A Royal Mess (26 page)

‘So, have you got a photograph of this father of yours, Kelly?’ asked Bell End.

‘Yes,’ I admitted, passing a snap taken last summer, when all had been rosy and cosy at chez Kelly.

‘Are you certain you want to light the fuse on this?’ Portia asked me quietly as Bell End grabbed my photograph and stuck it on the rearview mirror.

‘See this man here, Sister?’ He jabbed at my father’s smiling face.

Sister perched her pince-nez on her nose and peered at
the friendly face of Bob. He was wearing shorts and t-shirt at the beach, his arm around Sarah and me.

Sister Regina studied the photograph for some time before exclaiming. ‘Oh, that’s our lovely Sarah. Doesn’t she look tanned? And soooo slim too. What a wonderful figure she has for a woman her age, don’t you think, Mr Bell End?’ Poor Sister was starting to pick up on our nickname for our master.

‘I’m not interested in the blasted woman’s legs, Sister,’ he snapped gruffly. ‘It’s the man beside her.’ He jabbed at my father’s face again. ‘Kelly’s father. He intends to disrupt the finals, Sister. Sabotage us. Ruin everything. We’ve got to stop this man.’

Sister turned around. Her elderly face creased with years of fervent prayer and kindness.

‘Is this true, Calypso? Does your father wish us ill?’

‘Well, you know how my mother’s left him?’

Sister nodded. ‘A very sad business, although talking to Sarah I feel a great sense of love for your father inside her. And regardless of Sarah’s sadness over Bob’s Big One, why would your own father want you to do badly, dear?’

I blushed, worried now that I’d started Bell End off – and he was not a man to be held back. That’s not really the point, Sister. It’s just that I know it will upset Sarah seeing him at this stage, and oh, I don’t know. She’s had such a tough time settling back in England, Sister. And now she’s finally on her feet, I don’t want him bullying her.’

Sister peered more closely at the photograph. ‘But he looks like such a kind man, Calypso.’

‘Kind, my foot,’ said Bell End gruffly. ‘Man’s out to sabotage us, Sister. You have to leave sentiment out of the bloody thing. Do you want our girl to fail? Do you want Major Sarah upset?’

‘Oh! No, General. Dear Calypso, no. We can’t have that,’ Sister agreed. ‘I was just saying he looks like such a nice man. But of course if he intends to muck our Sarah about or interfere with Calypso’s sporting achievements, he’ll meet with fierce resistance from me, General.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s been despatched by one of the competitors in a dirty-tricks campaign,’ Bell End muttered.

‘Isn’t that a bit elaborate, Mr Wellend?’ Portia asked reasonably.

‘You don’t know what elaborate means, Briggs. They’ll stoop to anything. This is the Nationals. If you girls get through, you’ll be invited to try out for the National Team. We’re talking big money, not just prestige. There will be sponsorship deals; Adidas, Leon Paul, everyone will be after you. The world will be your oyster. There’s a lot of money and status involved here. And people are more than happy to get their hands dirty for the sake of that as I know only too well.’

‘Yes, but Mr Wellend, we’re talking about Calypso’s father, Bob,’ Portia reminded him reasonably. ‘Not a BFA saboteur!’ Under her breath, she added, ‘If they even exist.’

‘Look,’ I said, trying to steer things round to the real
issue. ‘I just don’t want Sarah upset today, okay? Despite her own problems, she’s backed me all the way this term. She’s really excited about today, and I don’t want Bob upsetting her.’

‘Good woman is Sarah, solid gold. All right, Kelly, leave it to Sister and me. We won’t let this Bob geezer get a look in, will we, Sister?’

‘No, Mr Wellend. We don’t want our dear Sarah upset. I’m knitting her a lovely little mauve collar.’ With that she held up her knitting, and sure enough the beginnings of something mauve and ghastly were already emerging. Knowing Sarah, she’d wear it too. Bless.

‘So, you just focus on your form, Kelly. Leave the externals to us. Now, how many ways of moving forward have you got, girls?’

Portia and I replied, ‘As many as we need,’ and were rewarded with a rare laugh from our fencing master.

Freds had sent me a txt that morning wishing me luck, but I hadn’t expected to see him at the event. But there he was, waiting patiently for us, along with Billy and Malcolm under the arch. I could make out his gorgeousness as we made our way on the long walk down towards the arch of the sports centre.

Despite its name, Crystal Palace wasn’t really a palace, nor was it made of crystal. But it was a massive complex and Freds looked dwarfed as he leaned against the arch with his friends. As he was about to give me a hug, Bell End dropped our kit and grabbed Freds by the collar of his
Ralphie. ‘I’ve got other business today, Sonny, but I’ve got your face etched in my mind, filed under ‘enemy,’ so don’t think I’m off my guard.’

‘Right, sir, I’ll keep that in mind,’ Freddie replied, calmly rearranging his collar.

Malcolm, who had been smoking a cigarette, flicked it on the ground and put it out with his foot. He extended his hand to Bell End. ‘McHamish,’ he said warmly.

‘Just watch your step, mister. I’ve got your number so I don’t need your name, git it?’

Billy didn’t say anything.

Sister gave Malcolm a shy little wave. ‘Aren’t you a good-looking bunch of chaps? Would you like a biscuit?’ She produced a tin of biscuits from under her voluminous habit. ‘Sister Michael made them, so I don’t recommend you try too many. The last batch she made tasted like worms. She always overdoes the coconut. Hangover from the war.’

The boys turned down her offer politely and smiled at Portia and me. Then our uneasy little party wandered through to reception, where the noise of the crowds milling round and running about was deafening. The arched ceilings made everything echo ominously. I felt like a tiny ant as I joined the queue with Portia to have our names ticked off.

After registration, I took Freds aside for a word about Bob. He was really sweet and assured me not to worry. Billy was still going through registration, so Freds called Malcolm over and the mug shot of my father was passed
around once more. I suddenly felt like I was presenting my father as some kind of target to a group of hit men.

‘Don’t worry yourself, young Calypso, my little champagne-quaffing chum,’ Malcolm assured me. ‘He won’t know what’s hit him if he comes within a hundred yards of you. You saw what I did to that Gandalf chap. I’ll plant a Glasgow kiss on him if he starts mucking the glorious Sarah about while I’m around.’

‘He’s not dangerous,’ I shrieked. ‘He’s my father. I don’t want him hurt or anything!’ I was beginning to feel that I had ignited a fire that could never be extinguished. This is what I always do. It’s what I’ve done all my life. ‘I just don’t want him upsetting Sarah,’ I tried to explain as the boys were jostled away by a fencing team coming through.

Freds and Malcolm told me they were off to see if they could find Billy before saying their laters and leaving me alone. Well, not alone. I had my posse, but I still felt like a little ant in a giant hive. I didn’t know my way around.

Having only come an hour away from school, Portia and I were already in our kit, but after registration we went to the loo to confab. That was where we found Sarah applying makeup – odd in itself, as she was a great believer in ‘natural beauty.’

‘Hello, darlings, isn’t this super? You must be excited. I know I’m exhilarated by all this bustle.’

‘You won’t be for long,’ I almost blurted. And then it turned out I’d actually said it. Typical. Stupid, stupid, stupid Calypso.

‘Whatever do you mean, Calypso? Is something wrong?’

‘Just nerves,’ Portia assured her, giving me a warning look.

‘Yes, well the adrenaline is bound to be coursing through you, Boojie, but you have to learn to centre yourself. Find your chi.’

‘My chi? And where on earth might I find my chi?’ I asked, my nerves jangling around my body.

Sarah looked lost. ‘Erm, well, you can find your chi anywhere. It can just sneak up on you, really. The point is, nothing exists beyond the now. Remember what Bob always says?’

‘Oh, I remember what Bob always says,’ Portia said brightly. ‘Swell.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Oh dear, I do miss the old boy. I’m really quite giddy at the thought that he might turn up today to support you.’

‘No, you’re not,’ I told my mother. ‘He oppresses you. You don’t want him to see you, he’ll ruin your equilibrium. And how do you even know he’s going to turn up?’

Sarah wrapped her arms around me and rocked me gently. ‘Oh, Boojie, you rock my world.’

‘My world is rocking, that’s for sure,’ I told her. ‘But that doesn’t answer my question.’

‘Well, enough navel gazing,’ Sarah insisted briskly as she grabbed Portia and me by the hands and led us out into the swarming humanity of the hall.

TWENTY-SIX
And Just as They Were Bringing in My Crown!

Portia and I passed Billy and the others en route to our pools, which were to be held in the basketball courts. It was so packed in the hall now with fencers, BFA representatives, parents, fans and Bell End’s saboteurs, that no one even noticed Billy and Freds giving Portia and me a pre-match snog-age session.

Sarah spotted Sister at the cafeteria on the first floor and said she’d watch us from up there, where there was a glass front and comfy seats. Also, the scoreboards were in there, she explained. ‘I saw it on the map.’

Bell End was nowhere to be seen.

I felt a tug on my arm as I was walking on the walkway towards the basketball courts. A Year Seven girl from Saint Leonard’s offered me her fencing kit bag and a pen. ‘Could you sign my bag please, Miss Kelly?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Erm, why?’ I asked, confused.

‘I saw your picture in
The Sword
when you won the South East Cup.’

‘Oh, sure,’ I agreed, signing my name, feeling like a total fraud.

After the girl left, Portia took the piss, ‘When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Miss Kelly.’

I was about to laugh when I spotted him, my father, Bob, standing down in the pit, an arena where the boy’s pools were taking place. He was on his own, but Freds and Malcolm were only yards away from him. I felt this terrible, almost painful, pang of affection for my poor father in that moment. He looked so small and lost down in the pit and I was hit with memories of all the times he’d been there for me, cheering me on, applauding all my efforts. However hopeless I was at something, Bob had always said, ‘You did swell, Princess, just swell.’ I remembered how Bob had built the little stage in the living room so I could act and do my tragic little song-and-dance routines. My rendition of ‘How Much Is That Doggy in the Window?’ used to have him in tears.

‘Oh shit,’ I said to Portia, pointing. There he is.’

‘Bell End?’

‘No, Bob. Look down in the arena.’

Portia took me by the shoulders. ‘Honestly, Calypso, now is not the time to obsess about him. Sarah is fine. She’s with Sister upstairs in the cafeteria.’

‘But she’ll see him.’

‘I don’t get the impression she minds. She sounded like she was looking forward to seeing him.’

I was confused but just then I could hear my name being called, so I charged off to my designated piste.

The next time I saw Bob was in the arena during my second direct elimination bout. The boys’ matches were going on down one end and the girls’ were at the other. Sister and Sarah were still upstairs with their tea. Their enthusiasm for fencing must have dwindled somewhat from those heady days in Sheffield because now they were content to watch us from afar, waving vaguely as they chatted and dunked their biscuits in their tea. After all their mad enthusiasm, a part of me now felt neglected.

But I had other things on my mind. Bob knew where I was now because the announcers had insensitively called my bout over the intercom.

Bell End was furious. ‘I asked them to use your code name too.’