‘Isn’t it awful? Did your mum tell you what kind of jobs we’ll be doing when I get back?’
‘Yep. Apparently Henry’s dad has said we can help out washing the cars in the garages while Henry is away and Mum always needs help cleaning in the spa too. She said there’s loads of other stuff we can do around the apartment block too.’
My heart sank. ‘Whoopeedoop. At Easter, with the invite to join the Lewis family in India, it was a case of Cinderella, you shall go to the ball. This holiday, it’s a case of Cinderella, you shan’t go to the ball. Now get in the kitchen, get the rubber gloves on and get scrubbing.’
‘I know. Oh, how the mighty are fallen,’ said Pia then she laughed. ‘It’ll be OK, Jess. If we’re in it together, it’ll be a laugh.’
Thank God for friends, I thought after I’d hung up. Thank God for Pia.
Who am I?
A slave to my family.
Who or what do I want to be?
Independent and very, very rich, whilst at the same time totally understanding that money cannot buy you true happiness.
(I do know that despite what Dad says but being rich can sure let you off doing the chores!)
Happiness is:
A pal like Pia to do the chores with.
5
A Boy and His Dog
It was raining when I set off for Waterloo station a few days later. As a treat, Dad asked Henry’s dad, Mr Sawtell, to give me a lift to the station in one of the apartments’ Mercedes. He was going in the direction of the station so was happy to do so.
After he’d dropped me off, I headed across the marble concourse, which was slippy from the many travellers with dripping umbrellas who rushed across it, heading for platforms and their trains. I joined the long queue snaking its way towards the ticket office and as I glanced at the people in the line, a boy in front of me caught my eye. I noticed him because he was talking to his dog, an Irish terrier, who was listening with rapt attention.
When he turned around and I saw his face, I felt my cheeks redden so I quickly turned away in case he saw my reaction. Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. He was tall and slim, with tousled brown hair and a tanned, open face. He was also clearly an animal lover, which is always a big plus in my book. Dave, my cat, is one of my best friends and I often talk to him in the same way that the boy in the queue was talking to his dog.
The queue moved forward, the boy bought his ticket and moved off to catch his train, his dog trotting along by his side. As I watched him go, I wondered where he was going and where he’d come from. He was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a checked shirt and had a look of the open air about him, like he lived by the ocean or led an outdoors life, unlike so many English boys who were white and pasty after a long winter and cold spring.
Once I’d got my ticket, I glanced at the departure board and saw that a train was leaving in eight minutes so I pelted across the concourse, through the ticket barrier and jumped on to the nearest carriage. The train was almost full so I sat in the nearest seat or rather fell because the train lurched as it began to pull out of the station.
‘Hope you don’t mind dogs,’ said a male voice with a slight Australian accent.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ I said when I saw that I had sat down next to the boy from the queue. His dog put his paw up on my knee as if to say hi.
‘Me? Have we met?’ he asked.
‘Um . . . No, I saw you in the ticket queue. Er . . . I don’t mind dogs. I like them,’ I said. ‘As long as he doesn’t bite.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said the boy, then he smiled. ‘I do though.’
His eyes were the colour of dark honey. Trouble, my mind told me. He’s far too good-looking not to be.
‘Vampire or do you have behavioural problems?’ I asked.
‘Depends on who I’m with,’ said the boy, then he laughed and shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’m not usually like this. Um. Start again, shall I? Hi. I’m Connor and this is my dog, Raffy.’
I took the dog’s paw. ‘Hi Raffy,’ I said. ‘I think you need to keep your owner under control. He’s clearly not safe out without a lead.’
‘And you are?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m perfectly safe without a lead.’
Connor cracked up. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. I meant and you are, as in, who are you?’
‘I knew that,’ I said. There is major flirting going on here! I thought. ‘Jess. Jess Hall. Animal lover. I don’t bite and I have a cat called Dave.’
‘Dave?’
‘Dave. I like to talk to him too. I saw you were talking to Raffy in the queue, that’s why I noticed you. My friends think I’m mad, but I know he gets the meaning behind what I’m saying.’
Connor nodded. ‘Exactly.’
I got out my book to signal that although friendly, I was not necessarily available. I had a boyfriend even if he was going away for a while, plus I like to be quiet on train journeys, to read or stare out of the window and reflect on things. And I had a lot to reflect on. It felt like my whole life had been turned upside down in the last few days with all my plans for the summer disappearing like water down a plug-hole.
Connor got the message. He turned away and stared out of the window too and Raffy settled down by his feet and went to sleep. After a while, Connor pulled a book out of the rucksack which was in front of him. I glanced at it to see what he was reading. Mum always said that people’s books reveal a lot about them – books and their shoes. I’d already clocked that Connor was wearing a battered pair of blue Converse Allstars. I was wearing my favourite red pair.
‘Hey! Snap,’ I said and showed Connor my book. We were both reading One Day by David Nicholls, a book about a couple who meet at university then the story catches up with them on the same day every year as they get older.
Connor laughed and put down his book. ‘Enjoying it?’
I shrugged. ‘Yes. My gran gave it to me for the journey. She’s always giving me stuff to read. I wouldn’t have thought it was a boy’s book, though.’
‘It’s not my usual kind of thing but it’s not bad. Someone had left it on the Tube on my way to the station so I picked it up.’
‘Do you think it’s possible to have only one true love of your life like in the book?’ I asked.
Connor nodded. ‘And I’ve met mine.’ Oh, I thought, flirting over. I felt disappointed even though I knew it couldn’t go anywhere because I was in a relationship with JJ. Connor looked down at his dog. ‘Raffy. He is the true love of my life. He gets me completely. He loves me unconditionally and never complains.’
I laughed. ‘Me too with Dave. He is the love of my life for ever and always.’
Connor smiled as if he liked my answer. ‘So. Where you are heading?’
‘Bournemouth. You?’
‘Same. You live there?’
I shook my head. ‘Visiting family. You?’ I was beginning to sound like a record that had got stuck. You? You? Think of something else to say, I told myself.
‘Visiting my sister. She’s just moved there. Where do you live?’ Connor replied.
‘London. Knightsbridge.’
‘Posh.’
‘Very. That’s me. Me and the Queen. We’re very posh. Where do you live? I detect an Australian accent, don’t I?’
Connor nodded. ‘I grew up in Sydney, but I’ve come over to study here so now I live in North London. Highgate. Medium posh. Whereabouts in Knightsbridge, Jess?’
I suddenly found I wanted to impress him. ‘No 1, Porchester Park. It’s an apartment block.’
Connor shook his head. ‘Can’t say I know it. You’re right in the heart of things down there though, hey?’
‘Yeah. It’s handy for Harrods.’
‘I know Harrods and the Victoria and Albert museum and that’s about it. I prefer the countryside myself,’ said Connor. ‘So does Raffy.’
‘What are you going to study?’
‘I’ve started already. Just done my first year in photography.’
‘Good course?’ I aske
d.
‘Very,’ said Connor.
I went back to reading my book for a while and so did Connor. I liked that. He wasn’t pushy.
After about half an hour, my phone bleeped that I had a text.
It was from Pia. Have u seen ur facebk pge 2day?
I texted back. No. Why?
Nothing. Call me l8r.
I texted back. Has JJ left a msge?
No. I’ll talk 2 U l8r, Pia replied. Call me asap when U have Internet access.
She had me intrigued now. JJ had texted me before I left home and we’d Skyped last night, so who else could it be? I so wished that Dad would let me have a phone with Internet access instead of the ancient model I have, but he said we can’t afford it at the moment
I texted back. What is it?
This time she didn’t reply, so there was nothing I could do but forget about it, although I had a horrible niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach. I went back to my reading.
As we got close to Bournemouth, Connor finally closed his book.
‘You here for long?’ he asked.
‘Just a couple of weeks.’ For a moment, I felt torn. I was sure he was about to ask for my number, but I had a boyfriend, didn’t I? What should I say? I got up to let him and Raffy out. He slung his rucksack over his shoulder and we both went to stand in the corridor ready to get off. I wondered if it would be OK to give him my number as long as we stayed just friends? He was very attractive, looked interesting and would make my visit to Bournemouth more fun. Who are you kidding? I asked myself. No way would I want to be friends with a boy like Connor. I could feel major chemistry between us as we stood close waiting for the train to pull in and I was sure he could feel it too. It was like heat pulling me towards him and I was having to resist not reaching up to touch his face. Stop this right now, Jess Hall, I told myself. I have a boyfriend, a lovely boyfriend. He hasn’t even been gone a few days and I shouldn’t already be looking at other boys!
As the train finally drew into the station, stopped and the doors opened, Connor turned back to me.
‘Nice meeting you, Jess. Have a good stay,’ he said, then off he went. No date, no number, no nothing. My inner conflict was a total waste of time.
I felt disappointed as I watched him walk away, rejected even, but maybe it was for the best, I told myself. There was still JJ to think of – but all the same, no harm in appreciating beauty and I liked to think I still had some pulling power. Maybe Connor was gay? Or maybe I just wasn’t his type. Maybe he’s already got a girlfriend somewhere, I told myself as I made my way along the platform. Or maybe I’m too young, too pasty-faced? Maybe he prefers outdoor-type girls with sunkissed hair and tanned legs?
Luckily I didn’t have too long to mull it over because I could see Uncle John waving and smiling at the end of the platform.
6
Family Time
‘So how’s your dad?’ asked Aunt Cissie as she put eggs, peppers and herbs out onto the kitchen counter. My six-year-old cousin, Louis, was standing on a stool next to her dressed in a red-and-white chef’s hat and apron.
‘Fine. He works too hard,’ I said as I watched Louis break eggs into a bowl.
‘And you like it there at that fancy apartment block?’ asked Uncle John as he sat at the pine kitchen table and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He’s dad’s younger brother and although dark-haired and blue-eyed like Dad, the similarity stops there. Dad’s dress sense is executive and immaculate in his smart work suits. Uncle John, who’s a maths teacher, always looks dishevelled, lives in jeans and T-shirts and is often known to wear odd socks with his battered old sneakers. Auntie Cissie, who’s a French teacher, lives in jeans as well and with her long ginger hair has the look of an old hippie. Neither of them have ever seemed bothered about the latest fashions or designer wear.
I nodded. ‘It’s different.’
‘Different how?’ he asked.
‘You get two very different worlds on the same site. The staff area and the residents’ area. The staff are pretty normal and our mews houses ordinary, nice, but nothing posh whereas the apartments where the rich residents live are out of this world, like some of their kitchens are the size of the whole of the ground floor of this house. I’ve seen inside some of them and they’re awesome. One resident had the whole of a sixteenth century chateau transported over and incorporated into their apartment. And they don’t have posters on the wall, they have the originals, like Picasso or Rembrandt or Monet. Others go for everything brand new but it’s all the best in the whole world, marble floors from Italy or France, living rooms as big as football fields. So different in that sort of way.’
Aunt Cissie laughed. ‘It’s different here too. I’m sorry not to have a proper room and bed to offer you. I’d put you in with the boys but Louis sometimes gets up in the night still and would wake you.’
‘I’m Master Chef tonight,’ Louis told me as he began to chop peppers under the close scrutiny of his mother. ‘You hungry?’
‘Starving,’ I replied.
‘Good. We’re having Spanish omelette.’
‘My favourite,’ I said. ‘What’s your favourite?’
‘Custard,’ he replied.
Now I had arrived, I found that I didn’t mind sleeping in the living room at all. I liked the comfy, family feel of their home, with toys, DVDs, CDs and books scattered everywhere. It felt lived in, as opposed to the immaculate rooms and corridors at No 1, Porchester Park, or at home some evenings when Dad was working and Charlie was out and our house felt so quiet. I’d always got on with Uncle John and Aunt Cissie and their two boys were sweet. Sam was nine years old and quietly thoughtful while Louis was full of energy and chatter.
‘Just let us know if there’s anything you need,’ said Uncle John.
‘Have you got a computer I could take a quick look at?’ I asked. Pia had texted again that I should look at my Facebook page.
Uncle John pointed upstairs. ‘In my study. Come up.’
He led me up to a cramped office, the size of a broom cupboard, took some papers off the seat at his desk and indicated I should sit down. ‘Piles of lesson plans for next term,’ he said. ‘You thought about what you want to do when you leave school yet?’
I shook my head. ‘I keep changing my mind. Got to get my GCSE results first before I make any decisions like that.’
‘That’s August, isn’t it?’
I nodded.
‘Confident?’ asked Uncle John.
‘Ish. I did study hard for them but won’t relax completely until I know I’ve done OK.’
‘I’m sure you will, Jess.’
‘I hope so. When the results are in, I’ll think seriously about what I want to do at university.’
‘Don’t worry too much. Students often change course mid-term. You know how to use an Apple Mac?’
I nodded. ‘We use a Mac at home.’
‘OK, just shout if you need anything.’
‘Thanks,’ I said as Uncle John left the room.
I quickly logged in to my Facebook page and scanned the screen for messages. A shiver went through me as I read the new message on my wall. Someone had posted a link to an I hate Jess Hall page.
I felt myself go cold as I clicked through to the page. There was a photo of me when I was younger, about nine years old – a truly awful photo of me in the back garden of the house we lived in when Mum was alive. The picture had caught me at a bad angle, as though taken from below. I was pulling a face that made me look really snooty. Only one person could have had it apart from Pia or my family and I knew it would never be one of them. Keira. She’d lived on the same street and we used to hang out sometimes. Under the photo was written, Click like if you agree that Jess Hall is a stuck-up cow. Three people had clicked.
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Please don’t say Kiera’s out to get me again, I thought. As well as attempting to ruin my chances in the modelling competition earlier in the year, Keira had sent me some nasty emails. They h
ad really upset me but they stopped after the competition and because I hadn’t heard from her for ages, I’d hoped that she’d lost interest in her vendetta against me and moved on.
I went back to my page and quickly deleted the link from my wall then texted Pia: Seen it.
A few moments later, my mobile rang. ‘You OK?’ Pia asked.
‘Yes. No. I’ve deleted the link but I bet loads of people have seen it already. It has to be Keira, doesn’t it? No-one else could have got hold of that photo. I really hope this isn’t the start of something again.’
‘You could report Keira to Facebook. They can remove the page she’s put up and chances are she’ll be banned.’
‘Why me, Pia? Why’s she targeting me again?’
‘I told you last time. She’s jealous.’
‘But why? She’s got nothing to be jealous of.’
‘Is everything OK, Jess?’ asked Aunt Cissie. I hadn’t heard her come in behind me.
‘I . . . yes, fine,’ I said.
‘I’ve got to go anyway, Jess,’ said Pia. ‘Speak later and don’t stress, OK?’
I quickly left the Facebook page so that Aunt Cissie wouldn’t see it.
‘Something up?’ she asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it and if I didn’t react, hopefully Keira would go away and it wouldn’t amount to anything.
‘Come on down then if you’ve finished up here. Master Chef Louis’s omelette is ready.’
I got up to follow her but eating was the last thing I felt like. I’d lost my appetite completely.
Happiness is:
Sitting on a train staring out the window as the world flashes by outside.
A sweet dog giving me his paw and saying hello.
A cute boy with honey-coloured eyes flirting.
Unhappiness is:
Feeling that someone out there doesn’t like me and is thinking bad things about me.
7
Nanny McMe
‘Have you never heard of the term “lie in”?’ I asked Louis the next morning when he bounced onto the end of my bed at seven in the morning.
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