Girl, 15: Flirting for England

by Sue Limb

  Jess retrieved the other sock and her shoes, dragged herself to the bank and hauled herself out, hanging on to Edouard and dripping and shivering. In addition to her previous injuries, she was now wet through, and her feet were cut by stones and covered in mud. She had been comprehensively beaten up by nature. She would never leave the town again.

  She sat down on the bank, too massively furious even to swear. Edouard offered her his socks. She looked up. He wasn’t smiling. He was just being seriously practical.

  ‘Take,’ he said sternly.

  Jess hardly dared to disobey. Since they had been lost, Edouard had gradually acquired a certain authority.

  ‘Take,’ he said again, forcing his socks on her.

  Jess smiled wanly and put them on. He was trying to look after her, bless his little cotton socks. Quite literally.

  Edouard put on his trainers, and Jess tied her shoelaces. Oh well, she thought. I suppose nothing worse can happen now. Then they got up and turned round, ready for the long haul up the field. And that was when they saw the cattle. A whole herd of cattle had appeared and was staring down at them.

  They were only about fifty metres away. Perhaps there was a bull! Perhaps they were all bulls! Jess’s heart soared up her throat like a skyrocket and actually appeared briefly in her mouth, pulsating away like a parasitic alien in a science fiction movie. She swallowed it. It tasted worse than anything.

  She knew it was important not to look scared, but on the other hand, she was right on the very verge of pooing her pants. There was a hedge in the far distance. She could smell the smoke of a campfire somewhere beyond it. She didn’t really care if it was the Mass Murderers’ annual outing now. Anything was better than being gored by a pack of mad cows.

  Jess set off in a crazy, lurching run towards the hedge. She hadn’t meant for it to be lurching, but the ground was strewn with rocks, big coarse tufts of grass and fresh cowpats, gleaming in the evening light. Jess could hear the cattle following at a frisky trot.

  She was vaguely aware that Edouard had got left behind. Maybe he was being gored right now! She ought to stop and look round, just to see if he was OK. Jess tried to look back over her shoulder while still running forward – never a good idea. She saw Edouard some distance behind her. He was surrounded by cattle but still on his feet. She tripped on a rock and landed in a gigantic cowpat.

  It could have been worse. It could have been a face-down situation. The cow poo was only all down one side of her top and jeans. Jess scrambled to her feet again and raced as fast as she could to the hedge. But it was impossible to get through. The hedge had been reinforced with barbed wire.

  French Exchange Partners Gored on Camping Trip, she thought. ‘We’re Having a Bilingual Joint Funeral,’ Says French Teacher. Maybe a drowning wouldn’t have been so bad after all.

  Jess turned, panting, to face her doom. The cattle were a short distance downhill from her, but still following. Edouard was facing them. Suddenly he gave a weird high-pitched shriek and ran at them, waving his arms and screaming a wide variety of French words at them, like a banshee.

  The cattle didn’t seem to like it. They came to a halt, turned tail and thundered off down the meadow. Jess breathed a deep sigh. A wave of relief washed over her. Edouard had now rescued her three times. It was almost biblical.

  OK, she was battered, bruised, gouged by barbed wire and scratched by thorn bushes. She was wet, had lost a sock, her clothes were saturated and she was covered with cow dung. But let’s face it, nothing is worse than being chased by a pack of large animals. Jess decided she was going to give up that fantasy about the football team.

  Edouard joined her. He only seemed a bit out of breath. Jess gave him what she hoped was a grateful smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘To be honest, I have a little bit of a thing about being gored by herds of mad cattle. Silly of me, I know, but the girl can’t help it.’ She shrugged in what she hoped was a friendly matter.

  ‘Jaypassay dayvaconss alla compagngngne,’ said Edouard.

  Luckily this statement did not seem to require an answer. Jess just nodded and, in an attempt to convey her gratitude, gave him the thumbs up. He gave the thumbs up in return and they exchanged a genuine smile for the first time in their relationship.

  I wouldn’t go so far as to call it lurve, thought Jess, with a secret giggle, but we seem to have got over the murderous hatred stage.

  They walked uphill along the side of the hedge. Surely sooner or later they would come to a gate? How had the cattle got in there? Dropped by helicopter? Not unless farming methods had changed a lot since her childhood storybook Old MacDonald.

  Eventually they did indeed come to a gate, and climbed over it without sustaining any injury. Perhaps their luck was changing? Yes! There, at last, was the campfire. She could see hunched figures round its cheerful blaze.

  The others noticed Jess and Edouard and made kind of silly whooping noises to indicate that they had possibly been indulging in a romantic idyll.

  Jess ignored them and just limped towards the fire. Gerard was going to see her covered in cow poo and flayed alive with thorns, but frankly she was past caring.

  ‘I love your new look!’ cried Fred in a high-pitched camp voice, as she drew near. ‘My dear! It must have cost a fortune! But it suits you!’

  ‘Oh, Jess!’ cried Marie-Louise. ‘You poor thing! You are dirty!’ She got up and started flapping about in a pointless but sympathetic manner. Jodie, for some reason, looked absolutely furious.

  ‘Have you seen Gerard or Flora?’ she demanded.

  Gerard and Flora? A terrible idea flashed across Jess’s mind.

  ‘Aren’t they back yet?’ she asked, peering around in the semi-dark. She could only see Jodie, Marie-Louise and Fred.

  ‘Well, I can’t see them here, can you?’ snapped Jodie. ‘Nobody could find Gerard, so eventually we all came back here, except Flora. Presumably she found him. If they don’t come back soon it’ll be dark. Your phone rang twice – maybe she’s sent you a text.’

  Jess hurried to the tent, grabbed her phone and collected the messages. The first was from her mum, asking if she was warm enough. The second was indeed from Flora.

  HI BABE, it said. FOUND GERARD BUT WE GOT LOST. OK NOW. HVING T WITH NICE OLD BID. SEZ SHE’LL LEND US A TORCH. DON’T WAIT UP! LV FLO XXX

  Jess went back to the campfire and conveyed Flora’s message. Jodie almost exploded.

  ‘Got lost?’ she snapped. ‘They got lost?! They weren’t supposed to go off together! That’s just typical of Flora! She’s a total airhead!’

  There was a brief, embarrassed silence. Everybody was thinking the same thing, but nobody dared speak. Even Fred kept his mouth shut.

  ‘Poor Jess is very dirty,’ said Marie-Louise. ‘Maybe she can takes a bath in your aunt’s ’ouse, Jodie?’

  ‘Sure, whatever,’ said Jodie, shrugging. ‘C’mon, then.’

  Jess followed Jodie up the field towards the house. The lights were on, and the windows shone in the blue evening air. They were the colour of orange juice: cheerful, inviting. But in Jess’s heart there was no light, only a deep, impenetrable blackness. Could the day have turned out any worse? She doubted it.

  Chapter 27

  As she showered, Jess’s mind whirled with possibilities. Why would Flora and Gerard have gone off together? There could be only one reason. And the slightly festive air of Flora’s text message confirmed it: DON’T WAIT UP! Jess tried to imagine what it would be like to wander down darkening lanes with Gerard, possibly hand in hand … Bliss! But she was the one he’d flirted with earlier, down by the stream. He’d actually held her hand, for goodness’ sake. Did that count for nothing?

  Washed, dried and dressed in fresh clothes, Jess emerged. Jodie’s uncle had come in and his wife was bustling about, making his supper. Betsy looked up from her basket and waved her tail in a bored and idle way. That dog was a total couch potato. For a split second Jess wished she could join Betsy in her basket. It see
med cosy and safe in the farm kitchen. But she knew she had to go out into the howling wilderness and confront her worst nightmares.

  ‘I’ll hang your washing in the utility room when it’s ready, Jess,’ said Mrs B. ‘Oh – you should take one of those torches by the door, and watch your step.’

  Jess thanked her, picked up a torch and stepped out into the night. On her way down to the field, she met another light bobbing up towards her. It was Fred.

  ‘I’m on my way to the loo,’ he said. ‘The Babes in the Wood have returned. It’s all a big mystery. Jodie’s grown long yellow fangs. We’re marooned in some Gothic fairytale. I might have to chop your feet off by dawn.’

  ‘Fine, go for it,’ replied Jess. ‘I’ve never liked them. I’d rather have a set of wheels, to be honest.’

  ‘Oh, and that other mystery,’ said Fred. ‘Our divorce. Delightful though it is, it did rather come out of the blue. Was that so you could become an item with your matchbox toyboy?’

  No way was Jess going to reveal that she had hoped to get off with Gerard. It now seemed totally ludicrous.

  ‘I just got sick of being married to you,’ said Jess. ‘The way you load the dishwasher is SO irritating. And that sucking noise you make on your pipe – nauseating. Plus your slippers smell.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Fred. ‘It’s the monastery for me, then. Fabulous! Can’t wait.’

  ‘As for Edouard,’ added Jess, ‘we still find each other disgusting. He did save my life three times on the hike home, but even when he sank his teeth into my arm you could tell he wasn’t enjoying it.’

  ‘Who would?’ said Fred. ‘Personally I would prefer to eat a live elephant. Starting at the back.’

  They punched each other briefly and then separated. Jess felt slightly better as she made her way down towards the campfire. But only for a few seconds. Then the nervousness kicked in. She was going to have to see Gerard, and try not to catch his eye. It would obviously be best just to ignore him: pretend that wonderful holding-hands-under-water moment had never happened.

  Gerard and Flora were sitting side by side, but not too close together. They weren’t actually touching.

  ‘Oh, hi, Jess!’ cried Flora as Jess arrived. She sounded slightly hysterical. Her voice came out a bit shrieky. ‘I heard you got lost and fell in a cowpat! So did we! Well, we got lost, but we were spared the cowpat, thank goodness. Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, fine. It was quite bracing actually,’ said Jess, and sat down.

  ‘Would you like a Coke, Jess?’ asked Marie-Louise. She seemed to be playing hostess – probably because Jodie was scowling, sunk down deeply into her fleece with her mouth covered, glaring into the flames.

  ‘Gerard hid in a wood up past the house,’ said Flora. ‘I found him almost right away. And we waited and waited, but nobody came. And then we thought we could hear a waterfall. So we looked for it and got lost. In the end we came out on a strange road, and there was a cottage, and this little old lady gave us a cup of tea and told us how to get back.’

  ‘Old ladies are losing their touch,’ said Jess, forcing a joke. ‘She should have fattened Gerard up in a cage and kept you as a domestic slave.’ Jess was really gutted at the thought of Flora and Gerard sharing this romantic fairytale adventure so soon after he had held Jess’s hand and gazed rapturously at her down by the stream. Jodie wasn’t the only one whose heart was slightly broken.

  Flora laughed, and her laugh was a bit nervous. A sudden, deep silence fell. It was clear Jodie was not going to speak again this evening – possibly ever again in her life.

  Marie-Louise was putting another log on the fire. Jess refused to focus on the charismatic blur that was Gerard. Edouard was playing with his phone. Eventually Fred returned, a bobbing light in the dark.

  ‘Are you Fred Parsons or a ghost?’ said Jess. Well, somebody had to talk.

  ‘I am the ghost of Fred Parsons,’ said Fred, and sat down by the fire.

  ‘I really hope this place isn’t haunted,’ said Flora, with a nervous laugh. ‘Is your auntie’s house haunted, Jodie?’

  As an attempt to force Jodie to speak, it had a certain charm. But Jodie just shrugged.

  ‘Oh! I ’ope not!’ laughed Marie-Louise. ‘I hate zat sort of thing.’

  ‘My granny is convinced she can communicate with the spirit of my grandpa,’ said Jess. ‘She even heard him speak out loud to her the other day.’

  ‘Oh, how weird!’ said Flora. ‘Can we talk about this tomorrow? It’s kind of spooky in the dark.’

  ‘I had a gerbil once who died,’ said Fred. ‘I wonder if I could contact his spirit and apologise for the dreary life he led in our house? They probably have pet mediums in California.’

  ‘Maybe the mediums themselves are animals,’ said Jess. ‘Maybe that sheepdog Betsy is a channel to the other side. Receiving messages from the previous sheepdog.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jess,’ said Marie-Louise, looking puzzled. ‘I don’t h’understand what you are talking about.’

  ‘It’s quite all right, old bean,’ said Jess. ‘Neither do I.’

  She wasn’t doing very well at the witty repartee this evening. All she could think about was Gerard. It was a full-time job, avoiding looking at him. Her eyes were desperate just to have a little tiny peep. Oh no! They escaped from her control and whizzed over to where he was.

  He was looking right at her. Her stupid heart leapt. He smiled. He gave a cute little shrug, almost as if to suggest that life was beyond one’s control. Quickly Jess looked away. She didn’t like that shrug. Life ought to be at least a teensy bit more under control than this.

  ‘I think it’s inspiring,’ said Flora. ‘Imagine being so in love with someone that you can still communicate with them after they’ve died.’ There was a brief, hanging silence. Marie-Louise sniffed. Communication among the living seemed more or less to have dried up.

  ‘Well,’ said Jodie suddenly, ‘I’m going to bed. Fred, you’re in charge of the fire.’ Fred looked startled. ‘Douse it down or something when everybody goes to bed.’ She stomped off to the tent and, if it were possible to slam a tent door, she would have slammed it. She had to make do with the faint thwack of canvas and a nasty waspish swish of the zip.

  ‘Well, it would appear to be time for silly songs,’ said Fred. ‘But I’ve mysteriously lost the will to live.’

  ‘Let’s have one more Coke,’ said Flora. ‘Oh, they’re warm! Horrid! I’ll take a couple of bottles down to the stream.’ She got up. Gerard leapt up also.

  ‘I will go wiz you,’ he said, chivalrously taking the bottles from her. No doubt their fingers brushed excitingly for a moment. Flora picked up a torch.

  ‘Won’t be long,’ she said awkwardly, and they strolled off down the hill.

  ‘Right! That’s it!’ said Fred, getting to his feet. ‘Bedtime. Without violent movies on TV there is no reason to stay up late.’ He went off to the boys’ tent.

  Edouard scrambled to his feet and followed him, muttering something as he went. ‘Goo’night,’ possibly.

  ‘I am going to bed, too, Jess,’ said Marie-Louise, looking a bit anxious. ‘But Fred has gone! What about ze fire?’ She was such a mother figure.

  ‘Flora can sort that out,’ said Jess acidly. ‘She’s hot stuff.’ Jess felt quite scorched inside from Flora’s latest bit of playing with fire.

  In the girls’ tent it was dark. Jodie was lying with her back to everybody, almost completely hidden in her sleeping bag, Jess and Marie-Louise got undressed in silence and slipped into their bags.

  Jess lay for some time with her eyes open. The faint breathing noises and the creak of canvas, the sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl outside were all, in theory, wonderful. But Jess was too upset to enjoy any of it. She just wished she was a million miles away. In fact, she wished she was at home. OK, she’d been bitten by a French boy, but hardly in the manner of her dreams or by the individual of her choice.

  Eventually, Jodie started to snor
e. And Marie-Louise seemed to be asleep, too. Jess looked at her phone to check the time. An hour and a half had passed since Flora and Gerard went down the hill to cool their bottles of Coke. There hadn’t been the sound of voices or any hint that they had returned. Jess hadn’t had a wink of sleep. She could only lie there, her tummy tied in an agonising knot, imagining Flora and Gerard down by the stream. They were probably, oh, kissing under water by now. Beside her lay Flora’s sleeping bag, empty and somehow taunting.

  Suddenly somebody crept into the tent. It was Flora. Jess heard her undress and get into her bag. Flora snuggled in close and whispered, ‘Jess! Are you awake?’

  Jess moved and whispered back, ‘Yeah. Can’t sleep.’ Jodie was snoring and Marie-Louise was lying on her back with her mouth open. Privacy, of a sort, was available. Jess was lying with her back to Flora, but Flora leant over on her elbow and whispered right into her ear.

  ‘Oh, Jess, Gerard is amazing! I so, like, totally adore him! He says I’ve always been special. He says he noticed me right from the very first day they arrived in England. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.’

  ‘Great,’ whispered Jess. She could certainly wait. It seemed her worst fears had come true, and her best plan for damage limitation was to try and pretend she was completely OK about it.

  ‘I’ll never be able to sleep,’ whispered Flora. ‘I’m too excited.’

  ‘Well, the rest of us mere mortals have to get our shut-eye,’ Jess murmured. But she knew that she was not going to get much sleep either.

  ‘Back me up tomorrow if Jodie’s horrible to me,’ whispered Flora. It seemed that Jess not only had to accept that Gerard was now Flora’s, but do a PR job on the situation as the best news since Romeo got with Juliet.

  ‘OK,’ she croaked. She was going to have to dig deep tomorrow. She just hoped God would be watching. Gold stars for saintliness would have to be earned. Should she warn Flora that Gerard was a treacherous flirt and heartbreaker? Could she preserve a diplomatic silence? Or would she lose it, indulge in obscene shouting and ruin everybody’s weekend? The latter seemed by far the most attractive option.