‘Maybe it’s meant to be, hey?’ I said, hopefully.
‘Ah, but with whom? It’s worked out perfectly for you to spend the half-term down in Cornwall with your other lover.’
‘What other lover? I don’t know anyone down there . . .’
‘Er, come on, stupoid. Get your brain in gear. Where do the Axfords live?’
‘Oh my God! Yes. Cornwall. I’d forgotten that the Axfords have a house down there. Because Ollie is at school in Kensington, I think of him as a Londoner. But it’s bound to be miles away from where we’ll be. Cornwall is an enormous place.’
‘Hold on, I’ve got the copy of Vogue with the article on Star Axford in it – Lucy left it here last week,’ said Izzie. ‘I think it even mentioned where the house was.’
The phone went quiet for a while.
‘Iz. Iz, are you still there?’
A moment later, she came back on the phone. ‘Rame Peninsula,’ she said. ‘Where’s the house you’ll be staying?’
‘Not sure. Just a mo.’
I ran out into the hall and called down the stairs. ‘Hey, Mum. Where in Cornwall is Dr Rolland’s house?’
‘The Rame Peninsula, dear,’ she called back.
‘Ohmigod!’ I said, as I went back to the phone.
‘I know,’ said Izzie. ‘I heard. It’s destiny.’
E-mail: Outbox (1)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: 21st May
Subject: God
Hey Hannahlulu,
Sorree it’s bin so long.
A million things have been happening this end.
Dad was ill but he’s better now, thank God. Talking of which or who, have you any idea if there is one? A God, that is. And if there is, have you got his address as no one over here seems to have it and it’s not in the Yellow Pages cos I’ve looked. A phone number, website or e-mail address would do. An official www.god.com would be a gas, wouldn’t it?We could just go to a site and leave a message for him? As in, Dear God, heeeeelp. Why am I here? Where have I come from? What happens after you die?Why did you create wasps?
Lucy says there has to be a God cos of all the beautiful things in nature.
Nesta says we all have pea brains and it’s too big a question for us to grasp the answer, so we should just get on and enjoy life.
Izzie’s still looking.
And I don’t know.
U wouldn’t believe what else is happening. Not one boy but two in the running. Ollie Axford. His dad is a famous rock and roller. Ollie is mucho cute. And the other boy is Luke. Remember him? Cause of big trouble last Christmas. I thought he was my soulmate. Still do, maybe. Don’t know what’s going to happen though as it’s early days . . . watch this space.
Stay in touch.
Luv and stuff
TJ.
‘Byeee. Have a great time,’ I called as Mum waved from the driving seat.
Dad waved from the back of the car, where he was sitting like royalty, propped up with pillows and blankets.
Mum started the engine and off they went.
When the car disappeared round the corner of our road, Paul and I turned and went into the house. It felt so quiet after the flurry of activity in the last few days. Mum had done endless shopping trips so that cupboards and the freezer were stuffed with quick and easy meals. Mr Lovering had been over with boxes of health foods. Dad had patiently sat and listened to what he had to say about ‘you are what you eat,’ then pulled faces at the bags of oats and lentils when he’d gone. For a wrinkly, Dad could act really childishly sometimes, but I think he liked Mr Lovering as I heard them laughing about something. Probably the time he caught Lucy bouncing on my bed wearing a bra on her head. And then of course there was the packing. And repacking. Mum was unsure what to take as, with it being only May, the weather could turn colder again. In the end, she packed things for all seasons, and it had been good to see her back to her normal self, smiling and singing as she went about the house organising everything and everyone.
‘So just us, kid,’ said Paul as I closed the front door.
‘Yep,’ I said. ‘Quiet, isn’t it?’
‘Yep,’ said Paul. He went into the sitting room, scanned the CDs then put one in and turned the volume up.
Rock music blasted out so loud that it made the room vibrate. We both began to play air guitar and throw our heads around like mad heavy metal stars. A look that Paul had down well as with his long hair and denims, he does look like a scruffy musician.
Two seconds later, there was a loud knock on the window. We both looked up to see Mum’s angry face.
‘Oops,’ said Paul and motioned for me to turn the music down.
As the house grew silent again, we both raced into the hall and Paul opened the door.
‘What on earth is going on?’ demanded Mum. ‘I’ve been gone less than five minutes and you’re acting like teenagers.’
I didn’t think that now was the time to say, ‘Er, actually I am a teenager’.
Paul shifted about on his feet like a naughty ten-year-old. ‘Sorry . . . Just . . .’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mum. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I mean you’re barely out of your teens yourself, Paul. Can I trust you?’
‘We were just being silly,’ he said. ‘And I’d say that twenty-three is well out of my teens, not barely. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s in bed by ten every night and let her take mind-expanding drugs only on Fridays. I’ll only allow boys up into her room on the weekend and absolutely no vodka unless she’s got friends round.’
Mum slapped his arm lightly. ‘Good job I know you’re joking,’ she said, ‘although that’s not funny at all.’
‘So why’ve you come back?’ Paul asked.
Mum spotted a bag in the hall. ‘Forgot our supplies for the journey. Now, TJ, I know you’re a sensible girl so I expect you to behave. And Paul, I want you to take this responsibility seriously. No staying out late on school nights. Early to bed . . .’
‘Mum,we’ve been through all this,’ said Paul and ushered her back to the door. ‘Go. Enjoy. We’ll both be fine.’
We stood at the door and waved them off for a second time.
As soon as we saw the car disappear around the corner of our road again, Paul dashed back into the sitting room, turned the CD back on full blast and came back into the hall where we both giggled at each other and resumed our air guitar playing.
Paul can be a real laugh, although Mum and Dad don’t exactly appreciate that side of him at the moment. They had such high hopes for him when he got top As in his A-levels. They thought that he’d follow in the family footsteps and go to medical school. He did for a year, but wasn’t happy so he dropped out and went travelling to India, Morocco and Ethiopia. He’s been back in England for a few months now and still isn’t sure what he wants to do. For the time being he’s freelancing as a painter and decorator in Bristol, and Mum and Dad (especially Dad) aren’t happy about it at all. They want him to get a ‘proper’ job. Paul insists that being a decorator is as proper as it gets, but he knows what they mean. He told me that he still doesn’t have a clue what he wants to do so, until then, he’s painting to earn a bit of dosh and pass the time.
Luckily Mum didn’t come back a second time, and after our spate of guitar playing I went up to get ready for football practice. While I was changing, Ollie Axford called.
‘Got a spare ticket for the Cirque Du Soleil,’ he said. ‘Ever seen them?’
‘No. Are they like a proper circus?’
‘Better,’ he said. ‘They’re amazing. Beautiful. Hard to describe. You’ve got to see them. It’s like an alien race has landed and come to entertain us.’
‘When?’
‘Thursday night. Albert Hall. Star was supposed to come with me, but she’s had a last-minute booking for a job in Milan. So you up for it? Might mean a bit of a late night. I know your Goody Two Shoes sub-personality wo
n’t be able to come as it’s a school night, but maybe one of the others could. Tell your mum I’ll put her in a cab.’
I felt flattered that Ollie had not only remembered about my sub-personalities but also their names. ‘Hold on, I’ll ask,’ I said and raced down to ask Paul.
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Cirque Du Soleil are brill. You have to see them.’
Great, I thought, as I went back to the phone. Life without the wrinklies was going to be fun.
The next few days were brilliant. Liberating. Paul let me stay up late. We ate what we wanted when we wanted. Coco Pops for supper and cold pizza for breakfast. We played more loud music. And, best of all, Izzie, Nesta and Lucy came over to my house on Sunday afternoon after Mum and Dad had left and then every night after school. Partly to just hang out in a parent-free zone and partly to get stuck into painting my bedroom. I hadn’t even given the decorating a thought while Dad was in hospital and would have put it on hold even longer if he hadn’t insisted that I go ahead with it and no arguing! I said I would be happy to take the paint back to Homebase and have the room white, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said that I had to take advantage of Paul’s skills before he went back to Bristol and that I decorate in the colours that I wanted, no expense spared.
Paul was ‘site manager’ and did the ceiling and most of the difficult work while I was out at school, but us girls did some of the woodwork. By the time Tuesday evening came, most of it had been done and the room looked transformed from a drab interior to a fresh but cosy room.
‘Tomorrow evening after school we’ll do Camden,’ said Lucy as she surveyed our work. ‘Look for nick-nacks.’
‘And then we’ll have some time for beautification,’ said Izzie. ‘Please. My skin and nails need some attention.’
‘And I need to start getting ready for my date with Ollie,’ I said.
Nesta laughed. ‘I thought I was bad. Your date is on Thursday. Are you saying you need a whole twenty-four hours to get ready?’
‘Yep,’ I said. ‘I need all the time and help I can get.’
‘What about Luke?’ asked Izzie. ‘Is he out of the picture now?’
I looked at Nesta, who tapped her nose. ‘I just have to do a little detective work on Monsieur Luke. Sorry, TJ, I haven’t had a chance to get William on his own and I don’t want to ask him on the phone in case Luke is sitting right there with him. I should see him on Thursday and will deliver my report as soon as poss on Friday morning.’
‘And I’ll date the divine Ollie Axford for an evening,’ I said, ‘and deliver my report back and then you can all help me decide.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Lucy. ‘Although it’s your decision in the end.’
‘I know,’ I said. After what happened last time with Luke with everything feeling so secret and underhand, this time I wanted to let everyone know what was happening at all stages so that there could be no weird feelings. ‘And hey, let’s have the beauty session here. We can play music and run around with our face packs on without worrying that Tony or your brothers are going to see us.’
‘Cool,’ said Izzie. ‘Though what about Paul?’
‘Oh, he’ll want to join in, probably,’ I replied. ‘He’s always nicking my moisturiser.’
And so it was settled. It felt good to be able to have my friends over without worrying about upsetting Dad or making too much noise. Life was just getting better and better and there was still the date with Ollie to come.
The week seemed to fly by and, before I knew it, it was Thursday evening. I got the Tube down to Kensington High Street then walked along to the Albert Hall. I wasn’t sure how long it would take so I’d set off in plenty of time. The last thing I wanted was to be late. I ended up being half an hour early and, not wanting to seem too keen, I went over to the park opposite and sat on a bench to pass the time. It was a warm evening for May and it seemed like half of London was in the park enjoying the weather and the other half were swarming about the Albert Hall, ready to go in and watch Cirque Du Soleil.
I said I’d meet Ollie at seven-fifteen, so at ten past seven, I got up, crossed the road and looked for him amongst the crowd of people outside and flowing into the reception area. He was standing on the steps by the entry and waved when he saw me.
‘Hey,’ he said as he kissed my cheek and handed me a carton of juice. ‘There you are. You look great. I got here early so went and got us something to drink.’
‘Yunuh . . .’ I started, then laughed as I knew that he knew that I was talking alien-speak.
‘Cool,’ he said. ‘That’s Noola, isn’t it? She’s the one who comes through when you fancy someone?’
‘Uh . . .’ I nodded, then felt myself blush furiously. What was the matter with me this evening? I’d managed to be totally normal with him last time we’d met, but seeing him again was having a strange effect on me. He seemed to get better-looking each time I saw him, even though by the look of his black jacket and loosened black and yellow striped tie, he was still in his school uniform.
‘Sorry I didn’t have time to change,’ he said as if reading my thoughts. ‘Had a drama rehearsal that went on a bit late.’
‘It’s OK. Your uniform suits you. So what play are you doing?’
‘Romeo and Juliet. I’ve got the lead so I couldn’t miss the rehearsal. I had to fly to get here. Didn’t think I was going to make it but I ended up being early. I often do that – I hate being late for people.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘So the lead, huh? Juliet? I bet you look gorgeous as a girl. Who’s playing Romeo?’
‘Oh, ha ha. I’m Romeo . . .’
‘I knew that,’ I said. ‘Just joshing.’
As he took my hand and led me through the mass of people arriving and eager to get inside, Luke flashed into my mind. Funny how both he and Ollie were interested in acting.
‘Shall we go and find our seats?’ asked Ollie.
The effect of his hand in mine made my brain go blank. ‘Yuhnuh. I mean yes . . .’ I blustered, as inwardly I told myself to chill.
Inside the air was buzzing with anticipation as people took their seats, chatted, stood up for late-comers, got out glasses, turned off mobile phones and generally settled themselves for the show.
‘This place is stunning,’ I said as we took our seats in the vast red and gold circular hall.
‘How’s your dad?’ whispered Ollie as the lights dimmed.
‘Really good,’ I whispered back. ‘He and Mum have gone down to a country cottage to recuperate. Actually, it might be near you. It’s on the Rame Peninsula.’
‘You’re kidding! Where? What’s the address?’
‘Um. Rose Harbour Cottage, I think. It’s in a private bay . . .’
‘I know it,’ said Ollie. ‘Pink?”
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s near where I go walking when I’m down there. So . . . this is all a bit fast, isn’t it? So who’s looking after you?’
‘Paul,’ I said. ‘My brother. We’ve been having a real laugh.’
I wasn’t sure whether it was the lighting in the hall or my imagination, but Ollie’s eyes seem to glint with interest. ‘Oh, really?’
I nodded. ‘Paul’s driving us down this Saturday to join Mum and Dad.’
Ollie grinned. ‘This is sooo cool. And I’m going on Sunday. Fantastic. I can show you around.’
He tucked his hand through my arm, slipped his hand into mine and squeezed it. Our second date. And now the promise of half-term. Did this mean we were becoming an item? I wondered. Item as in boyfriend/girlfriend? For a moment I felt panic as I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I still had Luke to check out before I committed myself to one boy. Oh God, oh God, I thought, I am worse than most boys. I have commitment phobia.
I didn’t have a chance to give it much more thought as soon I got totally caught up in the show. It was breathtaking. A mix of dance, opera, rock music and acrobatics, with the most fabulous costumes and stunning light effects. It was like being transported to a
dream world, as Ollie had said, of beautiful aliens who could do things with their bodies that made my eyes water just to look at them. We watched tightrope dancers, clowns, trapeze artists, jugglers, stiltwalkers, contortionists – probably about forty of them in all – who performed to the accompaniment of musicians. Each performer seemed to have taken their particular art and perfected it. I watched spellbound and, for a while, even forgot that I was sitting next to Ollie.
When we got outside after the show, Ollie made his way on to the pavement. He seemed to be looking for someone.
‘I prebooked a car,’ he said. ‘Seemed the best option as we’d never get a cab here at this time of night.’
I had to admit that it seemed like he’d made the right decision as already I could see a queue of people waiting for taxis and only one in sight. Paul had acted the worried parent when I left and made sure I had twenty-five pounds for my taxi fare home. It was really sweet of him as I know he’d given it to me out of his own money and he didn’t have much at the moment.
‘Ah, there he is,’ said Ollie as he spotted a driver, complete with chauffeur’s cap, leaning against the bonnet of a white limo a short distance away. ‘Come on.’
He waved at the chauffeur, took my arm and ushered me towards the car that was waiting about a hundred yards up the road.
‘But . . .’ I started. I only had the money that Paul had given me in my purse. No way could I afford to pay the fare for a car like the one waiting for us. ‘It’s OK, Ollie. I’ll get the Tube.’
‘On your own at this time of night? No way.’
‘I can call my brother to meet me at the station.’
Ollie shook his head. ‘It’s my duty to see you home and I will.’
‘I . . . I . . . Ollie, I can’t afford a car like that.’
Ollie stopped, turned and looked at me. ‘What kind of cheapskate boys have you been going out with, TJ? Like, no way would I ask you to pay. I’m paying. Actually no, my dad’s paying. He has an account with the company. Mum and Dad always use these cars while they’re in London and he lets me use one whenever I need. Dad likes these cars because they allow him to be private – they have those tinted windows where the passengers can see out but no one can see in.’
Mates, Dates and Sizzling Summers Page 7
