Cue gloomy faces again. Oh God, I want to shoot myself, I thought. The atmosphere was starting to get really heavy so I decided to try and lighten it.
‘I’ve got a solution,’ I said.
Three faces looked at me eagerly.
‘Don’t watch the miserable programmes. Watch comedies instead.’
‘Nesta!’ said Lucy. ‘Sometimes I think you have no feelings.’
‘It’s not that.’ I sighed. ‘It’s not that I don’t care. It’s . . . Oh, for heaven’s sake, can we just change the subject? I’m starting to feel so miserable. Starving people. Lonely children. There are other things happening on the planet, you know.’
Izzie and Lucy were looking at me as if people starving in the world was my fault just because I didn’t want to talk about it. And TJ was looking at all of us as if trying to work out what she could do to make it all better. What is going on today? I asked myself. What had started off as a fun day was turning into grey broody day with everyone touchy and in a weird mood. Even the weather was starting to look ominous with the sky turning greyer and threatening rain. I decided to try again to make them laugh.
‘We’re all doooooooomed,’ I said in a spooky voice, then mock-strangled myself. I thought it was quite funny but no one else seemed to.
‘I don’t think we should joke about these things,’ said TJ. ‘It is serious.’
‘OK then,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and do some charity work. I shall try and save the world. Will that make you happy and shut you up?’
‘You have to want to do it,’ said Lucy. ‘No point in doing it to prove a point.’
‘Yeah. And you just said you only want to do it to meet boys,’ said Izzie. ‘Maybe Tony was right. Maybe that is all that is going on in your head.’
That hurt, and inwardly I winced. What on earth had happened in the last ten minutes? It was like suddenly I was the bad guy and I hadn’t even done anything. I was simply trying to get them to lighten up. I find it difficult when people start going on about the problems in the world.
What good does it do talking about it over and over? Mum and Dad do it a lot but that’s partly because they both work in the media and have to keep up with world events. Mum is a news presenter on cable and Dad makes films and documentaries. They watch a lot of news discussion programmes, and I can see that the subject matter often makes them miserable too.
Usually these programmes show a couple of politicians and a couple of journalists, giving their high and mighty opinions. One jibber jabbers on from one angle, then the other jabber jibbers from the other. Jibber jabber. Jabber jibber. Then they start trying to blame each other for whatever has happened, then a load of people all with different solutions to fix the problem get going, and then they all argue and get heated and upset and nothing gets solved. But somehow they all go away feeling better about it because they’ve talked about it. Programmes like that give me an almighty headache. And in the meantime, there are still people starving, dying, homeless or being bombed when they only want to go about their daily lives as normal. By now, I was starting to get depressed myself.
I’d had enough. If Lucy, Izzie and TJ wanted to hang about all day talking about the sorry state of the planet they could, but I wasn’t going to do it with them. Plus my stomach cramps weren’t getting any better. The idea of going home to my duvet, a bar of chocolate and a hot water bottle was beginning to appeal.
When the bus finally came up the High Street and drew up at the stop, I waited until Lucy, Izzie and TJ had got on, then stepped back.
‘See you later,’ I said from the pavement. ‘I’m going home.’
The bus driver shut the doors and started off down the road with Lucy, Izzie and TJ staring out of the window at me, concerned and surprised.
As I made my way down the hill to our flat, the skies finally broke and it began to rain. As I hurried along, my mobile rang. I knew it would be the girls but I didn’t want to talk to them. Not yet. So I let it go on to voice mail. I felt my eyes well up with tears as I went over what they’d said to me. It wasn’t fair. I’m not a bad person. I do care about the state of the world. I do. I care that there are lonely people at Christmas and sick people with no one to visit them in hospital and old people with no heating and wars that take away people’s homes and disasters that kill loved ones and dolphins that get caught in tuna nets and puppies that no one wants . . .
It was like a dam burst inside me and everything that’s wrong in the world seemed to hit me with full force.
I had to sit down in a bus shelter for a while and have a good cry while I waited for the storm to blow over. Luckily there was no one around so I was able to let rip.
Got no feelings, huh, Lucy Lovering?
Don’t care, huh, Izzie Foster?
Can’t ever be serious, huh, TJ Watts?
Well look at me now, I thought as salty tears dripped down my cheeks and onto my chin. What a shame they can’t see me this upset. Yeah. If they saw me now they’d see just what a serious, sincere, caring, feeling person I really am.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of cute looking boys coming down the hill so I quickly pulled myself together. It was one thing wanting my mates to see what a caring sharing person I really am, but boys can get put off by any display of intense emotion, especially when they don’t know you that well.
Plus crying makes your eyes puffy. Not a good look in my book.
What does PMS really stand for?
Psychotic Mood Swings
Pardon My Sobbing
Pass My Sweatpants
Permanent Munching Spree
Puffy Mid Section
Pass Me the Shotgun
Pimples May Surface
People Make me Sick
‘Nesta, the girls are here,’ Mum called from the front door later that afternoon.
A moment later, Izzie, Lucy and TJ trooped in to our living room where I was curled up under my duvet on the sofa watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s, starring Audrey Hepburn.
‘We’re soooo sorry about earlier,’ said TJ, flopping herself down at the other end of the sofa.
Lucy knelt on the floor and put her hands together as if in prayer. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. We were mean, nasty friends and we were horrid and you didn’t deserve it. All you were trying to do was get us to lighten up.’
Izzie held up a carrier bag. ‘We bring peace offerings,’ she said and started pulling things out of it. ‘The home PMS kit. Every girl should have one. Numero one. V. important. Chocolate.’ She handed me a Snickers bar.
‘Number two, the ultimate feel-good movie,’ said TJ, reaching into the bag and producing a DVD. ‘It’s a Wonderful Life. We know it’s one of your favourites so we dropped back to Lucy’s to pick it up from her mum’s collection of oldies but goldies – and I know it’s supposed to be a Christmas film and it’s almost Easter, but who cares?’
‘Yeah,’ said Izzie and she began singing. ‘We wish you a Merry Easter, we wish you a Merry Easter, we wish you a Merry Easter and a Happy New spring, summer, autumn, winter and . . . New Yeeeeeear.’
I shook my head. ‘Mad,’ I said. ‘Beyond help.’
Lucy put her hand in the bag. ‘And I brought you this as well,’ she said as she produced what looked like a little bag covered in flowery material. ‘It’s a wheat bag. Dad’s just bought a load of them for his shop. Supposed to be brilliant. It’s got all sorts of healing herbs in it and you put it in the microwave for a few minutes. It heats up like a hot water bottle and smells fab. I’ll go and do it.’
And off she went to the kitchen.
‘And we also got you some aromatherapy oils,’ said Izzie. ‘Ginger. Camomile. Ylang ylang. All good for period pains. I’ll go and make a compress in the bathroom. Back in a mo.’
And off she disappeared.
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘What’s come over you lot?’
TJ started gently massaging my feet under the duvet. ‘It was when we got on the bus and saw you sta
nding there on the pavement. You looked so sad and we got talking about it in Camden, and Izzie said that it’s all very well being concerned about people suffering in far away countries but you have to be aware of people on our doorstep. She thought that we’d upset you and you were probably having a bad period so we decided to come over and make it better.’
‘So what you’re saying is that I’m a charity case?’
TJ grinned. ‘Exactly. And a head case. But we won’t go into that at the moment.’
I grinned back at her. I was so glad they’d come to see me and didn’t hate me after all.
A few minutes later, I was settled back on the sofa watching the movie. I had the wheat bag on my back, a warm scented compress on my tummy, TJ massaging my feet while Lucy and Izzie sat on the floor and handed me pieces of Snickers bar. Heaven. Happy, happy, happy.
Over the following week, even though my sanity returned, I felt like the whole world was conspiring against me. Everywhere I went I was accosted by people collecting for this charity, for that charity, for the homeless, the sick, the blind, the handicapped, the deaf, the abused, the hungry, the rainforest, for the dolphins, old donkeys, almost-extinct monkeys, dog homes, cat homes . . . The charity muggers were everywhere: hovering on the High Street, outside the supermarket, inside the supermarket, in pub doorways, on the pavement outside school. Waiting to pounce. It’s not that I hadn’t noticed them before. Of course I had and sometimes I gave some spare change, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I just wanted to go down to the High Street and not be bothered by them. And that’s just how it was when I gave money, if I’m honest. A way of not being bothered. I gave them money to leave me alone. Mostly I didn’t even notice what they were collecting for or who they represented – at least not until now.
‘Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something,’ said Izzie on Tuesday evening after a man collecting for the homeless had accosted me outside Marks and Spencer in Muswell Hill.
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘Only you can know that,’ she said in her Mystic Iz voice, which is deep and mysterious . . . and very annoying as often I don’t have a clue what she’s on about.
There was no let-up at home either. Just when I thought it was safe to think about something different, appeals came flying through the letterbox reminding me once again that out there people needed help. Letters asking for sponsorship for a child here, a child there. Charity Christmas cards on sale even though it was only March. Single mothers with no money, children without parents, old people without company, children without schools, villages without water . . . The list seemed endless, and I was starting to get seriously depressed about it. Images of the homeless and hungry were beginning to haunt me at night.
Even the telly was no escape. I was just settling down to the soaps on Wednesday night when the ads came on and it started all over again. People in need were sandwiched in between the commercials encouraging viewers to buy, buy, buy or eat, eat, eat. What a mad, mad, mad world, I thought.
‘Mum,’ I said when she came in to sit down and join me in watching telly, ‘do you think I’m an ignorant person?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Mum with a solemn expression. She curled up in the armchair next to the fireplace. She put her glass of wine on the bookshelf next to it. ‘Really ignorant.’ I knew she didn’t mean it because she couldn’t keep a straight face and burst out laughing. ‘Why do you ask?
‘Been thinking. I mean, do you think I’m selfish and only think about myself?’
Mum took a sip of her wine. ‘You’re a teenager,’ she said. ‘Comes with the territory. All teenagers are self obsessed know-it-all horrors . . .’
‘Wow. Don’t hold back, Mum,’ I said. ‘Say what you really mean!’
‘Only kidding. No, Nesta. I don’t think you’re selfish or ignorant. I think you’re lovely. Why are you asking?’
‘Just . . . well, lately it’s like I’ve noticed – you know – all the people in the world who need help. And up until this week I haven’t even given them a second thought, which is why I thought that maybe I’m ignorant. Selfish. I mean, how could I have not noticed before? I’ve been living in a bubble, blind to the needs of people around me . . .’
‘I wouldn’t go that far, love . . .’
‘Izzie said that maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. That I’ve begun to notice for a reason.’
‘A reason? Like fate or destiny?’
‘Yeah. Maybe it’s my fate.’
‘OoooKaaaaay,’ said Mum. ‘And what do you think your fate might be?’
‘Not entirely sure yet, but I think it’s that I need to do something. Find a cause. I haven’t got one. Have you got one?’
‘Yes. I sponsor a child in India and I give to vari–’
‘See! See! You give. You have a cause and I didn’t even know. Seems everyone has been doing good all around me and I’ve been the only one in the middle of it all doing nothing but thinking of myself. Oh God. I must be the worst person on the planet. That’s why I think I’m so ignorant!’
‘You’re not ignorant. You’re only fifteen . . .’
‘I need a cause. My own thing.’
‘OK. No problem. Any ideas?’
‘No. Not sure yet but one thing is for certain and that is that I can never be the same again. No. My eyes have been opened. I have to change. Make amends. I have to do what I can to change the world.’
Mum took a large gulp of her wine and looked anxious.
‘Right,’ she said.
At that moment, Dad came in to join us.
‘What are you two talking about?’ he said as he sat on the sofa with me.
‘Nesta’s going to change the world,’ said Mum.
‘Oh,’ said Dad, then he chuckled. ‘God help us.’
DIY feel better kit for period pains and mood swings
Chocolate
Feel-good DVDs (It’s a Wonderful Life is our current fave)
Wheat bag or hot water bottle
Comfy jim-jams
Aromatherapy oils for a compress or a bath:
ylang ylang, ginger, camomile.
To make a compress is really simple, just put some hot water in a bowl, add 4-6 drops of the oils and swish them around. Soak a flannel in the scented water then apply to the achey part.
For an aromatherapy bath: add 4-6 drops of the essential oil to the bath water when it’s running, then swish it around so that the oils don’t remain in one part (they can sting in such a concentrated form).
Mates to make you laugh when feeling glum.
‘What on earth is going on?’ asked Tony the following evening as he stepped over the pile of bin bags that I’d put in the hallway.
‘Stuff for the charity shop,’ I said. ‘I’ve been doing a clear out. You should do the same since you have loads of stuff you don’t need.’
It was only a start but the idea had come to me in maths that afternoon. I’d been racking my brains to try and come up with some way that I could start my good works and it came to me as Mr Hall was droning on about some boring maths equation. I could give away all the stuff I don’t use to charity. That was it. Obvious!
I raced home to get started and once I’d begun, it seemed that just about everything I had wasn’t really needed. Mum would be delighted as I have the reputation as the hoarder of the family. Usually I can’t bear to let anything go. But not today. I’d pulled out everything from the top of my wardrobe, from my chests of drawers, under my bed. There was all sorts or rubbish stored away in boxes and bags: all my Barbies, My Little Pony dolls, my princess doll, teddy bears, fluffy rabbits, DVDs, CDs, books, bits of jewellery, clothes I’d only worn once. Shameful, I told myself as I hurled it all into bags. It’s about time I did this.
Tony had a peek in one of the bags. ‘But there are loads of good CDs in here. Surely you’re not giving these away?’
‘Oh yes I am. I don’t need them. I have too many things.’
‘Are you on drugs?’ asked
Tony as he continued to sift through the CDs I was chucking out. ‘You never give anything away and these are all your favourite CDs. And – I bought you this one last Christmas and . . . here’s the one Lucy got you. Hey, you can’t get rid of these. They were presents.’
‘I don’t need them. I don’t need most of the things I have. From now on, I’m going to live a much simpler life.’
Tony looked at me as if I had lost my mind. ‘Excuse me, but you are Nesta Williams, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘Or have you been possessed by an alien who’s eaten your brain?’
Mum came in the front door and, like Tony had done, almost tripped over the bags.
‘What’s all this?’ she asked as she took her jacket off and put her keys on the hall table.
‘Nesta’s giving away all her worldly goods and going to be a nun,’ said Tony. ‘But can I keep the CDs? She won’t need them in the nunnery and she has a few I haven’t got.’
‘No way,’ I said. ‘They’re not for you. They’re for the needy.’
‘Don’t be mad. The charity shops will sell them for ten pence each. Tell you what. I’ll give you a fiver for all of them and you can give that to the charity of your choice.’
‘What? Er . . . OK, as long as I can still listen to them when I want.’
Tony rolled his eyes and Mum started having a root through the bags. She didn’t look very happy with what she found in there. She picked out a jumper that she bought me a few months ago. ‘Why are you getting rid of this? It’s almost new.’ She continued sifting and saw that I had put the contents of most of my wardrobe in. ‘Nesta, take this stuff back to your room this instant. This is ridiculous. You’re giving all your clothes away. What are you going to wear?’
‘Sackcloth and ashes,’ said Tony. ‘Our Nesta’s seen the light and has become a freaking saint.’
‘Go on, laugh. I might have expected that from you,’ I said. ‘When have you ever done anything for anyone else?’
Mates, Dates and Diamond Destiny Page 3
