by Sue Limb
‘It’s fine, it’s OK, don’t cry,’ she said. But, somehow, Jess’s kindness made Marie-Louise feel worse. She threw herself into Jess’s arms and wept.
Jess looked over Marie-Louise’s shoulder at Fred, who shrugged and backed off. He pulled another face, which meant: I can’t stand displays of girly emotion, so excuse me while I vanish for several hours.
Jess glared at him. She so needed his support at this crucial moment: his jokes, his clumsy cleverness. But Fred just backed off and went on going, shrugging his shoulders and pulling faces. Jess gave him a furious glare – a promise, that at the first opportunity, she was going to give him a hard time.
‘Oh, Jess!’ sobbed Marie-Louise, ‘I am so un’appy!’
‘Take no notice of Jodie,’ said Jess. ‘She’s always a bit moody. She doesn’t mean it.’
‘It is not Jodie,’ said Marie-Louise. ‘It is somesing else!’
Jess braced herself. Whatever next?
Chapter 30
‘What’s the matter, Marie-Louise?’ said Jess. ‘Are you homesick or something?’
Marie-Louise shook her head and, between sobs, tried to come up with a sentence. Unfortunately her command of English seemed to be slipping.
‘It is my – how you say … ? It is Miami,’ she said.
‘Miami?’ said Jess, puzzled. ‘What, like in Florida?’ How could a French girl be upset by a random American city?
‘No, no,’ sobbed Marie-Louise. ‘Monami!’
Oh no! She was speaking French. This was totally unfair. So far, Marie-Louise had been the one French person with a great command of English.
‘Wait!’ said Jess. ‘I’ll get my dictionary!’
‘I go to toilet!’ said Marie-Louise. ‘Excuse me one moment!’
She ran off towards the farm. Jess hesitated. Maybe Marie-Louise was ill. It certainly would be tiresome to be marooned on a camping trip if you weren’t feeling great. Maybe there was an illness called Miami. Or Monami or whatever.
Whatever, she was still going to need that dictionary. Jess strolled over to the girls’ tent. This trip was such hard work. Still, it must be ten times worse for Marie-Louise if she was feeling ill in a foreign country. Jess hoped she wouldn’t catch Miami.
When Fred reappeared, they would have fun thinking of all the cities in the world that sounded like diseases. Seattle sounded a bit like a tummy upset. Kuala Lumpur. Rotterdam. Then they could spend some quality time thinking of diseases that sounded like cities. ‘I have a penfriend in Acne, Ohio.’ ‘We’re holidaying in Candida this winter.’ That should help to pass the time. Ten minutes, anyway. This amazing weekend, which they had fought so hard to create, was turning into an endless ordeal.
The idea of camping was supposed to involve a gang of mates having fabulous fun and laughter around the campfire. So where was everybody? Jodie had disappeared to the farmhouse. Gerard and Flora had disappeared somewhere down by the river. Marie-Louise had disappeared to the loo. Fred had just disappeared. Only Edouard was visible, creeping about by a distant hedge.
Jess heaved a great sigh and entered the girls’ tent. Now, where was the dictionary? She dropped down on to her knees on her sleeping bag, and suddenly saw it. Not the dictionary, a spider. A massive deadly black spider, almost the size of her fist. There it was, crouching evilly beside her pillow, grinning up at her.
Jess almost fainted. She nearly had an attack of Rotterdam right there in the tent. A red-hot rocket of terror scorched up her throat. For an instant she was paralysed with fear, then she kind of shot back through the tent door like a film being played backwards.
‘Help!’ she tried to scream, but who was going to help? Who was going to get rid of the spider before Jess actually died of fright? There was only one person available: Edouard.
‘Ed!’ called Jess, running towards him. As she ran, she realised that, for once, fate had dealt her a couple of aces. The only person around was Edouard. But Ed was the very man for the job. Ed was, after all, seriously into creepy-crawlies. He looked up as she hurtled towards him.
‘Ed!’ she gasped, arriving. ‘There’s a spider in my tent!’
Ed frowned. Oh no! She’d forgotten that he didn’t speak English!
‘A spider!’ she shouted.
‘Quack?’ said Edouard.
What? He’s quacking at me, thought Jess. No, it can’t be, I must have dreamt it.
‘A spi-der!’ she repeated.
‘Quack?!’ said Edouard.
He really is quacking, thought Jess. He’s turning into a freaking duck. This has to be a dream.
‘Spider in tent!’ said Jess in desperation.
‘Quack?’ said Edouard. Then he did the best thing ever. He produced his dictionary. Jess grabbed it. Hands shaking, she turned over the pages and found the entry. She pointed out the word, then pointed to the tent.
‘Araignée in tent!’ she yelled. ‘Help, please! Get rid of araignée!’
Edouard’s face lit up with huge delight. He ran off towards the tent as if there was a big box of chocolate biscuits waiting for him there. Jess followed warily. She was certainly not going to accompany Ed. He was on his own.
He disappeared into the tent. Jess stayed outside. There was a pause and little rustling sounds from within.
‘Journer purrpar latroovee!’ he called. Oh no. Not that again. He’d gone off into Elvish.
Jess peeped in gingerly through the door. Edouard was lifting up the sleeping bags and peering under them.
‘Find, Eddie!’ said Jess. She was just going to ignore whatever Ed said and simply say things of her own. ‘Fetch! Good dog!’
Suddenly Edouard became still. He was staring into the far corner, by Jodie’s rucksack. Jess froze. Edouard dived. He caught it, actually in his fingers – yeaurch! – and transferred it into one of his little boxes. Then he came out, beaming with joy. He put the box in his pocket. Jess simply could not imagine how he could do such a thing. Forget France – this guy was from another planet.
‘C’est magnifique!’ he said. Even Jess knew what that meant.
‘Merci!’ she said, and patted him on the back. Not in an amorous way at all. Just the kind of way you might pat a jolly little dog. ‘Just one thing, though …’ Jess somehow couldn’t help herself. ‘What was all that quacking business earlier?’
‘Quack?’ said Edouard.
‘You’re doing it again!’ said Jess. ‘Quack! What is quack?’
‘Quack?’ said Edouard.
At this point, luckily, Marie-Louise arrived. She had clearly spent a few minutes in the loo, doing deep breathing and stuff, and was now more in control of herself.
‘Marie-Louise,’ said Jess, ‘what does quack mean? Edouard keeps quacking at me.’
‘Ah!’ said Marie-Louise. ‘Quoi means “what” in English. Like, “What did you say?”’
‘Ah! I see,’ said Jess. ‘At least I’ve learnt one new word of French, so this weekend hasn’t been totally wasted.’
‘Quoi?’ quacked Marie-Louise. Jess had spoken too fast.
‘Nothing,’ said Jess. ‘Now tell me, Marie-Louise: what is your problem?’
‘Eet iz stupide,’ said Marie-Louise. Jess put her arm round her, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. Gestures are kind of important when verbal communication is tricky.
‘I’m sure eet iz not stupide,’ said Jess. Oh no! She was trying so hard to empathise with Marie-Louise, she had started speaking with a cod French accent!
‘Eet iz mon ami,’ said Marie-Louise. ‘My boyfriend. Pascal.’
‘What iz wrong wiz ’eem?’ enquired La Jess.
‘My friends in France send me texts. Zey say ee iz wiz uzzair gairlz.’ Marie-Louise’s voice was trembling, and her French accent was getting stronger and stronger. Any minute now she might plunge into Elvish.
Pascal was seeing other girls? Ze swine! All boys are peegs! thought Jess. Oh no. I’m even thinking in a French accent now. She had to reassure Marie-Louise, though. She didn’t want to h
ave to deal with any more of that French crying.
‘Why don’t you telefon to eem?’ asked Jess. ‘Ask eem if eet iz true.’
‘My phone iz not workingue henny more!’ cried Marie-Louise in despair. ‘Eet have no charge!’
‘Well, borrow mine!’ cried Jess, producing it with a flourish. Marie-Louise actually smiled. Then she grabbed hold of Jess and kissed her bouncily on both cheeks.
‘Sank you, Jess!’ she said. ‘You are vairy kind!’
‘Off you go!’ said Jess, recovering her English accent. ‘Phone him. Talk for as long as you like.’
Jess staggered back to the fireside and threw another log on. She lay down on one of the blankets. Marie-Louise walked off down the field to find some privacy. Edouard had gone off to play with his fabulous state-of-the-art new spider. There was a moment of peace and quiet.
Jess closed her eyes. She felt shattered. Nothing was quite so tiring as emotional trauma. Except possibly emotional trauma in a foreign language. But the warmth of the fire and the spring sunshine soothed her. Jess drifted off into a light doze. She knew she was still by the campfire, but she was deeply relaxed.
Suddenly she heard a footstep nearby. Maybe Marie-Louise had come back and was eager for more counselling. Selfishly, perhaps, Jess decided to pretend to be asleep. She kept her eyes firmly closed and tried to look deeply, blissfully asleep. Then somebody sat down beside her. Heavily.
‘Right!’ said Jodie’s voice, sounding very tight and seething with poison. ‘I’ve decided I’m going to go home.’
Jess’s eyes snapped open. It seemed there was a brand-new crisis for her to deal with. Frankly, life would have been a lot more restful in a riot.
Chapter 31
Jess sat up and, to gain a little time, rubbed her eyes. How was she going to calm Jodie down and turn her from a wounded lion into a cute playful kitten by the time Flora came back to the campfire? For a moment she thought how restful it would be if Jodie did go home. But no, it would be really awkward – after all, they were camping in Jodie’s aunt’s field.
If she flounced off home now, Jodie would be sulking all month, right through the Easter holidays and beyond. And, after all, Jess was really fond of Jodie. When she was in a good mood she was loads of fun. And it must be really embarrassing having your French exchange partner getting all loved up with somebody else when everybody knew you fancied him yourself.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let me get my head round this. First things first. Have you had any breakfast?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact,’ said Jodie, ‘I did grab a piece of toast in my auntie’s kitchen.’
‘Great!’ said Jess. ‘What did you have on it? Marmalade?’
‘Well, if you really must know,’ snapped Jodie, ‘bacon.’
‘So you had a bacon sandwich!’ Jess was beginning to feel jealous. ‘Great! With ketchup?’
‘Oh, shut up about food, Jess,’ said Jodie. ‘You’re such a pig. There are other things in life, believe it or not.’
‘Listen,’ said Jess, ignoring Jodie’s insult, ‘I’m your fairy godmother. All my spells are at your disposal. What shall I do? Your wish is my command.’
Jodie still looked grumpy, but you could see she was considering the idea.
‘Make elephants fly,’ she said eventually. ‘Make them fly in formation over Flora’s head and dump on her, one by one.’
‘Certainly, it shall be done,’ said Jess. ‘And might we suggest personal disfigurement as well? After all, elephant poo can be washed off, but huge nostrils like craters could last a lifetime.’ The vaguest hint of a smile crossed Jodie’s face.
‘Disfigurement, yes …’ she mused. ‘Let’s give her the bum of an ogre.’
‘May I suggest the bum of a flatulent green ogre?’ said Jess. ‘Green’s very NOW. It’s the new black. And possibly mossy green teeth to match?’
Jodie grinned, and the grin stayed. Hmmm. This seemed to be working.
‘Not that I would give up on black,’ said Jess. ‘Certainly, in the form of blackheads, they offer a very attractive option.’
‘All over her face!’ enthused Jodie. ‘And instead of hair, she should have bristles.’
‘Scales?’ suggested Jess. ‘With lashings of slime? And every time she opens her mouth, instead of words a fart comes out?’
Jodie laughed. Actually laughed out loud. Jess felt a flush of triumph. Could she build on this change of mood? Could she complete the comedy therapy and coax Jodie towards kittenhood?
‘Unbelievable! I almost feel sorry for her!’ said Jodie. Then she clenched her teeth and sort of growled. ‘Not quite, though.’
‘Someone I really do feel sorry for,’ said Jess, moving swiftly on, ‘is Marie-Louise. Apparently her boyfriend back in France is seeing other girls and she keeps getting texts warning her.’
‘Oh no!’ Jodie dropped her head in her hands for a moment. ‘Was I very rude to her?’
‘Quite rude, I would say,’ said Jess, keeping the tone light. ‘On a scale of one to ten, nine and a half, probably. Something about shoving the bacon up her fat French bottom … ?’
Jodie groaned.
‘Speaking of which,’ Jess went on, ‘if you keep your eyes open next time she’s getting ready for bed, you might get a glimpse of a gold lamé thong.’
‘Oh no!’ Jodie groaned. ‘Here she comes. I’m about to grovel. But don’t expect me to apologise to Flora. No way!’
Jess didn’t comment. She watched Marie-Louise walking towards them across the grass, and tried to tell from her body language whether she had been reassured or not by the call to her boyfriend.
‘How did it go?’ she asked as Marie-Louise arrived.
‘I am not sure … He said eet was just lies, but …’ Marie-Louise shrugged. ‘Until I can see ’im face to face … Thanks for borrowing me your phone, Jess.’ She gave it back. ‘But on ze phone – it is hard to communicate, yes?’
‘It’s very hard to communicate even face to face,’ said Jess. ‘Jodie wants to apologise to you for her temper tantrum earlier.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jodie. ‘I was totally out of order. Sorry. You have a fabulous bottom.’ Marie-Louise looked alarmed, but faintly pleased.
‘Yes, it’s a lot smaller than either Jodie’s or mine,’ added Jess. Marie-Louise smiled.
‘Don’t worry, Jodie,’ she said, blushing. ‘I h’understand you are h’upset.’
‘No, I’m fine about it now,’ said Jodie, rolling over on to her back – almost like a kitten that wants to have its tummy rubbed. ‘Gerard’s got a perfect right to go off with Flora if he wants to. I hope they’ll be very happy.’
‘Ooh, good!’ said Marie-Louise. ‘Escuse me, I am a little cold. I go to get my jumpair.’ She went off to the tent.
‘OK,’ said Jodie, in a low growly voice. ‘So that’s the apology out of the way.’
‘Brilliant! Well done!’ said Jess. ‘Now, for goodness’ sake, don’t go home. It really is great here. And if you go, it’ll spoil it for everybody else. And you said yourself just now that Gerard’s got a perfect right to go off with Flora if he wants to.’
Despite mouthing these civilised words, Jess was secretly clenching her teeth in private rage. She wondered if Gerard had also treated Jodie to the wow factor. Had he held her hand and stared into her eyes and showered her with compliments before moving swiftly on?
‘I only said that to make Marie-Louise feel better,’ muttered Jodie. ‘The only reason I’ll stay – if I do stay – is if we can play some really ingenious trick on them.’
She looked Jess straight in the eye. Basically this was an ultimatum. Jess had to go along with the idea. Possibly even supply the brilliant plan.
‘We’ve got to humiliate them both,’ Jodie went on, like a lion chewing a bone. ‘OK?’
Jess felt a knot of tension and stress gathering just behind her tummy button. OK, Flora had behaved badly – greedily grabbing Gerard without considering anybody or anything else. But after all, she w
as still Jess’s best friend.
Should she warn Flora that Gerard had actually held hands with Jess only an hour or so before getting off with Flora? If her new beau was a heartbreaker, didn’t Flora have the right to know? And didn’t she also have the right to know that Jodie was plotting a humiliating revenge? Jess sighed.
If she’d been the one to pull Gerard, Jess could imagine how easily the rest of the weekend, and the rest of the gang, might have become kind of irrelevant. In fact, the presence of other people would have been torment. Flora and Fred were Jess’s two best friends on earth, but with Gerard’s arm around her, and the prospect of several hours snogging under some picturesque and solitary tree, well – friendship just might have had to take a back seat for a while.
This was so obviously what Flora was feeling, which is why she and Gerard were so often absent at the moment. Where were they now? Wrapped around each other in an area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, probably. Jess’s stomach sank with bitter jealousy.
‘Think of a cunning plan,’ said Jodie. ‘You’re the one with the brain cells. I want Flora and Gerard on toast by tonight. If I have to sit through another evening with them groping each other I won’t be responsible for my actions.’ She stomped off towards the girls’ tent, grabbed her towel and headed for the farmhouse.
‘I’m taking a shower,’ she called to Jess. ‘Get that thinking cap on! Remember, you’re in training to be a wicked stepmother!’
I was supposed to be a fairy godmother, thought Jess. Marie-Louise emerged from the girls’ tent, wrapped in a fleece. She sat down by Jess.
‘It is wonderfool now zat Jodie is feelingue bettair,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’
Poor deluded French person, thought Jess. If only you knew. But she made some encouraging noises and prodded the fire with a stick.
‘Ah! Fred is coming now!’ said Marie-Louise.
Jess looked up. Fred was indeed climbing over a gate – the same gate which Jess had climbed last night, when she was wet and covered with cow poo. Fred was carrying his Stephen King book.
