by Sarah Webb
I laugh. “I know. But what are we going to do now? Mum still doesn’t have a wedding dress.”
“We’ll think of something, Beanie, never fear. The perfect dress is out there waiting for her, you’ll see.”
Just over a week later, on Friday night, I get a text out of the blue: WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME, AMY?
Seth!
How dare he! Ignoring him? My head races with confused thoughts. Hang on, he broke up with me, not the other way around. He has no right to accuse me of ignoring him. I’m just keeping out of his way. Seeing him and talking to him hurts too much. Plus, I have no idea where I stand. Does he even want to be friends? I still have no clue. This is the first time since we broke up that he’s said anything to me other than hi. What did he expect me to do?
After a few minutes, I start to have another thought. Does Seth want to get back together? Is that it? Mills said he’d change his mind, but I hadn’t dared hope for such a thing. But maybe . . . maybe . . .
I grab my mobile and press in his name, my heart racing.
“Amy?” He sounds relieved. “Are you talking to me again?”
I practically dissolve into tears on the spot. Seth and I haven’t spoken on the phone since we split up, and it almost breaks my heart to hear his voice again, all soft and anxious.
“What are you talking about?” I say. “You broke up with me, Seth. And OK, yes, I’ve been avoiding you a bit.” I take a deep breath. “It’s hard. Seeing you. In school, I mean. I can’t — ” I break off before I start to cry. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand. It’s hard for me too. But please don’t shut me out, Amy. I know I’ve hurt you, but I miss talking to you so much. Can’t we be friends or something? Please?”
I give a strangled laugh. Friends? So he does want to be friends. But why is he asking this right now? I don’t understand and I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
“OK, maybe not friends,” he adds quickly, “but can we at least speak to each other?”
I really miss our chats too. It’s like part of me isn’t there anymore. So even though everything in my being screams, Say no. This is a very, very bad idea, I sigh, then say, “I guess.” I suppose that, despite everything that has happened, I’m still clinging to the faint hope that he’ll change his mind. That he’ll love me again.
“Cool. Thanks.”
There’s an awkward pause. Then I ask, “How’s Polly? How’s the treatment going?”
“The new drug seems to be suiting her OK. There don’t appear to be any major side effects so far.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, but she’s pretty tired. And she’s not eating much.”
“And what about you? Are you eating?”
He laughs. “You sound like Polly. I’m fine. Worried about her, I suppose, but yeah, I’m eating.”
“Of course you’re worried, but Polly’s strong, Seth. She’s going to be all right.”
“I hope so. Thanks, Amy.”
“For what?”
“For listening. I’d better go now, check on Polly. Um, bye.” But he doesn’t hang up for ages. He just stays there and I can hear the faint noise of his breathing down the line. Eventually I whisper, “Bye, Seth,” and switch off my mobile. Then I start to cry. I miss him so much.
What is all this about? Is he really starting to change his mind? I wipe away my tears, wondering if it could possibly be true. I guess everyone’s right. I just have to give him time. All this waiting around is slowly killing me, though.
The following day is Easter Saturday and it’s time for Dave and Alex to be fitted for their wedding suits. Clover can’t make it, as she has a hot date with Brains. She’s really busy these days, what with juggling Brains, college, and her Goss work, and I hardly get to see her anymore. She has been really sweet since my breakup with Seth, however, sending me THINKING OF YOU, BEANIE, and CHIN UP, BABES texts every few days, as well as funny YouTube clips of tiny micro pigs climbing out of tea cups and things like that. Today she’s delegated the task of helping the groom and his mini-groomsman, Alex, to me. Dave’s decided to have two best men, Dan and Russ. Annoyingly, neither of them can make it today. They are going to get fitted next week instead.
I still keep thinking about Seth, so I’m glad of the distraction. I was hoping to talk to Mills this morning about Seth’s phone call, but she’s cheering at the Nationals. It’s in Navan, and they had to leave really early. She asked me to come with her, but I’d already promised Clover I’d be on wedding duty. I hope they win. They certainly deserve to.
Good Grooming is in Monkstown. We park the car and walk toward the shop, Dave and I swinging Alex by the arms between us. Alex loves soaring into the air and is giving happy shrieks and squealing, “More, more!”
Stan is there to greet us when we arrive at the shop. He is super-nice to Dave and Alex, even giving Alex tiny chocolate eggs to keep him quiet while Dave tries on his suit. When Stan asks Alex how old he is, Alex puts up three fingers.
I smile. “Alex, you’re two and a bit, not three.”
He scowls at me. “I big boy. I three.”
“Ach, you look at least three to me,” Stan says. Alex puffs out this chest. “I’ll just take a few measurements and then we’ll see what we have for you in the big boy section. And then will you try it on for me? Show everyone how grown-up you look?”
Alex nods solemnly.
Stan takes his measurements and then picks out a mini-suit for him to try on. A few minutes later, Alex struts back through the changing-room curtains like a child star. He looks so cute in the teeny black tailed jacket and gray flannel trousers.
I give a happy sigh. “Mum’s going to love it.”
“Doesn’t he look fab-a-lous?” Stan says.
I whip out my iPhone, line Dave and Alex up on the screen, and then click. The image is captured. Dave standing tall and proud, and Alex . . . with his finger up his nose.
“Alex!” I say, giggling. I take another shot — this time without the nose-picking.
On the way home we stop for some lunch in Gourmet Burger on the seafront in Dun Laoghaire.
“Special treat,” Dave says. “Are you sure you don’t have any plans today, Amy? I’m not making you late for anything?”
“No, no plans.” Since Seth has abandoned me, I feel like adding, but I don’t. I’m still confused about last night’s conversation. But I’m trying not to think about it too much.
After we’ve ordered our food — a kid’s burger for Alex, a Manhattan for Dave (with two burgers — he must be hungry), and a cheeseburger for me — Alex attacks the coloring sheet with stubby markers, and I gaze out of the window at the passersby. The sky is gray and cloudy, but at least it’s not raining. Oops, no, I was wrong. Plump raindrops are just starting to splatter the glass, and the people outside are dashing for cover.
“Penny for them,” Dave says.
“Sorry?” I ask, confused.
“Your thoughts. You looked like you were mulling something over.”
“Not really. Just people-watching.”
“Stan was nice, wasn’t he? He was surprisingly quick too. I thought we’d be there for ages. I bet it was a lot different from your Butterfly Bridal trip. Sylvie told me about some of the crazy dresses.”
I smile. “A bit different, all right.” That reminds me, Mum still hasn’t found a dress yet, which is slightly worrying. I must talk to Clover. It’s getting kind of urgent.
“Good to see you smiling, pet. I know things are difficult for you at the moment, what with Seth and everything. But I guess you don’t really want to talk about it.”
“No.”
“Fair enough. But if you do, I’m here, OK?”
I nod silently.
Dave’s eyes are soft and kind. “Are you sure you’re all right, Amy? Sometimes talking can help.”
I gulp, feeling a little overwhelmed and teary again. I’m about to say, “I’m fine,” when I think, actually, no, I’m not goin
g to lie to Dave. He deserves to know the truth. And I really need to share this with someone.
“I miss him so much,” I say instead. “We were a team, you know? Seeing him in school every day is hard. He rang me last night and asked if we could be friends. I don’t get it. He wants me in his life but not as his girlfriend. It doesn’t make sense. Do you think he’s changing his mind, Dave? Do you think he wants us to get back together? Is that why he rang? You were a boy once. How do boys think?”
He smiles gently. “I was. Seems like a long time ago now. Well, I guess sometimes boys can think about only one thing at a time, so they shut everything else out. I’m sure he rang because you understand him more than anyone else does and he wanted to talk. You guys were very close, and all the stuff with Polly . . .” He shrugs. “You get it. You’re a good listener, Amy. And my honest opinion? Yes, I think he probably will change his mind once Polly’s back on track.”
“Do you really think there’s a chance we’ll get back together? You’re not just saying that?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “I do. Just give him time.”
“Thanks, Dave.” I smile at him, my heart suddenly light.
“Any time, pet. And I’m always here if you want to talk, yeah? I know we had our ups and downs at the start, but I’d like to think we’re friends now.”
Dave’s right about our “ups and downs.” I found it difficult to have him around at first — I didn’t want anyone taking Dad’s place, so I made it hard for Dave when he first moved in with us. But now it’s like he’s always been part of the family. OK, it’s an odd kind of family, but, hey, what’s normal?
“Amy?” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “I couldn’t love you more if you were my own daughter, you know that, right?”
“I love you too, Dave,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve said it, but it feels right.
Dave smiles happily.
“Love oo, Dada,” Alex pipes up, lifting his head from his coloring.
Dave and I laugh.
“And I love you, buddy,” Dave tells him, and then right there, in the middle of the restaurant, he breaks into one of his Dinoduck songs: “I love you, I really do. Loving you makes me so happy too. Me so happy too, oh, me so happy too. . . .”
I’m mortified. I stare down at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone and willing myself to disappear.
It’s a sweet song, though, and very catchy, and when Dave is finished, lots of people in the restaurant start to clap. I lift my head. OK, some are also giving him very strange looks, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Is that a new song?” I ask Dave when the clapping has stopped and my cheeks have finally stopped glowing with embarrassment.
“Yep. Do you like it? I’m this close to making Dinoduck a success, Amy.” He pinches thumb and index finger together. “So close I can taste it. I just need to ace my meeting with Rolf Grant — ”
“Rolf Grant? The Rolf Grant?” Even I’ve heard of Rolf Grant. He’s the Irish music mogul who discovered Coast, the hugely popular Irish boy band.
“Yep,” he says proudly. “He’s listened to my CD, and he’s agreed to see me. I’m just waiting to hear back from his people. It should be any day now. He’s based in London and LA, but he’s over in Dublin in a few weeks.”
“That’s mega-exciting, Dave,” I say. I can’t wait to tell Mills. She’s mad about Billy, Coast’s lead singer. If Rolf Grant is Dave’s manager, maybe I can wangle her an up-close-and-personal with Billy.
“Does Mum know?” I ask him.
“No, I didn’t want to give her false hopes. She has enough on her mind with the wedding and everything. Other managers were interested at first, but they’ve all turned me down. One of them thought I was too old for the children’s entertainment market. Old? I’m only thirty-two.”
“That’s ancient,” I quip. “But don’t worry, the meeting can be our big yellow Dinoduck secret.”
“Thanks, Amy. And thanks for coming with me this morning too. It was fun. We should hang out together more often.”
“Sure,” I say, and I mean it. I’m lucky — it’s pretty cool having two dads to spend time with, even if they are both a bit bonkers.
When we get home, Mum calls down the stairs. “Is that you, Dave?”
“No, it’s me, Mum. Dave’s getting Alex out of the car.”
“Oh, good. Come on up quickly, Amy. I have something exciting to show you, and I don’t want Dave to see it. I’ll be in my room.”
Curious, I run up the stairs and walk through the doorway to her bedroom.
“Ta-da!” Mum says, doing jazz hands. “What do you think?”
She’s wearing an icy-white off-the-shoulder wedding dress. It has a curvy sweetheart silk bodice and a full, net-covered skirt dotted with silver sequins. It’s nice and everything, it’s just not really Mum.
“I got it for a song at the thrift shop. Eighty euros, can you believe it? What a bargain.” She does a twirl, the skirt puffing out around her. “You’re very quiet, Amy. What do you think?”
“It’s lovely,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“I know it’s not the perfect dress, pet, but the dress isn’t all that important.”
Is she kidding? Even I know that choosing your wedding dress is a serious business.
“I’m marrying Dave, that’s the important bit,” she adds.
I’m still not persuaded. Yes, I know that ultimately marrying the right guy is the most important thing, but it’s Mum’s special day and she deserves to feel like a princess.
I really need to talk to Clover.
I’m in Clover’s car a week later, driving toward Dundrum Shopping Centre to meet Lia, the girl who wrote to us asking for fashion tips. We’re taking her shopping. Clover’s calling it our “retail mercy mission.” And Saffy managed to wangle a mega-shopping voucher from Dundrum to cover it.
“Did you get a chance to talk to Mum about the whole wedding dress thing?” I ask Clover as we pull away from the house.
“Yes. And she’s firmly set on wearing the thrift shop bargain. She’s determined not to spend any more money on the wedding. But let’s not worry about that today. Sorry I’ve been incommunicado for a bit. Anything new with you?”
I tell her all about Seth’s text and our phone call, and also what Dave said about Seth changing his mind about the breakup if I give him some time.
Clover thinks about this for a moment and then asks, “How were things in school this last week? With Seth, I mean.”
“OK. We talked a little bit. Mainly about Polly and how she’s doing. And about classics homework. Nothing major. But he was pretty nice to me.”
“It’s hard to know with boys, Beanie, but it sounds like Dave could be right. Hang in there. I think you just have to play the waiting game for now.”
I sigh deeply. “I know, but it’s so hard.”
“My heart goes out to you, Glum Bean, really it does. But maybe today’s shopping spree will help take your mind off things. There’s nothing like spending someone else’s moolah to put a smile on a girl’s face.”
When we get to Café Rua, a sweet little redbrick tearoom near Harvey Nichols, where Lia has arranged to meet us, the door is shut. There’s a sign on it that reads, SORRY, CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE FUNCTION.
Clover looks puzzled. “Lia said Café Rua, right?”
I try the door, but it’s definitely locked. I try to peer in through the window, but the blinds are down. Just then the door swings open, and standing there, wearing a long white-blond wig, is Eloise Oliphant. What is she doing here? And what’s with the wig? Last autumn Clover and I helped Eloise overcome her fear of boys by inviting her to meet Alex, Seth, Dave, and Gramps, and Felix from the Golden Lions.
“Surprise!” Eloise says, breaking into a huge grin, her brown eyes twinkling. “In case you’re wondering, there is no Lia. That was just a ruse to get you here today. Come on inside. The other girls are dying to meet you.”
“Beanie?”
Clover whispers to me. “Are you in on this? What’s going on?”
“No idea, boss. Honest.”
Inside, the place is packed with girls my age, all wearing exactly the same blond wig as Eloise. Most of them are also wearing sparkly tights, shorts, and biker boots, but a handful are dressed in black skinny jeans and stripy tops. The girls are staring at Clover like she’s a movie star and whispering and giggling among themselves.
“Look!” I tell Clover excitedly. “They’re dressed up as you! What is this, Eloise? Some sort of strange Clover Wildgust cult meeting?”
Eloise laughs. “I’ll let Alanna tell you; it was her idea. She’s been planning it for weeks with your editor’s help. Alanna!”
A tall girl wiggles her way through the bodies and then claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention. I recognize her from a video clip I watched last spring. She was modeling in a Goss magazine teen fashion show, sashaying up and down a catwalk in a swishy red dress. It was one of the things Clover set up for her after she had been the victim of horrible cyber-bullying. We wanted to fix things for her by giving her a starry, über-cool online presence that no one could tease her about ever again. From the way Clover is staring at Alanna, it’s clear that she’s recognized her too. And then the penny drops: every girl in this room is someone that Clover has helped in the agony-aunt pages of the Goss. Clover is still looking confused, though. I don’t think she’s figured it out yet.
Alanna claps her hands again. “Girls,” she says to the room, “as you’ve probably guessed by now, this is Clover Wildgust from the Goss magazine, and her niece and co-problem-solver, Amy.”
At that, the girls all start cheering and whooping and throwing their arms in the air like they’re at a field hockey game.
Alanna turns to me and Clover. “And as you’ve probably guessed by now, we’re just some of the girls you’ve helped over the past year. And we’re all here today to say a great big thank-you. You guys have turned our lives around. You might not know our faces but you may remember our names. And some of the gang would like to say a few words. Dominique, would you like to go first? I know Clover and Amy’s help meant a lot to you.”
