Love and Kisses
Jean Ure
A fun and feisty novel from master storyteller Jean Ure – with a gorgeous look to appeal to all girls who love real-life stories.Thirteen-year-old Tamsin has never had a boyfriend, and she's starting to feel left behind. Even her ten-year-old sister has a boyfriend, so surely it must be her turn soon! When Tamsin meets Alex, she just can't stop thinking about him, and she’s thrilled when he asks her out on a date. But he’s sixteen and has already left school. Before she knows it, Tamsin is lying about her age and going behind her parents back… but for how long can she keep up the pretence?A charming story about the innocence of first love – and learning to do the right thing.
Copyright (#ulink_457fdd50-f824-53cf-9eac-8338c8208c16)
HarperCollins Children’s Books a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2009
Text © Jean Ure 2009 Illustrations © HarperCollinsPublishers 2009
The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.
Conditions of Sale This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Source ISBN: 9780007281725
Ebook Edition © JULY 2009 ISBN: 9780007342501
Version: 2015-01-30
For Zoe Crook
Contents
Cover Page (#u2c9c400f-f95c-5e95-b34f-e6cc2a1146e1)
Title Page (#u9f9e1080-2db4-5383-96c0-114f65862737)
Copyright (#uc28da291-4d5b-5ed4-b43a-77e23d212b6d)
Dedication (#uafa4e652-2bd4-5a22-b7f8-35b9ac72dc3a)
CHAPTER ONE (#u05e8f2ad-67ed-5311-9cef-4ddadae9292f)
CHAPTER TWO (#uabfadda7-0f99-5d03-b086-300d4bd7ea54)
CHAPTER THREE (#ua5492b04-3941-5688-ac0c-d375c6d1d5f5)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ucb16cefa-e7f8-5a25-88d7-57d0726a4d29)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_3a1c9316-9628-57d4-9865-976db107e42d)
I’ll never forget the day I first saw Alex. I was walking down Hawthorn Road with my best friend Katie. Best friend in the whole world! Friends for ever, through thick and thin. Though that was the summer we almost parted company…and all because of Alex.
It was a Friday, I remember; the second half of the summer term. Katie was coming back to my place for a sleepover, which was something we quite often did. Either her place or mine; we used to take it in turns. That day it was my turn, so there we were, happily wandering down the road together in the sunshine, carting our school bags full of the usual massive amounts of homework, when WHAM! Bam! It hit me.
A few doors away from my place, they were turning one of the big houses into flats. The other morning I’d seen an older man, who seemed to be in charge; but he wasn’t there that Friday. Or maybe he was, but he was indoors. Outside, in the front garden, there was a red-haired boy churning stuff about in a cement mixer. As we walked past, he turned to look in our direction and winked. He did! He winked. I tried to pretend I hadn’t noticed, but it still made me get all red and flustered. Pathetic, I know, but you can’t always control these things. It’s an instinctive reaction. Very embarrassing.
I strode on, really fast, with my cheeks sizzling. A second boy was coming round the side of the house with a wheelbarrow. I caught his eye, absolutely without meaning to, and he smiled. Straight at me. At me! At me! OMIGOD. That was it. That was when it happened. The wham and the bam, and my heart going into convulsions. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.
Katie came scurrying after me. “Really,” she grumbled, “that was so not politically correct.”
I mumbled, “What?” My cheeks were still sizzling.
Katie said, “What d’you mean, what?”
“What was not politically correct?”
“What he did! Winking. He winked at us! Don’t tell me you didn’t see?”
I muttered that I had tried not to take any notice.
“Oh, well, yes, me too,” agreed Katie.
“Otherwise they think you’re encouraging them.” And then she giggled and said, “What about the other one?” She nudged at me with her elbow. “Know who he looks like?”
I shook my head. I tried to say “Who?” but I couldn’t seem to get any sound out.
“He looks exactly like Jimmy Doohan.”
It was true! No wonder my heart was walloping. Jimmy Doohan is this boy at our school. He’s Year 12, now. He was Year 11 then, and half the school were crazy about him, including me and Katie. Not that he would ever have looked twice at us, even apart from the fact that we were only Year 8s. Me and Katie aren’t the sort of girls that boys ever look twice at. Not that we’re specially unattractive, or anything; just that we tend to stay in the background. I guess if you want to be taken notice of, you have to make a bit of an effort. Unless, of course, you are so stunningly drop-dead gorgeous that all eyes just automatically turn in your direction…
Jimmy Doohan was drop-dead gorgeous. Thick black hair, and coal-dark eyes and a face that was square and sort of…chiselled.
Katie was right. The boy who had smiled—at me, at me! He’d smiled at me—could almost have been Jimmy’s brother. (I used to think of him as Jimmy, although I’d never said so much as a single word to him so he probably wasn’t even aware of my humble existence.)
“See what I mean?” said Katie, turning to look back.
I couldn’t resist a bit of a look back myself. The boy had emptied his wheelbarrow and was trundling it away, towards the side of the house. When he saw us looking, he raised a hand and smiled again. O! My! God! I nearly died. My cheeks were like a blast furnace.
Katie tossed her head and said, “Well.” I was too busy being incinerated to say anything at all. If my cheeks had got any hotter I might have actually burst into flames. You read about people doing that. One minute they’re there, the next they’re a pile of ashes. Something to do with their electrical systems shorting out. Which was what I felt mine were about to do.
“How about that?” said Katie. She sounded almost triumphant. I looked at her, rather anxiously. I did hope she wasn’t deluding herself, thinking she was the one he had smiled at. Cos she wasn’t, it was me! I was the one he’d seen first. Maybe if she’d been the one…thing is, I’m trying to be fair. I’m not saying I’m any better-looking than she is. We both have our strong points—and our weak ones.
On the plus side, I am quite tall and reasonably slim and have nice eyes (or so I have been told). I also have long blondish hair, which I have a nervous habit of hooking over my ears when I am embarrassed or can’t think of anything to say. On the minus side—well, I have to admit that I am not very pretty. My face is rather long, as is my nose. But I am not ugly!
Neither is Katie. She is probably a bit prettier than I am actually, with this little round face and rosebuddy mouth. Her hair is a sort of brown colour and curly, and cut quite short. Those are her pluses. Her really big minus is her bum. She says herself it is like two pumpkins in a bag, and that her legs are like tree trunks. On the other hand, she looks kind of cute in our rather yucky school uniform and I do envy her nose. I would swap my nose for hers any day!
Katie chattered excitedly all the way up the road. “I bet he’s foreign! He looks foreign. Maybe he’s Irish. Jimmy Doohan’s Irish. Lots of Irish guys come over here and work on the buildings. Jimmy Doohan’s dad is a builder. Did you know that? Jimmy Doohan—”
Oh, dear! She really did believe he had smiled at her. At least it gave me the chance to cool down and stop myself combusting. But in the end I had to say something, cos I just couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Why d’you suppose it’s OK to smile but not to wink?”
“Interesting,” said Katie.
“I mean, it is,” I said, “isn’t it?”
“Yeah…I guess.”
“So what’s the difference?”
“Winking is rude,” said Katie. “Smiling is…”
“What?”
“Smiling is friendly!”
I was so glad that the Jimmy Doohan boy had smiled and not winked.
We got home to find Ellie arguing with Mum in the kitchen. Ellie is my little sister—well, half-sister, to be accurate. She has a tendency to argue. She is one of those people who can’t take no for an answer. In this case, no to going up to London with her boyfriend.
Boyfriend, for heaven’s sake! She was only ten years old. If I’d have been Mum I would have asked her, “What are you talking about, boyfriend?” But that wasn’t what was bothering Mum. She just didn’t like the idea of them going up to London on their own.
“What would you do there?”
Ellie, virtuously, said they wouldn’t do anything.
“So what would be the point of going? If you weren’t going to do anything?”
Ellie said, “We just want to be there. Just look around.”
“Like you haven’t already been there about a thousand times!”
“That’s different,” said Ellie. “That’s with you and Dad. I want to go with Obi.”
What kind of a name is Obi?
“Pleeeeze, Mum…pleeeeeze let me!” She did this thing that she does, this girly thing, clasping her hands to her chest and making her eyes go all big. “We’ll just jump on the tube and sit there good as gold till we get to Leicester Square.”
“Then what?” said Mum. I could tell that she was weakening; so could Ellie. Mum is so predictable. And Ellie knows just how to play her. Brightly she said, “Then we’ll get out! Then we’ll walk up Charing Cross Road and we’ll walk along Shaftesbury Avenue and we’ll watch out for the traffic and we won’t speak to anybody and then we’ll gaze at all the theatres and I’ll-imagine-how-it-will-be-when-my-name-is-up-in-lights!”
She gabbled this last bit in a kind of ecstasy. It made Mum laugh, just as Ellie had known it would. Mum is such a soft touch where Ellie is concerned.
“Have you asked Obi’s mum about this?” she said.
Ellie smiled one of her cute little girly smiles. People just can’t resist her when she does that. “I thought I’d try asking you first.”
“Because Obi’s mum would say no. I’ll tell you what I’m prepared to do…I’m not having you roam around London by yourselves, but—but—” Mum held up a hand as Ellie opened her mouth to protest—“I’ll take you both to a matinée of Guys And Dolls, if you like. That was the one you wanted to see, wasn’t it?”
Ellie gave a loud shriek. “Mum! Can you get tickets?”
“I think I could wangle it,” said Mum. “Then we could go backstage afterwards. How about that?”
“Oh, Mum, thank you! Thank you, thank you!” Now we had the kissy huggy bit, with Ellie launching herself at Mum across the kitchen and nearly throttling her. “Dearest, darlingest, sweetest, bestest Mum of all time!”
Yuck, yuck, triple yuck.
“You’d better go and check with Obi’s mum and see if it’s OK with her.”
“It will be, it will be!”
“Well, go and make sure. Katie, Tamsin! Are you OK, girls? I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
But with Ellie around she generally does. It’s not her fault; Ellie has one of those personalities that just swamps everything. I guess she can’t help it, any more than I can help being…well! A bit inward-looking, I suppose you would say. Like on one of those scales of introversion and extroversion, me and Ellie would be at totally opposite ends.
“Are you going to eat tea down here with us?” said Mum. “Or do you want to take it up to your room?”
I said we’d take it up to my room.
“So they can have secrets,” said Ellie.
“That’s all right,” said Mum. “It’s allowed.”
“Don’t know what they’ve got to have secrets about.”
I said, “No, because it’s secret. Moron!”
Ellie stuck her tongue out. Really quite pathetic. One minute she’s trying to be just so sophisticated, wanting to go up to town with her boyfriend. The next she’s behaving like a five-year-old.
“C’mon!” I snatched up a packet of biscuits and a couple of cartons of juice and headed for the door. “We’ll be down later. What time’s Dad getting back?”
Mum said, “Your guess is as good as mine. You know what these things are like.”
I explained to Katie as we went upstairs that Dad was appearing in a beer commercial.
“Sometimes they just go on shooting for ever. When he did the drink-drive thing it went on till nearly midnight.”
“That’s mad,” said Katie. “When you think it all ends up as just a few seconds on the screen.”
I said, “Yes, I know, the whole business is bonkers. But Dad doesn’t mind cos he gets paid overtime.”
Some of the kids at school are well impressed that my mum and dad are in show business. I was famous for weeks after the drink-drive ad. That’s the girl whose Dad’s on the telly. Come to think of it, maybe Jimmy Doohan might know who I am! Though I don’t see him as being the sort of guy that’s easily impressed. I’m not impressed cos I’m used to it; and Katie isn’t, either, cos she’s known me since Infants, so she’s used to it too. She can remember a time when both Mum and Dad had been out of work—pardon me, I mean resting—for so long that I almost couldn’t go to school because my one and only pair of shoes had sprung a leak. I had to stuff them with newspaper! Not very glamorous.
“I’m glad my dad doesn’t have to work odd hours,” said Katie, as we reached the safety of my room and could chat without fear of little sharp Ellie ears picking everything up. “I like that he comes home the same time every night. Ellie’d probably say that’s really boring of me, but I don’t care! Sometimes I like boring.”
I said, “Mm. Me too.” Unlike Ellie, I have no ambitions to go into show business.
“Do you think we are boring?” said Katie.
It was one of my secret fears. But I wasn’t about to confess it. “We’re just us,” I said. “Like Ellie is just Ellie. And she’s way too young to have a boyfriend! How can you have a boyfriend at her age?”
I didn’t even have a boyfriend at my age. Nor did Katie. We’d been out with boys; we weren’t totally sad. But there’s a difference between occasionally going out and having an actual boyfriend. Ellie was so…there was a word. I couldn’t think what it was. Precocious! That was it. Acting like she was far older than she really was.
Maybe me and Katie acted like we were far younger than we really were? Thirteen years old and no boyfriends. Soon we would be fourteen. And still no boyfriends!
We were good girls, me and Katie. All the teachers liked us; and on the whole we liked them. We did all our homework, we passed all our exams. We actually enjoyed learning stuff. God, this was seriously weird! There had to be something wrong with us. Why couldn’t we just do normal things the same as everybody else? Skipping homework, bunking off school, going to parties, getting drunk. Having boyfriends.
“Ten years old,” said Katie. She shook her head. “What were we doing when we were ten years old?”
“Dunno,” I said. “Can’t remember.”
“We weren’t still playing with dolls, were we?” Katie sounded suddenly anxious. “Please say we weren’t playing with dolls!”
“No! Of course we weren’t. We were—”
“What? We were what?”
“Well, we weren’t painting our nails green and wearing black lippy,” I said. “And we certainly weren’t going up to town with boys!”
There was a pause; then we both sighed, in unison.
“We’re starting to sound like my dad,” Katie said.
Hang on a minute! Katie’s dad is old. But I mean really old. Like he’s even talking of retiring. We looked at each other, stricken.
“No, but I mean,” said Katie, “really! London is a dangerous place for a ten-year-old.”
“With or without a boyfriend.” Who in any case wasn’t any older than she was. You couldn’t call a ten-year old a boyfriend. It was ridiculous! “Have a biccy,” I said. I didn’t want to think about it any more. My precocious little sister, always getting in ahead of me. Always doing things first. And being allowed to get away with it! It wasn’t that I was jealous of Ellie; it really wasn’t. But I guess sometimes I did envy her.
That night, squashed up in my not terribly big bed with Katie, I lay awake thinking of the boy who looked like Jimmy Doohan.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_7d3cefdf-ec61-5d49-8e58-7d91c7230e72)
He wasn’t there on Saturday morning when we wandered past the building site on our way to the shopping centre. He still wasn’t there when we came back. He wasn’t there later on, when we went for a walk. A walk! Dad was very bemused.
“Walk?” he said, as we stampeded past him in our eagerness to get out. “You’re going for a walk?”
Honestly! As if we’d lost the use of our legs. Just cos he goes everywhere by car.
“We need air!” yelped Katie.
“And exercise,” I said, looking rather pointedly at Dad, who instantly pulled his stomach in. There is a reason he’d been chosen for the beer commercial!
“Yes, right, fine,” said Dad. “A walk in the park…admirable!” He held open the front door, elaborately ushering us out. “Off you go!”
So off we went, though in totally the wrong direction for the park. Up the road, past the new flats, round the block, all the way back—still nothing! The older man was there, poking about at the brickwork; but not a sign of Jimmy Doohan. The red-haired boy appeared, carrying a bucket. We didn’t care about him. We wanted Jimmy Doohan! Where had he gone???
We didn’t admit to each other that we were looking for him. That would have been too gross!
“I wonder if they work on Sundays?” I said.
“Might go to church,” said Katie. “You know, if he’s Catholic…if he’s Irish.”
“But shops open on Sundays.” People still worked in shops.
Katie said, “Mm…” And then, “We’re visiting my nan tomorrow.” Like that had anything to do with it. But I knew what she was thinking. I could come and walk past the building site all by myself!
Which I did. I told Mum I was going to the newsagent to buy a magazine. I might just as well not have bothered, cos even the older man wasn’t there. This was starting to become a bit scary. Suppose the boys had just been helping out for that one day? I couldn’t bear it! Already I was getting obsessed. I kept remembering the way he’d smiled. A little bit shy. A little bit…uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure it was the thing to do. Unlike the rude winking boy, who obviously thought far too much of himself. I didn’t care if I never saw him again. But Jimmy…he was even better-looking than the real Jimmy. And he’d smiled at me. At me!
Why hadn’t I smiled back? Why hadn’t I? Because I was too stupid and turned in on myself. Unless maybe I’d smiled without knowing it? Like sometimes you do, automatically. I really hoped I had!
Monday morning, Dad drove me in to school, which meant we whizzed past the flats so fast they were practically just a blur. But Monday afternoon…He was there! He smiled at me again, and this time I did smile back. I suspect my face looked like the setting sun, but I did manage to smile.
And again on Tuesday. Morning and afternoon. And on Wednesday, and on Thursday. It was like he was keeping a watch out, making sure he was at the front of the house so he wouldn’t miss me. Then on Friday I was late, cos of choir practice. I thought at first he wasn’t there, and my heart just, like, plummeted. And then suddenly he appeared, racing down a ramp from a van on to the pavement with his wheelbarrow, zonk! Right into me. Well, actually I just managed to skip into the gutter, which was a pity in some ways cos otherwise he might have run me over and then help, help, I would have needed picking up and it could have been really slushy and romantic! Even as it was, it was quite romantic. First off, he dropped the wheelbarrow, looking absolutely stricken. Then I said, “Oops!” (which on reflection is a silly thing to say, but I didn’t have time to choose my words) and he said, “Sorry! Very sorry! I hurt?”
Not Irish. Some kind of foreign.
I mumbled that I was fine, and he said again, “Very sorry! I not look where I go.” I assured him that I was OK (unfortunately!) but he still seemed anxious.
“I really not hurt you?”
“No, honestly,” I said.
“Is my fault! I very stupid person. I look, next time”.
I said, “Me too!”
And then I idiotically stood there, not wanting to move but not able to think of anything else to say. Fortunately he was less tongue-tied than me, in spite of not speaking the language too well.
“You live in road?”
“Up there.” I pointed.
He said, “Nice houses.”
“They’re just ordinary,” I said. “I’d rather live in one like this.”
He pulled a face. “This one old.”
“I like old! I like to think of all the people who have lived there before.”
“Ah! You—” He stopped and waved a hand, frustrated. “I not think of word!”
“It’s history,” I said. “I like history.”
“History. Yes!” He nodded at the house. “Much history.”
“Ours is new. It’s quite boring.”
“Not boring! Very nice.”
We chatted on about houses for a bit; and then, just as I thought I should be heading home he said, “You like maybe go out with me some time?”
My heart immediately went into some kind of mad squirming overdrive. My cheeks lit up like beacons.
“I tell you my name! My name Alex. What your name?”
I swallowed. “T-Tamsin.”
“Tamsin…OK, Tamsin! You like we go drink coffee?”
My head started nodding, up-down, up-down. It wouldn’t stop!
“We go Sunday, maybe?”
Before I knew it, we’d arranged to meet up the road in Starbucks on Sunday afternoon. I went on my way feeling like I was drifting on a cloud. I had a date. A real date with a real boy! My first ever…
Me and Katie weren’t doing a sleepover that weekend. We hadn’t even officially arranged to meet, but I couldn’t resist ringing her.
“Is it OK if I come round? I’ve got something to tell you!”
Katie said, “What? Tell me, tell me!”
“I can’t on the phone. I’ll come round!”
Needless to say, I looked for Alex as I went up the road. I was all ready to smile at him, and wave. I’d even got specially dressed up in my best pair of jeans and a new top. But he wasn’t there. Only the older man and the other boy, who had the cheek to wink at me again in a decidedly knowing fashion, like “Ho ho, who’s going out with my mate?” I ignored him. And I wasn’t worried, now, about Alex not being there, because tomorrow I would be in Starbucks with him…yay! Most unlike me. I am not at all a showy-off kind of person; I leave all that sort of thing to Ellie. But yay again! I was going on a date!
Katie flung open the door the minute I arrived. She’d obviously been hovering there, eager to know what my news was. I must have sounded even more excited than I’d realised.
“OK!” She dragged me inside and hauled me up the stairs. “Talk!”
I said, “Right. Well! You’ll never guess…” I hooked my hair back over my ears. “I’m going on a date with Jimmy Doohan!”
“What?”
“Jimmy Doohan.” I giggled, in slightly hysterical fashion. “The boy from the flats on my road?”
Katie said, “You’ve gotta be joking!”
“I’m not joking. He asked me! Tomorrow afternoon…I’m meeting him, we’re going to Starbucks.”
“You’re going out with a boy from a building site?”
“Why not?” I bristled. “He’s nice, he’s polite. He’s foreign. Polish, I think. Maybe Russian? I don’t know! Anyway, his name’s Alex and he’s definitely not Irish.”
Katie said, “Oh, well, that’s all right then.”
I had this feeling she was being sarcastic. I said, “Jimmy Doohan’s Irish. You’d go out with Jimmy Doohan fast enough!”
“Jimmy Doohan doesn’t work on a building site.”
“He might do! In his holidays. How do you know?”
“Holidays are different,” said Katie.
Of course, I suddenly realised: she was probably a bit put out. Even, maybe, a bit jealous? Still, I didn’t like the thought of her feelings being hurt. She was my best friend, after all.
“It’s so weird,” I said, “the way things turn out. I mean, me living in the same road…if it had been you living there, it’d probably have been you he asked.”
“I wouldn’t go,” said Katie.
Well! How ungracious was that? And there I’d been, thinking we could chat about what I should wear, the way other girls do.
“No point getting the hump,” said Katie.
Pardon me? I wasn’t the one getting any hump!
“I just think it’s a bit dodgy, going out with someone you haven’t even properly met. I mean, who is he? You don’t know the first thing about him!”
“So I’ll find out,” I said. “We’ll talk.”
“He could be anything.”
“So could Jimmy Doohan,” I said. “Who knows what he gets up to in his spare time? He could be a drug dealer, for all we know. Could go round bashing old ladies over the head. I reckon you have to have a bit of trust or you’d end up never going out with anyone.”
She grew a bit hot and pink at that. I immediately wished I hadn’t said it. But quite honestly you can’t afford to leave these things too late or you’ll run the danger of never getting going at all. Ellie might be only ten, but already she knew far more about boys than either me or Katie. The situation was growing desperate!
“Have you told your mum?” said Katie.
It was my turn to grow pink. She’d asked a good question, cos the answer was no: I hadn’t told my mum.
“Are you going to?”
Slowly, I shook my head.
“Dunno why not,” said Katie. “If there isn’t anything wrong with him.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with him! He’s really sweet. It’s just…you know what mums are like.”
“I know what mine’s like; shouldn’t have thought yours would mind.”
Katie always says that my mum, being an actor, isn’t as strict as other people’s. Like she doesn’t care what me and Ellie get up to. It’s true she doesn’t fuss and flap, but I wasn’t sure she’d be too pleased at me going off on a date with a boy I’d only just met. She’d want to know who he was, and where he lived, and how old he was, and all stuff I couldn’t tell her. All I really knew was his name, and that he worked down the road. It was probably guaranteed to get even my mum in a flap.
“So if you’re not telling her…” said Katie.
“I thought I’d say I was coming round to you!”
There was a pause. “Is that all right?” I said.
For a moment I thought she was going to say an outright no, or even suggest she came with us. We were so used to doing everything together I could understand if she took it as her right. In the end, somewhat grudgingly, she said she would think about it. “I’ll let you know.”
I said, “Please Katie, pretty Katie, please!”
She didn’t even smile; just repeated that she would let me know. I definitely sensed a coolness between us.
The last time we’d had a coolness was when Katie had been asked to Millie Simms’s party and I hadn’t. I’d felt really hurt. I’d almost felt that if I couldn’t go then Katie oughtn’t to, either. So I didn’t hold it against her, but I didn’t want to ask her to join us. She might be my best friend, but Alex had asked me. And I wanted it to be a proper date!
I wondered if perhaps I could tell Mum I was going round to Beth’s. That’s Bethany Dewar, who’s in our class. She’s not a particularly special friend, but she lives quite near and she knows about boys, and about the need for sometimes having to keep things from your mum. She’s what my nan calls fast. Some of the girls say she’s a slag, but that’s unfair; she just has this reputation because boys find her attractive. What’s so wrong with that? I wouldn’t mind boys finding me attractive!
I decided that I would call Beth and tell her the whole story. In fact, to be honest, I was dying to tell her the whole story! Swear her to secrecy and soon it would be all over the place…guess what? Tamsin Mitchell’s got a boyfriend! And at least that way I wouldn’t run the risk of Katie having second thoughts.
I was sitting on the bus, on the point of dialling Beth’s number, when a text came through. It was from Katie.
U can tell ur mum ur with me OK. I wont split. Luv Katie.
How do people exist without friends??? I wasted no time in texting back:
Fank U, fank U. I will do the same 4 U.
She rang me almost immediately to say that I wouldn’t ever have to do the same for her “cos I wouldn’t ever go out with someone I didn’t want my mum to know about!”
“It’s only just this once,” I pleaded.
“That’s what you say now,” said Katie.
I couldn’t help feeling a little tingling of excitement…
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_2c51361d-1850-5d58-b535-76aec5ad69bf)
I spent practically the whole of Sunday morning trying to decide what to wear for my date with Alex.
First of all, I put on my best pair of jeans—skinny, with little diamantés—and a blue top. Then I thought maybe jeans might be a bit too boyish.
So I took off the jeans and put on a skirt, only the skirt didn’t go with the top, so I took off the top and put on a blouse, but the blouse had a weird flat sort of collar which made my neck stick out like a broom handle. (I have rather a long sort of neck, which Mum tries to make me feel better about by saying that it is elegant.)
Crossly I tore the blouse off and scrunched it up and shoved it in the back of a drawer. Why had I ever bought the stupid thing in the first place? Ellie wouldn’t have done. She’s hugely fashion conscious, is Ellie. Always designer labels and nothing older than about six months, cos if it’s older than six months it’s past its shelf life. And Mum encourages her! So does Dad; they both think looks are important. Which I guess they are, if you’re going to be an actress. If you’re just a boring boffin like me, then who cares? I’d always known I couldn’t compete with Ellie, so I’d just never bothered. I always told myself that looks didn’t matter. I might even have believed it…until now.
Suddenly, I was in a panic. I tried on another top, another skirt. A short skirt, a long skirt. A plain top, a stripy top. An off-the-shoulder top. A crop top. A dress. Another dress. Denim trousers, white; combat trousers, green. I even tried a pair of shorts! I was that desperate. In the end, with the entire contents of my wardrobe scattered across my bedroom floor, I went back to what I’d started with, the skinny jeans and the blue top.
At that point Ellie came battering at the door, demanding to be let in. She knows she has to knock, but it’s a totally empty gesture since she never actually waits to be invited. She just barges her way in.
She said, “Yikes! What’s all this?”
I said, “Clothes. What’s it look like? Don’t trample on them!”
“I can’t help it, there’s nowhere to walk. What are you doing? Are you going out?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just taking an interest. Where you going?”
“I’m going round to Katie’s, if you must know. What d’you want?”
“Um…” She pressed a finger to her nose, then giggled. “I can’t remember! Why are you getting all dressed up just to go to Katie’s?”
“Cos I want to. Get out!” I gave her a shove. “I’m busy!”
“Cool jeans,” said Ellie. “Oh—” She stuck her head back round the door. “I just remembered…I’m on telly in half an hour!”
On telly! Pur-lease. One of about five thousand faces in a crowd. She’d gone to the filming of some kids’ TV show. Now you’d think she was the big star.
“I’m sure they got me, I was smiling like crazy at the camera. Dad’s going to record it!”
“In that case, I can see it later,” I said. “Now, go! I’ve got things to do.”
I wished I could have told her I had a date, but she’d never have been able to keep quiet about it. She’d go and blurt it out to Mum and Dad, and then they’d want to know who I was seeing and where we’d met, and I just knew if I said “He works on the buildings down the road” Mum would freak. Dad too probably.
I filled in the rest of the time until lunch by putting on lipstick and taking it off again. Then putting it on again, then taking it off again. Then plaiting my hair, then unplaiting it. Then putting it up, then letting it down. God, this was frightening! I wasn’t fit to go out on dates. I just had no sense of style whatsoever.
I went down to lunch minus the lipstick, with my hair hanging loose. Then immediately after lunch I rushed back upstairs and did my lips with Topaz Glow and put my hair into a sort of complicated pleat thing. That was better! Now I looked sophisticated. I felt it was important to look sophisticated. Alex wasn’t just some silly little spotty schoolboy like everyone else went out with. He was practically grown-up!
“So when can we expect you back?” said Mum, as I left.
“Oh…I dunno!” How long should a first date last? Would we just have coffee and that would be that? Or would we…go for a walk, maybe?
“I mean, you’re not planning to spend the whole evening round at Katie’s? Because you know we’re going to Giovanni’s.”
I said, “Are we?”
“To celebrate Ellie’s first TV appearance.”
She had to be joking!
Mum gave a little giggle. “I know it’s daft, but the
camera really loves her…they went back to her twice!”
Big deal. But what did I care? I had a date! I assured Mum that I would be back in plenty of time.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to take you over to Katie’s? I can, if you like. And do you want one of us to pick you up?”
I said, “No!” And then, because it came out as a sort of yelp, I added, “It’s OK, honestly. I can get the bus,” and shot out of the gate and up the road as fast as my slinky strapless backless sandals would carry me. Which wasn’t very fast as I kept falling out of them.
Alex was already there, in Starbucks, waiting for me. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and looked just, like, totally gorgeous. There are some boys who can wear T-shirts and some who can’t. I think it is so wimpy, for instance, when boys have these thin, white, weedy arms without any muscles, so that the sleeves just flap. Alex had arms that filled the sleeves. And they were heavenly brown, from all the healthy outdoors work that he did.
He stood up when he saw me. I thought that was just so polite. Most boys, at least the ones I know, just have no manners at all. Although maybe I’m being unfair; if you actually went on dates with them they might act a bit differently, and not treat you like you’re just a piece of the furniture. Alex even pulled out a chair for me, which made me all flustered. I thought, God, why am I so pathetic??? Why couldn’t I manage to be elegant for once, and show a bit of maturity? It’s not much use, putting on lipstick and doing fancy things with your hair if you are then going to ruin it all by behaving like some kind of social retard.
At first, what with me being almost completely retarded—i.e. not saying a word—and Alex speaking so little English, it seemed like we were doomed to sit in awkward silence. I sought frantically for something to say, but my brain seemed to have gone into a state of permanent hibernation. If it hadn’t been for Alex, we might never have said a word from start to finish. He ordered two cappuccinos, then smiled at me across the table and said, “I glad you here. I think maybe you not come.”
I said, “W-why would you think that?”
“I not—” He waved a hand. “I not sure you like me. I not sure…you want see me. I hope—but!”
I said, “B-but?”
“If you not here…” He smiled again, and my heart started on its walloping act. “I understand, but I be unhappy. I happy when I see you! I wait ten minutes…quarter hour. I think, she not come—”
“You’ve been waiting quarter of an hour?” My voice suddenly squeaked into action. “I wasn’t late, was I?”
“You not late. I very stupid! I come early.”
I said, “I could have come earlier, if you wanted.”
“Then I be even more early!”
He grinned then, and I giggled. He was making such an effort in a foreign language I couldn’t just leave him to struggle along on his own. By the time we’d drunk our first cup of coffee we were having almost a real proper conversation. I asked Alex where he came from and he said, “I come from Poland, from a leetle veellitch.”
I didn’t understand at first what he meant; I couldn’t think what a leetle veellitch was. Alex said, “Leetle?” and held up a finger and thumb, about half a centimetre apart.
I said, “Oh! Little.”
He nodded and said, “Yes! Leetle. A leetle veellitch.”
I got it, then. “A little village.”
We both laughed. Alex said, “My accent…not good. You teach!” So then we practised saying “A little village” until he had it right.
“You good teacher,” said Alex. “You speak good. I understand! Sometime—not so good.” He made quacking motions with his fingers. “Like duck! I not follow. You like person on radio!”
I told him that was because of Mum and Dad being actors and always going on at us to speak clearly.
“You going be actor?” said Alex.
“Me?” I said. “No way!”
“Why no way? You pretty! You be good actor.”
I got all embarrassed when he said that. I wish I could accept compliments gracefully! I couldn’t even shake my hair over my face to hide my stupid blushes. Quickly, I changed the subject. I said, “Tell me about you! Are your mum and dad over here? Why did you come? Don’t you miss Poland?”
“I miss at first,” said Alex. “My mum and dad, they stay. I call every day. I very…what the word?”
I said, “Homesick?”
“Homesick! I very homesick. Now not so bad. Specially now not so bad.” He grinned as he said that, and I started blushing all over again!
So why did you leave?” I mumbled.
He hunched a shoulder. “No job. No money. My family…not rich. My dad, he not well. My mum, she work. Not earn much. No future. Not good. This—” he opened his arms—“this the place to be. Good job, earn money…pretty girl!”
He took my hand across the table. Hot tingles ran up my arm. A woman sitting nearby caught my eye and smiled at me. I smiled back.
“I want come last year,” said Alex, “but my mum, she say wait. She say when you seventeen, then you go. How old you?”
“Me? I’m…fifteen. Nearly sixteen!” The words were out before I could stop them. I would have given anything to take them back, but I wasn’t brave enough. It would make me look silly. But why did I say it? Why? Who would believe I was nearly sixteen? I did have my hair up, and I was wearing lipstick, and I know that I do look quite a bit older than my age, but…nearly sixteen?
I waited with heart hammering for Alex to laugh. Instead, quite seriously, he said, “So you still in school?”
I said, “Yes,” and pulled a face, as if I’d rather not have been.
Then he did laugh. He said, “Me, I free…no more school! No more lesson! Out in the world.”
“I wish I could be,” I said. It was absolutely not true. I like school! My tongue just seemed to be running away with me. Alex asked me if I’d like another coffee, but regretfully I said that I probably ought to be getting home. I could have rung Mum and pretended I was staying on at Katie’s, but I already felt nervous about lying to her. Alex wanted to walk me back, so I said “just to the corner” in case Mum or Dad—or Ellie! Just as bad—happened to be looking out of the window.
It seemed for a moment, as we got to the corner, that he might be going to kiss me. I think I wanted him to. That is…I wanted him to want to! After all, it was what people did on dates. But in the end he changed his mind. Or maybe he hadn’t ever been going to. Did that mean he didn’t fancy me? Oh, God, please don’t let it mean that! Please!
And then, very solemnly, he said, “You like see me again maybe?”
At which my heart gave this massive leap and I said, “Yessss!” and we immediately agreed that we would meet the following Saturday, same time, same place.
Alex said, “I look forward,” and he squeezed my hand, very hard. And that was when I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was about to fall in love…
I was aching to tell someone! Ellie was coming downstairs as I let myself in. She said, “Ooh, you’re all pink.”
I nearly cried, “Yes, I’m in love!” But I managed to restrain myself. It would have been absolutely fatal to let Ellie know.
Even as it was she felt the need to go and tell Mum that “Tamsin’s all pink…pink as a raspberry!” Which of course just made me go even pinker.
Mum laid a hand on my forehead and said, “I hope you’re not sickening for something.”
I gave a silly little giggle of excitement.
“You are just so weird,” said Ellie. She turned to Mum. “We don’t want her throwing up, or anything. D’you think she should stay at home this evening?”
I wouldn’t actually have minded staying at home. If I’d stayed at home I could have wallowed in the bath, listening to music and dreaming. But Mum wouldn’t hear of it.
“It’s a celebration,” she said. “We’ve all got to be there.”
So we all trooped up the road to Giovanni’s to eat pasta and drink champagne with Mum proudly explaining to anyone who would listen that “Ellie’s just been on the television!” She did it jokingly, but I could tell that underneath she was simmering with a quiet, mumsy-type pride. I have to admit, when I saw the thing later, Ellie did look good. She was a natural! And I guess it was quite something to have the camera pick her out twice, in such a huge crowd of people. I didn’t begrudge her her little moment of triumph. I might have done, once; but not any more. I didn’t begrudge her anything any more. She could be on TV as much as she liked. I was going out with Alex!
I made a resolve that I wouldn’t say anything to Katie even though I was bursting to let it all out. I could see that she didn’t want me splurging all over her. I was quite surprised, at first break on Monday, when she dragged me off to a quiet corner and said, “Right! Tell! What happened?”
I said, “Nothing really happened. We just sat and talked, and then…he walked me home!”
“Did you ask him in?”
“No! Mum still thinks I was round with you. Can I be round with you again next Saturday? Cos I’m seeing him again then!”
Slowly, as if giving me up as a lost cause, Katie shook her head.
“Pleeeze,” I said.
She sighed. “All right. If you must. What about our sleepover?”
“I could sleep over Friday.”
“And then go off next day and meet him.”
“Not until the afternoon.”
“A secret assignation.” She does choose good words. Of course, her mum is an English teacher. “So tell me what you’ve discovered about him.”
It was all the excuse I needed. I said, “Well…he’s only been here a little while, which is why he doesn’t speak much English. Yet. But he will, cos he’s really trying. He’s Polish. He comes from a leetle veellitch—”
“You what?” said Katie.
“A leetle veellitch. It’s the way he says it! It’s so cute. A leetle veellitch…”
“Yeah, OK, I get it! Go on. What else?”
“The other boy—the one with red-hair—”
“The rude one.”
“Yes. His name’s Marek. They came over together. The older guy, the one they work for, he came from the same village. But he came two years ago. Now he has his own business.”
“So how old is he? Your guy. Alex.”
It gave me such a tingle when she called him that. Your guy…
“He’s seventeen.”
“Are you sure?”
“What d’you mean, am I sure?”
“You sure he’s not older?”
“No! He’s not older…his mum said he couldn’t come over here till he was seventeen.”
Katie said, “My mum’d do her nut if she found I was going out with someone that age.”
I thought yes, well, Katie’s mum was a bit of a mother hen. Katie is her only child and she must have been at least forty when she had her. Unlike my mum, who was still a student when she had me. And would also do her nut, in all probability.
“Doesn’t he find you a bit young?”
I said, “No.” I didn’t confess that I’d lied about how old I was.
Katie said, “Maybe…” She stopped.
I said, “Maybe what?”
She nibbled on a fingernail. It’s her thing that she does, like me hooking my hair behind my ears. “Maybe next time he should bring his friend with him and I could come, as well, and keep an eye on you!”
I was taken aback, to say the least. She didn’t even like his friend; she thought he was rude. And why should she think I needed an eye kept on me?
She assured me that it was perfectly all right, she wouldn’t interfere. So why did she want to come? I didn’t want her there! She might be my best friend, but just because you’re best friends doesn’t mean you have to do everything together.
“Thing is,” I said, “Marek’s already going out with someone.” Liar, liar, pants on fire! “He’s not really free to go out with anyone else.”
“I don’t want to go out with him,” said Katie, nibbling and munching as hard as she could go. “I just thought I could come along to…watch over you.”
“Honestly,” I said, “I don’t need watching over. Stop fussing!”
“I can’t help it, I feel responsible for you.” She looked at me, hurt. “Wouldn’t you feel responsible for me, if I was going out behind my mum’s back with someone who was seventeen? I hope you would, cos it’s what friends are supposed to feel. And if they don’t, then they’re not being very good friends.”
I didn’t like the thought of Katie being upset. “Look,” I said, “maybe later?”
“Later what?” she mumbled, ungraciously, as she munched on another nail.
“Maybe later you could come along.” Except who would she bring? She didn’t know anyone. A foursome might be fun, but she was right: three was definitely a crowd. In my imagination, Alex and I were already kissing and cuddling and holding hands…how would we be able to do that with Katie sitting there scowling all on her own? Maybe, after all, she and Marek could come along. He couldn’t be too bad if he were a friend of Alex. I made a note to find out whether he really did have a girlfriend or whether I’d just made it up.
Katie took her finger out of her mouth and stuffed her hand under her armpit where she couldn’t get at it. “I hope you don’t think I want to spy on you,” she said.
I said no, of course I didn’t; though that was exactly what it felt like.
“I just think it would be…safer. I mean…seventeen! That’s practically grown-up.”
That was what was so exciting about it.
“He might want to do things.” She whispered it at me, earnestly. “Things you don’t want to do.”
I said, “Then I wouldn’t do them.”
“You might not be able to help yourself! You might get carried away. People do,” said Katie. “It’s the way it happens. You don’t mean it to. It’s the heat of the moment.”
Yes, and at that particular heat of the moment, thank God, the bell rang for the end of break. I was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable with this conversation. Loftily I informed Katie that she had a mind like one of those magazines you find in the dentist.
I told Katie that it was really nice of her to come, but honestly, I knew what I was doing!
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f14e2abb-95ec-5de7-8e16-374f9729bc9e)
Who says dreams can’t come true? On Saturday, when we met, Alex kissed me…French style, on the cheek. Really sophisticated! Maybe it’s what Polish people do. But I bet Jimmy Doohan wouldn’t! Or any of the boys in our class. Spotty things.
I know that’s not fair. They’re not all spotty and even the ones that are can’t help it. But they were just so young. I couldn’t imagine going out with anyone so young!
After we’d drunk our coffee we went for a walk and Alex held my hand. Electric shocks went shooting up my arm and zinging round my body. His hand was warm, and a little bit rough from all the building work that he did. I didn’t mind it being rough, I was just glad it was warm. I once had to hold hands with this boy called Roger Barlow in a drama class and it felt all damp and clammy. Horrid!
We walked along by the river, and I wished someone from school could see me. Preferably Beth, cos then the whole class would get to hear of it. Or maybe Kez Daniels. Kez is so pretty, and so popular, and she’s been going out with the same boy for, like, just about ever. They are deep in love and hold hands wherever they go, even at school. Nobody laughs; it’s too serious for that. I used to envy her. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, I even used to pretend to be her. Now I didn’t need to pretend. I was deliriously happy being me!
I just wanted someone to see me…but nobody did. I don’t know what I would have done if Ellie had appeared. My hand was glued so tight I’m sure I couldn’t have pulled it away. Fortunately, walking along by the river is not Ellie’s thing. I was safe for the moment…
“It nice, no?” Alex swung my hand as we walked. “Nice by the river…you like?”
I nodded, blissfully.
“Some girl, they no like walk. They say, no car, no go!”
I assured him that I wasn’t one of them. “I love walking!”
“Me, I like too. But one day I have car. I save money, then I buy. Then we go all over! All over country. You like come with me?”
My heart almost burst. Alex dropped my hand and put his arm round me, instead. “I very safe driver. You be safe with me.”
I felt safe. Completely safe. I think I would have gone anywhere with Alex.
Every day, now, both in the morning and again in the afternoon, he would be waiting for me at the building site and we’d stop and chat. Sometimes, if no one was about, he’d put his arm around me or hold my hand. Mum couldn’t understand why I was so eager to be on time for school. Not that I have ever been one of those people who always sneaks in late, but now I was racing out of the door before I’d properly finished my toast.
“What’s with all the mad enthusiasm? Have you got a secret admirer or something?”
Ha ha. Ellie sniggered; even Dad gave a little smile. Old boffin brain Tamsin with an admirer! What a joke.
One morning as I walked past the flats Alex wasn’t there. Marek explained that he was working indoors. And then he winked and said, “Wait! I get.” Putting both hands to his mouth he bellowed at an open window: “ALEXXXXX! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!”
It did make me a tiny bit panicky, in case any of our neighbours might be about. The couple who live next door to us, Mr and Mrs Waugh (Dad calls them the Woffs) have always seemed a bit suspicious of our family, what with Mum and Dad being actors and Dad quite often being at home all day instead of out doing a proper job. Mum and Mrs Woff quite often have long gossipy chats together, so any news would be bound to get back.
“I see Tamsin’s got herself a young man…works on the buildings.”
I was living on a knife edge! I could be found out at any moment. But when Marek called me Alex’s girlfriend, it made my stomach go all wonderfully hot and gooey. Just three short weeks ago I’d almost despaired of ever being anyone’s girlfriend. Now here was this rude boy yelling it out for all the world to hear—and suddenly I didn’t care if the Woffs were about. I didn’t care if Mum did discover Alex and me were an item!
Marek gave me this big grin and said, “He come double quick! Break his neck, he not careful.”
We both agreed that morning that we couldn’t wait until Sunday to be together. Alex suggested we go to a movie. He said there was one on locally that I would like.
“We go Friday, maybe?”
Friday was good. I could tell Mum I was staying on for choir practice then going round to Katie’s. Just so long as I was home by eight-thirty, cos if it was any later they’d want to come and pick me up.
“I know eight-thirty is really early,” I said, “but my gran’s coming, and she’s only here for one day, so I’ve got to spend a bit of time with her. She doesn’t come that often and she’d be really upset if she didn’t see me at all, so if we could, like, catch the early show?”
I gabbled the lies out so fast I’m not really sure how much of it Alex managed to grasp, but he didn’t seem to think it was odd that I had to get home. He nodded when I said “my gran”. We agreed to meet after school at the Pamino Bar in the high street, then go on afterwards to the cinema. I had to tell Katie, because of missing choir practice. She said, “Miss Morgan’s going to be furious!”
“Just tell her I’m going to the dentist,” I said.
“Me?” said Katie. “Why me?”
I said, “All right! I’ll tell her.”
“So where are you really going? Apart from meeting Alex.”
It thrilled me every time she just said his name! I explained that we were meeting in the Pamino Bar then going on to a movie. Big mistake. She immediately wanted to come with us.
“You can’t!” I said. “We can’t both miss choir practice.”
“Why not? If you can, I can!”
“I’ve got a good reason,” I said.
“So’ve I, I want to see the movie! I don’t see why I can’t come with you. What difference would it make? I’d be quiet as a mouse! You wouldn’t even know I was there.”
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