Girl, (Nearly) 16: Absolute Torture! (19 page)

‘Wow, you’re such an action-packed superhero! You make me feel quite limp and drained.’

‘How’s Riverdene?’

‘Oh, you know – sixty thousand people all queuing for about three loos.’

‘I can’t hear any music in the background.’

‘Ah! We’re between acts, or something.’ Fred sounded a bit vague.

‘So has Flora managed to track you down yet?’

‘I haven’t seen the creature. I swear it’s true. If I lie to you, may I be changed into a sofa belonging to a fat family addicted to daytime TV and baked beans.’ Jess laughed. ‘But listen, Jordan, can you ring me again in half an hour? I’m running out of –’

‘Why can’t you talk now?’ asked Jess suspiciously.

‘There . . . some . . . got . . .’ Suddenly Fred was breaking up again.

‘OK, I’ll ring again later!’ shouted Jess.

Her dad came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with some corn snacks and a dip – and two Cokes with ice.

‘Wow!’ said Jess. ‘You drink Coke! So reckless! Mum says it rots your teeth.’

‘Ah, well, she always was a bit of a health fanatic,’ said Dad, putting the tray down on the coffee table. ‘Actually, we both were. It was our shared love of pumpkin seeds and chickpeas that brought us together. We kind of bonded over hummus.’

‘But now you’ve regressed to junk food?’ asked Jess, helping herself to what she hoped would be the first of many guacamole-crowned crispy things.

‘I go through phases,’ said her dad. ‘One week I’m on the salad and fruit diet, next week I force-feed myself entire farmyards. How was Frederika? Tell me about her.’

Jess choked slightly on her guacamole.

‘Frederika is great,’ she said. ‘She’s at Riverdene, and so is Flora, as a matter of fact. I wanted to go myself, but Mum wouldn’t let me.’

‘You had to visit your tiresome dad instead. Terrible! I feel so guilty.’

‘Listen, revered ancestor!’ said Jess. ‘I was so desperate to see you that I came a whole day early.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘If it had been up to me, I’d have seen you last week, Dad. Last month. Last year.’

‘You did see me last year,’ said Dad. ‘Four times, actually.’

‘Yes, but not down here in your house,’ said Jess. She looked around the lofty white spaces, admiring the blue sofa, the blue vases, the light pouring in through skylights in the roof. ‘It’s brilliant! I really will come and live with you one day. And is there any chance I could stay the night, Dad? Oh please! I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.’

‘Er, fine by me,’ said her dad, ‘as long as your mother doesn’t mind. Phil can sleep on the sofa, though. You can have the spare room. I’m not having my divine daughter roughing it.’

‘Let’s ring Mum, then!’

Jess’s dad hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone and dialled Mum’s mobile number.

‘Hi, Madeleine,’ he said in a peculiar and rather awkward voice. ‘It’s Tim again. This daughter of ours wants to stay over with me here in St Ives. Would that be OK? I don’t want to mess up your plans.’

Jess watched as her dad listened to what her mum had to say – which was quite a lot, as usual. Dad pulled a few faces, winked at Jess, made some polite noises and eventually rang off.

‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘although she says she’ll get into big trouble with Bernie, whoever he is.’

‘He’s the guy running the B&B. But I’m sure Mum will be able to charm him into submission.’

‘Great! OK, let’s look for a spare room. I think I’ve got one somewhere, if I could only remember where I left it.’

They went upstairs and down a whitewashed corridor at the back, and into a small room with a futon and a white-painted chest of drawers. There was a lovely view over rooftops and a tiny, glittering patch of sea was visible far over to the right, between two houses.

‘It’s lovely!’ cried Jess. ‘I do want to come and live with you right now after all! I’ll do all the shopping and cooking, Dad! No, wait, I’ve changed my mind, you do all the shopping and cooking. No need to go overboard, is there? I shall be far too busy becoming a professional surfer.’

‘If you do become a surfer,’ said Dad, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to go overboard on a regular basis.’

‘Oh, I love it here!’ said Jess. ‘Sun, surf, art, fish and chips – what else do you need in life?’

‘Speaking of art, let’s go back to the studio,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve got an idea for something I want to do.’

They went back along the corridor and into the studio.

‘Sit over there!’ said Dad, pointing to an old sofa scattered with shawls. Jess obeyed. ‘Now, find a comfortable position, because I’m going to paint you and you won’t be able to move for at least an hour.’

‘Oh wow!’ said Jess. ‘You’re going to do a portrait of me? That is so utterly cool. Everyone in school will be insane with jealousy.’

‘Wait and see if I manage to get a likeness,’ warned Dad. ‘You might end up looking like a chimpanzee.’

‘If you manage to get a likeness, I
will
end up looking like a chimpanzee!’ laughed Jess. ‘I know! I’ll try and look like the Mona Lisa! She is divine! Tell me if my mysterious smile sort of topples over into cheesy, though, won’t you?’ Jess folded her arms and attempted to ooze Renaissance charisma.

As Dad painted, he fell silent. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. When they were quiet, Jess could hear the distant sounds of the sea, and the screaming of gulls. It was all extremely wonderful – but even in the depths of her happiness, Jess never forgot for a moment that at the first opportunity she was going to ring Fred again.

Sitting still seemed terribly easy at first, but gradually it got more and more uncomfortable.

‘Dad! Dad! Ow!’ said Jess eventually. ‘I can’t hold this pose a minute longer! My back is going to snap in half and my head is going to roll off under that chair.’

‘OK, relax!’ said Dad, and Jess at last let her screaming muscles go, fell over sideways with a hysterical howl of relief, and then yawned and stretched like a cat. Then she sprang up and ran to his easel.

It was brilliant! OK, it was in the very early stages, but somehow the way Dad had sketched in some sea and rocks in the background did remind Jess of the setting of the Mona Lisa. And though he hadn’t done much detail on Jess’s face, he had even made her actually look a bit like the Mona Lisa, at the same time as recognisably being herself.

‘That’s me!’ she cried. ‘You’re brilliant, Dad!’

‘Yes,’ said Dad. ‘I like the way you look kind of haughty and disapproving. Just like your mother.’

‘But I am like you as well!’ said Jess.

‘I hope not. Poor child! You’ve got enough to cope with,’ said her dad, smiling at himself and shaking his head as he put his brushes away.

‘No, I am like you, Dad!’ insisted Jess. ‘In my head!’ And she threw her arms round him and gave him a big hug. ‘I shall have to send you away to cuddling school, though,’ she added. ‘It isn’t considered polite to carry on clearing up while someone is trying to hug you.’

‘Sorry, old bean,’ said her dad, and he tossed his paintbrushes to one side and put his arms round her.

Chapter 29

And then suddenly there was a strange buzzing noise.

‘What on earth was that?’ said Dad, looking round anxiously. ‘It sounded like a hornet.’

‘Only my mobile!’ said Jess, pulling it out of her pocket.

‘I thought you said your mobile needed charging,’ said Dad.

‘Bizarre, isn’t it?’ said Jess. ‘It’s a new one, it keeps surprising me. Now please, Dad – excuse me!’

She ran to the far end of the studio. Her dad smiled, and performed a kind of mime to do with making a cup of tea. Then he went away downstairs.

‘Hello!’ said Fred. ‘Behold, it is me, the Angel of the Lord, or at least a sort of cut-price low-budget version, which is all that’s available nowadays.’

‘Oh Frederika!’ said Jess. Although her dad was out of earshot, she still kind of liked calling Fred that.

‘Why am I Frederika today?’ asked Fred.

‘Because I told Dad you were one of my very best girlfriends,’ said Jess carefully. She didn’t want to blow her cover in case Dad could hear what she was saying.

‘Oh no!’ said Fred. ‘Why??’

‘Kittens! How sweet! I’m so jealous!’ said Jess, sure that Dad could hear.

‘You haven’t told him I exist, then? In my admittedly loathsome masculine guise? You haven’t told your mum, either. Ashamed of me?’

‘What, more new shoes! Frederika, you could shop for England! Just make sure you don’t step on the kittens. It would ruin your shoes!’

‘Oh, never mind,’ said Fred. ‘Listen, for I have a task for you, which you must enact promptly in order to save the Kingdom of Fred from ruin and decay.’

‘What?’

‘Do you remember once you promised to get a birthday present for my mum and somehow you never got around to it?’

‘You promised never to mention that again! Anyway, I did have a good excuse – the house was flooded.’

‘Yeah, yeah, so you said. Never mind. Listen. My mum knows St Ives, and there’s a special kind of brooch she wants from a certain shop, and I was wondering if you’d mind going there and seeing if they’ve got any.’

‘Of course!’ said Jess. ‘Where is it?’

‘It’s kind of hard to explain, but if you just go out into the town I can sort of talk you down. She gave me this old map of St Ives. I could navigate you like air traffic control.’

‘OK – just let me tell my dad. I’ll ring you right back,’ said Jess.

She went back downstairs. Her dad was sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.

‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you came a day early,’ he said.

Jess stood behind his chair and put her arms round his neck.

‘I’m pleased, too,’ she said. ‘But listen, I’ve got to nip out for a few minutes because Frederika wants me to get something for her mum from one of the shops in St Ives.’

‘OK,’ said Dad. ‘It’s time for my geriatric little afternoon nap, anyway. Got enough money?’ He pulled out his wallet and gave her a twenty-pound note.

‘Oh my goodness! Thanks, Dad!’ cried Jess, startled by this unaccustomed dosh.

‘Is that too much?’ said Dad. He was so clueless when it came to parenthood.

‘Not at all!’ said Jess, skipping mischievously towards the door. ‘It’s terrific, it’s just what I’ve always wanted! See you later! Enjoy your sleep!’

‘I’ll leave the key to the front door under the ceramic toad by the doorstep!’ said Dad, as if it were the most normal place in the world to leave a key. This kind of primitive security arrangement would not last two minutes in the city. But somehow it just proved to Jess the magic of St Ives.

Out in the street, she rang Fred back.

‘At last! That was an eternity,’ said Fred. ‘Now tell me, what’s the name of the street where you are?’

Jess looked around. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she said, running along Dad’s narrow street and turning into a slightly broader lane. ‘Ah, this one’s Back Road West.’

‘OK, great,’ said Fred. ‘Go down it in a northerly direction.’

‘What’s northerly?’ asked Jess.

‘For goodness’ sake, woman! You come from a nation of great explorers! Is the sun in your eyes?’

‘No,’ said Jess. ‘It’s sort of on my left.’