Boy Trouble (18 page)

I think about ringing Clover, but what would I say? I clashed teeth with Seth, what do I do now? Even Clover would laugh. No, I’ll have to think of some other way to get the information out of her.

Ten minutes later I’m starting to feel better. Seth has texted me. S
O SORRY
. A
LL MY FAULT
. S
TILL IN THE GARDEN
. R U OK? I look in the mirror, my cheeks are almost back to normal, so I open the door and step out.

“Young lady?”

I swing round. Mrs Piggott is staring at me.

“Amy! What are you doing up here?”

“Using the loo. The one downstairs was busy.”

“I see.” From the suspicious look on her face I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

“How’s your mum?” she asks.

“Fine, thanks.” I so want to add, “And you’ll be delighted to hear she’s not having any more babies either,” but I don’t dare. Mrs Piggott is scary. She’s wearing a white high-collared Victorian-looking shirt tucked into ultra-dark denims with iron creases down the front. They’re Rock & Republic, which I know cost a fortune (Clover has a pair she got in a sale), but they just look wrong on someone her age. And they look plain daft with her pink fluffy slippers. As usual her face is caked with thick orange make-up. I can see where Sophie gets her sense of “style”.

“Good, now run along, Amy dear, downstairs please. No one’s allowed up here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” I say completely tongue-tied. She always makes me feel so horribly guilty.

In the living room Annabelle and Nina are setting up a game of spin the bottle. Nina clicks her chicken bone fingers at Sophie. “Get us another bottle, will you? A glass one if you have it. This one doesn’t spin properly.”

Sophie comes back in with a full wine bottle. She hands it over to Nina. “This is the only glass one I could find.”

Nina grins. “Good on ya, Soph. I love white wine and it’s screw top too, even better.”

“You can’t drink it,” Sophie stammers. “It’s just for the game.”

Nina just winks at her. Oops, I think, Sophie’s in for trouble.

I catch Mills’s eye and we stare at each other. Almost automatically I raise my hand and give her a small wave. She doesn’t wave back but her lips lift a little and she rolls her eyes to heaven in true Mills style, as if to say, “Spin the bottle, how sappy is that?” But then Sophie says something to her and she gets distracted.

I want to talk to Mills, to tell her I miss her, but not in the middle of a party, in front of all the D4s. If she rejected me in front of them I think I’d shrivel up and die on the spot. But she did smile at me, so maybe there’s a glimmer of hope.

As I walk back towards the tree my nerves are jangling under my skin, like a bad case of pins and needles. But when I approach Seth just smiles up at me in an easy way and pats the grass beside him.

“Long time no see,” he says.

“They’re playing spin the bottle inside,” I say without thinking. Then I cringe.

He laughs. “Can you imagine having to kiss Sophie or Annabelle?” He pulls a face. “Grim! I’d say they’d eat you alive.” Then he realizes what he’s just said, but we both choose to ignore it.

I sit down beside him and he wiggles in towards me so our sides are meshed together like Siamese twins. He takes my hand and envelopes it in both of his. I feel warm and protected.

“Have you talked to Mills yet?” he asks.

“No. But she rolled her eyes at me just now.”

He laughs again. “Is that a good or a bad sign?”

“Good, I think.”

“You must miss her.”

“Yeah. But what can you do?” I sigh.

He squeezes my hand and I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Let’s split,” he says. “Leave them all to it. I’m only here ’cos I wanted to see you.”

“Me too.”

Seth walks me home. It’s miles away and it takes two hours, but we’re in no hurry. We chat and laugh the whole time. Me and Seth, we just click. It’s so easy being around him, there’s no pretending, I can just be myself.

He kisses me outside my door. And this time both our mouths stay firmly shut just in case. But before I pull away I run the tip of my tongue along his top lip. I don’t know what possesses me, but it’s done before I can stop myself; he’s just so delicious. He smiles and then kisses both my eyelids, making my heart flutter.

“Can I see you tomorrow, Amy?”

I nod and grin.

I click on send. I know setting up a fake email address is kind of sneaky, but I’m too embarrassed to ask Clover directly. This way I hope I’ll get the information I des-perately need, and fast!

When I get home on Sunday, Mum is in my room, practically naked. She’s standing in front of my mirror in her red and white checked bikini. She’s holding a fold of tummy skin in one hand and pushing up her breasts with the other.

“What on earth are you doing?” I ask.

She gives a shriek. “Amy, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Her cheeks and chest are burning and there are still red marks on the pale skin of her stomach where her hands have been. She whips her head round, looking for something to cover her up. I hand her a T-shirt.

“Thanks,” she says, pulling it over her head. It just about fits. She still looks very flustered. “If you must know, I was trying on my bikini. But I think my bikini days are over.” She gives a long, drawn out sigh. “Don’t have children, Amy. It ruins your figure.”

“Mum, I’m thirteen! I’m not exactly planning on it any time soon.”

“Of course not, sorry, it’s just all a bit depressing. I used to have such lovely boobs and now they’re heading south. If I wasn’t so scared of hospitals, I’d probably have a tummy tuck.”

“Surgery?” I sit down on my bed and stare at her. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

She shrugs. “There’s this wobbly bit that I can’t seem to shift.” She lifts up the T-shirt and grabs her stomach again. She’s right, but I know when to keep my mouth shut.

“You look great in your new clothes,” I say. The president herself would be proud of my diplomacy. “That’s what matters. And you can always wear a tankini instead.”

“A tankini?”

“You know, like a bikini but with a vest top that covers your stomach. They’re cool. Clover has one.”

“If Clover has one they must be way cool,” Mum snaps. “Not that she needs to hide her stomach.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

“I’m sorry, pet. Ignore me. How’s Mills?”

“Fine.” I was actually at Seth’s place, watching a movie this afternoon, but I told her I was hanging out with Mills. It meant less explaining.

“Good, I’m glad you two are getting on all right. She hasn’t been here for a while and I was beginning to wonder.”

“Everything’s fine. So stop worrying.”

“I’m your mum. That’s my job.” She ruffles my hair and I swat her hand away.

*   *   *

Mum hogs the Internet all night so I don’t get a chance to MSN Seth, like we’d arranged. At ten he texts me: S
LEEP WELL
, A
MY
. S
EE U IN PRISON TOMORROW
. S
ETH X

A kiss, he sent me a kiss. I know it’s not a huge deal, but it’s the first x he’s sent me. I save the message immediately and hold my mobile to my chest. He xs me. Seth xs me!

It’s now Wednesday and I (well, technically “Samantha”) still haven’t heard back from Clover. What if Seth wants to kiss me? I’ve been worrying about it all day. When I walk in the door from school Dave is standing in the hall, Evie in his arms and Alex clinging on to his legs.

“Can you take Evie?” he says, thrusting her towards me.

“Hang on, I haven’t even put my bag down yet,” I say, slightly miffed. No “Hello, Amy, lovely to see you. How was school?” Not in this house.

I dump my bag under the coat hooks. “Where’s Mum?”

“In there.” He points to the living room. “She’s playing with her new toy. It was delivered this morning. But don’t open the—”

It’s too late. I push the door and Alex darts in. He’s faster than a jaguar.

Dave says, “Grab him!” and I run after him but stop dead in amazement when I see Mum. She’s pounding away on a huge running machine. Her cheeks are deep tomato red and her forehead is glistening.

Alex is trying to get up on the treadmill behind her. I grab his waist and swing him away.

“No you don’t, buster,” I say. “That’s dangerous.” He squeals and kicks my shins. His heels are surprisingly sharp.

“Thanks,” Mum says breathlessly. “Can’t stop. Have to finish my miles.”

I’m impressed. “How many miles have you done?” I ask her.

“Nearly one.”

It doesn’t sound much, but I don’t want to discourage her. “It looks fun. Can I have a go later?”

“It’s not a toy, Amy.” She winces. “Ow, ow, ow, my side, I’ve got a stitch. Aagh!” She stops running and the treadmill powers her backwards and spits her off the end. She falls in a heap, her bottom landing with quite a thump on the wooden floor.

I wince. Poor Mum.

“Are you OK, Sylvie?” Dave asks from the doorway.

“No, I’m not OK.” She puffs and pants for a few seconds and then says, “I was fine until Alex and Amy distracted me” – more puffing and panting – “I asked you to do one simple thing for me, Dave” – puff puff – “to keep Alex out of my hair for half an hour” – puff puff – “I’ll never get my figure back at this rate. Aagh!” She gives such a loud groan that Evie starts to howl.

Dave says in a slightly clipped voice, “I’ll just take Evie for her walk. Amy, can you play with Alex in the garden so your mum can finish her marathon running?”

“It’s too late now,” Mum says, using the sofa to get up. She pushes her sweaty hair back off her forehead. “I’m going to have a shower.” She hobbles out of the room, her body bent in two like a pretzel.

Dave shakes his head. “I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with getting her figure back. She’s fine the way she is.”

“Maybe you should try telling her that,” I say.

He looks at me in surprise. “Maybe you’re right.” Evie gives an almighty squawk, like a parrot. “But first I’d better walk this madam.”

Thursday and still not a peep from Clover. I decide to ring her.

“Hi, Beanie,” she says. “I’m sorry I haven’t rung, it’s been mad all week. I’ve been helping out on the summer fashion spreads. Running around the shops and collecting clothes, assisting the photographer – he’s pretty cute too, has a model girlfriend though, bummer.”

“How was your date with Brains?”

Silence for a moment.

“Clover, are you still there?”

“Actually he’s kind of growing on me,” she admits eventually.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. Stop gloating. We went to this karaoke bar with some of his mates from the band. It was hilarious. And he’s a brilliant singer.”

“He’s in a band?”

“Yep, The Golden Lions. They’re kind of indie but with a sixties edge. Lots of jingly guitars and poppy bits. He’s going to write a song for me.”

“Swoon. A rock star boyfriend. Clover, you’re so lucky.”

She tells me more about her date and when I click my mobile off I realize I’ve forgotten to ask her about work. And most importantly about any letters she may have received. Siúcra, as Clover would say!

“I’m
sooo fat,” Shelly moans, rubbing her slightly rounded belly.

“Mum’s tummy is way bigger than that and Evie’s three months old,” I tell her scornfully. The second the words are out of my mouth I feel disloyal and slightly grubby.

Shelly’s eyes go all wide, like an owl’s. “You mean I’ll be fat for ever? How depressing.”