‘No he wasn’t,’ said Carl.
‘Yes, yes, he fell passionately in love at first sight, though he claimed indifference to her. He did not even thank her very graciously—’
‘Utter bilge! Shut up, Sylvie!’
‘Not not not bilge, it’s beautiful storytelling. Now listen, I have a cunning plan, it’s all part of the plot—’
‘I’m not listening,’ Carl said childishly, putting his hands over his ears.
‘Listen to me!’ I grabbed his hands and pulled them away. I wanted to spin out the story but now I could see I had to blurt it out. ‘King Carlo fancies Princess Mirandarette because she’s enchanted him, it’s not his fault, but then she sees this Piper person and he plays his silly old fluty tune and suddenly she’s the one who’s helplessly enchanted. She follows him as blindly as all those awful rats and he charms her away to wherever he came from. So they’re both gone for ever and King Carlo and Queen Sylviana breathe the cool cleansed air of Glassworld and gaze into each other’s eyes, all enchantments over, and they renew their wedding vows and live happily ever after,’ I gabbled, still holding onto Carl’s hands.
Then I stopped. Carl stopped. We looked at each other. We were gazing into each other’s eyes. It was the perfect moment. I waited. I waited and waited. Carl didn’t move towards me and kiss my lips. He looked past me, over my shoulder, at the Glass Boy poised on the shelf.
LUCY WAS STILL sulking on Monday but Miranda was surprisingly friendly. She came rushing up to me at lunch time, giving me a hug, as if we’d been best friends for ever.
‘Hey, Sylvie,’ she said. ‘Let’s slope off somewhere by ourselves. You haven’t had lunch yet, have you? Shall we slip out the back way and go and get chips?’
We were strictly forbidden to leave the school premises at lunch time. I was usually a timid little goody-goody – but I nodded yes. I tried to act as if it was no big deal but my heart started thumping as we walked round the back of the canteen, ducked behind a delivery van and then ran out through the trade entrance. We carried on running to the end of the road and then slowed to a stop, laughing.
‘There! I knew it would be easy-peasy,’ said Miranda. ‘Come on, let’s find the chip shop.’
‘So you’ve never done this before?’
‘Never.’ She smiled. ‘You’re obviously a bad influence, Sylvie. You’re leading me astray.’
‘Yeah, like I’m the really bad naughty girl,’ I said.
‘You are, you are. Look at you on Friday night, snogging my boyfriend.’
‘What?’
‘Andy kept going on about you after you left. He really fancies you.’
‘Rubbish! And Andy isn’t your boyfriend. You were snogging my boyfriend.’ I swallowed. ‘Miranda, was it a proper snog?’
Miranda peered at me. ‘Hey, you didn’t really mind, did you? It was just a silly game. I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I get crazy sometimes, I always push things too far. I could have kicked myself when Carl walked out like that. It was just meant to be a laugh.’
‘Oh well,’ I said lamely.
‘Carl isn’t still mad at me, is he?’
I shrugged.
‘You’re so lucky having a boyfriend like Carl. He’s so interesting. Most boys are so incredibly basic. They just want to fool around all the time. Andy and Raj are OK, I suppose, but they get on my nerves. Would you believe they started up a farting competition after you left? I was glad you guys weren’t there to witness it. It was so irritating. Alice and I left them to it. We went up to my bedroom and played music. Alice danced around for a bit. She watches pop videos compulsively and she’s perfected all these little routines. It’s kind of pathetic. Although Alice is one of my totally-for-always best friends I often find her irritating too. Is that awful?’
‘Well. I suppose I find my best friend irritating too sometimes,’ I mumbled. I felt incredibly disloyal to Lucy but it was true.
‘I frequently irritate myself,’ said Miranda. ‘Do I irritate you, Sylvie?’
‘Not at all,’ I said politely.
‘I bet I irritate Carl,’ said Miranda.
I hesitated.
‘Yeah, right,’ she said, sighing. ‘I know, I know, I’m too full-on for most guys, especially someone as complex as Carl. I wish I had the knack of just being. I’ve always got to prance around and show off.’
‘But it works, Miranda, you know it does.’
Miranda pulled a face. ‘It only works with the people I’m not really bothered about.’
‘It worked with me!’ I said. ‘So you’re obviously not bothered with me, right?’
‘Wrong wrong wrong,’ said Miranda. ‘You’ve always intrigued me. You hang out with silly old Lucylocks and yet you don’t twitter and giggle like she does. You wander round at lunch time looking dead mysterious and you jump if someone talks to you, as if you’re deep in thought, in another world entirely—’
‘Glassworld,’ I said, and then I put my hand over my mouth.
‘Whichworld?’
‘No. Nothing.’
‘Come on. What? Did you say Glassworld? Is this the story you and Carl made up together?’
‘You’re too sharp, Miranda. Stop it!’
‘Is it like Glasstown? You know, the stories the Brontës made up together when they were children?’
‘The Brontës? Like, Charlotte and Emily? The ones who wrote great fat Victorian novels?’
‘Yes, that’s them. They weren’t great fat girls, they were spindly little sisters, three of them and a brother who was a bit of a waste of space. Haven’t you read Jane Eyre? Ha, that’s who you remind me of, funny fierce dreamy little Jane. You must read it, Sylvie, and Wuthering Heights, it’s got the most amazing beginning – and end, though it gets a bit muddly in the middle.’
‘Aren’t they rather long and difficult? They’re classics.’
‘Yeah, but they’re fantastic dramatic love stories too. You’ll love them. And then you’ll get into reading about the Brontë family and how they lived in this bleak parsonage on the Yorkshire moors and they wrote these little books in minute handwriting when they were children about two imaginary worlds, Angria and Glasstown. I always thought how cool it would be to have a family like that so you could all make up stuff together. I used to play all kinds of pretend games when I was young and I made the other kids play them too, but it was definitely under sufferance. They all thought I was totally weird. But now I’ve found you guys we’ll all be in the Weird Club together. So, tell me all about Glassworld.’
‘I can’t. I really truly can’t, Miranda, it’s just been our secret thing for years and years. Carl would kill me if I breathed a word about it.’
I felt so worried she’d take offence but she just shrugged and laughed.
‘OK, OK, but you can’t stop me making up my world too. The Brontës had Glasstown and Angria, remember. Yeah, I’ll have Sangria, that’s like a Spanish drink – we drank heaps of it in Madrid last year.’
‘You drank it?’
‘Well. A glass. My parents had great jugs of it. Yes, Sangria will have red-wine fountains and everyone will be very relaxed and there’ll be lots of dancing and it will be really really hot, summer all the time, and it’ll be like an island so everyone can go swimming whenever they fancy and the sea will be really warm and there’ll be dolphins – yeah, everyone will swim with the dolphins and I shall speak dolphinese like this!’ She started squeaking and clicking, flapping her hands like flippers. ‘See, I’m good at making it up, aren’t I? You’re going to get bored holed up in Glassworld so you can come and visit, right?’
‘OK, I’d love to,’ I said. ‘So long as I have my own pet dolphin.’
‘Absolutely. And your own pet piranha fish who will give you such a loving little nibble if you try to stroke it. I’ll personally decorate your hair with pearls and coral beads and tie it with silky green seaweed. I’ll give you a sea-green velvet dress to wear in the evenings buttoned with real pearls and you’ll drink sang
ria out of green goblets—’
‘Made in Glassworld,’ I said. ‘My gift to you.’
‘You’re a very polite girl so after you’ve stayed with me several weeks and I’ve thoroughly spoiled you you’ll have to invite me to your … glass home?’
‘Palace, if you please.’ I hesitated. ‘Actually, you’ve already visited Glassworld. I’ve written about it in the Chronicles.’
Miranda stopped in the middle of the pavement. ‘Really? As me or as one of your made-up Glassworld people?’
‘Sort of both.’
‘What kind of an answer is that?’
‘Look, it’s secret, Miranda.’
‘You can’t just appropriate me and put me in your book and then refuse to tell me how you’ve portrayed me. Why won’t you tell me? Have you made me a horrible character? Have you turned me into Miranda the Mad Hag, with a warty nose and black bristles on my chin? You have, haven’t you? I’m psychic, I can tell.’
‘Your psychic powers are rubbish because you’re not a bit mad or haggy, you’re Princess Mirandarette, an enchantress.’
‘Ah! So who do I enchant? Can I enchant Carl?’
‘Absolutely not. He’s the King and he’s married to me,’ I said.
‘That’s not fair! You can’t bag him in real life and in Glassworld.’
‘Yes I can!’
‘Am I a brilliant enchantress?’
‘The best.’
‘Well then, I shall summon up all my powers and enchant old King Carl pronto to Sangria. I’ll slip sleeping powder in his sangria and lie him down on my big velvet sofa and then I’ll cuddle up beside him, and when he wakens in the morning the first person he’ll see is me, and there we go, he’ll be mine.’
‘No, he won’t,’ I said, elbowing her.
‘Ouch! You’ve got such bony little elbows. That hurt! It’s OK, the charm only works when he’s in Sangria. You can have him all to yourself in Glassworld. He’ll just have an occasional holiday with me – now how fair is that? Hey, if I’m such a beautiful enchantress, how come I can’t magic up a bog-standard chip shop, for heaven’s sake. You’d think there’d be one in this manky parade of shops.’
‘I thought you’d been to this chip shop before?’
‘No, no, I’ve always been a good girl and stayed at school. It’s just your bad influence. You’re leading me astray!’
I nudged her again and she nudged me back. We staggered up the street, poking each other and giggling as a bus went past.
‘Hey, look, it’s going into town. Let’s hop on it,’ said Miranda.
‘But we’ve got to be back by two!’
‘We will. We’ll just nip into McDonald’s, OK? Come on.’
She caught hold of my hand and pulled me. I struggled for a few seconds, but then I let her tug me to the bus stop and haul me onto the bus.
‘THERE!’ MIRANDA SAID, laughing and panting as we flopped onto the front seat.
‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ I said. ‘We’ll be in so much trouble if someone sees us and reports us to the school.’
‘Yeah, like, we’re being totally wicked, nipping into town for a spot of lunch like thousands of other people,’ said Miranda. ‘That’s what I hate about schools. They act like it’s a total criminal offence and moral outrage if you’re not wearing your school tie, for God’s sake. It’s all so trivial and stupid. And we’ve got years and years to go. I can’t wait till I can just say stuff it.’
‘What do you want to do when you leave? University?’
Miranda shrugged. ‘I’d sooner art school.’
‘Carl wants to go to art school too but he’s so brainy his parents want him to try for Oxford or Cambridge.’
‘And is he going along with their plans?’
‘I don’t know,’ I sighed. ‘I don’t know what Carl really thinks any more. It’s so hard now he’s at Kingsmere Grammar. He’s sort of clammed up.’
‘I thought you two had this totally magical relationship – true minds, imaginary worlds, big literary partnership, the whole caboodle.’
‘Yes. Sort of. But when we were little we were so close we were like CarlandSylvie, one person. Even our families called us that. Now he’s Carl and I’m Sylvie and I’m scared we’re kind of losing it. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I know you want Carl for yourself.’
‘Maybe I want him because he’s yours and not mine,’ said Miranda. ‘And if it’s any consolation he doesn’t seem remotely interested in me. Hey, maybe we’re wasting our time sighing over him, Sylvie. I bet he’s not agonizing over us right this minute.’
We got off the bus at the town centre. Miranda pulled me towards the big shopping centre.
‘They’ve got a McDonald’s downstairs. Or we could go to the food court. Do you fancy Thai food? Or a proper pizza, not like school muck?’
I fingered the five coins in my purse. ‘I’ve only got enough for chips,’ I said apologetically.
‘Hey, it’s my treat, naturally.’
‘No. Why should you pay for me?’
‘Because I’m the spoiled little rich girl. I always pay. It’s why people put up with me,’ said Miranda.
I looked at her. ‘I never know when you’re joking and when you’re not.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘Well, I put up with you because I like you – and I want to pay for my own meal, OK?’
‘OK! McDonald’s then.’
It was crowded with mums and toddlers and clusters of teenagers. There were several boys in distinctive purple blazers.
‘Look! Aren’t they Kingsmere boys? Do you think Carl ever comes here?’
‘He’s never said. I wouldn’t think so.’
‘But he could. Suggest it, Sylvie! Then we could all meet up for lunch. It would be so cool. We could play Glassworld and Sangria together.’
‘You mustn’t tell him! Promise you won’t. He’ll be so mad at me,’ I said as we collected our chips and went to sit down.
‘You’re not scared of him, are you?’
‘No. I just don’t want to upset him.’
‘You are so sweet with him. Don’t you believe in playing hard to get sometimes? Why don’t you try acting up and being difficult? Maybe making out you’re keen on someone else?’
‘There wouldn’t be any point. Carl knows me too well. I’m not the slightest bit interested in anyone else.’
‘Oh, yawn! You’re a hopeless case. Stuff your chips in your gob before you come out with more sickening stuff. OK, it’s obvious I can’t try to get Carl off you. We’ll have to get him to find a special pal for me. What about this footballer friend Raj mentioned? Have you met him?’
‘No. I don’t think he can be a real friend. Carl hates football.’
‘Yes, but maybe he likes him.’
‘He’s never really mentioned him.’
‘Well, you mention him. See if we can get together. You could come to my place. No silly kissing games, I promise. Well, unless we start serious snogging. You and Carl, me and football guy. I hope he’s more David Beckham than Wayne Rooney in looks. Carl might come again even if it’s just to admire my stained glass. Or we could go to your place if it would make him more comfortable.’
‘My place isn’t comfortable. Not any more.’ I bit the end off a chip and then started arranging the others according to size.
Miranda waited, unusually tactful.
‘My dad cleared off two years ago. He doesn’t even bother to come to see me now, not that I care. He doesn’t always send Mum money for me. She works, but we have to have lodgers too, to pay the mortgage. I had to move out of my proper bedroom. I just have this little cupboard room now. It’s not big enough to have friends round.’
‘I’m quite a small friend. Well, I’m ginormous compared to you, but everyone is. I can scrunch up small in your cupboard. And the two boys can lie on your bed – or even under it.’
Miranda used her own meal to demonstrate, turning her carton into a tiny room, he
r paper napkin into a bed, and then putting two chips on top and two underneath. Then she made one of the top chips lean over and kiss one of the bottom chips.
‘Idiot. Have you got a watch on? What do you think the time is?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe half one? Let’s just go and have a peer round TopShop, it’s up on the first floor,’ said Miranda, stuffing all four chips into her mouth and chomping enthusiastically.
‘We’ll be late back for school.’
‘No we won’t. God, you’re such a worry-guts. Just the quickest of quick peeps, OK?’
I let her drag me out of McDonald’s and up the escalator to TopShop. Inevitably, it wasn’t a quick peep at all. Miranda spotted a black lace vest top she said she’d been looking for all her life.
‘I’ve got enough cash on me. Heaps.’
‘So buy it then. But do hurry.’
‘I’ll have to try it on. Maybe it won’t stretch over my great big boobs.’
‘Stop boasting.’
‘I’m not, I’m not, I’m complaining like crazy – they get in the way so.’
‘Well, lend them to me. I’m sick of being totally flat-chested. I look like a little boy, for God’s sake.’
I wondered if that was why Carl didn’t want to kiss me. Maybe I simply didn’t look grown up and girly enough.
I looked at the black silky vest with its slinky straps and pink lace edging. ‘What do you think it would look like on me?’ I asked wistfully.
‘It would look great. You try one on too, come on.’
So I picked up one of the vests and we went to the changing rooms together. Miranda pulled her school sweater and blouse off unselfconsciously. We were supposed to wear plain white underwear to school but she was wearing an amazing tangerine bra embroidered with little turquoise flowers.
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘It’s a good job you haven’t got PE today.’
I turned away to shrug myself out of my own top. I was horribly embarrassed by my sad little girl’s bra like a white bandage. I put the black vest on quickly. I peered hopefully into the mirror, expecting some kind of magical transformation. My reflection peered back. The vest just looked like a vest, the sort of garment you wore for warmth. The straps slid uselessly off my narrow shoulders, exposing the straps of my bra. The material drooped about me unattractively.
Kiss Page 7
