by Sue Limb
‘Waste of ketchup,’ said Jack, licking his fingers. ‘Plus I don’t like the sound of that bread knife bit.’
‘We could get one of those trick knives from the joke shop in Weymouth,’ said George. He seemed to be the gang leader. He never stopped talking.
‘I wouldn’t mind going into Weymouth,’ said Humph. ‘I need to get a charger – can anyone lend me ten quid?’
‘Shouldn’t you find your phone first?’ asked big Tom patiently as if Humph was a child. ‘What’s the point of a charger if you haven’t got a phone?’
‘I found Humph’s phone this morning when I went down for my jog on the beach,’ said George, slapping his head as if he’d just remembered. There was something stagy about the way he did it. ‘I dried it off in the microwave for you, buddy. It’s still there.’
‘What?’ Humph jumped to his feet, his green eyes wild with excitement. He raced to the microwave, threw open the door and took out a mobile. He examined it and stared accusingly at George. Jess watched, fascinated but fearful. ‘You didn’t really dry it off in here, did you?’ Humph asked, puzzled.
‘Sure!’ said George, his eyes dancing. ‘Give it another blast if you don’t believe me. Half a minute at maximum should do the trick.’
Humph stood, hesitating and frowning, glancing at his phone and then at the microwave. Then he reached for the door.
‘Don’t!’ yelled Jess. She couldn’t help herself. ‘It’ll explode!’
Humph stared at her and the other boys groaned.
‘It’s metal!’ said Jess.
Humph turned to George. ‘You didn’t!’ he said with a slinky grin. ‘This is one of your big jokes. I’ll get you for this, George Stevens!’ But he seemed strangely pleased to have been the victim of another trick. ‘Did you really find it on the path? Where?’
‘George picked your phone up off the table yesterday afternoon,’ explained speccy Tom admiringly. ‘You never know where it is anyway. George reckoned he could make you cook it this morning.’
Jess was revising her opinion of big speccy Tom. At first she’d thought he was the gentlest of the guys, but he seemed to hero-worship George.
‘You owe me five quid, mate,’ Tom went on. ‘I told you he’d never fall for it.’
‘He would have!’ protested George. ‘If Little Miss Head Prefect here hadn’t butted in.’
Jess felt a flare of furious indignation. ‘You could have ruined Humph’s phone,’ she pointed out, sounding indeed rather Head Prefectish – a horrible feeling for Jess, like the way she’d felt when Fred couldn’t be serious about organising Chaos. Jess hated being teacherish – she was usually a bit of a rebel.
‘My phone’s rubbish anyway,’ said Humph, refusing her support and siding with the boys who had played the trick on him. ‘Maybe I could have claimed back the insurance and bought a better one. Hey! Let’s do it, guys.’
The boys then settled into an argument about what would happen if you put a mobile phone into a microwave, while Jess and Flora ate their breakfast in silence. There was a slightly weird atmosphere. Jess didn’t have much of an appetite and Flora’s scrambled eggs lacked their usual divine fluffiness and were kind of stringy. Where was Fred? Jess couldn’t think about anything else, although every other moment she felt she was being over-anxious and stupid. What could be more normal than a lie-in?
Shortly afterwards, while Jess and Flora were washing up, Mrs Stevens entered in a beige woolly dressing gown, accompanied by Gubbins.
‘The view!’ she raved. ‘Isn’t it heavenly! Charles said it was going to rain today – he’s useless. Have you all had breakfast? Where’s Fred?’
There was a moment’s naughty pause again. You could feel the electricity in the air. The guys’ faces were full of flickering mischief.
‘He’s having a lie-in, poor old Fredianus,’ said George. ‘He couldn’t sleep all night because of O’Connell snoring.’
‘I don’t snore!’ retorted speccy Tom. ‘If Fred couldn’t sleep it wasn’t because of me.’
‘Couldn’t Fred sleep?’ asked Jess anxiously.
‘Well, I reckon he’s asleep now,’ said George with a devilish grin. ‘Listen!’ He held up a finger. There was silence. ‘Hear anything? No! No distant cries for help. Only the sound … of silence.’ For a split second Jess had a horrible sort of hallucination that George had killed Fred, that George was some kind of crazed serial murderer and later that day he was going to kill them all, one by one, in a mad game of charades.
‘Is it OK if I go and wake him up?’ she said, suddenly determined to do something – anything – to make sure Fred was OK.
‘Yes, of course, Jess.’ Mrs Stevens smiled. ‘Tell him I’ll put some toast on.’
‘There goes the Head Prefect,’ said George with a titter, as Jess headed for the stairs. ‘Poor old Fred!’
Jess gritted her teeth. She was trying not to hate George, but it was a challenge.
The stairs were the kind of open-tread wooden sort you get in old barns, and they led directly up into a huge attic which ran the whole length of the house. There were about eight single beds in there, arranged in two rows just like a school dormitory. And every bed was empty. Fred was nowhere to be seen. Jess stared in disbelief. There were five messy beds, where the boys had evidently slept, strewn with the boy debris of smelly socks and stuff, and three untouched beds. Jess’s heart was hammering away like mad. Where was Fred?
At the far end of the room she noticed a closed door. She tiptoed down to it. There was a sign hanging on it which read: THIS IS IT! Presumably it was a bathroom or loo. Jess hesitated by the door.
‘Fred!’ she called softly.
‘Unlock the door,’ came Fred’s voice immediately, from behind the blue painted boards. Jess noticed that there was a bolt on her side of the door which was drawn across. Hastily she unbolted it and opened the door. Fred walked out, still in his pyjamas and shivering.
‘They locked you in!’ Jess gasped, clapping her hand across her mouth. ‘But you must have been in there for …’
‘Two hours,’ Fred said quietly, but with a heavy dash of venom.
‘Two hours!’ whispered Jess in disbelief. ‘They told me you were having a lie-in!’
‘There’s no need to go mental about it,’ said Fred stiffly. ‘Go back down. I’ll get dressed and be there in a minute.’
‘Why didn’t you shout?’
‘I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction,’ said Fred grimly.
‘Mrs Stevens said she’s making some toast,’ said Jess limply, trying to cheer him up.
‘Toast!’ Fred gave a quiet, bitter laugh. ‘As far as these guys are concerned, I am toast.’
Jess headed for the stairs, her mind reeling. When did a practical joke go too far? Two hours, locked in the freezing loo! Poor Fred! But the essential thing was not to show them it mattered. They must pretend they didn’t mind a bit. Or was that spineless? Jess had never felt so confused.
Chapter 24
As Jess re-entered the kitchen, everybody looked at her and there was a kind of horrible expectant pause – the guys all had mischievous grins, and Flora looked nervous.
‘He’s fine.’ Jess forced herself to smile, even though she felt more like shouting. ‘Just got detained in the bathroom.’
‘Oh no!’ Mrs Stevens glared at George, but not sternly – there was a playful look on her face. ‘You didn’t? George, you are hopeless. I’m so sorry, Jess – it’s a stupid tradition here at Sea Spray. Anyone sleeping in the dorm for the first time gets locked in the bathroom. But usually they start to yell the place down and get let out right away.’
‘I think Fred was reading or something,’ said Jess lightly. ‘Why is there a bolt on the outside of the door, by the way?’ She tried to sound polite, even though right now she thought that the bolt was the stupidest thing she’d ever seen.
‘Well, when it’s blowing a gale, that door rattles like crazy and nobody can sleep a wink,’ explained Mrs Stevens. ‘So
we had that bolt installed and it holds the door snugly in place. We never dreamt these wretched boys would use it as a way of tormenting their guests. Oh, hello, Fred! I’m so sorry about my idiotic sons. Let me soothe you with some French toast.’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ said Fred, putting on his faux grin. ‘I’ve always wanted that kind of peace and quiet. I was really irritated when Jess came and forced me out. I could spend all weekend in there.’
‘I wouldn’t say that!’ warned Humph slyly. ‘Or maybe your wish will come true!’
The guys all laughed, and Fred sat down carefully at the table, still wearing the smile he used when he was really, really embarrassed and uncomfortable. Jess longed to give him a massive hug. This was ridiculous. She could feel tears gathering behind her eyes, but the boys mustn’t see or she’d never hear the end of it.
‘I want to look at that view again,’ she said quickly. ‘Come on, Flora!’ She grabbed her fleece and rushed out. The sea now had a glassy grey look, clouds had covered the sun and a bitter wind was blowing the coarse grass around at their feet.
‘Jack’s mum said she thinks it might snow,’ said Flora, snuggling into her parka. ‘Wouldn’t that be amazing! I’ve never seen it snowing on the sea! We could get snowed in and not be able to go back to school!’
Normally Jess would have jumped eagerly into this fun fantasy, but she was still seething. ‘Can’t you stop Jack behaving like an idiot?’ she hissed.
Flora looked startled. She blushed. ‘What do you mean?’ she faltered, biting her lip uneasily.
‘You know! Him and his brother! All these stupid jokes! Humiliating poor Fred! And calling me Head Prefect and stuff! And calling Fred Fredianus!’
Flora kind of cringed. ‘It’s just guys having a laugh!’ she said lightly. ‘And anyway, Fred was the one who found that name in the first place. What’s the problem?’
‘It’s really stupid and hostile.’
‘You’re overreacting, Jess.’ Flora kept her voice low, and she was trying to sympathise, but she clearly wasn’t about to diss her boyfriend and his family, who owned this glorious place. ‘Just lighten up,’ she went on. ‘I mean, they play tricks on Humph all the time and he just laughs it off.’
‘Yeah, but Humph is George’s friend from uni,’ argued Jess. ‘He’s used to it and stuff. It’s part of their routine, you know. Fred’s a total stranger – and he’s three years younger than them.’
‘Are you saying Fred can’t take care of himself?’ Flora frowned in a disbelieving kind of way. ‘Honestly, Jess, he looked fine. I think you should just relax and stop worrying about him. What guy wants to have his girlfriend fussing over him all the time in front of other guys? Just leave him to fight his own battles. I mean, Fred’s got a really, really devastating wit. If anybody can fight his corner, he can.’
Jess was silent. Everything Flora had said made perfect sense. She didn’t want to spoil this weekend by being stressy and awkward.
‘OK,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I just wish …’ She paused.
‘Wish what?’
‘I wish … I don’t know.’ Jess’s wish hung in the air, changing shape all the time. What was it, this wish that would change the weekend from an ordeal into a treat? ‘Oh, nothing.’ Jess had a feeling that if she worked out exactly what she was feeling, it would be the kind of stuff that would upset Flora.
‘Let’s go in,’ she said. They turned from the tremendous view and, as she did so, Jess realised she’d hardly even glanced at it; she’d only seen the rough grass at their feet, whipped by the winter wind.
Indoors, George was lying on his back on one of the sofas and Gubbins was standing on his tummy, licking his face. George was giggling uncontrollably. With his high-pitched voice, he sounded like a harmless little boy. Jess felt ashamed, as if she’d made a fuss about nothing.
‘Don’t let Gubbins stand on top of you like that!’ called Mrs Stevens from the kitchen door. ‘He’ll think he’s dominant over you.’ She turned to Jess and Flora. ‘We’re trying to teach Gubbins that his place is at the bottom of the pack,’ she explained. ‘Apparently you must never lie on your back and let them sit on your tummy, like George is doing now – push him off, George! – because what George is doing is submissive and it makes Gubbins feel like top dog.’
‘We had the same problem with our labrador when she was young,’ said Flora. ‘My dad had to be ever so firm with her. He wouldn’t let her on the sofa or upstairs, and she had to wait behind us when we went through a doorway. And she had to wait for her food until after we had eaten.’
‘Labradors are such lovely dogs!’ gushed Mrs Stevens. ‘This little rascal is a different kettle of fish – aren’t you, Trouble?’ She swept Gubbins off the sofa and gave him an adoring, exasperated look.
‘Who’s top dog here, then?’ asked Jess, grateful for something else to talk about. Although … was it really something else? Or all part of the same problem?
‘I’m top dog,’ said Mrs Stevens firmly. ‘But don’t tell Charles I said so!’ The idea of telling Mr Stevens anything was a bit far-fetched. So far this weekend, he had been fast asleep and apparently still was. He had woken up the previous evening in his armchair, hauled himself to his feet, nodded to the gang of his children and their friends without wanting to be introduced, said, ‘What-ho! I’m for a proper sleep!’ and disappeared.
‘Mum,’ said George, getting up, ‘can I take the car into Weymouth? Humph wants to buy a charger and we thought we might mess around there for a couple of hours – get out of your hair.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Mrs Stevens cautiously. ‘Just be careful, OK?’
‘Yeah, well, I am insured to drive it and everything,’ argued George self-importantly.
‘Yes, and don’t we know it,’ observed his mother with a stern look. ‘It cost an absolute fortune to add you to the insurance. Promise you won’t start showing off.’
‘Would I ever?’ George cocked his head playfully – he could have won the Nobel Prize for Showing Off.
Jess felt a horrid cold chill seize her insides. Maybe George would crash the car and they’d all be killed. Although she despised her mum’s nervousness around transport, she sometimes felt she’d inherited it. Maybe she and Fred could stay here at the house. But Flora would want them to go into Weymouth with the gang – she would want to be with Jack, and Jack would obviously want to be … It all made Jess feel ratty and giddy.
Fred ventured into the sitting room, looking pale and insecure. Jess was irritated all over again. Why couldn’t he stand up for himself and look relaxed?
‘Fred!’ cried George. ‘Sorry we locked you in the bathroom. You came through it with flying colours, though. No one’s ever stayed in that long before. How did you do it?’
‘I love it in there,’ said Fred in an offhand way, with a faint smile. Jess was encouraged. She was proud of him. ‘Hey!’ Fred exclaimed. ‘What a view!’
‘Oh, of course, you haven’t seen it yet!’ exclaimed Mrs Stevens. ‘We’ve only got those skylights up in the attic. Take Fred out on to the veranda, Jess, and show him the view.’
As it was obvious Fred was perfectly capable of going out and looking at the view without any help, Jess instantly realised that Mrs Stevens wanted to get them out of the way for a moment while she read the riot act to her unruly gang of boys. It was kind of her, but somehow humiliating. Jess hastily made for the French windows.
Out on the veranda, Jess suddenly felt close to tears. Ridiculous!
‘If only …’ That If Only stuff had come back, and she realised now what it was she was wishing, and now she could say it. ‘… If only we were here on our own!’ she sighed. Fred didn’t look at her, he just went on staring out to sea.
‘What a terrifying thought,’ he said. ‘The stuff of nightmares.’
This was, of course, just Fred being himself. He always said the opposite of what he was really feeling, especially when it came to personal stuff. ‘I’ve fallen head over heels in hat
e with you!’ he’d whispered once. It was just his way, and normally Jess loved it, and loved giving as good as she got. They were famous throughout the school for their banter.
‘Don’t say things like that!’ she heard herself plead in a tearful voice.
‘Oh no, don’t cry!’ muttered Fred, without looking at her. ‘Turn the waterworks off or I may just have to vomit!’
‘Fred! Don’t be so horrible!’
‘I’m going back in,’ Fred said grumpily, and turned on his heel.
‘Well, I’m going for a walk!’ snapped Jess. ‘And I hope when I come back you’ll have worked out how to behave – not just to me, but to these people who’ve invited us to this amazing place! This should be the best weekend ever!’
Fred paused for a second and glanced back at her. The look in his eye was not friendly. ‘Sometimes you do sound just like a head prefect,’ he said, and went back indoors.
Chapter 25
Jess stumbled down the cliff path, tears running down her cheeks. How could Fred be so horrible? She was on his side – it must feel awful being picked on by George and Co. They were bullies. Poor Fred! But Fred didn’t seem to want her sympathy – or even her company. How had things gone so terribly wrong?
When she reached the beach she just stood there, watching the waves crashing. The freezing wind tugged her hair about and dried her tears. She took a deep breath. She had to stop crying – this was silly. Then, from high above, she heard somebody call her name.
Flora was up by the house, waving. ‘Jess! Come on! We’re going into Weymouth!’
Jess waved back and did a kind of mad dance to look as if she had just come down to the beach for a spot of fresh air, not to sulk or have a cry. She climbed back up the path, puffing and panting. Flora was waiting for her at the top, standing on the veranda, snuggled into her parka. She looked puzzled.
‘What’s going on?’ she whispered. ‘Have you and Fred had a row?’
