by Anne Thomas
Billie stayed with me, looking me up and down. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said, honestly. "I mean, I wasn't before. But I am now. There's this really lovely girl in Year 7, I might buy her a drink later. She said I'm not fat."
Billie stared at me incredulously. "I could have told you that," he reminded me.
"You could have, but you have to, you're my friend. She," I wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder as she exited the toilet, "is a stranger, and therefore isn't obliged to tell me nice things like I'm not fat."
She wriggled away from me. "Um, can I have that drink in a bit?" she asked.
"Sure," I agreed, striding ahead of her. She hopped along next to me, while Billie followed on from behind.
After retrieving my handbag from the table, I bought the girl a bottle of Pepsi and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. I found out that her name was Lisa Marr and she was a classmate of Gareth's. She vanished into the club with her prizes and Billie pulled me around to face him as I zipped up my bag.
"You look nice," he told me.
"So do you," I said, shrugging. "I'm sorry, I didn't offer you anything..."
"I don't want a drink or anything, Nerys," he said impatiently, and held out a hand towards me. "Did Gordon upset you?" he asked seriously as I put my hand in his.
"A bit," I admitted as he led me towards the dance floor, "But I got over it. He's not as bas as he likes to think he is."
"Hmm," he murmured in a non-committal manner. "I just don't get where he's coming from. You don't look fat at all. You look really nice today, Nerys."
We stepped onto the dance floor. The DJ seemed to be going through a cheesy pop of years past phase at the moment, as Aqua's "Barbie Girl" was playing. Billie began to dance, somewhat awkwardly, and I joined him.
"Thanks," I shouted over the music, a delayed response to his compliment. "He's a dick, though, so I've decided not to pay any attention to him."
Billie grinned. "I couldn't have said it better myself," he declared, and took hold of my hand to twirl me.
"Where is everyone?" I demanded down his ear.
"Um, not sure. When I last saw them, Adam was dancing with Ann, Beth, Elisha, John and Sharon were doing the Macarena to the completely wrong song and Siân..." Here, he paused and smirked. I sighed.
"Siân...?" I prompted.
"Oh, Siân was snogging Liam in a dark secluded corner on the sofas." He held me still and pulled me up onto my tiptoes, pointing over everyone's heads towards the sofas.
"Um, Billie, I'm not as tall as you," I pointed out, glaring.
"What about your heels?" he demanded. "They were pretty big from when I last saw you..."
"I took them off. Couldn't be bothered wearing them."
"You're feet are bare," he reminded me, and I grinned at him.
"I can wash them."
"Someone might stand on your feet."
"True, but no one has yet."
He sighed heavily and set about removing his own shoes. He nudged them towards me. "Put them on," he commanded, and waited for me to do so.
I did, after a while. They were far too big for my feet and felt very warm. It was weird, wearing his shoes, and my movements were almost as limited as they had been when I was wearing my death trap heels. Still, it was nice to have something on my feet.
Once they were on, Billie wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me up so I could see over everyone's head. On the sofa I saw Liam and Siân, wrapped around each other as they snogged for England. Siân had her back to everyone and her mini dress had bunched up around her waist, displaying her Superman boy shorts. I snorted at the sight and Billie put me back down carefully.
"Well, at least they're having fun," I shrugged, and we began to dance again.
Eventually, Billie and me managed to make our way across the dance floor to join my friends. Ann and Adam – to my surprise – were dancing together, albeit not in the way I'd envisioned in my head when Billie had said that. They were just stood together, away from everyone else, and dancing like they were alone. It was amusing to watch, but not as amusing as watching Beth, Elisha, John and Sharon doing the YMCA to "I Think We're Alone Now".
The DJ's cheesy pop phase then seemed to end as he decided it was time to go all Christmassy on us. He played "Last Christmas", "Merry Christmas Everyone" and "Do They Know It's Christmas?" in rapid succession, followed by "All I Want For Christmas Is You", "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday" and "Merry Xmas Everybody", while foam snow was released from a machine in the ceiling. The snow caused a thrill amongst everyone, even though it dissolved almost as soon as it landed on your body.
It was one of those moments where everyone's just feeling ridiculously happy for no reason at all.
Halfway through the last Christmas song he played ("Merry Xmas Everybody"), Beth threw her arm around my shoulder, giggling loudly.
"I'm soooooo happy," she shrieked down my ear. I pulled away, shooting her a look which she ignored and continued hanging on my neck. "I see Siân's plan worked?" she asked, gazing towards Siân and Liam. They were still at it.
"What plan?" I replied suspiciously.
"Well, it wasn't really a plan. She just put on a short dress with the intention of throwing herself at the first guy she could. I she just got lucky that that guy was Liam, to be honest," Beth laughed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "You're wearing Billie's shoes!" she added as an afterthought, sounding positively delighted by this.
"I am," I agreed with her. "Um, Beth, are the drink's spiked here?"
"I dunno." Beth pulled away from me, shrugging her slim shoulders before latching onto Elisha who was doing a weird little dance on her own. I shook my head, amused. Beth got like this sometimes when she was really hyped up.
Billie caught hold of my arm then, pulling me back towards him just as the song came to a close. There was a brief moment of quiet from the music side of things, where the only sound to be heard was the bubble of chatter as people talked.
Then the DJ spoke. "And here's one for all you lovers out there," he crooned over the speakers, and we all looked at each other. How cheesy. That line sounded like it was right out of a movie. It probably was.
And then the opening to The Pogues' "Fairytale of New York" began to play, and left, right and centre, people began to glue themselves together for a slow dance.
Adam paired up with Ann, while I noticed John putting his hands on Sharon's waist. That last one made me smile. Over on the sofas, Siân was pulling Liam to his feet – I was amused to see his hair was mussed up and Siân's bright pink lipstick was smudged all over his face. Across the room, I could see Evelyn and Ed wrapped around each other and Gordon and Suzanne were gazing up at each other. Elisha and Louis had decided to pair up for the slow dance; while Beth was left on her own to sway side to side at the edge of the dance floor, a smile on her face. I began to move to join her, when I felt Billie holding me back.
"Hey," he said softly, as Shane MacGowan began to sing. "Where are you going?" I gestured towards Beth, and he smiled and put his hands on my waist. "Dance with me," he requested, although he'd already made the decision for me.
Slowly, and carefully, I raised my hands to rest upon his shoulders. The song began to play properly, picking up in speed. It wasn't what I'd choose to play for a slow song, but no one took any notice of the tempo of the song and continued swaying slowly, moving around in their own little worlds.
I looked up at Billie, and he looked down at me. His eyes were very blue, even in the darkness of the club – the lights had dimmed when the DJ had announced it was time for a slow song – and there was a small smile playing on his lips, and I could tell that my own face mirrored his expression – happy, dreamy, and oddly content. A part of me – a part of me I didn't want to acknowledge, not then, not yet – was telling me that I'd much rather be here, dancing with Billie, rather than the other option of dancing with Antal. That realisation hit me like a punch to the gut and even though I wanted to
pull away and pretend it wasn't happening, I didn't. Instead, I sighed, and moved closer to him, and his hands moved from my waist and he wrapped his arms around me tightly.
And then, I was just very, very happy. Later, we'd pull away and blush and be embarrassed, and I'd dance with Beth to Take That songs; later, I'd feel like throwing up on the coach home because I'd not eaten anything all day, and later, I'd feel like a cow for deliberately ignoring him when he shouted after me as I left the school hall to meet Pascal.
But then and there, stood in the circle of his arms and listening to Shane MacGowan's raspy vocals alongside Kirsty MacColl's smoother voice as they sang their bittersweet tale of love and dreams and Christmas, nothing else could possibly have been better. I was just happy, and I didn't even know why.
Chapter 21: Happy New Year
"Nerys Catherine Powell, if you're not downstairs in one minute I will send your brother up to come and get you! You're making us late, girl!" my mother's voice shouted up the stairs. I winced when I heard it and then turned back to the mirror to finish applying my lipstick.
It was New Year's Eve, and that meant one thing for a lot of the residents of Llynmawr: The New Year Llynmawr Bash (don't look at me: I didn't come up with the title). It's a party hosted by the Kyffin family. The Kyffins live in this huge manor house outside of town, are filthy rich, and send their two kids to one of the most expensive private schools in the area. While they were really quite snobby, and their kids were detestable, the Kyffins seemed to feel it was their duty to throw massive parties at least twice every year and invite just about everyone they knew along.
Margaret Kyffin gets her hair done at my dad's salon, so we've always received an invite for as long as I can remember. Most of my friends are usually invited for various reasons. It's not exactly the highlight of my year, because I usually end up sat at a table with Beth, Siân, Elisha and my brothers, taking the piss out of some of the more over the top party guests, and not much else. There are very few people at the party who aren't rich.
"Nerys," my father's voice shouted upstairs now, "Hurry up, or we'll leave without you."
I turned around, examining my outfit fully in my floor length mirror. Pascal had suggested that I wear the dress I'd worn for the disco again, but I'd decide to wear my old pencil skirt with this black and white striped top my parents got me for Christmas. I paired it with some black tights with a floral pattern and some red flat shoes. A red beaded necklace finished the outfit.
Appeased with my appearance, I trotted downstairs, the handbag that Pascal had bought me as a Christmas present swinging from my arm.
"Finally," Pete grumbled. He was just annoyed because my father had cut his hair last night and, as my father had already downed a couple of cans of beer, had cut off way too much and Pete now had the shortest hairstyle he'd had since he was thirteen. Making his temper worse was the fact that my mother had forced him to remove his facial piercings for the party. "What took you so long?"
"I was just, you know." I waved my hand in the air. They all stared at me. "Well, these tights are hard to put on without ripping them. They're like fishnets."
Pete looked incredulous. "What, we're late because you were putting on your fucking tights?"
"Watch your language!" my mother cried, smacking my brother's shoulders. He winced and we all began to troop out of the house.
"No, we're late because I had to shave my legs," I explained, sticking my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes. "Hey, Pete, I would have embarrassed the whole family if I turned up at the Kyffins with leg hair sticking out through the holes in my tights."
"I don't want to know," he responded curtly, looking longingly towards Matt and Pascal as they climbed into her car. He had to ride in our car, which meant that Pete, Gareth and me would be squashed into the backseat. You could just tell he was dying to jump into Pascal's car.
"Cheer up, brother," I said fondly as I settled myself into the seat. Pete, for some reason, had plonked himself in the middle of the backseat, easily the most cramped spot as you're sandwiched in between the two other passengers.
"Why should I cheer up? I'm going to some fucking party held by some posh nobs that don't even acknowledge that we're human beings half the time," he growled, raking a hand through his spiky, sticking up hair.
"Peter Powell, watch your language!" my mother cried from the front seat over the sound of the radio.
"You should cheer up because Gethin's going, yeah?" I nodded at him, and he glared at me. "Well, you can do what you did last time."
"What? Get totally bladdered and graffiti the Kyffins front door with pictures of dicks?"
"That was you?" my mother hissed in a betrayed-sounding voice. My brother clapped a hand over his face, groaning.
"It was more Gethin," I informed my mother. "Pete just stood there and wet himself laughing."
My mother was tutting. "That Gethin. He's a sweet boy but he can be a bad influence...I blame his mother."
My mother loved Gethin Jones, and for some reason, she adored Siân as well, not to mention their two kid brothers. She even quite liked their father. Their mother, however, she disapproved of. I mean, Kate Bateman (she's divorced from their father and doesn't share their surname anymore) is a nurse and goes to church every Sunday, but she's probably slept with half of Llynmawr. She is really nice, though. She bakes nice cakes.
Anyway.
"It's not like the Kyffins can't afford a new door," my brother complains quietly. "They could probably afford to buy a new door for every house in Llynmawr."
True enough.
About twenty minutes later, we finally arrived at the Kyffin house – or, more appropriately, manor: it's three storeys tall, has more rooms than you can care to count, and is decorated throughout with plenty of antiques, ugly rugs and awful but highly expensive paintings.
Pascal's car was already parked up outside the house – albeit, haphazardly and almost in one of the perfectly manicured flowerbeds, but still, it was there.
We all clambered out of our car and hurried to the house, showing our invitation to the snooty looking man stood at the door.
The party takes place in this massive room in the centre of the house. It's always very brightly lit and there's usually a buffet and lots of little tables dotted around the room, not to mention their private bar.
As we walked through the doors, Margaret Kyffin swooped down on us. She's a vivacious and buxom woman with bright orange hair curled to perfection, and a rather pointy, sharp face that manages to look about twenty-five and fifty five at the same time. It's hard to pinpoint her exact age because of the plastic surgery, I guess.
She was wearing an awful low cut green dress and pointy shoes and, of course, plenty of pearls and gold jewellery.
"David, David!" she cried, grabbing my father's hand with her free one (the other one cradled a glass of champagne). "How nice it is to see you! So glad you could make it! I've already seen your son, Matthew, his girlfriend is very...interesting, is she not?"
"Yes..." My father began to converse with Margaret, while Gareth, Pete and I quietly abandoned our parents to find our friends.
Situated around a table in the farthest corner, we found Beth and Siân, accompanied by Gethin and Siân's younger brothers, Bryn and Evan. Elisha stood a few feet away, talking to Winn Kyffin (Elisha looked as if she wanted to make a run for it).
"Hey," I said in greeting, dropping into the only free seat. Grumbling noisily, Gareth and Pete both pulled up chairs of their own – Gareth sitting next to Bryn, who is a year younger than him, and Pete sitting next to Gethin.
"I like your skirt," Siân complimented, eyes staring towards the bar. I looked over and saw Liam Wace trying to attract the bartender's attention, clad in tight-fitting black pants and a purple shirt with the first few buttons left open. Siân's idea of heaven.
"It's an old one," I replied. "And Siân, put your eyes back in your head."
"He just looks nice," she pouted. Beth snorted.
>
"So, how long has Winn been talking to Elisha?" I asked.
"Oh, for about fifteen minutes," Beth said, bored. "She jumped on Elisha almost as soon as she arrived."
Winn Kyffin was our age. Her name was actually Winifred, but no one ever called her that. She had the same sharp facial features as her mother but was tall and lanky like her father, and wore her dark brown hair loose and perfectly straight at all times. She also talked with one of the most annoying voices I've ever heard in my life – it was nasal and sounded more British than Welsh (I can't say anything, though. I sound like Cerys Matthews on helium).
Winn's horse riding instructor was Elisha's mother. Because of this the girls knew each other outside of school, although Winn scared Elisha.
"Shouldn't one of us go and rescue her?"
"If you want to," Beth said slowly, "But then Winn will only latch on to you. It's not worth it."
"Yeah, save yourself, Nerys!" Siân boomed, drinking a large mouthful of coke. Because of her enthusiastic yell as she swallowed, most of it went down the wrong way and she wound up having a coughing fit.
Elisha used this as her excuse to run away from Winn. She bounded over looking extremely relieved, plonked herself onto Beth's lap and closed her eyes. "That girl just talks and talks and talks," she complained loudly.
"You should just tell her to fuck off," Gethin told her darkly. Gethin is a rather intimidating, tattooed figure with a shaved head and numerous facial piercings; those who knew him also knew he was a lovely guy, once you got past his appearance. Well, he was most of the time.
Elisha glared at Gethin. It was a rare thing to see on her face, and we all did a double take. "Don't swear," she scolded the older boy in a tone reminiscent of her mother's, "It's not gentlemanly, there are ladies present."
Gethin and Pete cracked up laughing. "Okay, okay, Eliza," Gethin said, ruffling her hair. "I won't swear."
"It's Elisha!" she exploded, attempting to deliver the fiercest glare possible. It failed when he pulled a face at her and she cracked up laughing, my earlier irritation vanishing.
