Girl, 15: Flirting for England

by Sue Limb

  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 DISASTROUS 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.’<
br />
  ‘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.

  ‘Jodie is my ’ostess,’ he said. ‘She is not my gairlfriend. But – what about Fred?’

  ‘Oh, Fred!’ Jess’s heart gave a dangerous lurch. ‘Fred and I …’ Her mind raced. What could she say? She didn’t want to admit all that stuff about pretending to be Fred’s girlfriend to put Edouard off. It seemed a bit anti-French. Besides, it was quite difficult to explain even in English.

  ‘Fred and I are finished,’ she said. ‘We had a big row.’

  Gerard’s eyebrows went up quite a way. These Latin lovers had different facial expressions from English boys. Their faces were like a ballet, honestly. And what wonderful eyebrows Gerard had! Jess could never get hers to look half as good, even after two hours’ plucking.

  ‘You and Fred are finished?’ he asked. ‘But you still are ze friends?’

  ‘Oh yes – just good friends now,’ said Jess hastily.

  Gerard looked puzzled. Maybe the French didn’t do amicable. Maybe when they split up they always had a raging row and then threw themselves off a bridge into the River Seine. They were so tempestuous. It was marvellous.

  ‘Gerard!’

  Oh no. It was Jodie’s voice, and she was bearing down on them like a tank. Instantly Gerard let go of Jess’s hand, even though they had been holding hands invisibly, under water. Jess felt guilty, too.

  ‘How’s the drink coming along?’ Jodie plonked herself down between them.

  ‘Nice and cold,’ said Jess, getting to her feet. She just couldn’t bear to stay another minute now Jodie had arrived to wreck the atmosphere. She might just have to hit her, and as Jodie’s aunt was providing the field, it would seem ungrateful.

  ‘I’m going to sort my stuff out,’ said Jess. She set off up the field. Her hands were still wet and tingling – tingling with the ice-cold water, and the memory of Gerard’s fingers. She had held hands with a dreamboat! But did it still count if it had been under water?

  The campfire was blazing nicely and normally it would have looked kind of inviting, with Marie-Louise frying sausages, Edouard playing with his new pet beetle and Flora staring romantically into the flames. But part of Jess was still down by the stream, holding hands under water with Gerard. So much had happened in just a few minutes. The world had changed utterly.

  ‘Did you text your dad?’ asked Flora. For a moment Jess blinked and stared. It seemed ages, even days, since she had texted her dad.

  ‘Yeah – his private view starts in a couple of hours,’ said Jess, recovering.

  ‘Oh, I hope it goes well for him,’ said Flora. ‘You’ll be thinking about him.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Jess. Thinking about Dad? No way. She was barely able to reply coherently to Flora. All she could think about was that Gerard and Jodie were coming back up the field. She could see them out of the corner of her eye. Her heart was starting to race again. Would she blush when he looked at her? Would she give herself away? She sat down next to Flora and fiddled with her shoe, so she wouldn’t have to look up when Jodie and Gerard arrived.

  ‘Give him my love,’ said Flora. For a moment Jess’s brain just refused to comprehend. She stared blankly at Flora. Who? What? What was she saying? Was it anything to do with Gerard?

  ‘What?’

  ‘Give your dad my love and tell him I hope the exhibition goes brilliantly,’ said Flora. She was so polite, it almost hurt. ‘When you next text him or call him, I mean,’ she added, even more politely.

  ‘OK, you morons!’ Jodie had arrived, and now politeness must die. ‘Shove up and make room for the king and queen of the camp!’ Jess fixed her eyes firmly on the fire. She knew if she caught Gerard’s eye now, she would faint.

  ‘If it’s camp you’re after,’ said Fred, who was clambering out of the boys’ tent, holding a book, ‘I’m your man. Give me some gold high-heeled shoes and I’ll do my dizzy blonde at the premiere routine.’ He struck a camp pose and pouted. Everybody laughed. Marie-Louise turned to Jess with a sweet, sweet smile.

  ‘Your Fred is so wonderful!’ she said. Panic rose in Jess’s throat. He couldn’t be her Fred now: that would be a disaster. If everyone still thought she was with Fred, what were her chances of becoming an item with Gerard? She was dumbstruck. How did she get out of this?

  ‘Ah, wife!’ said Fred, in a stupid, posh, booming voice, pretending to be drunk, ‘Make room! I’m coming over! I wish to discuss the gas bill with you!’ He crashed down beside her and, in an infuriating parody of affection, threw his arm around her shoulder. ‘It’s our anniversary next week, you know,’ he said to Marie-Louise, who giggled. ‘What is it, wife? Not gold or silver – paper, maybe? Yes! I’ll give you a designer bog roll to celebrate!’

  ‘Get off, Fred!’ snapped Jess, with real venom. This stupid act of Fred’s couldn’t have been worse timed. She was going to have to pick a fight with him right now. They were going to have to have an almighty bust-up in public. And as she was really annoyed with Fred, it was going to be convincing. She just hoped Fred would sort of understand and go along with it. You never could tell with Fred.

  Chapter 23

  Jess scrambled to her feet and turned on Fred, who looked puzzled. She was horribly aware of Gerard looking up at her. Jess knew her right profile was her worst, and having a face contorted with fury was hardly going to do her any favours.

  ‘Fred!’ she snapped.

  ‘What, wife?’ Fred looked up in a comic parody of fear. He was cringing for England. ‘What have I done now? Left my dirty socks on the floor?’

  ‘Stop calling me wife!’ shouted Jess. ‘It’s so stupid! That joke is so last century! Come over here! We’ve gotta talk!’

  Jess ran over to a nearby tree, and Fred stumbled to his feet and followed – shrugging to everybody as he left the fireside, as if Jess was in the grips of some madness. Which, of course, she was. Love madness.

  ‘So?’ Fred arrived under the tree. Its canopy gave them a little bit of privacy. ‘What next?’

  ‘We have a flaming row and we split up,’ hissed Jess.

  ‘Just like that? Just like that?’ jabbered Fred. ‘How? How? What about?’

  ‘Get on with it!’ snapped Jess. ‘You’re so freakin’ brilliant in the drama lessons, just think of it as an improvisation.’

  ‘Wait! Wait! Why are we doing this?’ asked Fred.

  ‘I’ll tell you later!’

  ‘What’s my motivation?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Fred!’ roared Jess (a shout like that would sound convincing). ‘You’ve been seeing someone else.’

  ‘That’s a lie!’ shouted Fred. ‘It was you – you and that Norman!’

  ‘Norman?’ yelled Jess. ‘He’s just my mum’s gardener, OK? He’s, like, forty years old! Plus he has body odour. That’s just an insult! You can’t wriggle out of this one, Fred Parsons. It’s over, and it’s bee
n over ever since I found out about you and Gloria!’

  ‘I was just getting a smut out of her eye!’ protested Fred. He was grinning now, enjoying himself.

  ‘Stop grinning, stop grinning, make it look real!’ whispered Jess, then out loud: ‘That is just such a lie! You’re trash!’

  ‘Trash?’ Fred exploded. ‘You’re the one who’s trash! Anything in trousers! Never mind Norman, what about Cyril? And Hannibal? And Sam? And, and, and Adam? Whoops,’ whispered Fred. ‘Ran out of names there for a moment and had to go back to the Bible!’

  Jess was totally dismayed that Fred had made her sound trashy. ‘Don’t talk to me any more!’ she yelled, really angry. ‘I’m sick of your lies and inventions! OK? Let’s leave it! We’re ruining everybody’s evening!’

  Fred shrugged and shook his head.

  Jess walked away and rejoined the others. She caught Flora’s eye. Flora looked embarrassed, amused and also dangerously near giggling. She, of course, knew it had all been a charade. It was the French people – Gerard in particular – who had to be convinced. Marie-Louise gave her a sympathetic look. She was nearly in tears.

  ‘I am so sorry, Jess,’ she whispered, and grabbed Jess’s arm. Jess tried hard to look tragic, and nodded.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I told Fred it was over after I found out he was seeing …’ For a terrible moment she forgot the name of Fred’s fictional squeeze.

  ‘Gloria,’ prompted Flora.

  ‘I can hardly bring myself to say her name without bursting into tears,’ said Jess, between clenched teeth.

  ‘Awful! Awful!’ said Marie-Louise, and stroked Jess’s arm sympathetically. She was such a sweetheart.