All the Fun of the Fair: A hilarious, brilliantly original coming-of-age story that will capture your heart

by Caroline Hulse

  ‘Fiona!’ Jodie waved me over, a friendship bracelet slipping down her arm.

  I picked up my rucksack and walked to stand with the group, like this kind of thing happened all the time.

  ‘Hi, Jodie.’ I nodded at Jodie’s friends, who were also all wearing matching friendship bracelets. ‘Most people call me Fi, not Fiona. My friends at other schools, I mean.’

  ‘Is that phone yours?’ Jodie asked. ‘Can I have a look?’

  ‘Yep.’ I got it out of my secret pocket and handed it to her. ‘Be careful. It’s valuable.’

  Her friends crowded round to look at the phone.

  ‘Wow,’ Yasmin said. ‘Who gave it to you? Your parents?’

  I pushed my hair behind my ears. ‘Just a friend.’

  ‘Who do you call with it?’ Alison Fisher asked.

  ‘Oh, you know. Just people.’

  I’ve never spoken to Alison Fisher, but she’s the one whose mum works as a receptionist at the doctor’s. Her mum wears her hair in a scrunchie and calls everyone duck.

  ‘Do you call Selina Baker on it?’ Jodie turned to the others. ‘Fiona knows Selina Baker. I saw them talk in the corridor.’

  ‘I don’t call Selina. We’re friends, but not phone friends.’

  Dean Prince walked past, dribbling a football as he walked. ‘All right, Fi.’

  ‘All right, Dean.’

  Jodie looked at him and back. ‘You know Dean Prince?’

  I nodded. Turns out older kids are really nice if you’ve sold them a porno mag.

  ‘He plays for Port Vale!’

  ‘Yep. Under sixteens.’ I sold him Mayfair, if I remember right. Gave me twenty-five quid.

  Alison narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Who do you call on your phone, then? If it’s not your best friends Selina Baker and Dean Prince?’

  ‘Friends from other schools. My boyfriend.’

  Jodie looked at the other girls and back. ‘Is your boyfriend at another school, too?’

  ‘I know who he is,’ Naomi pulled at her plait. ‘I’ve seen them together. It’s Lewis Harris.’

  And for some reason – well, actually because I hadn’t planned for this conversation, and say what you like about Lewis, but he’s actually real – for that reason, I nodded.

  And the other girls nodded back. They didn’t say Ew, Lewis? or Lewis Harris went to Paris, or anything about how glasses at his house tasted of dishwasher. They didn’t even call him The Sickboy of the Shrew – probably because there had been a fight on Festival Field since then, and a boy had come into school with boiled egg all down his tie, so we’d all moved on.

  Jodie handed the phone back.

  Alison was still looking at me like I’d made a bad smell. ‘Your mum’s the one who makes everyone’s curtains.’

  ‘Definitely not. That’s someone else’s mum. Your mum’s the one who works at the doctor’s?’

  She looked at her feet. ‘No. Fisher’s a common name.’

  ‘Got to go.’ My lies were twisting up in my tummy like hot cartoon vines. ‘I said I’d call Lewis before maths.’

  I put my phone to my ear and hurried into the school building.

  I reached the computer room and shut the door behind me. I sat completely still. I didn’t play a game. I didn’t even switch on a computer.

  Well.

  Everything had changed. Everything.

  I looked at my phone. I put it in my secret pocket and patted it gently.

  Now. I just needed to break the girlfriend news to Lewis. And break it to him in the right way, and make him realise it was OK – before he ruined everything and made us both look stupid.

  How to Make Friends (According to Mum)

  1)Remember beggars can’t be choosers

  2)Let it happen naturally, don’t force it

  3)Don’t try to impress people with objects

  4)Ask people about themselves

  5)Don’t try to fit in

  6)Don’t show off

  7)Don’t draw attention to yourself

  8)Just be yourself

  Mum didn’t have a clue.

  29

  Some friends aren’t very friendly.

  (paradox)

  Nine days to the fair

  Lewis called me that night. ‘Mum says you’re allowed to come round with my homework.’

  ‘Are you still infectious?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  I grabbed the letter I’d got back from Crimewatch and headed off to Lewis’s house.

  Mrs Harris let me in. ‘Aren’t you hot in that coat?’

  ‘No. I hope he’s feeling better.’ I passed the photo on the wall of Lewis with a wand and a cape. ‘I should have brought him some grapes or something.’

  Mrs Harris smiled. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

  ‘I do because . . . well, Lewis is my boyfriend now.’ I needed to practise saying it. ‘Can you wait for him to tell you first, though, in case he minds that I’ve ruined the surprise?’

  Mrs Harris stared at me. ‘Boyfriend?’

  Mr Harris looked up from his paper.

  I beamed. ‘It’s official. From today.’

  ‘Does he know that?’ Mrs Harris asked.

  ‘He will do in a minute, don’t worry.’

  ‘Good lad!’ Mr Harris looked to Mrs Harris, smiling, and back at me. ‘And with a temperature and everything!’

  Mrs Harris frowned at him.

  Mr Harris chuckled. ‘A chip off the old block.’

  ‘Geoff, stop it.’ She turned to me. ‘Leave that bedroom door open.’

  Lewis’s dad turned a page. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  I held up my bag of schoolbooks. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about.’

  I scampered up the stairs to Lewis’s room.

  I knocked and walked into a waft of ill.

  I wrinkled my nose and decided not to shut the door. ‘It smells of Grandma’s soup in here.’

  Lewis didn’t get out of bed. ‘Hi.’ He still had that Muppet Tiny Tim voice.

  I stayed at the other side of the room. ‘Have you been sick again?’

  ‘I’m nearly better. I haven’t been sick all day.’ He waved at the washing-up bowl. ‘That’s just in case.’

  His hair looked greasy and stuck to his forehead. He was wearing Spiderman pyjamas. A book called The Twenty Greatest Magic Tricks sat on his bedside table next to his favourite stuffed raccoon.

  I know beggars can’t be choosers. Mum’s right about some stuff. But, just for a second, I thought maybe I should have picked a better boyfriend.

  ‘It’s true it was flashers, why they moved the cross-country course. Can you believe it?’ I pushed the door wider open to let the smell of Grandma’s soup out into the landing. ‘Now, I’ve got something to tell you and you’ve got to promise not to get cross.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  I sat on the end of his bed. ‘Lewis? You promise?’

  ‘I’m thinking.’

  ‘You don’t need to be thinking. Just go ahead and promise, so I can get on and tell you.’

  He folded his arms. ‘I’m thinking about the past. How things have turned out when you’ve said things like that.’

  ‘This is different.’ I shifted closer. ‘At first, you might not understand how what I’m telling you is brilliant. You might need me to explain it so you get it properly. Just remember that.’

  I waited.

  He lifted his head.

  I made my voice light. ‘It’s a funny story and definitely an accident’ – I looked past him, out of the window – ‘but people think you’re my boyfriend.’

  I took one look at his face and went back to looking out of the window.r />
  ‘Which people?’

  ‘Jodie and Naomi and Alison Fisher and Yasmin. You know, my group. My group of girls.’ I looked around his eyes. Not actually at his eyes, that was too hard, just in the centre, at the top of his nose. ‘And, thing is, now everyone else thinks you’re my boyfriend, too.’ I shook my head. ‘I know gossip gets around quick, but still. People were staring at me.’ I looked from his left temple to his right temple. ‘In a good way. No one tried to trip me up when I walked past the benches in the corridors. They took their legs in when I walked past.’

  ‘What did they say to you? Tell me exactly.’

  I looked away. ‘Nothing.’

  Do you do tongues?

  Has he touched your bra?

  Have you spanked his monkey?

  ‘People think we’re too mature to make fun of now. Honestly, Lewis, it’s brilliant. We should have thought of this ages ago.’

  ‘What did people say?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing much. I just sat there smiling and said “that’s my business” and “get your own boyfriend if you’re so interested”. And people listened. It’s like I’ve got a superpower.’ I glanced at him. ‘Like we’ve got a superpower. Lewis!’ I leaned forward. ‘You might even become friends with the lads from the blue estate! Especially if I tell people I let you put your hand up my top. And everyone’s forgotten all about you being sick in English.’

  Lewis just sat there. ‘No one said anything bad?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Lewis would have to ruin this. He wouldn’t want to know Liam said Harris must have got ill because you gave him crabs.

  ‘We can break up soon,’ I said, ‘but not straight away, or it’ll look fake.’

  Lewis adjusted his pillows so he was higher up the bed. ‘And why are we doing this again?’

  ‘So people think someone would want to go out with us.’

  ‘Am I going to have to kiss you?’

  ‘No. Just get our stories straight about what stuff we’ve done. I thought that might be good for both of us?’

  ‘Or it’ll make things worse.’

  ‘We deserve to be more popular, Lewis. Think about it. Who made the rules that you and me are on the bottom rung? We’re the best ones.’

  I tried not to look at his magic book or stuffed raccoon.

  ‘I’m not kissing you. You’re like my sister.’

  I turned to stare out of the window for a long time. ‘I wish I was your real sister. My real sister’s a ghost.’

  I kept looking out of the window. I waited.

  I glanced back. ‘Why aren’t you saying something?’

  ‘I’m cross you’re trying to catalyst me.’

  My face went hot. ‘I wouldn’t have to catalyst you, if you could just be mature and accept you’ve got a girlfriend now.’

  Lewis looked down at his duvet. He stroked it.

  ‘And this is your first girlfriend present.’ I took the fresh copy of The Taming of The Shrew out of my bag and put it on the bed. ‘Though, get this, Kellett called it a comedy.’

  Lewis furrowed his brow. ‘A comedy?’

  ‘And look.’ I got the phone out of my secret pocket and laid it on the duvet.

  He picked the phone up.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

  He stared at it for a moment. ‘It’s too good, that’s the problem. Things like this don’t happen to you, Fi. You know in a cartoon, when someone finds treasure and it’s actually cursed?’

  I snatched the phone away. ‘Why won’t you just be happy for me?’

  ‘If you’re so happy, why do you look scared?’

  I stared at him. Why did he have to say that? I wasn’t scared, but – now, because he said the word and made me think about it – my chest was going all cold. ‘I’m not scared.’

  ‘This could be something really bad. This isn’t funny.’

  I tried to ignore the chill creeping further down my body.

  ‘No one would give you a mobile for no reason. No one.’

  I looked at the carpet.

  ‘You are scared, aren’t you?’

  ‘No. I was for a little bit though. I did think for a while when I was investigating Danielle, maybe Carl was the one who killed her at the fair and that’s why my mum doesn’t like him, but—’

  At Lewis’s reddening face, I stopped. I started to panic. ‘I mean—’

  His face went redder still. ‘YOU PROMISED!’ No more Tiny Tim. ‘You promised you were going to stop looking into Danielle dying. You promised. WHY WILL YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME?’

  I grabbed the phone from Lewis and put it in my rucksack. He’d never sounded less Muppet-y.

  ‘Go away and leave me alone!’

  ‘Lewis?’ Mrs Harris’s voice came up the stairs. ‘Are you shouting?’

  ‘Shouting?’ I said. ‘He’s braying like a donkey.’ I looked him up and down. ‘A sweaty donkey. I’ll leave you to calm down. Bye, Lewis.’ I picked up my bag and ran down the stairs.

  With all Lewis’s braying, I’d forgotten to show him my letter from Crimewatch. I’d do it next time.

  Fortunately, Lewis is too nice. He is like Muppet Tiny Tim. Because however bad I am, whatever I’ve done, he always, always forgives me in the end.

  30

  Sometimes, the police don’t want to solve crimes.

  (paradox)

  Eight days to the fair

  When I checked the doormat the next morning, there was a letter for me in the pile.

  Mum came downstairs in her dressing gown as I was squirrelling it away. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’re getting a lot of post.’ She tied the belt of her dressing gown tighter. ‘Why?’

  I dumped the letters for her and Dad on the side. ‘Blood project stuff.’ I ran upstairs before she could ask anymore.

  In my room, I opened the letter. My polaroid photo of Carl fell out.

  Dear Miss Larson,

  We have received your letter dated Wednesday 3 July 1996. It is not clear whether you intended the letter to be a prank.

  If you have real concerns, please raise them with your parent or guardian. Unless your concerns are about a parent or guardian, in which case please raise them with a trusted adult.

  If your letter was intended as a prank, please note the police are very busy protecting lives. We will not follow up on this occasion, but you would be wise to remember there is a criminal offence called Wasting Police Time.

  I enclose the photograph you sent, which we will not be keeping on file.

  Stay safe,

  Cheshire Police

  I pulled the bin from under my dressing table and dropped in Carl’s sent-back photo. I didn’t need it anymore. Not now he wasn’t a suspect.

  As I pushed the bin back, I tried not to notice the special shape – the bad Nazi shape – that I’d carved into the leg of the dressing table. I looked away and glanced under my bed.

  There was a lot of junk under there. I should have remembered to look there before the car boot sale. Along with the dust, there was an old keyring with a bear on it. I spotted a hairband I thought I’d lost, and an old duckling jigsaw.

  And I remembered. That was where Mum kept Danielle’s Box of Special Things. Under her bed.

  I’d forgotten that box completely.

  I didn’t have time to look before school. But soon.

  And now I finally had a new lead. One that didn’t involve knocking on the door of the house belonging to Adrian Sykes.

  School news!

  All the Year Nine and above girls got a free parcel in a special one-off class.

  Rape alarms!

  Attack alarms the teachers call them, but we know what they’re really called. Everyone was using them at break – boys trying to steal them
from girls’ bags, hoiking them out by the strap. Kids going up behind other kids and pulling the pin out right next to their ears. Some kids made it into a game, setting traps for each other like Grandmother’s Footsteps, seeing who could get the closest before the alarm went off.

  I asked Dr Sharma why we Year Sevens didn’t get a parcel and she just looked at the ceiling. ‘Year Nine and above, Fiona.’

  ‘On the day of the Tampax, Year Sevens got the free parcel, too.’

  ‘Attack alarms are not toys.’

  ‘I know they’re not toys, that’s why I want one.’

  Dr Sharma made a pff air-noise with her mouth. ‘Even with this one, Fiona? Even with this one, you don’t want to be left out?’

  At lunchtime, I walked with my mobile phone through the playground, to find Jodie and Naomi and Yasmin and Alison Fisher. I mean – my friends.

  I spotted them in their usual place by the tennis courts, and walked up to them quickly before I got unbrave. ‘Hi.’

  Jodie stepped to the side to make space in the circle. ‘Hi!’

  The others kept eating their crisps. They weren’t as smiley, but they didn’t tell me to go away or call me pants girl either. So that was something.

  ‘Is Lewis still not back in school?’ Jodie asked.

  ‘No. But I went to see him last night and he’s getting better.’

  Alison swallowed her mouthful of crisps. ‘Is it true you gave him crabs?’

  ‘Ha ha. Of course not.’

  ‘Everyone said you two shag in a bush in the park,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘That’s not true,’ I said quickly, ‘and we’ve never been anywhere near that bush.’

  ‘How was Lewis?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘OK.’ I scratched my nose. ‘He didn’t look as fit as usual. But then, he was in pyjamas, with a washing-up bowl by his bed.’

  Jodie laughed. ‘What pyjamas?’

  I paused. ‘Tottenham ones. He’s really into football and his cousins live near the ground, that’s why he never goes to games up here.’

  ‘Heads up!’

  A football bounced past me.

  Sean chased after it. He stopped when he saw me, letting one of the other boys get the ball instead. ‘All right, Fi!’

  I blinked. It was the first time he’d spoken to me for weeks. ‘All right, Sean.’