' M i r a n d a M i r a n d a M i r a n d a . Hey, maybe she's your type, Sylvie,' said Carl. 'Do you fancy her?'
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'Shut up!' I said. I felt my cheeks going scarlet as I remembered the girl in the shop.
'Syl? I didn't mean it. Anyway. Look. Do you t h i n k Miranda would like to come bowling some time?'
I stared at Carl. 'You w a n t to go bowling w i t h Miranda?' I repeated.
'Not just her. Us. We could go one Friday night.'
T h e three of us?'
'Well. I could get one of t h e guys from school to come too. Maybe.'
'Which guy?'
'I don't know. Whoever w a n t s to come.' Carl coughed and sat up. 'Paul was saying he likes going bowling. Maybe he could come.'
'Paul t h e football guy?'
'Yeah. Him.'
I w e n t a n d s a t down by Carl's giraffe, stroking h e r long soft droopy neck. It was so strange. It was all happening j u s t as Miranda h a d suggested. P e r h a p s she really was an enchantress like h e r Glassworld counterpart?
Why was Carl inviting h e r if he didn't like her?
And why on e a r t h was he suggesting bowling?
'You don't like bowling,' I said.
'I t h i n k it'll be fun.'
'You h a t e d it t h a t time you went with Jake.'
'Yeah, well, I h a t e a n y t h i n g I do w i t h Jake,' said Carl. He stretched. 'So. This Friday?
You and Miranda, Paul and me?'
'OK.'
'Great.' Carl smiled at me. It w a s a 113
d e v a s t a t i n g l y sweet smile, his brown eyes shining. I stopped puzzling over everything and smiled back.
'Now I really must get on with homework,'
Carl said gently, getting his school bag and flipping through it for textbooks and jotters.
'You always have so much homework,' I said, sighing.
'You always have so little,' said Carl. 'And even then you don't always do it.'
'I haven't got any this evening. I don't even know w h a t we got set, on account of the fact Miranda and I played t r u a n t this afternoon.'
I knew t h a t would stop him in his tracks and divert him from his homework. I told him the whole story of our afternoon adventure. Carl looked r e l u c t a n t l y impressed. We'd often fantasized about playing t r u a n t when we were at school together. We'd even plotted the best way to do it and planned w h a t we would do together on our snatched day of freedom. We'd never quite managed to do it.
'Miranda's got a lot of bottle,' said Carl. 'Still, better not get too carried away. You don't want to get into too much trouble.'
'Lucy t h i n k s I'll get expelled.'
'Oh well, Lucy would.'
'I t h i n k we've broken friends, Lucy and me,' I said, nursing the giraffe.
Well, that's cool, isn't it? Because you've got Miranda now.'
'Yes. She said she w a n t s to be my best friend.
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But you know w h a t Miranda's like, Carl. You don't really know where you are with her. She could j u s t as easily stop being your friend and become your worst enemy, and t h e n where would I be?' I said, clutching the giraffe close to my chest.
'You'd be where you always are, best friends with me,' said Carl.
He reached out a n d we did our special best-friends clasp. I wanted to h a n g onto his h a n d b u t he gently disentangled his fingers and opened up his school books. I sat cross-legged watching him work for a few minutes and then I went home.
M u m was j u s t coming down t h e road, struggling with shopping. I r a n to help her, feeling guilty.
'I thought we were going to Tesco on Sunday morning when I can help,' I said, hauling flimsy plastic shopping bags indoors.
'Hey, hey, careful, there's eggs in t h a t one.
Don't try to carry t h e m all, you'll h u r t yourself We struggled together down t h e hall into the kitchen and tumbled all the bags down on t h e floor. Mum switched on the kettle and started unpacking everything, putting food in t h e fridge and cupboards. I nicked a b a n a n a and t h e n backed away towards the door.
'No, don't slope off, Sylvie. I w a n t to talk to you,' said Mum ominously.
I froze, holding my b a n a n a in mid-air. I chewed my first mouthful but I seemed to have 115
lost the ability to swallow. Had they noticed I wasn't at school a n d phoned M u m at t h e building society? Maybe some nosy neighbour h a d spotted me out with Miranda? Perhaps the shop where we'd tried on the vest tops h a d found out our names and reported us?
I stood still, clutching the stupid banana.
' B a n a n a s a r e considered monkey food, b u t monkeys actually get severe t u m m y upsets if they eat lots of bananas,' I gabbled, trying to distract her. I launched into a ludicrous riff on b a n a n a s , from t h e i r excellent p o t a s s i u m content to their role in slapstick comedy, while Mum made us a cup of tea. Then she sat down at the table a n d beckoned me to join her. I still kept up the banana-gabble, picking off all the stringy bits and whittling it with a knife, turning it into a long white woman.
'Look, don't mess about with it, eat it! That bunch cost ninety-nine pee. It's meant to nourish you. It's not blooming playdough,' said Mum.
I put down the b a n a n a and knife. Mum didn't sound cross, exactly. She would be extremely cross if she knew I'd bunked off school. She couldn't know. So w h a t was this all about? I took a quick peep at her. She was glancing at me equally furtively. We both giggled uneasily.
Mum was bright-eyed and very pink, as if a fresh wind was blowing through the kitchen.
'I'm thinking of going out Sunday morning, Syl,' she said in a sudden blurt. 'I didn't t h i n k you'd mind. You can have a lie-in a n d t h e n go 116
round to Carl's. And I was wondering if it would be OK for you to have Sunday lunch there too.'
Jules says it's fine with her. She's doing a roast so there'll be heaps for everyone.'
'So where are you going, Mum?' I asked, bewildered.
'I thought I might go swimming,' said Mum.
I stared at her. I'd never known Mum go swimming in her life before. I didn't even t h i n k she h a d a swimming costume. The whole world was going crazy. F i r s t Carl w a n t e d to go bowling, now Mum wanted to go swimming. Was Lucy going to take up lap dancing? Would Miranda join the church choir?
'Can you swim, Mum?' I said.
'Yes. Well. I used to be able to. I can do breast stroke OK.'
Mum did little swimming movements with her hands. She looked nervous. I imagined her, pale and podgy, being splashed by a lot of screaming kids.
'I'll come w i t h you, Mum. What's t h i s swimming idea then? Do you w a n t to get fit or something?'
'No, it's .. . "or something",' said Mum. 'I'm not going to the local baths, it's this club up in London. Well, I think I am. Maybe it's a totally ludicrous idea and I'll give up on it altogether.'
She put h e r h a n d s over h e r face, shaking h e r head. 'I t h i n k I've gone a bit mad. I know I'm acting crazy. I j u s t can't help it though. I'm so sick of being sensible.' She made an odd little 117
noise. I wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying.
'Mum?' I gently prised her hands away from her face.
She smiled at me, though her eyes were wet.
'The thing is, Sylvie, I'm seeing this m a n on S u n d a y '
'Goodness!' I said. 'Why? Who is it? Some guy at work?'
'Do me a favour! They're all young enough to be my sons! No, this guy – look, swear not to tell anyone, not even Carl?'
'OK.'
'I haven't actually met him yet but I talk to him on the Internet.'
'Mum':
'Don't look so shocked. It's not like one of those weird chat rooms. It's a website called
"Not Waving But Drowning". I read about it somewhere and t h e n I looked it up. It's a kind of humorous helpline thing.'
'About drowning? You're not going swimming!'
'No, no, silly! It's based on t h a t Stevie Smith poem, "Not Waving But Drowning". It's always been one of my favourites – it's quietly desperate in a funny sort of way and I suppose there have been times when I've felt quietly desperate too. I'm fed up at work, I h a t e having to have lodgers in the house, even poor Miss Miles, I h a t e never going out, I j u s t do the chores and slump in front of the television. I've 118
felt like my whole life's over and I'm not yet forty.' Mum took a deep breath. 'Sooo, it was strangely comforting accessing this website and finding h u n d r e d s of other people j u s t as desperate as me. More so. Some of their stories would break your heart.'
'If they're true,' I said.
Mum blinked. 'Well. Yes. I suppose there's always a risk some are making it all up. But some – well, you seriously couldn't imagine such situations!'
'What have you got yourself into, Mum?'
'Nothing! I've j u s t made contact with a few people. We have a little chat on-line, that's all.
Some can be a bit tedious but some are a real laugh. There's this one guy, Gerry, who's really sweet, and he's especially good at sending himself up. We sort of hit it off right from the start.
You know the way you're immediately on t h e same wavelength?' Mum looked at me eagerly, eyes shining.
'Mum, you've never even met, you said.'
'Well, that's it. We're going to meet on Sunday and go swimming. I know it's a bit of a weird place for a first date.'
I couldn't help wincing.
'Don't be like t h a t , Sylvie.'
'I'm not like anything, Mum. I'm j u s t worried about you. I'm scared you might get h u r t . He could literally h u r t you. W h a t if he's some raving n u t t e r with a knife?'
'I don't t h i n k that's very likely'
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'He could drag you down a dark alley and rape you.'
'Oh, Sylvie, don't be silly. And that's especially not likely. I don't think he could drag me anywhere. You see, t h e thing is, Gerry's got this disability.'
'Oh God.' I knew it was awful of me but I immediately imagined two heads and no a r m s and legs.
Mum frowned at me. 'He had a stroke two years ago—'
'Is he old?
'No, j u s t a few years older t h a n me. He was a builder, with a wife and two kids. He worked really hard, he did well, set up his own building company, bought the big house, posh car, h a d the fancy lifestyle. Then he got this p r e t t y young girlfriend—'
'Mum!'
'I know, he's not proud of it at all. Anyway, he went off with the girlfriend and two months later he h a d a massive stroke. His whole life fell apart. The girlfriend left, the wife didn't want to take him back, he was in hospital and t h e n spent three months in a stroke unit. He's OK
now though. He's j u s t left with a weakness down his r i g h t side, so he walks w i t h a pronounced limp, b u t a p a r t from t h a t he's fine. Well, so he says. He's very into keeping as fit as possible a n d he goes s w i m m i n g a lot at t h i s p r i v a t e London club. He w a s describing it, all marble pillars, and I said it 120
sounded fantastic so he's invited me to join him.'
'Oh, Mum! Are you sure you know w h a t you're doing? What if he's seriously creepy?'
'Well, what's going to happen to me in a swimming pool? If I don't like him t h e n we'll j u s t call it a day. He's invited me for lunch too, but I can always say no. I w a n t to give it a go though.'
'Aren't you scared, going to meet a total stranger?'
'Of course I am,' said Mum. 'Part of me doesn't believe I'm really doing this. But w h a t the hell, Sylvie. It's better t h a n being stuck at home feeling sorry for m y s e l f
'Well, good for you,' I said, though it was a struggle to get the words out.
I still thought Mum was mad. Or maybe I j u s t felt unsettled. My m u m was going out on a date before I'd ever gone on a date myself. No, wait.
Was Friday night's bowling with Carl a date?
Who was Carl really asking out anyway, me or Miranda?
I felt guilty about Lucy, so I bought h e r a b a r of chocolate a n d a copy of Heat magazine. She thawed considerably. We h a d a long conversation about t h e B e a r Factory a n d all t h e different furry variations a n d cute outfits on offer. I didn't tell h e r t h a t M i r a n d a h a d t r e a t e d me to Albert Bear.
Meanwhile M i r a n d a was busy telling everyone t h a t she a n d I were going bowling w i t h Carl a n d Football P a u l . Lucy couldn't h e l p overhearing.
'I've known you a n d Carl since first school!
Why are you going bowling with M i r a n d a a n d not me?'
I didn't know w h a t to say. I couldn't possibly be truthful a n d tell h e r t h a t M i r a n d a was m u c h more fun. I tried telling tactful fibs, p r e t e n d i n g 122
t h a t I was sure Lucy would h a t e bowling, and t h a t this football guy would probably be so boring it would be a penance to be in his company.
I didn't sound convincing. Lucy iced over like t h e Alps.
'Well, if you'd sooner go around with Miranda then that's fine with me,' she said.
It obviously wasn't fine at all. It was very uncomfortable sitting next to h e r in class when she was barely speaking to me.
Miranda wasn't very sympathetic. 'I should t h i n k you'd be thrilled to bits not to be friends with t h a t boring old Lucy,' she said. 'You should see the way she looks at me now, like I'm some sleazy t a r t who's lured you away from t h e straight and narrow.'
'Well, you have' I said.
We h a d a silly poking-finger fight. It started to get quite painful. Then Miranda coiled h e r little finger round mine.
'Hey hey! We're best friends now, remember?'
I thought Carl would be very pleased t h a t Miranda was keen to go bowling, but he seemed totally t a k e n aback when I told him.
'I was only suggesting it. I didn't m e a n it definitely,' he said. 'Maybe it's not such a good idea. I don't know how Miranda and Paul would get on. I think she's way too eccentric and gabby and flamboyant for him. He's basically quite a conventional guy.'
'So why do you like him so?' I said, puzzled.
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'You don't like convention. And you certainly don't like football'
'I don't like him "so",' Carl said crossly. 'He's j u s t this guy in my class, that's all.'
'OK.'
'And I truly don't think it would work, the four of us. We're all too different. So p u t Miranda off, OK?'
But the next evening Carl came round to my house, still in his purple g r a m m a r uniform. He was u s u a l l y pin-neat, b u t not today. His shirt was h a n g i n g out, his sweater sleeves rolled up, his regulation black school shoes badly scuffed and laced with bright-red cord.
His cheeks were bright red too.
'Are we still on for Friday night?' he asked eagerly.
'You said you didn't think it was a good idea!'
'Yeah, well, I've changed my mind. I was having this chat with Paul and he was saying all over again t h a t he'd like to go bowling. He said it would be fun to go bowling with a couple of girls and I said, "No problem, I'll fix it."'
'Well, m a k e up your mind, Mr Fixit. Stop blowing hot a n d cold.'
I couldn't work it out. Carl seemed really keyed up about Friday night – and yet he hadn't seemed nervous about going to Miranda's party last Friday. He'd been totally cool about it. I'd been the one chopping and changing, not sure whether I wanted to go or not.
M i r a n d a w a s t h e only one of us totally 124
committed to the bowling date. I couldn't help letting h e r think it h a d been my idea: I'd casually suggested including Football Paul j u s t so she'd be particularly pleased with me. She was pleased too.
'Mind you, if he t u r n s out to be cute but boring I'll swap you him for Carl,' she said mischievously.
I spent more t h a n an hour getting ready after school on Friday, though I ended up wearing exactly the same outfit, my j
e a n s and Mum's black sweater. It would be too hot again b u t it seemed more sophisticated t h a n any of my T-shirts. It draped pleasingly over my chest too, making it look as if there were a proper pair of breasts underneath. I wondered if Mum might be planning to wear it for her date on Sunday. I hoped I wouldn't get it all sweaty u n d e r t h e arms.
I felt a little sweaty when I went to call for Carl. He seemed anxious too, fussing because J u l e s h a d thrown out some old army-style sweatshirt he wanted to wear. He was wearing his oldest j e a n s too, the pair t h a t was torn at one knee and fraying at the ends.
'So what's this new look, Scruff Boy?' I said, ruffling his hair.
'Get off! I've been trying to gel it into place.'
'I don't like it gelled. It looks much better all shiny and floppy.'
'Yeah, well, maybe I'm sick of the little choirboy look.' Carl raked his hair irritably. 'Right, 125
shall we go? I've got heaps of cash by the way.
Tonight's on me.'
T h a n k s , C a r l '
Jules came to say goodbye. She gave both of us a happy hug. 'Have fun, darlings,' she said.
'Give us a ring if you're going to be really late.'
She beamed at us both. 'Happy bowling!'
We set off a little self-consciously.
'I don't even know how to bowl,' I said.
'Simple. Roll the ball at the pins. That's basically it.'
'So why the big deal?'
'It's the, like, social occasion, innit?' said Carl, mock-Cockney. 'It's where you h a n g out with your mates and pull the birds, right?'
'Well, you're doing all right, definitely, seeing as you've got your mate all lined up and two birds.'
Carl grinned at me and checked his wrist-watch. 'We're meeting them outside at seven thirty? We're going to be ever so early. What do you w a n t to do? We could always go and have a coffee or something.'
'Or a drink.'
'Or a meal.'
'Or go night-clubbing.'
'Or take the train to the coast.'
'No, take the plane to . . .'
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