Girls Out Late

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I think it was seriously romantic,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, like it’s seriously romantic not even to be allowed to ask you out just now because my father’s such a stupid mean old fart,’ says Russell. ‘Well, he can’t physically stop me going out and doing what I want. I mean, I’m stronger than him for a start. But he says I can’t live there if I don’t accept his ground rules. I don’t want to go back to living with my mum either, because she and my sister have this all-girls-together thing and all they seem to do is slag off Dad and if I do any totally normal bloke thing like leave the toilet seat up then they go on about me being just like my father which makes me so mad. It’s like there isn’t any ideal home home. When Mum and Dad first split up I used to shuttle between them, one week with Mum, then I’d pack my little suitcase and go and have one week with Dad.’

  ‘I read a book about a girl like that,’ I say sympathetically. ‘It must have been really hard on you, Russell.’

  ‘Maybe I’m just exaggerating my situation to get you to feel sorry for me.’

  ‘OK, you’re allowed to do that, just so long as you let me bang on about my problem family.’

  I have a good moan, though I feel a bit mean as Anna has been so sweet to me recently, Dad seems to have taken off his unreasonable Ogre head, and even Eggs has seemed quite cute the last couple of days, drawing lots of pictures of monsters and monkeys and lorries and trucks and fire engines, claiming he’s helping Anna with her jumper designs.

  ‘I suppose my family aren’t too terrible,’ I wind up eventually. ‘But I can’t wait until I’m eighteen. Nadine and Magda and I all want to share a flat. Maybe we’ll all go to Art College. Not my dad’s. Hey, show me what you’ve been drawing.’

  I’m hoping there are sketches of me. There are several! Me arm in arm with Magda and Nadine, me chatting on the bus, me walking hand in hand with Russell in the park. He’s glamorized me considerably. He’s defrizzed my hair and pencilled it in as flowing curls, pared down my weight, added several inches to my height and given my outfit a designer edge. He’s set about improving his own image too, adding to his stature and muscle tone until he looks like an Olympic athlete bulging out of his uniform. He’s made his hair more sexily floppy and he’s given his features a full Leonardo DiCaprio make-over so he could get a job as his double for the movies.

  ‘I wish. You wish,’ I say, laughing.

  ‘What?’ Russell sounds a little peeved.

  ‘We don’t look like that.’

  ‘Yes we do. Well, you do.’

  ‘Rubbish! And the park certainly doesn’t look a bit like that. You’ve drawn it like a romantic rose-strewn bower.’

  ‘OK, maybe I used a bit of artistic licence here and there. Tell you what, let’s go to the park now and I can sketch it like it really is.’

  ‘Oh yeah. So it’s not “Come up and see my etchings.” It’s “Come out and watch my sketchings!”’

  ‘You can sketch too. Come on, Ellie, finish up the chips and let’s get cracking.’

  ‘But you’ve got to go home and so have I. Look at all the trouble we both got into last time.’

  ‘It’s not even half past four! I told my dad I was going to this art club – I do sometimes stay on, we’ve got a great Art teacher. Anyway Dad and Cynthia don’t get back from work till half past six so he’s not to know, is he?’

  ‘My dad is back from Art College by five some nights. And Anna will be home with Eggs.’

  ‘Can’t you say you’re at an art club?’

  ‘I suppose. Mr Windsor was talking about starting one the other day. He’s great too. My friend Magda’s developed this serious crush on him. She was having this terrible flirty conversation with him today – and he seemed to be enjoying it terribly.’ There’s a little pang to my voice. I’ve had a little bit of a crush on Mr Windsor since he came to our school. I suppose I’ve always thought of him as my Mr Windsor because I’m the one so nuts on Art. But he’s never chuckled at me the way he did with Magda.

  ‘Everyone always fancies Magda like mad,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t,’ says Russell.

  ‘Don’t you?’ I say, ever so eagerly.

  ‘No, not a bit. I mean, she’s fun, she’s pretty and all that, but—’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Well. She’s a bit obvious. All that giggly wiggly stuff.’

  ‘Hey, Magda’s my friend,’ I say – but there’s a tiny wicked bit of me that is thrilled.

  ‘I know, I know. You and Magda and Nadine, the Unholy Trinity.’

  ‘What do you think of Nadine? She’s not giggly and wiggly.’

  ‘Yes, but she’s sort of weird and stuck in her own world. She’s OK, Magda’s OK, but you’re the one that I want, Ellie.’

  It’s a supremely magical moment – but his words remind me irresistibly of John Travolta. Russell grins, on the same wavelength.

  ‘You’re the one that I want,’ he sings.

  ‘Oooh oooh oooh!’ I sing back, and we both collapse.

  We have this long involved old-movie conversation all the way on the bus, comparing our special favourites. Sometimes we differ. He’s a total Star Wars freak while I find it all a Big Yawn. He wanted to vomit whilst watching my beloved Little Women. I get scared telling him my number one favourite film is The Piano. I won’t be able to bear it if he sneers. The relationship between Flora and Ada is just the way I remember it between my mum and me. But Russell says it’s one of his favourites too because it’s so strange – those poke bonnets and crinolines and the piano on that bare beach are such haunting images. Russell is obviously into film theory. He’s predictably a Tarantino fan. He starts the little riff about McDonald’s in Europe and he’s impressed when I chant along with him. Then we rewind to the start of the movie and do the Stick Up scene. We get a bit carried away and this little old guy at the front of the bus jumps up like it’s really a stick-up, and a fish-faced middle-aged lady tells us to Mind Our Language.

  It’s just as well it’s my stop next. We’re still giggling when we get to the park. We’re both hoping it might have turned into the magical glade in Russell’s sketchbook, but it’s just the scrubby old park, totally unromantic in the daylight, with toddlers howling, mums shouting, an old vagrant muttering, torn Magnum wrappers flapping in the breeze and dog dirt in the grass.

  ‘Not a haunting image,’ I say.

  ‘We’ll go over by the trees,’ says Russell.

  But there’s a little group of guys, one with his hood up, several looking shifty. There seems to be an exchange of hard cash for equally hard drugs.

  ‘Maybe going over by the trees isn’t such a good idea,’ says Russell. ‘So where can we go?’

  We end up walking out of the park and down by the old allotments. Someone has planted cabbages. Their sour reek fills the air. We stand looking at each other, breathing shallowly. It’s hard knowing how to start kissing in broad daylight, especially as there are several old chaps and a girl in dungarees digging their allotments. Russell glances round and then closes in on me. His eyes morph into one as his lips touch mine. His head is at a slightly awkward angle so my glasses get pressed into my nose, but then the kiss takes over and my eyes blur and the cabbages turn into great green roses and the shouts and yells sound sweet as birdsong.

  ‘We’re going to lose track of time all over again,’ I say, when we eventually draw breath.

  ‘Who cares?’ says Russell, and kisses me again.

  ‘I care,’ I say eventually. ‘I don’t want you to get into any more trouble with your dad.’

  ‘I care too,’ says Russell. ‘I don’t want you to get into any trouble either. So we’ll go now. Well, in a minute. One more kiss.’

  We do go . . . after quite a few more kisses. Russell sees me right to my front door and we arrange to meet tomorrow. Same time. Same place. Same boy and girl. Same love story.

  I waltz indoors, sure that Anna will take one look at my wild hair and shining eyes and flushed face and swollen lips and sta
rt to create. But Anna is busy with her own creating, crawling round on her hands and knees on the living-room carpet matching up pieces of sweater, while the kitchen table is covered in potential designs. Eggs is sitting cross-legged in a corner, a huge toffee in his mouth clamping his teeth together. He is also creating, with needles fat as crayons and scarlet triple-knitting wool.

  “ook, ‘ook, Ellie,’ he says, dribbling toffee-slurp down his chin. ‘I c’n knit!’

  ‘Good for you, Eggs.’

  ‘I wish I could knit,’ Anna says. ‘Dear goodness what have I taken on, Ellie? I must be mad! You wouldn’t be an angel, would you, and help me come up with one or two more designs?’

  ‘How about an angel design then? An angel motif on the front, little gold lurex halo, wings in some fancy overstitch to look like feathers – and then a little devil on the back with silver lurex horns and hooves?’

  ‘Oh Ellie, that’s brilliant!’

  I help Anna all evening, the good-girl daughter with ultra amazing original ideas. Dad comes home, pats me on my unruly head and delicately enquires if I’ve had a brief tryst with Russell.

  ‘In McDonald’s, yes,’ I say.

  ‘Ah! Love amongst the Big Macs,’ says Dad. ‘Well, just so long as you’re home for tea. Good girl.’

  I am enjoying this new role no end. Maybe I’ve finally sussed out a way of having a great time and being a Good Girl.

  Magda and Nadine seem intent on being Bad Girls. At school the next day they listen to my detailed account of My Meeting in McDonald’s with My Boyfriend Russell, but they both seem gently distracted. I’m all set to show off just a little weeny bit at going home time because I have another date with Russell but neither Magda or Nadine seem interested. They have Other Plans.

  Magda hangs back when the bell goes, telling us she has ‘things to do’ and suggests we hurry on homewards without her. We blink at her.

  ‘What things?’

  ‘What are you up to, Magda?’

  Magda looks shifty. ‘OK, OK, I’m just going to hang around here until Mr Windsor materializes.’

  ‘Oh Magda, you are a fool.’

  ‘He’s a teacher.’

  ‘I’m not a fool. I seriously think I could be on to a good thing. And it’s great that he’s a teacher. Who wants to waste their time with schoolboys?’ Then she catches my eye. ‘Sorry, Ellie! I wasn’t getting at you and Russell.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ I say. Though I rather think she was.

  Nadine and I can’t persuade her to come along with us.

  ‘She’s mad,’ I say crossly. ‘She’s making a complete fool of herself. As if Mr Windsor would seriously consider a little fling with Magda! He’d lose his job for a start.’

  ‘Mmm,’ says Nadine.

  She isn’t really concentrating. We go out into the playground. Nadine starts. I suddenly realize what’s preoccupying her. Liam is waiting by the gate again.

  ‘Oh-oh,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry, Naddie. I’m here.’

  She’s not even listening. I look at her flushed cheeks. Maybe she doesn’t want me here!

  ‘Nadine, don’t look at him. Come on.’

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ says Nadine.

  ‘Well, it’s obvious. He’s hanging around trying to get you to go out with him again.’

  ‘I loved him so much,’ Nadine says softly. ‘He was so gentle, so romantic at first.’

  ‘Yes, but look what he was really like. Nadine, are you crazy? Stop looking at him!’

  She suddenly gasps.

  ‘What is it now?’ I take hold of her arm. She’s trembling.

  ‘He’s not here to see me,’ Nadine says. ‘Look!’

  I turn – and see Liam waving to someone. A little blonde girl in Year Eight is rushing across the playground towards him.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘He’s the absolute pits. Come on, Nadine.’

  But she pulls away from me, still staring at Liam and the little Year Eight girl. He’s kissing her now. He is disgusting. He’s doing it deliberately to hurt Nadine. And it’s working. She’s looking absolutely stricken.

  ‘Please, Naddie. Come away.’

  ‘I’ve got to see him,’ she says.

  ‘What? You’re mad!’

  ‘Let me go, Ellie.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid. Just come with me. Please. I’m begging you.’

  ‘He’s not going out with her,’ says Nadine.

  She starts walking towards them.

  ‘Nadine!’ I yell at her, furious she can be such a fool.

  She turns, shakes her head at me, and then goes on walking Liam-wards. I can’t stand it. How can she be such a total idiot?

  I ought to go after her. I should haul her away from that creep and keep her locked up until she comes to her senses. But she won’t listen. And I’m already late. I’ve got to go into town to see Russell.

  I try one more time.

  ‘Nadine, please!’

  It’s a waste of breath. She doesn’t even turn round this time. So I tell myself there’s nothing else I can do. I go off into town to meet Russell – but my heart’s thumping all the time and inside my head there’s this horror video playing of Nadine and Liam leaving the sad little Year Eight girl and going off alone together . . .

  Why do I feel so guilty? It’s not my fault. I’m not going to think about Nadine any more. Or Magda. I’m just going to concentrate on Russell.

  He’s waiting for me in McDonald’s.

  He’s already bought French fries and arranged a few on a napkin so that they spell out Hi! XXX. He leans over towards me and I wonder if he’s going to give me those three big kisses here in McDonald’s – but there are some other Halmer High boys over by the water fountain and Russell quickly veers away from my lips and nods his head at me instead. I nod back. Russell nods again gratefully, like we’re both auditioning for Little Noddy. Then I slide into the seat beside him and snaffle chips and start telling him all about Magda and Nadine and how they’ve both suddenly gone crazy. Russell listens for a little while but then he starts fidgeting.

  ‘Never mind Magda and Nadine. Tell me about you, Ellie.’

  So I tell him stuff and he tells me stuff, and we compare the craziest things like our favourite outfits when we were little kids. I had these terrible pink girly leggings with a pink flowery little top that I pretended was my special ballet dancer outfit! Russell had a favourite pair of jeans that he wore every day for months until they fell apart.

  Then we talk about our favourite places. He likes fairgrounds and I like beaches and we both love Whippy ice-cream. As I’ve snaffled more cash from Anna I treat us to McDonald’s ice-cream with chocolate sauce. Then we get on to the wondrous world of favourite chocolate bars, swopping passions. It’s as if we’re best friends, not just boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s just great.

  After a while Russell gets a bit fidgety and indicates that it would be even greater if we could enjoy another Love in the Allotment session. I don’t want to look too eager so I demur a bit – but I’m quite keen for us to be alone together too. The park is overrun with little kids playing footie but this time the allotments are empty, apart from a homespun scarecrow who waves his stick arms at us. We take no notice. We take no notice of anything else but each other. I don’t even think any more. I just feel.

  Then I do have to start thinking, because it’s feeling so good that I’m losing all common sense.

  ‘No. Russell. Stop it.’

  He does stop, though he tries hard to persuade me to carry on. I suddenly think of Nadine and Liam and wonder if they’re currently involved in a similar scenario. It makes me a little more understanding, though I’m sure Liam is just using Nadine. Then I wonder if Russell is just using me.

  ‘What’s up, Ellie?’ Russell says, kissing my neck.

  ‘Nothing. Well. I was just thinking about Nadine—’

  Russell sighs. ‘You’re always thinking about Nadine. Or Magda.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ I say, althou
gh I’ve gone off on a Magda tack now and I wonder if she’s followed Mr Windsor all the way home and asked herself in for a coffee. Maybe they could be similarly entwined on Mr Windsor’s sofa. The thought is so bizarre I burst out laughing.

  ‘What’s funny?’ says Russell, trying to draw me even closer.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just Magda has this thing about—’

  ‘Magda!’ says Russell. ‘See, I’m right. Magda Magda Magda. Nadine Nadine Nadine. You and your girlfriends!’

  ‘Did your last girlfriend have special best friends too?’ I ask.

  ‘Mmm,’ says Russell. He hesitates. ‘Well, if I’m absolutely truthful . . . No, you’ll laugh at me.’

  ‘No I won’t!’

  ‘You’re my first girlfriend.’

  ‘Really!’

  ‘Yeah. I mean, I could have gone out with various girls – and then there’s the school discos, I’ve danced with heaps of girls there. Hey, Ellie, there’s a special big dance coming up because it’s the school centenary. They’re trying to make it like a June ball at university. You know, a meal, two bands, a bouncy castle, maybe fairground rides. Will you come?’

  ‘Sure! Though what if you’re still grounded?’

  ‘Oh it’s not till the end of the month. Dad will have calmed down by then. And we’re all expected to go, partner or not. But it would be simply great if you’d be my partner, Ellie.’

  ‘Do I have to wear a ball dress, all low cut with a sticky-out skirt?’

  ‘Oh, no. Well, feel free to go for a little low-cut number. You’d look really terrific. But no sticky-out skirts, just something maybe . . . slinky?’

  Me??? I can’t stuff myself into a slinky little number, I’d look positively obscene. I mentally rifle through my entire wardrobe and start to panic. I’ll have to see if Anna will fork out for something new. But what?

  I ponder long and hard, though it’s difficult to concentrate while Russell is kissing me. After he’s walked me home I’m supposed to be settling down to my homework, but I design and discard a dozen different outfits instead. Anna looks over my shoulder.

  ‘They’re great designs, Ellie, but they’re all far too sophisticated. The jumpers are very much for the under-tens.’