Girl, 15: Charming But Insane Read online

  Jess was intrigued. What was coming? A guarded reference to lingerie?

  ‘Well, we’re having a little birthday-type tea round about six tomorrow, and she said I could bring a friend as long as it was you. Sorry to impose such a nightmare on you, but it will keep the old bat happy.’ He shrugged, and looked at Jess with his head cocked on one side and his eyes sort of shining.

  ‘It’s not a nightmare, you plonker! It’ll be ace!’ cried Jess. ‘I so love your mum! I’ll be there, glamorous present in hand!’

  ‘OK, and – well, don’t, like, mention it to anybody, yeah?’ Fred got up. ‘Not even to Flora. She’d only tell Mackenzie and … I don’t want everybody to know.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Jess. She was really looking forward to it. She had felt so happy in Fred’s house. And she was already planning to get Fred’s mum something really stunning. Twenty pounds! Fred must have been saving up, or maybe he’d raided his piggy bank, because Fred was famously always broke.

  ‘Gotta go now – chess club.’ Fred sidled off towards the door and briefly imitated a chimpanzee before disappearing with a strange ape-like cry. Jess returned to her essay about dark moments. Sunlight flooded the room. For once, her own life didn’t seem all that dark. She had come through the CCTV ordeal, and now things were steaming along nicely. Fred’s mum had invited her to her birthday party! How unbelievably sweet! Jess hoped there would be chocolate cake.

  It was no problem, next day, keeping it a secret.

  ‘Doing anything after school, Jess?’ asked Flora at break.

  ‘No, just going to whizz off home,’ said Jess. ‘Mum’s at a librarians’ conference in Oxford and she won’t be back till late. So I’ve got to get back and keep Granny in order. Otherwise she might escape and go out on a spree, mugging young men.’ This was partly true, in fact. Jess’s mum was at a conference and she had asked Jess to check on Granny straightaway after school – but Jess reckoned that she’d still have time to get Fred’s mum a glamorous present and turn up at six o’clock for the birthday tea.

  Jess didn’t mention Fred’s mum’s party to Flora, though. She would have kept it secret even if Fred hadn’t asked her to. If Flora knew that shopping for presents was involved, she would certainly hijack the event, and possibly tag along in an irritating way, and get invited in. Then it would be the work of a moment for Flora to fascinate Fred’s mum and replace Jess in that lovely woman’s fickle heart.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve gotta go home straightaway, too,’ sighed Flora. ‘My dad is being, like, so hard on me about Mackenzie. Anyone would think Mac was a drug dealer or something, rather than a small furry animal.’

  Jess rather wished Flora would keep details of her love life to herself, even though it was Jess who had compared Mackenzie to a small furry animal in the first place.

  Morning school was uneventful. Jess was in a happy dream, trying to decide whether to buy Fred’s mum some delectable bath items in what seemed to be her favourite spicy range, or some perfume, or maybe a fabulous pair of earrings. She had a whole two and a half hours after school to nip home, make sure Granny was OK, then zoom into town on the bus and ransack the department stores and chic little boutiques. What a delightful evening this was going to be! Possibly the best this year. Nothing on earth could spoil it. Could it?

  Chapter 16

  The bell rang for the end of school, and Jess was out of the blocks like a sprinter whose last chance had come for an Olympic gold. She dashed home. She would spend ten seconds reassuring Granny, making sure she had her glasses, her hearing aid, the TV remote, a pile of lovely food and a blood-curdling murder mystery to read. Then Jess could quickly get changed (another ten seconds – no, say twenty, maybe) and dash off to the city centre for an hour’s frenzied shopping. She would buy Fred’s mum the best present ever, not counting an actual live puppy.

  However, as Jess arrived home and pushed the front door open, she saw something strange. The hall floor was sort of shining and moving. Oh my goodness! It was covered in water! Hastily Jess removed her shoes and socks. There was a horrid cascading sound, somewhere in the kitchen.

  ‘Granny?’ called Jess, splashing along the hall. ‘Granny?’ There was no answer. Jess’s heart missed a beat.

  She reached the kitchen. A tap was running: the kitchen sink had overflowed, and was still overflowing, a continuous curtain of water cascading on to the floor. Thank heavens Granny was not lying on the floor, drowned. Jess had heard somewhere that you could drown in a saucer of water if you were really unlucky – or really determined. She turned off the tap, and the waterfall sound began to slow down and become a little less like Niagara.

  ‘Granny?’ Jess called, splashing back towards Granny’s room.

  A terrible fear seized her. Maybe Granny had turned on the tap, then felt a bit ill and sat down and died in her chair. She would still be sitting there like a waxwork, with her eyes kind of horribly open. It would be just like Granny to die with maximum ghoulish panache. Jess peeped round the door of Granny’s room. It was empty. Except for a sea of water swilling about on the floor, ankle deep. Granny’s knitting pattern, which had been on the floor by her chair, was floating about. Where on earth was she, though? Had she gone upstairs to escape the rising waters?

  ‘Granny! Granny?’ yelled Jess, racing upstairs. She looked everywhere. Nothing. No aged person. Only Rasputin looking startled and disapproving. ‘Where’s Granny, Rasputin? For goodness’ sake! Have you eaten her?’

  Rasputin looked shocked and innocent. Jess paused, her mind whirling.

  This was a disaster. Her mum had left her in charge and she had somehow lost Granny and flooded the house! What should she do? Should she ring the police, or was that overreacting? What if Granny had just decided to go for a walk? The police would be really cross. Although going for a walk on her own was not really Granny’s style, what with her bad knee and everything.

  Suddenly, the phone rang in her mum’s study. Jess picked it up.

  ‘Jess? This is Mrs Phillips next door. Your grandmother is round here with us. She locked herself out earlier so we took her in until you came back from school.’

  ‘Is she OK?’ asked Jess.

  ‘Oh, yes, she’s fine!’ said Mrs Phillips. ‘We’ll bring her back round, now you’re home.’

  Jess rang off, went downstairs and splashed her way to the front door. The flood water had gone down a bit, but it was still total chaos.

  She opened the door just as Granny was coming up the path, accompanied by Mrs Phillips and several of her irritating small children.

  ‘Here we are!’ beamed Mrs Phillips.

  Granny looked embarrassed. ‘The wind blew the front door shut, dear! How can I have been so silly?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I only went out to take something to the dustbin.’ Then Granny caught sight of the flooded hall. ‘High cockalorum!’ she cried in alarm (this was Granny’s emergency swearword). ‘What on earth’s happened?’

  ‘Please can we paddle? Please can we paddle?’ cried the awful Phillips children. ‘Mum! Can I get my boat? Can we get Laura’s duck?’

  ‘No, no, be quiet, stand still!’ said Mrs Phillips. She always grinned foolishly when her children behaved like savages. Jess had babysat for them once and they had thrown a giraffe at her and waved their bare bottoms in her face. Never again. ‘Oh dear, I wish I could help!’ said Mrs Phillips. ‘Only Archie needs changing,’ she brandished a stinking baby, ‘and Arabella will be waking up from her nap any minute now.’

  ‘We can manage!’ said Jess firmly. ‘Wait there, Granny! I’ll get you some wellies!’

  ‘Is there a burst pipe or something? Should you call a plumber?’ asked Mrs Phillips, trying to hold back her revolting offspring.

  ‘No, it was just a tap left on,’ said Jess, returning with the wellies, which had escaped the flood, being in a heap of stuff on a shelf on the hall stand.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Granny. ‘I remember now! I was just about to do the washing-up! I turned the tap on
and I just popped out to take the rubbish bag to the dustbin – and there was a gust of wind, and the door slammed shut behind me!’

  ‘It’s fine, Granny – it won’t take me a minute to mop it up!’ insisted Jess, helping Granny into the wellies.

  ‘Well, good luck!’ said Mrs Phillips.

  Granny thanked her graciously for providing emergency accommodation, but looked relieved as the Phillips clan moved off down the path, the children wailing in disappointment.

  Jess took Granny’s arm, as the hall floor was quite slippery, even in wellies. She escorted her to her own room.

  ‘Those children are an absolute menace, dear,’ confided Granny. ‘I’m afraid there were moments when I contemplated infanticide. Oh dear! My poor rugs! I bought those in the Lake District in 1973!’

  ‘They should feel completely at home, then!’ joked Jess. But for once Granny did not laugh. She just sat there looking rather pale and distressed. Jess decided to put on the DVD of Pulp Fiction. That would cheer Granny up.

  It seemed the electricity hadn’t been affected – maybe the sockets were too high up the wall to be damaged, or something – anyway, soon Jess had settled Granny down with a cup of tea, a toasted sandwich and John Travolta brandishing a loaded gun.

  Then Jess embarked on the massive task of mopping up. First she opened the back door and swept out all the water on the kitchen floor. This area was going to be easy, because it was ceramic tiles. Then she opened the front door and swept all the remaining water out of the hall. Next she started on the mop-and-bucket routine – in Granny’s room, first. Jess took the two sacred Lake District rugs out and hung them on the washing line in the back garden.

  Granny’s carpet was still sopping wet. Jess ran upstairs and fetched a pile of dry bath towels. Mopping up Granny’s floor with these seemed to work a treat. Soon the carpet was just damp rather than soaked.

  ‘God bless you, dear, you are a good girl!’ exclaimed Granny, turning away from her beloved bloodshed for a split second.

  Jess returned to the kitchen and worked her way right across the kitchen floor with the mop and bucket, and then down the hall.

  She was halfway down the hall when the front doorbell rang. What now? If it was those wretched kids from next door, Jess might just scream at them. She opened the door with her mouth open and a terrible frown, just in case. But it wasn’t the Phillips children. It was Ben Jones, carrying a sports bag and holding a DVD. He took in the whole panorama: Jess frowning, wet, dishevelled, barefoot and wielding a dirty mop.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve had a flood,’ Jess explained. ‘It’s OK. I’m dealing with it.’

  ‘I’ve got to get to football practice,’ said Ben, looking awkward. ‘Otherwise I’d give you a hand, yeah?’

  ‘It’s fine, it’s OK, I’ve done most of it,’ Jess assured him.

  ‘I just dropped by to lend you that film, yeah?’ Ben handed it over. ‘I told you about it? The insects with, like, antennae that can shoot death rays?’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ Jess remembered something of the kind from their conversation in the burger bar. ‘Brilliant, thanks.’ It would be impolite to mention how much she hated insects. And, indeed, death rays.

  Suddenly Ben’s mobile rang.

  ‘Hi, yeah?’ he said. ‘Sure – I’m on my way. I’m at Jess Jordan’s – I’ll be there in five minutes … OK, OK. No need to hassle.’ He rang off. ‘Whizzer getting steamed up cos I’m late.’ He shook his head and grinned. ‘Gotta go. Enjoy the DVD. And … good luck with the – you know.’ He gestured towards the wet hall floor as he backed off down the path.

  Jess waved goodbye and shut the front door. My goodness! Had she ever looked such a mess?

  Jess ran to the mirror in the downstairs cloakroom. She looked like some kind of hideous sea otter who had just gone ten rounds with a killer whale. Ben Jones would never fancy her now. In fact, nobody would. Except possibly some eccentric fisherman from the Outer Hebrides. Jess wondered where the Outer Hebrides were, because she just might choose to go and start a new life there as her old life seemed to have reached a complete and utter dead end.

  Jess sighed, took Ben’s DVD into the sitting room and placed it on the shelf.

  ‘Who was that, dear?’ asked Granny.

  ‘Just a friend of mine, Granny. He lent me a film.’

  ‘That nice boy you like, who always lends you films, dear? What’s his name? Fred?’

  ‘Oh no – Fred!’ Jess gasped. ‘I totally forgot! I’m supposed to be going to his mum’s birthday party! What time is it?’

  Granny squinted, with agonising slowness, at her twinkly watch.

  ‘Twenty to seven, dear,’ she announced, eventually.

  Twenty to seven? She was already forty minutes late! Jess ran out and raced upstairs, not so much to get ready – it was far too late for that – but to have a nervous breakdown in private.

  Upstairs, Jess rushed into her mum’s study and hesitated by the phone. She hadn’t bought the present! She hadn’t rung to say she was going to be late! She was wet through and filthy – it would take half an hour at the very least to make herself look respectable. She needed a bath, clean clothes – she’d have to wash her hair … and dry it …

  Jess faced the awful truth. There was no way she was going to make it to Fred’s mum’s party. She had totally and utterly blown it. She must ring them and explain. She reached for the phone. Then she hesitated. It seemed such a stupid excuse.

  ‘My granny left the tap running.’ ‘I had to mop up some water.’ Oh, for goodness’ sake, she thought, get a life! Or at least get an excuse that works. Jess felt sick with horror. Sick, sick, sick.

  That was it! She’d say she was ill! Hastily she dialled Fred’s number. Her heart was thudding away so fast, it felt as if it might explode.

  ‘Yes?’ said a voice. It was Fred’s.

  ‘Oh, Fred! I’m so sorry!’ gasped Jess. ‘I’ve been really, really ill! I’ve been sick like sort of non-stop ever since I got home! I’ve been, like, lying on the bathroom floor by the loo for hours! I didn’t even dare to come to the phone till now!’

  There was a silence from the other end. Jess cringed. Her story had sounded so transparently a lie.

  ‘Oh well,’ said Fred, rather coldly. ‘Never mind. We’ll start without you.’

  So they’d been waiting for her! Oh no! Sort of sitting around sweetly feeling embarrassed and looking at the clock!

  ‘Oh, Fred, I’m so terribly terribly sorry!’ Jess was almost sobbing now. ‘And you haven’t got a present for your mum or anything. I’ve really let you down. I’m so sorry!’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Fred. ‘It’s fine. Get well soon.’ But he sounded hurt. Fred would normally never just use two or three words when a hundred were available.

  ‘I hope you have a really great party, anyway,’ said Jess forlornly. How she longed to be there.

  ‘Sure. OK. Bye!’ Fred rang off and was replaced by a horrid electronic buzz.

  Jess ran into her room and threw herself face down on her bed.

  ‘Oh, Rasputin! I’ve totally blown it!’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve let Fred down in the worst possible way! I’ve ruined his mum’s birthday! And he’s all cold and hurt!’

  Rasputin looked startled, but he stroked her cheek with his velvety paws. ‘Cry on my shoulder, me dear, help yourself,’ he seemed to say. ‘After all, that’s what we teds are for.’

  Jess burst into tears, seized Rasputin and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried. And cried. Bitterly. And then she cried some more. Rasputin had to be placed on a radiator afterwards, where he steamed gently for some time.

  Chapter 17

  Later that evening, Jess’s mum came back from Oxford, and Granny went into raptures about how heroic Jess had been, dealing with the flood. Her mum came up to Jess’s room to tell her how pleased she was. It was obvious Jess had been crying.

  ‘What’s the matter, love?’
asked her mother gently.

  Jess shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just felt a bit upset by it all.’

  ‘You’ve been brilliant!’ said her mum, and gave her a hug. ‘I’ll take you into town at the weekend and we’ll do some clothes shopping!’

  Jess ought to have been grateful. She knew her mum hated clothes shopping only slightly less than she hated war. But Jess couldn’t think any further ahead than school tomorrow. How on earth was she ever going to be able to make it up to Fred? And why had she told that stupid lie about being sick? She wanted to confide in her mum, but she knew if she did, her mum would want to sort it out for her. She might even ring Fred’s mum and discuss the whole thing at horrible length. Jess cringed at the thought of her mother still trying to organise her social life for her. This was her mess, and she’d sort it out herself. If, indeed, it could be sorted.

  Fred hadn’t shouted at her. He had been much too furious for that. A couple of polite words, and then he had hung up on her. She was desperate to see him. She just had to apologise, explain and think of ways to make it up to him. Until she’d made it up with him, she’d never be able to think about anything else.

  Morning lessons were science and maths, which added another sort of anguish to Jess’s situation. She was in a different maths set from Fred, and as she hadn’t seen him yet, she would have to wait till lunchtime and try to track him down in the library. Normally, the library was a delightful sanctuary: warm in winter and cool in summer. It was also quite dark. One’s spots were not too obvious. It smelt quaintly of books, unlike the gym, for instance, which smelt of sweaty pants.

  Mrs Forsyth was in charge of the library, and boy, was she fierce. There was a serious ‘No Eating, No Talking’ rule. Just spending half an hour in such a strict atmosphere became a kind of secret gameshow. Trying to snack unobserved was a major challenge, especially if it involved crisps or cheesy biscuits. You had to summon up a huge amount of saliva for a start, slip the crisp into your mouth while pretending to scratch your nose, and soak the crisp in spit for about a minute before daring to risk a chomp.