‘Oh no, Dean – put that one to the end and then say we’re out of time. My daughter goes to school with a girl called Sumitha and I know the family – if it turns out to be the same one – and there can’t be many Sumithas in Leehampton – it could cause all sorts of difficulties,’ said Ginny, sighing.
‘OK. Then there’s Mia whose dad was had up for speeding by her boyfriend’s dad who’s a copper – what a laugh! – and then Becky aged fourteen – probs because her dad and mum have split up. That all OK with you?’
‘Sounds fine to me,’ said Ginny, peering into her handbag mirror and patting her hair.
‘News is just ending, Gin. Piece of music and then you’re on. All right?’
‘Sure, Dean. I’m all yours.’
Thank goodness you’re not, thought Dean as he brought the sound up on Dirty Laundry.
Chapter Nine
Down the Line
‘You took your time – what kept you?’ Chelsea stood back to let Laura through the front door. ‘Hey, Laura – you’re filthy! What happened?’
‘Tell you later – did you phone Moan Line?’
‘Yes, and what’s more, I thought you were going to miss it.You have to give your phone number to this woman and then she phones you back. So I pretended to be you. Only she’s already phoned back and we’re hanging on. Quick.’
‘You didn’t go and give my proper name, did you?’
‘No, idiot – you are now Becky. I bet it doesn’t work – I mean, my mum may be crazy but she isn’t thick – she’s bound to suss it’s you.’
‘I keep telling you – that’s the whole point,’ snapped Laura. ‘She’s a really together person – she’ll realise the damage being done to my life and sort my mum out and everything’ll get back to like it was before.’
‘If you say so. Anyway take this,’ Chelsea threw the receiver at Laura. ‘You have to listen down the phone to what’s on air till they announce your name.’
‘I’m nervous,’ said Laura.
‘Think of Melvyn,’ advised Chelsea. Laura pulled a face and made vomiting noises.
‘Becky – are you there?’
‘Hey, it’s me,’ Laura whispered, waving an arm in Chelsea’s direction.
‘Becky? Hi, this is Moan Line and I am just putting you through to Ginny.’
‘Hello there, Becky – and what’s your embarrassing dilemma this morning?’ Ginny’s cheerful voice boomed down the line.
‘Um, well, it’s my mum, actually. You see, she’s split with my dad and she’s got this new man and to be perfectly honest, he is gross. I mean, really gross. But she can’t see that.’
Laura took a deep breath.
‘The thing is, she is behaving in a really embarrassing way. I mean, they even kiss and cuddle in public. Outside shops and in pubs and things. I’ve told her she shouldn’t carry on like that at her age – making a complete idiot of herself, and me, but she just laughs or else she yells at me and says I don’t understand and that she’s only having a bit of fun.’
‘Well now, is that the root of the problem, Becky?’ said Ginny, in what she hoped were understanding tones. ‘Do you resent her having fun?’
‘Well, no, of course not – but I mean, she’s being so embarrassing. She’s got girlfriends – if she’s lonely, she can go out to the cinema with them or play tennis and things like that.’ Laura gulped. ‘But anyway, she should be trying to get my dad back, not wrapping herself all round this geek.’
‘Geek’. Ginny had heard that word recently when Laura – oh no. Ginny cleared her throat and pulled a face at Dean. He wasn’t looking. ‘Well now, Lau- Becky,’ she began,’you know, your mum is probably just getting over a very upsetting episode in her life. She needs friendship and affection – love, even. And of course, just because people show affection to one another, it doesn’t mean they’re about to run off into the dark blue yonder together.’ She laughed in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.
Laura was just a little bit worried that she might cry. ‘But she should be with my dad – not him!’
Ginny was making wild gestures with her arms at the production assistant behind the glass. ‘Try to get rid of her,’ she mouthed. The production assistant was too busy answering the telephone to notice.
‘Well, La- er, Becky, I think that perhaps your dad and your mum are having their differences right now, and only they can work out what is best for them.Your mum needs you to try to understand that. I mean, you must have some friends she doesn’t like – just as she has one you don’t much take to. Perhaps you could sit down and …’
‘… have a calm and reasoned discussion about your feelings and work out a way of handling them together,’ mouthed Chelsea at Laura.
‘… have a calm and reasoned discussion about your feelings and work out a way of handling them together,’ said Ginny. ‘I hope that helps, dear.’
She aimed a stiletto at Dean’s kneecap and flapped her hands frantically. ‘Ah, yes, well, thank you, Ginny Gee, and that is all we have time for today on Moan Line.’ Dean Laurie slid the control lever up the console and the sounds of Understated Style swamped the studio.
‘Prob?’ he enquired. Ginny wondered why DJs always talked in abbreviations.
‘Sort of – that was a friend of my daughter’s trying to pretend not to be.’ She took a slurp of what the station laughingly called coffee. ‘Little madam – honestly, these kids, they think they have the answers to everything.’
She sighed. ‘Dear me, poor old Ruth Turnbull – caught snogging outside the supermarket.’
‘Pardon?’ said Dean, looking bewildered.
‘Nothing,’said Ginny.’I’m off home to face the music. See you next week.’
‘I’m not too sure that was much help,’ said Laura miserably. ‘I mean, I know she’s your mum and everything, but she didn’t seem to realise the seriousness of it all.’
‘Don’t worry – she sussed it was you, though.’
‘Oh good. So do you think she’ll have a word with Mum?’ asked Laura hopefully.
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Chelsea, thinking that the word in question might not be quite what Laura had in mind. ‘Anyway,’she said, anxious to change the subject,’are you going to tell me why you look like a scarecrow?’
Laura looked down at her mud-stained jeans and grazed hands in surprise. ‘Oh, yeah, well, I fell off my bike.’
‘Bad luck,’ said Chelsea.
‘It was wonderful,’ said Laura, smiling mistily.
‘Pardon?’ said Chelsea.
‘He was so … lovely’
‘Who was?’ said Chelsea, wondering whether Laura had banged her head as well as her hands.
‘Jon.’
‘Laura,’ shouted Chelsea, ‘can we start this conversation again, please?’
So Laura told Chelsea about the encounter with Jon and after fifteen minutes of hearing about his amazing eyes and fabulous voice and great legs, and how he was even more handsome than David Beckham, Chelsea wished she hadn’t asked.
Chapter Ten
Jon Makes a Decision
Jon hadn’t really had a clue where he was dashing to when he left Laura gawping at the side of the road. Anywhere, just so long as it was a long way from the continual nagging about homework and studying and being a credit to his father and not letting the side down.
He cycled to the canal, threw his bike down and slumped under a tree. God, how he hated being an only child. It was like all his father’s hopes and fears and ambitions were focused just on him. It had always been the same – he had to live out all his dreams. Ever since he could remember his parents had wanted him to be the first kid in the class to know his six times table, the earliest reader, the fastest runner. Why couldn’t they let him just be himself?
He knew his dad had wanted to go to university but couldn’t because Grandma was a widow and needed Dad to earn money. To Dad, university had always seemed the highest accolade – a sign to the world that you were ‘someone’.
He knew his father would be gutted when Jon didn’t go – but he’d just have to get used to it.
He sometimes felt that his mum was secretly on his side – but whenever he tried to get her to come out and say what she really felt, she clammed up and told him to do whatever it took to keep his father happy. His mum was really artistic and she seemed bored stiff with the business she ran from a shed – well, studio she called it – in the back garden. She made bouquets and silk posies for weddings, and taught flower arranging and spoke to ladies’ lunch clubs and yet somehow she never really seemed excited by what she did. He didn’t want to end up like that – doing a job that had no buzz, no excitement to it. His dad went to the office every day and sold houses to people but he never seemed happy.
Jon would bet that neither of his parents had ever had a dream of doing anything remotely different, of making a mark on the world. So how could he expect them to understand? Their world was so narrow. It was hopeless.
But he knew one thing for sure. He’d have to tell them what he really wanted to do. He didn’t want to stay at Bellborough Court. He wanted to go to Lee Hill, because there he knew he could do what really interested him.And tonight, he’d tell them. But after he had been to The Stomping Ground.
While Jon sat making resolutions by the canal, his mother was setting off to deliver her bouquets. To be honest, she was heartily bored of it – tired of designing bridal posies or making floral hoops for bridesmaids. She was even weary of teaching women with too much time on their hands how to make table centres or entwine ivy round their bannisters. She did it because, although Henry hated her to mention it, they needed the money. People weren’t buying so many houses right now and Henry’s commission had fallen drastically.The money his uncle had left them had almost gone and Jon still had three more years of school at least. So she had to carry on with her job. What she would really like to do was – but no, there was no point thinking about it. She had a duty to Henry and Jon and that was that. She yawned. She was forty-four years old and bored out of her brains.
Chapter Eleven
Hot FM Springs a Surprise
Laura’s father, Peter Turnbull, was driving Sonia and Daryl to their swimming lesson and wishing Laura was with him. He had had some good news and wanted to share it with her. In fact, he was in such a good mood that he’d let Sonia tune the car radio to the local station. Normally, Peter liked driving to Mozart or Berlioz, or on a particularly bad day, Mahler, but today he was prepared to be generous, even if that did mean listening to her favourite band, Raving Red. This morning he had heard that Homefinders Inc. had found a buyer for the house in Preston Abbott. What’s more, it was a cash buyer. At last he would be able to give Ruth her share of the proceeds and, more importantly, buy somewhere for himself and Betsy that was big enough for Laura to have a room of her own.That way, she could come to stay far more often.
Mr Turnbull missed his daughter like crazy. He missed her funny freckled face, the way she turned every minor issue into a three-act drama. He even missed her fiery temper. He saw her most weekends but it wasn’t the same as having her with him all the time. Still, she seemed to be handling the whole break-up quite well.
‘I’ve told her she shouldn’t carry on like that at her age.’ Peter pricked up his ears.That voice sounded very familiar.
He turned up the volume.
‘I feel sick,’ said Daryl from the back seat.
‘No, you don’t,’ said Peter, who knew that Daryl would try anything to get out of his swimming lesson.
‘But I do!’said Daryl.
‘Be quiet!’ shouted Peter, who like his daughter, was short on the tolerance front.’I’m listening to the radio.’
‘You said you didn’t like Hot FM,’ said Sonia. ‘You said it was a load of drivel. And don’t shout at my brother,’ she added. She was allowed to shout at Daryl but she wasn’t having this intruder taking liberties.
‘But she should be trying to get my dad back, not wrapping herself all round this geek.’
Geek! Laura’s word for everyone from the overweight milkman to her cousin Jeremy. That was Laura’s voice!
And that was Ginny Gee, Ruth’s friend. Well, both their friend once. What was going on? Laura was talking about her mother on the radio. About both of them, in fact. It was Laura, he knew it. He caught a catch in Ginny’s voice as she said the caller’s name.
Ginny knew it too. He turned the volume up again. He had to hear what was going on.
Only he never did. Because at the junction with Western Street and The Drive, Daryl proved irrefutably that he did feel sick.
Chapter Twelve
Tempers Fray
‘I’m back!’ Laura hurled her jacket on to the bottom stair and went into the kitchen.
‘I’m surprised you bothered.’ Her mum did not look happy. Her eyes looked suspiciously pink. Laura swallowed.
‘What do you mean?’ She opened the cupboard and helped herself to a packet of crisps. Laura always turned to food when she sensed a crisis looming.
‘Let me see – how did it go? “She is behaving in a really embarrassing way.” Was that it? Oh, and “She shouldn’t carry on like that at her age”. Correct me if I’m wrong.’
Laura gulped. Her mother never listened to the radio on Saturday mornings. She did the gardening or went shopping. Laura felt dreadful. She never meant to upset her mother, just to sort out this mess in their lives.
‘Oh, well, I, … I didn’t think you listened to Hot FM.’
‘No Laura,’ said her mother, ‘you simply didn’t think. Full stop.’
‘Sorry. Honestly, if I’d known you’d be listening…’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. Suffice it to say that you are grounded.You are not, repeat not, going to that club tonight and that is final.’ Her mum slammed the larder door shut to emphasise her point.
‘Why? I mean, why? Everyone’s going.’ Laura looked aghast.
‘Correction – everyone but you,’ said her mother.
‘But Sumitha’s coming for the night – and you can’t spoil her fun even if you try to ruin mine,’ said Laura angrily. She knew she was in for a punishment, but she couldn’t bear the thought of her friends getting to know about it.
‘I hadn’t got round to phoning the Banerjis to check they approved, and now I won’t have to bother.You are not going. And you can tell Sumitha why.’
Laura hurled her empty crisp packet across the kitchen. ‘But I have to – it’s The Stomping Ground’s Great Stomp On – there are freebie goodie bags and food and everything. I have to go.’ Laura’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Tough.’ Her mother turned to go.
Laura was seriously worried. Normally her mum was pretty reasonable, but this seemed to have made her truly mad. Because Laura knew deep down it was she who was wrong, and because her weekend was about to be turned into a disaster, she lost her temper.
‘God, I hate you!’ Laura screamed. ‘Not content with embarrassing me every time you go out with that jerk, moving into this flea pit of a house, and hardly ever letting me use the phone, you have to ruin what few pleasures I do have. And now you are going to embarrass me in front of Sumitha. She’ll probably never speak to me again. But you wouldn’t care – you don’t give a damn if I am totally friendless and alone.’
Her mother turned round. ‘Laura, for goodness’ sake will you stop being so dramatic!’
‘I just don’t believe you can do this to me. Dad would let me go. But then Dad cares about me. You don’t care about anyone but your beloved Melvyn. I HATE YOU!’
Her mother sighed. ‘Laura – listen to me.That’s simply not true. Of course I care about you. I love you, lots and lots. But you obviously don’t care about me or my feelings. I resent having you broadcasting my private life to half the pubescent population of Leehampton!’
‘Oh that’s right – go on, insult my friends, why don’t you? You hate everything else about me, you might as well start hating them too!’ screeched Laur
a.
‘I’m not criticising …’
‘Yes you are – you called them pubie phew pooo …’
‘PUBESCENT!’ said her mother. ‘It means approaching puberty.’
‘Oh.’
‘Just think for a moment, Laura. How would you feel if I phoned up some chat show and told the world that my daughter runs a mile at the sight of a spider, spends hours cycling up and down Conway Crescent in the hopes of spotting Duncan Nisbet and is terrified of going upstairs in the dark?’
‘That’s different,’ mumbled Laura.
‘No, it’s not different at all,’ said her mother. ‘I wouldn’t do it because I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings. I wouldn’t do it because it’s no one else’s business. But of course, I forget. Mothers are not supposed to have feelings, are they? They are supposed to cook and clean and shop and find the money for trainers and club nights and new duvet covers. But feel? Oh no, mothers must never feel anything, must they?’And with that, Laura’s mum burst into tears, rushed out of the kitchen and slammed the door.
Suddenly Laura wished that Moan Line had never been invented.
Chapter Thirteen
Jemma Writes a Letter
While Laura was feeling very angry and totally unloved and rather guilty, and Ginny Gee was sitting at the traffic lights seething with annoyance at herself for being taken in by her daughter’s friend, and Laura’s mum was trying to stop her mascara running and wondering why people had kids,Jemma Farrant was sitting cross-legged on her bed writing a letter to her gran.
‘Deepdene’
4 Billing Hill
Leehampton LE4 4UP
Dear Gran
Thank you ever so much for the money you sent me. I’ve been saving up for this brilliant top from Chic and thanks to you, I’ll be able to get it today! At the moment. I haven’t got a thing worth wearing – just because Mum doesn’t care what she wears, she expects me to go around looking like something out of Mothercare’s window.
Just Don't Make a Scene, Mum! Page 4
