“It’s because he likes her.” Jessica was standing behind him, massaging his shoulders.
“I know he likes her,” said Francis, relaxing in the warmth that spread through the muscles of his back. “We all do, but—”
“No,” Jessica interrupted. “I don’t mean that way. I mean … he likes her.”
Francis was quite taken aback. Andi? Roland liked Andi? He stared at the two of them out on the court.
Roland, despite his size, was able to give his opponent a good run for her money in a badminton game. He was big, but he was surprisingly nimble and had a knack of flicking the shuttle to just the point where it would drop out of Andi’s reach. As Francis watched, he won the game and Andi threw down her racket in disgust, ran over to Roland, pushed him to the ground, and started pummeling his chest. She was hitting him quite hard but Roland didn’t seem to mind. For all his protests, it looked as if he was having a thoroughly good time.
“Does she know? That he likes her?”
“Oh, yes!” Jessica smiled.
“And she doesn’t mind?”
“I think …” Jessica put her head to one side. “That someone liking her like that is something she’s never had before, and she’s rather enjoying it.”
It explained a lot, thought Francis. It explained why Roland always did whatever Andi suggested. Why he followed her around like some huge devoted spaniel. Why he was always asking what she wanted to do. Thinking about it, it also explained why he turned down so many cookies and snacks these days, like he was on some sort of diet.
Once it was pointed out, Francis wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Roland did indeed like Andi. He would have walked through fire for her, and in a way that was what she asked him to do.
Because it was Andi who told Roland he should go back to school.
“Why would I want to go back to school?” Roland was plainly puzzled when it was first suggested. “I hated it there.”
“I’m not saying you should go back to St. Saviour’s,” said Andi. “I’m saying you should come to school with us. At John Felton. Then we can all be together during the day, not just in the evenings.” She threaded an arm through his. “You could join the badminton club. We could help each other in class. I think we’d have a really good time.”
The words “good time” and “school” did not fit in the same space in Roland’s head, but this was Andi asking him. The thought of being with her all day through the spring term was the strongest possible temptation. Even so, he wasn’t sure.
He was still uncertain on the last Saturday of vacation, when the four of them were out shopping. They were in Dummer’s department store, and Andi was in the changing room with Jessica, trying on clothes, while the two boys waited outside.
“The thing is,” Roland was saying, “I can’t see it would be any different at your school than it was at mine. I’m still the same shape. People would still be laughing at me and saying things behind my back …”
“I don’t think so,” said Francis.
“Why not?”
“Two reasons.” Francis ticked them off on his fingers. “One is that we’ve got this new principal who makes a real fuss if people do things like that. And the second is that everyone’ll know if they said anything rude to you, Andi would beat them to a pulp. She can be quite scary, you know.”
“I’m not sure I want Andi to beat up anyone for me.” Roland sat gloomily on a bench, his chin in his hands. “It’s nice to know she would if I asked, but …”
“You wouldn’t have to ask,” said Francis. “I’ve never asked her to lay a finger on anyone. But I promise you, as soon as people know you’re a friend of hers, no one will dare say anything. That’s all it takes.”
Roland looked doubtful, but at that moment the curtain of the changing room swept back and Andi appeared. She was wearing a tiny micro skirt and an even tinier sparkly boob tube. Jessica was wearing the same.
“Ta-da!” The two of them flung out their arms, took up a pose, and grinned at the two boys.
“What do you think?” asked Andi.
“I thought you were supposed to be trying on the pants,” said Francis.
Roland said nothing. He simply stared, but inside, that was the moment he made his decision. He would go back to school. Whatever happened, if it meant he could spend more time with Andi, it would be worth it.
Francis was given the job of explaining things to Roland’s mother. He was a little concerned that, after all the time and money she had invested in homeschooling, Mrs. Boyle might not be overjoyed at the news that her son had decided, after all, to go back to school.
He could not have been more wrong. Her instant reaction to the news was a great cry of delight and a long, rather embarrassing hug. Her Roland was going back to school! She could scarcely believe it! He would go off in the morning with his friends like a normal boy and come home, happy, at the end of it. It was how she had always dreamed it should be.
How Francis had done it, she had no idea, but she suspected he had planned the whole thing this way from the start. He had deliberately let Roland relax for a couple of months, let him regain his confidence by some time at home, and now he was bringing him back into school. The skill with which he had managed it all left her awestruck.
“You’re sure he’s ready for it, are you?” she asked as they sat at the kitchen table. “You don’t think anything will … happen?”
“I don’t think so,” said Francis, “But if it does, he’s got Andi and me to help sort it out.”
“Of course he has.” Mrs. Boyle reached across the table and patted his hand. “And Ronnie and I are so grateful to you. I’ll ring your Mrs. Parsons tomorrow and arrange an interview.”
“Great.” Francis stood up. “I’ll go and tell Roland.”
“I was going to ask your advice about one other thing,” said Mrs. Boyle, “if you had the time?”
“Yes, of course.” Francis sat down again.
“Doing all this with Rollo …” Mrs. Boyle gestured to the textbooks that littered the table. “I found the work wasn’t quite as difficult as I’d expected, and it occurred to me I might carry on, and maybe even take one or two GCSE exams.” Absentmindedly, she took a strip of paper and began twisting it around her fingers. “Do you think that sounds silly?”
Francis wasn’t sure what to say.
“You want to take some exams?”
“I know I’m probably too old, and I’m not as clever as all of you …”
“She’s brighter than most of the people at John Felton,” said Jessica, “and she works really hard. Tell her to go for it.”
“I think you’re smarter than most of the people I know at school,” said Francis, “and you work really hard. I think you should go for it.”
Mrs. Boyle blushed; then a great smile spread across her face. “Thank you,” she said. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Roland’s mother went to see Mrs. Parsons the next Monday, and she agreed that Roland could join the school. There was a slight delay while they waited for his uniform to arrive but, by the third week of the spring term, he was ready to go and, once he started, it was all easier than he could have imagined.
Francis was right. Nobody commented on his size. When he came into a classroom, nobody said anything. Most people didn’t even look at him. They glanced up when he arrived and then got on with their work or whatever they were doing. The teachers seemed to know who he was and to be expecting him, so there were no long embarrassing introductions to make. They told him where to go, let him sit down, and got on with the class.
Roland even enjoyed the lessons. Being with his friends was a lot more fun than sitting at home in the kitchen with his mother. It was good to sit beside Andi and Francis, watching Jessica float up and down through the floor, and it was very good to stroll out with them at recess and sit on the bench on the far side of the playing field in the sun.
Mrs. Parsons had arranged for Roland to be in the same class as
Andi and Francis for most of his classes, but in one subject this had not been possible. Roland did Spanish as his foreign language—his parents had a house in Andorra—while Francis and Andi did French, and it was this that led to an unfortunate incident on his first day.
The class itself was no problem. Jessica had gone with Roland to make sure he knew where to go and to keep him company, and the work was, if anything, a little easier than he remembered from St. Saviour’s. But at lunchtime, as Jessica was showing him the way back to the bench where they had all arranged to meet for lunch, someone shouted at Roland to wait.
Roland stopped and turned around, as a boy came over and stared at him.
“You are enormous,” he said. “I mean, we’ve got some fat people here, but you are … huge!”
“Walk away,” said Jessica. “Come on, walk away!”
But Roland did not walk away. He stood there staring at the ground as the boy reached out and lifted his jacket.
“Look at that!” said the boy. “You’ve got rolls of you pouring over the top of your pants!”
Jessica opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind and disappeared. An instant later, she was standing by Francis on the bench by the playing field.
“Where’s Andi?” she asked.
“Gone to the bathroom, I think.” Francis looked up. “Why?”
“It’s Roland. Dermot’s poking fun at him. Over there.”
She pointed across the field, to where Dermot was quite literally poking Roland quizzically in the stomach.
“It feels a bit like a water balloon, doesn’t it?” he was saying. “I mean, you can actually lift it right up and then …”
“Stop that!” Francis was racing across the field toward him, shouting at the top of his voice. “Leave him alone!”
Dermot looked around in surprise.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Francis was panting as he ran up to stand by Roland. “Leave him alone!”
“I’m not doing anything!” Dermot let go of Roland’s blazer. “I’m just looking.”
“You’re making fun of him,” said Francis, “and you’ve no right!”
“Why don’t you mind your own business!” said Dermot. “It’s nothing to do with you.”
“It is to do with me,” said Francis angrily. “He’s my friend and even if he wasn’t my friend it’d still be my business.”
At that moment Mr. Anderson, one of the PE teachers, appeared.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Dermot was laughing at Roland for being fat,” said Francis.
“No, I wasn’t!” said Dermot. “I wasn’t laughing. I never laughed.”
“He told Roland he was enormous,” said Jessica, “and he said we’ve got some fat people here, but you’re huge.”
“He told Roland he was enormous,” said Francis. “And he said ‘we’ve got some fat people here, but you’re huge.’ ”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Mr. Anderson gave Dermot a look of exasperation. “Don’t you ever listen? Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Parsons said in assembly?”
“What assembly?” said Dermot. “I’ve been away.”
“Right …” Mr. Anderson took a deep breath. “Go and stand over there and wait.” He turned back to Roland. “I’m sorry you had to put up with that on your first day. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” said Roland. “Yes, I think so.”
“I shall go and explain some of the rules of good manners to Master Dermot,” said Mr. Anderson, “and I promise he will not trouble you again. Now, if you want to make a formal complaint …”
“No, no,” said Roland. “It’s all right.”
“Okay …” Mr. Anderson nodded. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” And he walked across to Dermot.
Andi was waiting for them by the bench on the playing field.
“Jessica’s told me what happened,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be having a word with that little worm and …”
“No,” said Roland. “Please don’t. You’ll only get into trouble!”
“I don’t care about that,” said Andi. “He’s not getting away with it …”
“No, please! Really!” Roland insisted. “I’d rather you didn’t do anything. It didn’t matter. It really … didn’t matter.”
And it was only when he said the words that he realized they were true. It didn’t matter! Someone had come up and told him he was fat and … it just wasn’t important. A few months before, an incident like that would have left him crying in the bathroom until it was time to go home, but now … now all he could think about was why on earth he hadn’t told Dermot to leave, or simply walked away.
The thing he had most feared would happen had happened, but for some reason it had been okay. Perhaps it was because there were people around him who said it was not okay; perhaps that was what made the difference. Or maybe it was simply the realization that someone telling him he was fat wasn’t that important. It didn’t mean anything. And if the same thing happened tomorrow, it wouldn’t mean anything then, either.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” asked Francis.
“I’m fine,” said Roland.
He took a deep breath and grinned.
“Really, I’m fine!”
After a day with her friends, Jessica would return, as she did every evening, to the room at the hospital where she had first discovered she was dead. The time she returned might vary a little from day to day, but it was usually somewhere between eight and nine o’clock. She still had no idea why she went back there, but the need to do so had the same sort of compulsion that makes some people keep washing their hands or avoid stepping on cracks in the sidewalk.
Francis was the first to notice that the time at which she went back seemed to be getting earlier. As the spring term progressed, he noted that she was usually gone before eight, and that sometimes it was closer to seven.
Jessica tried, when this was pointed out to her, to make herself stay a bit longer, but whatever the force was that drove her to return to the room on the third floor, it was quite impossible to resist. When she had to go, she had to go.
She asked Roland if he knew of any reason why all this might be happening, but he said he didn’t. Nor, when he inquired, did his friend in Australia.
“She said you’ll just have to hope it doesn’t get any worse,” he reported, “and that you don’t find you’re stuck at the hospital all day as well as all night!”
It was an alarming thought.
“I’m quite sure that’s never going to happen,” said Francis firmly. “We’re only talking about an hour or so, aren’t we? I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
It might only be an hour or so, but Jessica did worry. Quite apart from the prospect of it getting worse, there were already occasions when it could be inconvenient. At the weekend, if they were watching a movie or Andi’s mother was taking them out for a meal, she could suddenly find that everyone around her had disappeared and she was back at the hospital. It would happen without warning and was oddly disconcerting.
And of course it meant she missed out completely on things like Mrs. Boyle’s trip to the theater.
Roland’s mother had organized the theater trip to celebrate her son’s successful return to school. She had bought tickets for a revival of The Rocky Horror Show down in Southampton. She had heard it had some wonderfully offbeat costumes that she thought Francis would enjoy, and he was indeed looking forward to it, but he was disappointed when, shortly before leaving, Jessica announced that she would not be coming.
“No?” Francis looked up from the seam of the shift dress he was tacking. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Not really, no, it’s just … I have to get back to the hospital,” said Jessica. “Now.”
“Oh.” Francis had known that Jessica would not be able to see all the show, but she had been planning to see at least the first half. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was barely six o’clock. She had
never had to leave this early before.
“Okay.” He did his best to look unconcerned. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell you all about it then.”
“Yes …” Jessica opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could speak, Francis’s mother called up the stairs to say that the car had arrived and Mrs. Boyle and the others were waiting.
Francis went to the top of the stairs to tell her he was on his way, but by the time he turned back to hear whatever it was Jessica wanted to say …
… she had gone.
Several hours later at the hospital, Jessica wondered for the umpteenth time what could possibly be making her return there with such regularity and such insistence. It wasn’t as if she did anything when she got there. Except stand and look out the window at the parking garage on the other side of the road. She didn’t mind being there exactly—it was a little tedious, perhaps, but you got used to it—she just wondered what could possibly be the point.
And she wondered, too, what would happen if what Roland’s friend in Australia suggested came true. What if the urge to return to the hospital did grow to the point where she needed to be there most of the day, as well as all of the night? How would she manage if she could no longer be with her friends? What would she do if …
A movement in the road beneath her interrupted her thoughts. There was someone she recognized walking up the hill. It was a girl from Francis’s class at school—Lorna, Lorna Gilchrist—and Jessica wondered what she was doing.
It didn’t look as if she had been in an accident, and it was too late to be attending one of the clinics, so she was probably visiting a relative or a friend, Jessica thought. Except that, at the top of the road, instead of entering the hospital, Lorna turned left and walked across the tarmac to the entrance to the parking garage.
It was an odd place to go on her own. It was past ten o’clock, the sun had set, and the parking garage at night was not a place that Jessica liked to walk through alone, even as a ghost. There was supposed to be a security guard at the entrance but he wasn’t always there … and why was Lorna on her own?
Friends for Life Page 10
