by Sue Limb
‘Zoe!’ Mum called. ‘Come in here a minute!’
‘Leave me out of this,’ I said, standing in the doorway. ‘They can hear you shouting in Africa!’
Mum was wearing her business suit. She’s always a bit more imposing when she’s in her work togs. She’s an insurance broker or something. I’ve never completely understood insurance, and I’m not sure I want to.
‘Look,’ I said, trying to soothe the frayed nerves, ‘why don’t I go and make us a cup of tea? I hate rows.’ I glanced at Tam, but she avoided eye contact and ducked through the patio doors out into the garden. I wondered what the problem was. There had been a plan for her to go and spend a few days with Granny down in Somerset. Tam adores Granny and would normally be off like a shot. I hoped she wasn’t really ill. A lot of people at uni had had glandular fever, including her best mate, Parvati. Oh God! Was it infectious?
‘A cup of tea would be a lovely idea, thanks, darling,’ said Mum abruptly, collapsing into her favourite large armchair and kicking off her cruel businesswoman’s shoes. She was obviously pretty stressed out. Just an average day for Mum involves interviewing people whose houses have burned down and stuff. And here was Tam getting up her nose for some reason.
I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Then I opened the back door and stepped out into the garden. Tam was hiding at the far end, by the shed, smoking a cigarette.
‘Oh no!’ I groaned. ‘You’re not smoking again, Tam!’
‘It’s only because I’m so pissed off,’ said Tam. ‘Anyway, it’s just a pack of ten. Stop being such a puritan.’
‘Look,’ I whispered, ‘what’s wrong? You were looking forward to going to Granny’s. What’s happened?’
Tam glanced furtively in the direction of the patio doors. Mum was safely in the sitting room. The sound of the TV broke out: the news. Mum’s little addiction.
‘I met somebody,’ said Tam quietly. ‘A couple of days ago at a cricket match. It’s been amazing. He’s called Ed. He’s amazing. It’s all just totally amazing.’
One of the things I hate about love is that it really limits your vocabulary. Also, it makes a fool of you. Tam was staring dreamy-eyed at the garden shed, as if Ed might possibly be hidden inside, folded away behind the door and waiting to come out at night and be amazing in the moonlight.
‘He’s a photographer,’ she said. ‘Not professionally, but he’s brilliant. He specialises in landscapes, but he took reels and reels of moody black-and-white photos of me. They’re just amazing. And he kept saying these ridiculous things …’
‘So he’s amazing and it’s all amazing,’ I said, ‘and presumably you’re in lurrve and he thinks you’re the most beautiful creature on God’s earth … so what’s the problem?’
‘I can’t go to Granny’s now!’ wailed Tam softly. ‘I couldn’t bear it! We’ve only just –’
‘Don’t tell me what you’ve only just done,’ I begged.
‘We’ve only just realised …’ said Tam, her eyes huge with love drama. Tam had a completely marvellous life, but she still had to behave as though everything that happened was a cruel disaster. Sometimes I think she’s a tiny bit spoilt – but then she turns the tables and spoils me, so it’s all very confusing.
I heard the kettle switch itself off in the kitchen, and went back indoors. Tam followed me wanly. I made a pot of Earl Grey and got some of Prince Charles’s classy biscuits out for Mum. She’s such a snob, biscuit-wise: she won’t eat anything unless it was made by a man with a title.
‘Going to see Granny was all Mum’s idea,’ hissed Tam, picking savagely at a loaf of bread and eating chunks of it. ‘She fixed it all up. I just went along with it. Listen – I’m going to stage an illness, sometime in the next day or two, and I want you to back me up, OK? It’ll have to revolve around pains, because you can’t test for pains. And exhaustion. I’m going upstairs to look illnesses up on the Internet. Come up in a min and give me a hand, OK?’
I carried the tea tray in to Mum, who had fallen asleep in front of the news. She woke up with a sudden start. I poured the tea.
‘Oh dear, not ordinary tea, I was hoping for Earl Grey,’ she said – still fixated on noble and royal catering. ‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter.’
‘It is Earl Grey!’ I snapped. I had been hoping for gratitude but it seemed that was not currently available. Halfway through pouring the tea, I was distracted by my mobile ringing. It was Chloe.
‘Great news,’ she said. ‘It’s all sorted! I’ve got us a wonderful job for a month and it’s £4.20 an hour!’
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5
I rushed out into the garden, panicking on all cylinders. ‘No, listen!’ I hissed, ‘I’ve got us a job!’ I thought I’d mention the rate of pay later because it was a side issue.
‘But I’ve already told them we’ll start on Monday!’
‘Well, I’ve told my job we can start on Monday and my job is way more exciting than any other job could be!’
‘What’s so damn exciting about it?’ demanded Chloe.
‘It’s on a farm!’ I told her. ‘The same farm where Oliver Wyatt is working! In fact, he fixed it up for us!’
‘A farm?’ yelled Chloe. ‘No way! I’m frightened of cattle! It’ll be mank and smelly with piles of poo everywhere! My job is way more stylish and fun!’
‘What’s your job, then?’ I asked impatiently. I was so fixated on working on Oliver’s farm I couldn’t really care less about Chloe’s precious job, but I kind of had to ask.
‘It’s with that events company that Beast is working for,’ said Chloe. ‘Organising weddings and parties and catering and stuff. He says they need an extra two staff and we’ll spend the summer in a haze of continuous parties!’
‘I might have known you’d go running off to Beast!’ I sighed.
‘I so did not go running off to him!’ shouted Chloe. ‘I happened to bump into him in the street again, just after I left you, and we went for a coffee.’
‘Oh, well, if you’re determined to let him break your heart all over again …’
‘I so am not!’ snapped Chloe. ‘I am totally over Beast, OK? I swear to you on the sacred name of Orlando Bloom that I am completely and utterly over him.’
‘Well, in that case,’ I said, ‘I’m glad and stuff, obviously, but I am so not over Oliver, and my job is a chance for me to see him, like, every day and really get to know him.’ There was a brief silence.
‘How much does your job pay?’ demanded Chloe.
‘About the same as yours,’ I lied recklessly.
‘What would we be doing?’
‘Working in lovely fields and stuff.’ I was busking it a bit, now. ‘I think Oliver said something about the veg fields.’
‘I hate veg,’ said Chloe grumpily.
‘You don’t have to eat them, Chloe,’ I said. ‘Only, well, harvest them, maybe. Or feed them and water them and exercise them or something.’ I may have been thinking of horses – I’m so inexperienced, I’ve never ridden fifty metres on a horse, let alone a turnip.
‘What do we have to wear?’ asked Chloe crossly. ‘Horrible cagoules and stuff, I suppose.’
‘No – only lovely T-shirts and shorts and things.’ I was trying to make the job sound like a holiday. ‘We could get a tan.’
‘Zoe! I burn to a crisp in the sun! You’re talking serious health risks!’
‘A hat and some sunscreen!’ I blustered. ‘Long-sleeved shirts! We won’t be working outdoors all the time anyway! Some of the time we’ll be in a lovely cool barn!’ I was winging it, here, in desperation.
‘And what would we be doing in this lovely cool barn?’ asked Chloe in a sarcastic voice.
‘We’d be looking after baby lambs,’ I assured her. ‘With their cute big eyes and their fluff and their clip-clop little hooves.’ There was a long silence.
‘OK,’ said Chloe with a massive martyred sigh. ‘Beast’s job was going to be loads of fun – they’re doin
g a party on a river boat next week for a start – but if you’d rather wallow in piles of dung that’s up to you.’ Then her voice changed, softening slightly. She heaved another huge sigh. ‘I realise that what with Oliver working there, it’s too big a deal for you to miss.’
‘Oh, Chloe!’ I gushed. ‘You’re a star! Thanks so much! I’m sorry I was on your case about Beast! I’ll never mention him again.’
‘OK,’ said Chloe briskly. ‘He’s going to be really gutted, but never mind. How do we get there? Where is this joint?’
‘Sheepscombe-on-Stour.’
‘Sheepscombe-on-Stour? Sounds like a sandwich!’ Chloe quipped acidly. I laughed long and loud to encourage her in this new sportive mood.
‘The number forty-six bus goes right there,’ I said, having got these details from Martin. ‘And Old Hall Farm is only a half-mile walk from the bus stop.’
‘So high heels are out, then,’ Chloe commented archly. She doesn’t often wear high heels anyway these days – not since she fell off her wedges and sprained her ankle at a gig.
‘So see you at the bus station at 8.15 on Monday morning,’ I said excitedly. ‘Thanks so much for going along with this, Chloe. I owe you big time and I won’t forget it.’
After I’d rung off, I just stood in the garden for a moment and took some deep breaths. Thank God Chloe had been so generous about it, so totally, unexpectedly nice. She was a star. Now I could go and tell Mum all about the fabulous job I’d fixed up, and maybe she’d be impressed for once.
Suddenly Tam appeared, fumbling with her cigarette packet again. ‘Ed just sent me an amazing text,’ she said. ‘It was a poem. Amazing!’
‘Let’s see it, then.’ I held out my hand. Anything for a laugh. Tam looked embarrassed and hid her moby in her sleeve.
‘Er – it’s a bit personal,’ she said. ‘God, Zoe, I wish you could meet him! He’s kind of tall, well, taller than Dad, about six foot two I should think, and he’s got this amazing hair …’
‘Hair!? I’m amazed.’ I grinned, but she wasn’t even listening.
‘It’s, well, fair,’ said Tam, ‘but not ordinary fair. It’s halfway between straw and – uh …’
‘Grass?’ I enquired. ‘Tobacco?’
‘Tobacco, yes, exactly!’ said Tam. She hadn’t realised I was taking the piss. ‘His eyes are brown, too, kind of hazel. So unusual!’
‘Amazing,’ I commented.
‘Yes, he looks kind of old-fashioned. Like an Elizabethan lord in an old oil painting!’
‘What about his nose?’ I enquired. ‘Is that also like the amazing nose of a lord in an oil painting?’
‘To be honest,’ Tam was so focused on describing her beloved that she was totally oblivious to my sarcastic asides, ‘his nose is a bit small, for a man. It’s kind of cute and turned up. If we had a daughter …’ She went off into a thrilling fantasy for a moment. I stared at some stones to pass the time. ‘If she inherited his nose, that would be perfect.’
‘Although she might inherit Grandpa’s nose,’ I said, ‘which, let’s face it, is more like an elephant’s trunk.’ Tam wasn’t listening. She was lighting another cigarette.
‘What does Ed think of you smoking?’ I asked sharply. She looked up defiantly.
‘Oh, Ed smokes,’ she said airily with a toss of the head. ‘He hates all this politically correct crap.’
‘It’s not politically correct not to smoke,’ I explained slowly, as if to a foreign child. ‘Smoking kills. It says so on the packet.’
‘Oh, shut up, Zoe! Stop preaching all the time!’ snarled Tam. I decided to leave her to her foul habits and turned back towards the house. ‘Wait! Zoe!’ Tam clutched at my sleeve. ‘I’m sorry.’ She peered at me earnestly. ‘I’m in a bit of a state. How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘In fact, I’ve just found a job on a farm for me and Chloe, so we can earn enough money to pay for our hol in Newquay. But don’t mention Newquay to Mum, because I haven’t actually had a chance to run it past the parents yet.’
‘Amazing, amazing,’ sighed Tam dreamily. ‘Working on a farm …’ I could tell she was fantasising about herself and Ed pulling turnips or possibly rolling in the hay. She linked her arm through mine and chucked her cigarette into the flower beds.
‘Do I smell of smoke?’ she whispered as we neared the patio doors.
‘You smell like the Great Fire of London,’ I said.
‘Mum will kill me if she finds out I’m smoking again,’ said Tam. ‘Now listen,’ she went on in a whisper, ‘on Monday I’m going to stage a collapse, so I don’t have to go to Granny’s – I want you to back me up, yeah?’
We entered the sitting room. Mum was sipping her tea and watching yet more depressing news.
‘Have you come to your senses yet?’ Mum asked Tam. I saw Tam bristle. But she controlled her impulse to throw things.
‘OK, Mum, sorry – yeah, I’ll go to Granny’s, fine – I just need to reschedule a few things … But never mind about that – guess what!’ She skilfully changed the subject. ‘Zoe’s got a summer job on a farm!’
Mum’s face broke out in sunny smiles. She patted the sofa beside her. ‘Well done, darling!’ She beamed. ‘Come and tell me all about it!’
‘Isn’t it great?’ Tam went on. I knew her game. The more Mum was pleased with me, the less cross she would be about Tam. ‘Now Zoe will be able to save up enough for her amazing holiday in Newquay!’ announced Tam with a dazzling smile.
My heart lurched in horror. That idiot Tam! She had totally forgotten my warning about not mentioning Newquay! Maybe she hadn’t even heard it! She’d been dreaming about Ed! If I ever met him, I would kill him. I’d kill him twice.
The sunlight faded from Mum’s face and an ominous cloud gathered between her brows.
‘What holiday in Newquay?’ she glared. ‘This is news to me.’
‘Well, it’s almost news to me too,’ I said, lying through my teeth. Chloe and I had been dreaming about Newquay for months. ‘We only cooked up the idea yesterday.’ I had to fight hard to refrain from glaring at Tam. I would kick her later – in stereo, with both legs at once. I would grow an extra leg to kick her threefold. But right now I had to convince Mum that this was the best idea since sliced bread. Although Mum actually hates sliced bread, to be honest.
‘You’re far too young to go on holiday on your own,’ snapped Mum. ‘I’m glad about the job, that’s fine, well done. But as for a holiday on your own – forget it!’
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6
My stomach tied itself in a knot, a gallon of red-hot adrenalin hurtled up my neck, and my hands curled themselves into iron fists.
‘But you haven’t even discussed it!’ I yelled. ‘You don’t know anything about it!’ Mum raised her hand, like a policeman stopping traffic.
‘You’re damn right I don’t know anything about it,’ she said in a quiet, steely voice. ‘And that’s the first of the many reasons why this is simply not on.’
‘Well, let’s discuss it now!’ I demanded, grabbing the remote and switching off the TV. Mum looked quietly at me. We were sitting side by side on the sofa – a bit too close for a row, but I had to get on with it.
‘Fine,’ said Mum in calm-and-deadly mode (the worst). ‘Where are you staying? Who’s going with you? How much is it going to cost?’
She waited. I could feel myself blushing in panic as I realised I couldn’t answer any of these questions properly.
‘Everybody’s going!’ I flapped. ‘Chloe, and Tobe and Ferg, and – and – and loads of people. Everybody goes to Newquay! Tam went to Newquay when she was my age!’ I pointed dramatically and accusingly at Tam, who had backed towards the door and was about to escape.
‘Tam was a year older,’ said Mum swiftly. ‘And she went with Kirsty and her family, as I recall.’
‘Well, Chloe’s mum might come!’ I yelled recklessly. I knew this was a stupid thing to say, but I couldn’t help myself. I was totally out o
f control. Tam was such an idiot to pitch me into this.
‘Assuming she doesn’t, though, where are you planning to stay?’ enquired Mum. I hesitated. She arched a perfect eyebrow.
‘We haven’t decided yet!’ I said. ‘A surf lodge, probably.’
‘And do they accept people your age travelling on their own?’ asked Mum, as if she knew they didn’t.
‘We haven’t done all the research yet!’ I cried miserably.
‘So how much money have you saved up for this?’ she asked.
‘I did have £137,’ I said. ‘But I gave some to the flood victims.’ I was hoping Mum would admire me for my charity. ‘But we’re earning over £140 a week at the farm, so when we’re finished I’ll have £560, so I’ll end up with about £640 altogether.’
For a split second Mum looked impressed that I was going to be so loaded. But instantly she reverted to negative mode.
‘“A fool and her money are soon parted,”’ she quipped icily. I hate those sneery proverbs.
‘That’s a bit rich coming from a woman who’s just bought a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes!’ I yelled. ‘How much were they? £350?’
‘£340,’ said Mum sternly. ‘And they were for Aunt Alice’s funeral.’
‘So it wasn’t a treat for you, it was a tribute to Aunt Alice?’ I sneered. ‘Nice one.’
‘Don’t take that tone with me, please, Zoe,’ snapped Mum. ‘I’ve had a very trying day.’
‘Well, I’ve had a very trying day too!’ I shouted.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ sighed Mum, lying back on the sofa and looking at the ceiling. She held up her hand again in the policeman gesture. This means Be Quiet or Else. I didn’t care. I had run out of things to say. I was now trying hard not to cry. ‘I assume nothing’s actually booked, yet?’
I didn’t answer. I just stared sullenly at the carpet. ‘I’ll take that as an affirmative,’ said Mum. ‘If nothing’s actually booked, then no harm’s done. We’ll see you get a nice holiday after you’ve finished your job at the farm. Chloe can come too.’
‘What, you mean a family holiday?’ I asked.
