Girls, Muddy, Moody Yet Magnificent (8 page)

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15

‘Hi, Zoe!’ Beast beamed, emerging from his hug with Tam. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hug you. Zoe disapproves of me, big time.’ He cracked a feral grin at Tam.

‘Join the club!’ exclaimed Tam. ‘She was just telling me what a total idiot I am, when you arrived to rescue me.’

‘Let’s be idiots together,’ said Beast, throwing his arm around Tam’s shoulder. It was annoying of them. Tam kind of snuggled up to him and pulled a face at me – the face of a rebellious toddler who has found a big strong ally.

‘So how’s the job at the farm going?’ Beast asked me breezily, as we resumed our walk.

‘It’s OK.’ I shrugged.

‘And what about the Newquay plan?’ Beast went on. ‘Found somewhere to stay yet?’

‘Well, the Newquay plan is still active,’ I admitted. ‘But we haven’t found anywhere to stay, and loads of places seem to have a rule about no under-eighteens. I think we’ll probably join Flora in Tuscany.’ I didn’t want to say that my mum had forbidden me to go. It would make me sound like a goddam baby. ‘How’s Major Events? Fred and Jess work for them, too, don’t they?’

Beast started on the subject of the hospitality business, and Tam was predictably impressed, which left me to slouch along beside them looking at the path and thinking of Little Bear and Twinkle. God, how I wished those kids were called something really pretentious like Panache or Dillinger.

I tried to think who would play Beast in the movie of our lives. It had to be Joaquin Phoenix.

When we reached the bandstand, I had a sudden urge to go back home. Beast and Tam were having so much fun together and I just felt like an outsider.

‘I’m going home, Tam,’ I said. ‘I’m starving. I was starving when I came home and you just marched me straight out again and if I don’t have something now, I’ll faint.’

‘Poor little Zoe!’ said Beast. ‘Tam, you’re a bully. Here, babe.’ He pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket. It was the hazelnut sort – my favourite. I was determined to refuse, though. After all, he was the dreaded, the hated, the manipulative, the chauvinistic Beast. He tore off the wrapper, broke off a huge chunk, and held it out to me.

I backed off. ‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘Thanks, but . . .’ I wanted that choccy so badly. ‘I can’t – I’m allergic to chocolate.’

‘She’s not allergic to chocolate!’ Tam grinned. ‘She’s just on one of her doomed diets, I expect.’

The bitch! My ‘doomed diets’, eh? I felt myself explode inside. My prize zit, Nigel, throbbed away evilly. My face must have been the colour of plum crumble. Beast still held out the chocolate.

‘Go on, babe,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to diet – you’re perfect as you are!’ And he cocked his head on one side and winked at me.

Somehow this only made me more furious. I just turned and ran off. Luckily I was still wearing my old trainers (because of the farm), so I could run fast – well, by my knock-kneed and slightly podgy standards.

‘Zoe!’ I heard Tam wail. ‘Come back! Don’t be a prat!’

I accelerated away. I knew Beast could catch me just like that if he wanted to. But I guessed he wouldn’t try. He evidently thought of me as trouble and he was the kind of guy who would do anything for a quiet life. Actually, I hate rows, which is why I felt such a heavy sense of approaching doom about Tam and her secret thing with Ed, and poor Little Bear and Twinkle. It just couldn’t end happily. No matter how devoted and gorgeous and Jude Law-like he was, no matter how tired and irritable his wife was, he had Little Bear and Twinkle waiting for him at home. How could he ever love Tam more than them? I practically loved them more than her already, and I hadn’t even met them.

But seriously . . . I do so adore Tam, and the thought of her getting hurt was just utterly sick-making. Once out of the park, I slowed to a walk and whipped out my mobile. I called Toby.

‘Tobe!’ I wailed. ‘Life is spiralling out of control! And I can’t bear it cos I’m a control freak!’

‘But, darling!’ cried Tobe in his Noel Coward voice. ‘That in itself is terribly terribly attractive, you know!’

‘What are you doing, Tobe?’ I enquired. ‘Any news on the love front? What about Maria at the Dolphin?’

‘She’s gone off me now, dear,’ confided Toby. ‘Because I dropped a tray of glasses and loads of them smashed. She called me a cack-handed nitwit – but I’m sure she meant it as a compliment!’ He giggled. I love Tobe. He always makes me feel better.

‘Toby, promise me one thing – if nobody else wants us by the time we’re thirty, will you marry me?’

‘Try to stop me, lover! Although I might have to marry Ferg as well. Nothing kinky. We can have a celibate ménage à trois!’

‘Brilliant idea!’ I grinned. ‘Regard yourself as booked!’

I arrived home sweatily unattractive, but feeling slightly less stressy. I kicked off my trainers and ran upstairs for a shower. Dad called up from the kitchen door.

‘Supper in ten!’

Dear Dad. He would never dream of abandoning his irritating wife and revolting daughters to frolic with a much younger woman. At least, I hope not. The shower was the best moment of the day so far. I basked in a deluge of jasmine-scented foam.

Moments later, there was a tap on the door. Presumably Tam coming to apologise – or even refuse to apologise. Couldn’t I have a moment of peace even in the bathroom, for God’s sake? I ignored the knock and continued to dry myself (one of the most boring jobs on earth, incidentally).

‘Zoe?’ Oh no. It was Mum. Wondering where her beloved Tam was, no doubt. ‘Zoe!’

‘What!? I’m just getting dressed.’

‘Toby rang just now and left a message.’

‘Oh – what?’ Damn! I hate it when Tobe rings me on the landline. I must have left my mobile in my rucksack down in the hall.

‘Well, the message was that he forgot to say he’d found somewhere for you all to stay in Newquay, but Dad was the one who answered the phone, otherwise I’d have let him know in no uncertain terms that this Newquay plan is just
not on
, Zoe – at least as far as you’re concerned!’

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16

It’s hard to storm out in a rage when you’re naked. But at least my overwhelming surge of fury and indignation would help the drying process. I heard Mum hesitate, waiting for my inevitable yelling. I did not yell. I would rather plan a really cold, cutting, seething, searing speech and deliver it fully dressed, in five minutes’ time.

‘Zoe,’ she said after a few seconds, ‘did you hear me?’

I remained silent, accumulating points for coolness under fire – in my own eyes, anyway. Then I heard Mum give a kind of exasperated groan and slip away downstairs. I was so enraged at her attitude, I felt full of white-hot fire – as if I’d swallowed a whole barbecue. I finished drying myself, combed my hair, dived into a dressing gown and marched into my bedroom.

I selected one of my long dark dramatic dresses and heavy silver earrings – the sort a Greek goddess might have worn when confronting her demons. I applied fearsome scarlet lipstick. A pair of high heels completed the picture. OK, I’d have to go downstairs really carefully – a stumble and headlong dive would not be the entrance I was planning. With my killer heels on, I’d be able to look down on Mum, because though ferocious, she is only five foot four inches whereas I am five foot six, and with my heels, five foot ten.

I stalked downstairs and strode into the kitchen. Mum was pouring out glasses of wine. Tam was back from the park and sitting at the table. Dad was creating a salad at the far end of the kitchen. My face must have been contorted with rage, because they all looked at me and cringed with a kind of spineless dread. Synchronised cringing is a major sport in our house. If only it was an Olympic event we’d have gold medals wall-to-wall.

‘Right!’ I snapped, glaring at Mum. ‘I’ve had enough of all this about not going to Newquay. There’s no possible reason I can’t go. Everybody’s going. The only reason I’m doing this poxy job is so I can save up enough money to pay for it.’

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Mum, gritting her teeth. Much of her professional life is spent arguing so I knew I was in for a big battle. ‘It’s our job as parents to look after your welfare, and we would be neglecting our duty if we let you go.’

‘Go ahead!’ I snapped. ‘Neglect your duty! All the other parents think it’s cool. Chloe’s going. Toby’s going. Fergus is going. And so am I – whether you like it or not.’

‘You are
not
going!’ Mum’s voice rose and her eyes flashed.

‘I
am
going!’ I shouted, flashing my eyes right back.

Dad flinched and headed for the garden. ‘Herbs . . .’ he muttered, ‘for the salad . . .’ And he darted out. The sap!

‘You won’t get your way by shouting at me, Zoe!’ Mum’s voice had taken on a soaring, laser-like acidic quality. If there had been milk on the table, it would have curdled.

‘I’m
going
!’ I yelled.

Glasses on the dresser rattled slightly. Tam scrambled to her feet and ran away upstairs. I was just furious that Tam and Dad, who should have been supporting me, had sneakily run off to get out of the firing line. If I’d wanted to, I could have dished the dirt on Tam and totally wrecked her summer. But I’d supported her and kept quiet. Why couldn’t she support me? Still, I couldn’t be bothered to think of her right now. I was totally fixed and focused on one thing: my hol in Newquay.

‘Zoe! We’ve discussed this and you know my views! It’s no use you just assuming that things will happen because you want them to! It’s out of the question!’

‘When Dad was fourteen,’ I dropped my voice to a low, buzzing, menacing snarl, ‘he went off to the Forest of Dean with his mate Tony – camping. On their own! And they were only fourteen!’

‘Dad was a boy!’ cried Mum. ‘It was the 1970s! Things were different then! And it’s different for girls! Men prey on girls! There are so many dreadful things that could happen!’

‘Nothing bad is going to happen in Newquay!’ I screamed. ‘Why do you always stop me from doing the most harmless ordinary things? You’re always on my case! Tam is allowed to do anything and I’m never allowed even to leave the house for a split second without you having a nervous breakdown!’ I may have been exaggerating slightly here, but what the hell, it felt great.

At this point, the front doorbell rang. There was a moment’s silence. I had a sudden feeling it would be Toby. He does sometimes drop round in the evening if he’s on the way to the leisure centre. I decided if it was Tobe, I’d just leave the house as I was, wet hair and high heels and everything, and go with him to the leisure centre, to the ends of the earth, anywhere. Just to be out of this hellhole.

‘I’ll get it,’ I snapped, and marched out of the kitchen. I could see a shadow waiting, through the glass. Maybe it was the dreaded axe-murderer. He’d decided he couldn’t wait to axe me on the sands at Newquay – he was going to axe me right here on my own doorstep. Well, that was OK by me. My blood sugar was now so low (caused by prolonged starvation and horrible shouting) that the axe-murderer would have been welcome. I flung the door open. Astonishment! It was Beast.

He took in my appearance: the long black dress, the supernatural earrings, the killer heels, the killer face – and kind of winced.

‘Tam’s upstairs,’ I said. ‘I’ll call her.’

‘No!’ said Beast. ‘Wait! It’s you I wanted a word with, Zoe. Come out here a minute.’

He beckoned me down my own garden path. Impatiently I stalked down the path and took up what I hoped was a cool and aggressive slouch against the gatepost, with my arms folded.

‘You look amazing,’ said Beast, running his eyes up and down my fabulous black number.

‘You shouldn’t look people up and down like that,’ I snapped. ‘It’s not polite.’ Beast kind of flared his eyes, looked surprised, looked thoughtful, and smiled sort of privately to himself, which only stoked up my blazing fury even more. ‘Anyway,’ I went on, ‘get on with it, because my supper’s on the table and I’m in the middle of a particularly enjoyable row with my mum.’

I was so, so hungry, and so angry, I could have fainted out of sheer spite. I didn’t have time for this.

‘I was going to ask you if you’d like to come out for a drink sometime,’ said Beast, looking me in the eye, suddenly very bold and direct. His eyes were huge and dark and kind of hypnotising.

‘What?’ I gasped in amazement.

‘Just a drink one night,’ said Beast. ‘That new bar in the high street is fantastic. If you’re too tired in the week we could go on Saturday.’

‘What? What?’ I was speechless.

‘I’m asking you out,’ said Beast. ‘I think you’re terrific, a legend, and I’ve wanted to ask you for ages.’

‘I don’t believe you!’ I gasped. ‘How could I even consider it, after all that stuff with you and Chloe?’

‘Hey! Hey! Steady on!’ protested Beast, with an argumentative-but-charming smile, ‘There never was
stuff
between me and her. I admit I did have a little cuddle with her in the back of the car on the way home once, but that was only because I’d had a bit too much to drink – I apologised for it later, like a gentleman.’

‘Well, you asked her to the sixth-form dance and when she got there she realised you’d asked another girl as well!’ I still felt angry with Beast for being so insensitive towards Chloe, even though she’d admitted to me that it had been just a crush on her part, and she’d been the once nuisance-texting.

‘No! Wait!’ protested Beast. ‘Listen! I didn’t ask her: I asked you both. I didn’t have anybody special lined up.’

‘And isn’t that just like you!’ I hissed. ‘You’ve got absolutely no conscience whatever. You’ll just grab the nearest girl – no matter who – and if somebody else thought she was special, hard luck.’ I sort of knew I might be being a bit hard on Beast, but I couldn’t help it: the row with Mum was still blazing in my veins and a kind of general fury had taken me over.

‘You’re talking crap, babe,’ said Beast hastily. He dropped his voice. ‘I asked you both to that dance hoping that
you
would come. Because it’s you I think about all the time. You’re the one who’s special. Not Chloe, not Sharon or whoever was clinging on to my arm at the sixth-form thing. I even forget who it was. I was so gutted you hadn’t turned up. So listen, Zoe – please, please, sweetheart, can we put all this behind us and start again?’

‘No, we freakin’ well can’t!’ I was so astonished by what he’d said, I’d gone all weak and trembly. ‘Don’t you realise I really despise the way you behave? Flirting and groping and drooling over every girl in sight? I’m sick to death of men who play around. You never know where you are with them – they just ignore their responsibilities and grab whoever they fancy . . .’ (I was thinking of Little Bear and Twinkle, here, to be honest, but I was sure that in ten years’ time, Beast would be behaving just like Ed.)

‘You’ve got me all wrong, babe . . .’ Beast tried to protest. ‘You’re the only –’

‘Shut up!’ I snapped. ‘I’ve had enough! I wouldn’t go out with you if you were
the last guy left alive
!’

For a split second Beast didn’t seem able to conjure up any kind of smile at all. I just whirled round on my killer heels and stalked back up the path. It should have been a great moment, actually, but I had the silliest feeling that the moment I was in private I was going to burst into tears.