up on Nigel to keep him low profile without a bathroom mirror at my disposal 24/7?

What’s more, my family went camping in Wales once, and it was so wet, my mum moved into a B&B and wouldn’t speak to my dad for a whole afternoon. Hmmm . . . camping wasn’t really my style, I had to admit. If Toby and Fergus decided to camp somewhere, Chloe and I would just have to stay somewhere different. The four of us had discussed all the possible permutations a hundred times and it would be totally cool if they ended up camping and we were in a surf lodge.

But first, in order to get to Newquay at all, I had to soften Mum up somehow. I began to plan my campaign. It was no use losing it and yelling. I’d have to convince her that our hol in Newquay would be safe, fragrant, chaste and sober. Then I’d have to promise a huge amount of chores. If this didn’t work I might have to resort to dark threats about the future. Unless she let me go to Newquay now, I would force her to wear beige and bright blue when she was old. I
knew that would
strike the most terrible fear into her soul.