Girls Out Late

by Jacqueline Wilson

  Anna is living, eating, and breathing jumpers. It’s as if her brain is three-ply cable twist. She’s wrapped up in her own woolly world and even when she’s talking to Eggs or Dad or me you can see the click click of knitting needles flickering in her eyes.

  I ring Magda to ask her advice about outfits for Russell’s dance, but she’s out. Her mum becomes anxious. She thought she was round at my place.

  I ring Nadine, but she’s out too. Her mum becomes annoyed. She thought she was round at my place.

  Help! I have unwittingly got both my friends into serious trouble. And what on earth are they doing out late? What’s happened? Is Magda really having a passionate encounter with Mr Windsor? And what about Nadine? Oh God, I should have tried harder to stop her going off with Liam. What sort of friend am I?

  I’m starting to get really worried. Our phone goes halfway through the evening. I rush to answer. It’s Russell.

  ‘Russell!’ I say, surprised. I nearly say ‘I hoped you were Nadine/Magda’ – but this would not be a good idea.

  ‘Dad and Cynthia have gone out for a drink so I’ve got the place to myself,’ says Russell. ‘I’m supposed to be doing my Maths homework—’

  I’ve still got last night’s Maths homework. I’ll have to copy off Magda again. And then there’s French and I didn’t do last night’s either . . .

  ‘But I thought I’d much sooner talk to you.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I wish we were still in the park together, Ellie. I love it when we’re together.’

  ‘Mmm. I do too.’

  ‘You don’t sound very certain!’

  ‘It’s kind of awkward right now,’ I say.

  The phone is in the living room. Dad is staring at me, ear-wigging every word, even though Eggs has the television up so loud I can barely hear myself. Even Anna has stopped crawling round the carpet and has her head on one side, watching me.

  ‘Awkward?’ says Russell. ‘Oh! You mean you’ve got Magda and Nadine round?’

  I don’t like his tone. So what if I did have Magda and Nadine round?

  ‘No Magda. No Nadine. But Anna and Dad and Eggs are all in the living room,’ I say.

  ‘What, listening right this minute?’

  ‘You’ve got it.’

  ‘Can’t you use the extension?’

  ‘We haven’t got one.’

  ‘Tell you what. I’ll e-mail you a message. Can you commandeer the computer?’

  ‘Russell, we haven’t joined the real world. Dad’s old Apple Mac isn’t up to e-mail.’

  ‘OK, OK. I know! I’ll write you a sweet old-fashioned love letter. How about that?’

  ‘That sounds great.’

  ‘And you’ll write me one too?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And we’ll swop them tomorrow? In McDonald’s?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘See you then.’

  ‘Yes.

  ‘Bye for now.’

  ‘Bye.’

  ‘Bye, Ellie, it’s been great talking to you.’

  ‘And you.’

  ‘You don’t mind my phoning?’

  ‘No. Not a bit.’

  ‘Tomorrow then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bye.’

  ‘Bye.’

  ‘Oh per-lease, put the phone down!’ Dad hisses – but he’s smiling.

  I do put the phone down – and smile back. I feel this great glorious grin flash across my face.

  ‘He’s very keen,’ says Anna.

  ‘Mmm,’ I say happily.

  ‘I still don’t approve at all,’ says Dad, but it’s obvious he doesn’t really mind.

  Eggs is the only one looking mutinous.

  ‘I don’t like this new boyfriend,’ he declares.

  ‘You haven’t met him, silly,’ I say, picking him up and turning him upside down.

  I used to be able to shake him like a beanbag but now it’s a real struggle. Eggs is still skinny but he’s growing rapidly. It’s a weird feeling that maybe one day he’ll be towering over me, and there might be enough muscle in those matchstick arms to pick me up and turn me upside down.

  I get a flash of what it might be like for Dad. He’s so used to me being his funny fat little Ellie. It must be so weird for him now I’ve started going out with boys.

  ‘I don’t want to meet him!’ Eggs gurgles, going beetroot red. ‘Put me round the right way, Ellie!’ He kicks at me and struggles.

  ‘Ellie! He’ll be sick in a minute,’ says Anna.

  I right him quickly. I’ve had Eggs puke all down me before and it’s not a pleasant experience.

  ‘I like Dan,’ Eggs says, harping back to this other boy I used to know.

  ‘Russell is a hundred times better than Dan,’ I say.

  ‘Do you love him then?’ asks Eggs. He stares at me. ‘Do you? Why have you gone all red? Ellie?’

  I retreat rapidly to my bedroom. I let the French and History homework go hang. I worry a bit about Nadine and Magda – but most of the time I lie on my bed and dream about Russell.

  Do I love him?

  I think I do.

  I do. I do. I do.

  I get to school very early. I wait for Magda. I wait for Nadine.

  They don’t come in early. They’re both very late, after the bell. Nadine is very pale, with dark smudges under her eyes. Magda is flushed and jittery, hardly able to keep still. And she hasn’t done her Maths homework, so we’re all in trouble.

  There’s no way we can talk about yesterday evening under the watchful eye of Mrs Henderson so I pass them both notes.

  ‘Nadine – what happened with you and Liam??? Tell me – in detail. Are you OK? You’re not cross with me, are you? Love Ellie. X X X’

  ‘Magda – what happened with you and Mr Windsor??? Tell me – in detail. Are you OK? You’re not cross with me, are you? Love Ellie. X X X’

  For five very long minutes I don’t think either of them is even going to bother to reply. Then Nadine starts a note in her Gothic script and Magda writes her little round scribble.

  ‘Ellie – I could kill you for ringing my mum like that! I am VERY CROSS with you. I don’t want to write stuff about Liam. It was so upsetting and horrible last night. I’ll tell you and Magda later. Love Nadine.’

  ‘Ellie – I had a terrible time making up excuses to my mum because you were daft enough to ring up. And I wasn’t in the mood. Don’t ask about me and Mr Windsor. It was awful. I’ll tell you and Nad as soon as poss. Love Magda.’

  I can’t wait to get them round by the Portakabins at break where we can be private.

  ‘Magda! What happened last night?’

  ‘Nadine! What happened last night?’

  ‘You tell first, Magda,’ says Nadine.

  ‘No. You tell,’ says Magda.

  ‘I had to go and talk to Liam,’ Nadine starts. She sees me shake my head. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Ellie. Honestly! You think I’m mad, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes! She is, isn’t she, Magda?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m the mad one,’ Magda mumbles.

  ‘Well, I’m not mad,’ says Nadine. ‘I don’t love Liam any more. I hate him. All right, when I saw him outside school I couldn’t help feeling a bit funny, especially when I thought he was waiting for me. But then when I saw him with that Year Eight girl – she’s called Vicky and she’s so sad – I just felt boiling mad.’

  ‘How dare he treat you like that, deliberately kissing that girl in front of you,’ I say.

  ‘How dare he treat her like that. She’s only just thirteen. He is so sick. He was thrilled too, when I went storming up to him. He looked at me like, See, Nadine, look what you’re missing. It made me want to slap his stupid face. But I started talking to Vicky, telling her I needed to talk to her privately. She just thought I was making trouble, that I was jealous. Liam tried to make me clear off. But I just stood there in front of them, telling Vicky all this stuff about Liam and how he just uses girls. I came out wi
th all these lovely secret romantic things he once said to me – and of course it turns out he’s said exactly the same things to her.

  ‘So then she started to wonder whether I was just trying to make trouble like Liam said. I asked her to come for a walk with me so we could have a proper talk together. Liam got very angry then and said I was just jealous because I’d blown my chances with him. He said he wouldn’t want to touch me now if I was the last girl in the world. He said holding me in his arms was like holding a marble pillar because I was so stiff, so cold, so unresponsive. He said no boy would ever want to kiss me because I’m so boring.’

  ‘How dare he, the filthy creep!’ I say.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of that jerk, Nadine. You’re beautiful and all the boys want to go out with you. You didn’t take him seriously?’

  ‘Well, it was horrible, him saying all that,’ says Nadine, her voice shaking. ‘But it worked for Vicky. She started staring at him in horror, seeing him in his true light at last. So we went off together. We left Liam just standing there. He started yelling stuff after both of us. Vicky started crying. I did too, actually. We went back to her house – it was OK, her mum works late, so we had the place to ourselves, and we could have a good heart to heart. It turns out she was all set to do whatever he wanted because he’d got her convinced it was the way to prove her love. I know, I know, it’s so sad – but I nearly fell for that old line too.

  ‘Anyway, I stayed really late at Vicky’s, because she needed a lot of looking after. I thought I’d tell my mum I was round at your house, Ellie, to save complication.’

  ‘Oh oh. I kind of complicated things more,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll say! When I eventually got home my mum went bananas. She’s convinced I’m seeing this secret boyfriend. It’s crazy. All the time I was seeing Liam she didn’t suspect a thing, but the one time I’m truly just round at a girl’s house she goes nuts and I’m in deep trouble. She’s not going to let me out again in a hurry. She even started on about the Claudie concert, but I think I can still go OK, seeing it’s with you two.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see her on the 29th,’ says Magda. ‘The tickets came this morning. The one good thing. At least the post got me out of bed. I wasn’t going to get up today. I certainly wasn’t coming to school. Not ever again, actually.’

  ‘Because of Mr Windsor?’

  ‘Mmm,’ says Magda.

  ‘He didn’t do anything really awful, did he?’

  ‘I can’t believe it. I always liked Mr Windsor.’

  ‘He didn’t do anything. And I like him. He’s lovely. Oh God, I made such a complete idiot of myself.’ Magda hides her head in her hands.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Tell, Magda! Come on. I told,’ says Nadine, blowing her nose.

  ‘Mags! You’ve got to tell us. We tell each other everything,’ I say, pulling her hands away.

  Her face is as red as her hair.

  ‘OK, OK, I’ll tell. I followed Mr Windsor home yesterday. I stayed back after school and we had a little flatter about this and that. I made out I was really getting into Art and how much his lessons mean to me. He seemed dead chuffed about it. I didn’t mean it. I know you’re stuck on Art, Ellie, but it’s just a bit of fun to me. Anyway, Mr Windsor and I seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. The way he was looking at me with those big dark eyes of his it was practically Great Fire of London time! I didn’t just want to leave it when he sloped off to his car. I wondered about asking him for a lift but I thought he’d be a bit uncomfortable on the school premises, anyone could be watching. So I thought, OK, cool it for a bit but maybe . . . sort of turn up at his house!’

  ‘Wow! Magda, you really flipped!’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ says Magda, shaking her head.

  ‘You didn’t go to his house?’

  ‘I did. Well, his flat. It’s fabulous too, just the way you’d imagine, this big airy loft space in one of those converted warehouses near the river. It’s not fair! Why does everything about him have to be gorgeous?’

  ‘How did you know where he lives?’

  ‘You couldn’t have run along behind his car!’

  ‘How do you think I found out where he lives? I looked him up in the telephone directory at home. And I changed out of this ropy old uniform and wore my black lacy top—’

  ‘The see-through one!’

  ‘Well, I had my bra on – and my black trousers, the brilliant ones that kind of show off my bum, and my red sandals with the high heels to show him I don’t have to look like a boring little schoolgirl.’

  ‘I’ll say!’

  ‘I made out to Mum that you’d set me up with this double date, Ellie, with your Russell and some mate of his. I warned her I might be late back and then I got the bus over to the river—’

  ‘Your mum didn’t mind you going out late?’

  ‘Your mum didn’t mind you going out all tarted up and glamorous?’

  ‘Mum’s reasonably cool about it. She’s always trusted me – until you phone up, Ellie, and blow the whole thing.’

  ‘I wasn’t to know, was I? But I’m sorry all the same.’

  ‘I know. Anyway, I found the right block for Mr Windsor and there’s this entryphone thing. I hung around for a bit wondering how I was going to announce myself. To be absolutely truthful I very nearly chickened out at that stage. If only I had!’

  ‘Magda, I just can’t believe you had the nerve!’

  ‘I must have been completely crackers. OK, I announced myself over his answerphone, sort of “Hi, it’s Magda here”. And then I waited. Mr Windsor says on the intercom, “Magda who?” which didn’t exactly help my self-esteem. But then I thought he was maybe acting dumb deliberately to be cautious. After all, there aren’t that many Magdas around. I said I was Magda from school. He just said “Oh!” sounding amazed. I mean, we’d been chatting away only an hour or so before. I wondered if he was ever going to invite me in so I spun him this story about some dodgy-looking guy I thought might be following me, so he buzzed the door release.

  ‘I went rushing up the stairs and there he was, standing by his front door, looking really anxious. He asked all about the dodgy guy and I said it was OK, I’d maybe been imagining it, but could I come in and wait for a bit just to make sure he was gone?

  ‘He still hesitated, looking like he hardly recognized me. I suppose he’s so used to seeing me in my dreary old school uniform. He asked what I wanted. I said I wanted to talk to him. He said maybe I’d better talk to him at school and I said I really needed to talk to him now, so he let me in, though he sort of edged round me and kept well away, as if I had a filthy cold and he was scared of catching it.

  ‘I was really bowled over by his flat. It’s ultra cool, polished bare boards, very minimal chic, not much furniture at all. He had one of those bashed-about metal sculptures in a corner. The walls were the only crowded bit. Paintings. All his.’

  ‘What were they of?’

  I couldn’t help envying Magda terribly. I’d give anything to see Mr Windsor’s flat – especially his paintings.

  ‘I don’t know. Women, mostly.’

  ‘What, portraits? Full length? Nudes?’

  ‘Ellie! As if it matters! Get on with the juicy bit, Magda,’ says Nadine.

  ‘It matters to me!’ I say. ‘What style, Magda?’

  ‘Sort of realistic but a bit splotchy,’ Magda says vaguely.

  ‘What kind of colours?’

  ‘Darkish. I think. I don’t know. I made out I was looking at this one painting – a woman in a blue dress, OK, Ellie? – and I said stupid stuff about it being a happy picture and it made me think of the seaside. It was just because the woman was wearing a sundress and she looked like she had a tan, but it turned out it was a lucky guess because he’d painted it on holiday. He burbled on about the quality of the light, bla bla bla, but I just wanted to know who the woman was, but I didn’t like to ask in case it sounded crass. I wish I had, then I could still have got out of t
here without looking a total fool.’

  ‘What did you do? I’m going nuts with the suspense,’ says Nadine.

  ‘So I sit down on the sofa while Mr Windsor’s still nattering on about his old painting and gradually his voice trails away and he asks me why I’ve come round. So I say, ever so casual, that I was meeting someone else later, but I’d been told he lived in these flats down by the river so I thought I’d just pop by. Like you do.

  ‘He still seemed a bit fazed by this and asked who had told me where he lived so I just laughed and wouldn’t tell him. Then he asked who I was going to be meeting and I laughed some more and said I didn’t want to tell him that either. He went off at a bit of a tangent then, asking me ever so seriously about who I was going out with. I thought he was maybe a teeny bit jealous, which was simply great, so I hammed it up a bit, and he got even more serious and seemed to think that I’d come round to discuss this mythical boyfriend with him. He said perhaps I was getting more involved than I really wanted and though he was flattered I wanted to discuss it with him maybe I’d do better talking things over with some other teachers – like Mrs Henderson! Dear God, imagine discussing your love life with Mrs Henderson! So I said – I said – Oh God, I said . . .’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I wanted to discuss my love life with him. Because he was my love life,’ Magda mumbles, ruby-red.

  ‘You didn’t say that!’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘I wish I was. But I did say it. I must have been barking mad. Woof woof,’ Magda says. ‘It was just I thought we’d be pussyfooting around all evening. Oh help. First it’s dogs, now it’s cats. I’m going completely batty. There you are. Bats.’

  ‘Magda. Calm down. Take a deep breath. And now tell us what Mr Windsor said!’

  ‘He didn’t say anything for a full minute. He just gave me this awful astonished appalled look. Then he kind of paced round the room saying nothing at all while I sat on his sofa wanting to sink straight through the cushions because I could see I’d made this huge mistake. Then he went out into his kitchen and I thought this was a signal to me to go so I was just about to make a bolt for his front door when I heard this tinkle of glasses and a pop of a bottle opening and he came back with a Coke for me and a glass of wine for him. He gave me my drink and then he sat down on the sofa too, but right up the other end. Then he says, “Oh Magda,” shaking his head. And I take a little sip of Coke, shaking so much my teeth go clink against the glass. I managed to stammer out “Oh Mr Windsor” and then we both have a silly giggle. Then Mr Windsor says – oh God, he was so lovely which kind of makes it worse – he says “I’m very flattered that you’ve taken such an interest in me, Magda, especially when I know you could have your pick of all the boys.”’