Girl, 15: Flirting for England (17 page)

‘Jodie is my ’ostess,’ he said. ‘She is not my gairlfriend. But – what about Fred?’

‘Oh, Fred!’ Jess’s heart gave a dangerous lurch. ‘Fred and I . . .’ Her mind raced. What could she say? She didn’t want to admit all that stuff about pretending to be Fred’s girlfriend to put Edouard off. It seemed a bit anti-French. Besides, it was quite difficult to explain even in English.

‘Fred and I are finished,’ she said. ‘We had a big row.’

Gerard’s eyebrows went up quite a way. These Latin lovers had different facial expressions from English boys. Their faces were like a ballet, honestly. And what wonderful eyebrows Gerard had! Jess could never get hers to look half as good, even after two hours’ plucking.

‘You and Fred are finished?’ he asked. ‘But you still are ze friends?’

‘Oh yes – just good friends now,’ said Jess hastily.

Gerard looked puzzled. Maybe the French didn’t do amicable. Maybe when they split up they always had a raging row and then threw themselves off a bridge into the River Seine. They were so tempestuous. It was marvellous.

‘Gerard!’

Oh no. It was Jodie’s voice, and she was bearing down on them like a tank. Instantly Gerard let go of Jess’s hand, even though they had been holding hands invisibly, under water. Jess felt guilty, too.

‘How’s the drink coming along?’ Jodie plonked herself down between them.

‘Nice and cold,’ said Jess, getting to her feet. She just couldn’t bear to stay another minute now Jodie had arrived to wreck the atmosphere. She might just have to hit her, and as Jodie’s aunt was providing the field, it would seem ungrateful.

‘I’m going to sort my stuff out,’ said Jess. She set off up the field. Her hands were still wet and tingling – tingling with the ice-cold water, and the memory of Gerard’s fingers. She had held hands with a dreamboat! But did it still count if it had been under water?

The campfire was blazing nicely and normally it would have looked kind of inviting, with Marie-Louise frying sausages, Edouard playing with his new pet beetle and Flora staring romantically into the flames. But part of Jess was still down by the stream, holding hands under water with Gerard. So much had happened in just a few minutes. The world had changed utterly.

‘Did you text your dad?’ asked Flora. For a moment Jess blinked and stared. It seemed ages, even days, since she had texted her dad.

‘Yeah – his private view starts in a couple of hours,’ said Jess, recovering.

‘Oh, I hope it goes well for him,’ said Flora. ‘You’ll be thinking about him.’

‘Mmm,’ said Jess. Thinking about Dad? No way. She was barely able to reply coherently to Flora. All she could think about was that Gerard and Jodie were coming back up the field. She could see them out of the corner of her eye. Her heart was starting to race again. Would she blush when he looked at her? Would she give herself away? She sat down next to Flora and fiddled with her shoe, so she wouldn’t have to look up when Jodie and Gerard arrived.

‘Give him my love,’ said Flora. For a moment Jess’s brain just refused to comprehend. She stared blankly at Flora. Who? What? What was she saying? Was it anything to do with Gerard?

‘What?’

‘Give your dad my love and tell him I hope the exhibition goes brilliantly,’ said Flora. She was so polite, it almost hurt. ‘When you next text him or call him, I mean,’ she added, even more politely.

‘OK, you morons!’ Jodie had arrived, and now politeness must die. ‘Shove up and make room for the king and queen of the camp!’ Jess fixed her eyes firmly on the fire. She knew if she caught Gerard’s eye now, she would faint.

‘If it’s camp you’re after,’ said Fred, who was clambering out of the boys’ tent, holding a book, ‘I’m your man. Give me some gold high-heeled shoes and I’ll do my dizzy blonde at the premiere routine.’ He struck a camp pose and pouted. Everybody laughed. Marie-Louise turned to Jess with a sweet, sweet smile.

‘Your Fred is so wonderful!’ she said. Panic rose in Jess’s throat. He couldn’t be
her
Fred now: that would be a disaster. If everyone still thought she was with Fred, what were her chances of becoming an item with Gerard? She was dumbstruck. How did she get out of this?

‘Ah, wife!’ said Fred, in a stupid, posh, booming voice, pretending to be drunk, ‘Make room! I’m coming over! I wish to discuss the gas bill with you!’ He crashed down beside her and, in an infuriating parody of affection, threw his arm around her shoulder. ‘It’s our anniversary next week, you know,’ he said to Marie-Louise, who giggled. ‘What is it, wife? Not gold or silver – paper, maybe? Yes! I’ll give you a designer bog roll to celebrate!’

‘Get off, Fred!’ snapped Jess, with real venom. This stupid act of Fred’s couldn’t have been worse timed. She was going to have to pick a fight with him right now. They were going to have to have an almighty bust-up in public. And as she was really annoyed with Fred, it was going to be convincing. She just hoped Fred would sort of understand and go along with it. You never could tell with Fred.

Chapter 23

Jess scrambled to her feet and turned on Fred, who looked puzzled. She was horribly aware of Gerard looking up at her. Jess knew her right profile was her worst, and having a face contorted with fury was hardly going to do her any favours.

‘Fred!’ she snapped.

‘What, wife?’ Fred looked up in a comic parody of fear. He was cringing for England. ‘What have I done now? Left my dirty socks on the floor?’

‘Stop calling me wife!’ shouted Jess. ‘It’s so stupid! That joke is so last century! Come over here! We’ve gotta talk!’

Jess ran over to a nearby tree, and Fred stumbled to his feet and followed – shrugging to everybody as he left the fireside, as if Jess was in the grips of some madness. Which, of course, she was. Love madness.

‘So?’ Fred arrived under the tree. Its canopy gave them a little bit of privacy. ‘What next?’

‘We have a flaming row and we split up,’ hissed Jess.

‘Just like that? Just like that?’ jabbered Fred. ‘How? How? What about?’

‘Get on with it!’ snapped Jess. ‘You’re so freakin’ brilliant in the drama lessons, just think of it as an improvisation.’

‘Wait! Wait! Why are we doing this?’ asked Fred.

‘I’ll tell you later!’

‘What’s my motivation?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Fred!’ roared Jess (a shout like that would sound convincing). ‘You’ve been seeing someone else.’

‘That’s a lie!’ shouted Fred. ‘It was you – you and that Norman!’

‘Norman?’ yelled Jess. ‘He’s just my mum’s gardener, OK? He’s, like, forty years old! Plus he has body odour. That’s just an insult! You can’t wriggle out of this one, Fred Parsons. It’s over, and it’s been over ever since I found out about you and Gloria!’

‘I was just getting a smut out of her eye!’ protested Fred. He was grinning now, enjoying himself.

‘
Stop grinning, stop grinning, make it look real!
’ whispered Jess, then out loud: ‘That is just such a lie! You’re trash!’

‘Trash?’ Fred exploded. ‘You’re the one who’s trash! Anything in trousers! Never mind Norman, what about Cyril? And Hannibal? And Sam? And, and, and Adam?
Whoops
,’ whispered Fred. ‘
Ran out of names there for a moment and had to go back to the Bible
!’

Jess was totally dismayed that Fred had made her sound trashy. ‘Don’t talk to me any more!’ she yelled, really angry. ‘I’m sick of your lies and inventions! OK? Let’s leave it! We’re ruining everybody’s evening!’

Fred shrugged and shook his head.

Jess walked away and rejoined the others. She caught Flora’s eye. Flora looked embarrassed, amused and also dangerously near giggling. She, of course, knew it had all been a charade. It was the French people – Gerard in particular – who had to be convinced. Marie-Louise gave her a sympathetic look. She was nearly in tears.

‘I am so sorry, Jess,’ she whispered, and grabbed Jess’s arm. Jess tried hard to look tragic, and nodded.

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I told Fred it was over after I found out he was seeing . . .’ For a terrible moment she forgot the name of Fred’s fictional squeeze.

‘Gloria,’ prompted Flora.

‘I can hardly bring myself to say her name without bursting into tears,’ said Jess, between clenched teeth.

‘Awful! Awful!’ said Marie-Louise, and stroked Jess’s arm sympathetically. She was such a sweetheart.

‘Anyway,’ said Jess, taking a deep breath and looking around at everybody except Gerard. ‘Now we’ve got that sorted, let’s have some fun!’

‘How about charades?’ suggested Flora.

‘You mean,
more
charades?’ murmured Jess out of the side of her mouth.

‘Come on, Fred!’ called Flora. ‘Charades! You’re the champion!’ Fred came out from under the tree and marched up to the fireside.

‘OK,’ he said, and offered his hand to Jess. ‘Divorced, then? You can keep the cat – I’ll have the grand piano and the Ferrari.’

Jess reached up and shook his hand. For once she couldn’t think of anything to say. She just wanted to get the moment over, and was grateful to Fred for managing to make a joke of it.

‘You go first, Fred,’ said Flora. She was really tactful and clever at times like this. She could smooth anybody’s ruffled feelings. Even if they were all a bit of a charade in the first place.

‘Let’s do countries,’ said Jodie. The Frenchies all looked puzzled.

Flora patted Marie-Louise on the hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We kind of act out the name of a country. You’ll soon understand it.’

‘OK,’ said Fred, gangling about in his absurd way.

He seemed to come to a decision, and then launched into his charade. He staggered about with his knees bent, flapping his arms and making a gobbling sound. Everybody started laughing – even the French people. Fred could be just hilarious. He was a natural clown.

‘Gobble, gobble, gobble!’ gasped Fred, sinking to his knees. ‘Oh no! It’s Christmas! Aaargh!’ He crawled along the ground then collapsed in a heap with his legs in the air.

‘Turkey!’ cried Jess, in a flash of inspiration.

Of course, Turkey was a country as well as a bird. Jess wasn’t sure if doing countries was a good idea. The Frenchies looked puzzled and were whispering to one another. Still, everybody cheered, and Fred collapsed down on to the grass, across the fire from Jess.

‘Your turn, Jess!’ said Jodie.

Jess got up, feeling awkward. She still hadn’t dared to even take a peep at Gerard and now she had to perform a ridiculous charade in front of him. She decided to do Wales – a disastrous choice, as she had to lie on her tummy, kind of rocking up and down and performing the Song of the Humpback Whale – a sort of high-pitched moan. She knew she had never looked so absurd.

‘When are you going to start?’ asked Fred mischievously.

‘Greece!’ said Flora, but without any conviction whatsoever.

Jess shook her head, while diving down to the ocean depths once again.

‘Canada?’ asked Marie-Louise, trying hard, bless her, despite being totally mystified.

This is hopeless
, thought Jess. She was going to have to give up being a whale. She’d just blow one last blast through the hole in her head. At this, of all moments, she somehow caught Gerard’s eye. He was grinning at her and his eyes looked strangely shiny.