Baby Love, page 13
‘But I won’t know anyone,’ she said, looking stricken.
‘You’ll soon make friends,’ I said, though I knew that probably wasn’t going to happen.
‘I want you to be my friend,’ Moira insisted.
‘Well, I can still be your friend even though we’re not in the same class. I’ll look out for you at dinner time if you like,’ I said, and then added, ‘though I might be with my own friend, Nina.’
I wished I hadn’t said that. It was as if I was tempting fate. Maybe Nina would be ignoring me completely, back best friends with Patsy. Though she had phoned me yesterday afternoon, asking if I’d enjoyed my coach trip with all the old darlings.
She was already in the classroom, chatting to Patsy, both of them perched on the same desk, their brown legs dangling. But Nina jumped off when she saw me and greeted me warmly, actually throwing her arms round me though she wasn’t usually physically demonstrative.
‘Hey you! Ye gods, you look positively normal! I thought you’d be wearing baggy trousers and wide-fit sandals after your coach trip experience!’ she said.
‘What’s that you’re saying, dearie? Speak up, I swallowed my deaf aid by accident,’ I said, doing a daft old-lady imitation.
Patsy looked blank but Nina laughed and started up her own monologue about losing her false teeth and how she’d had to gum her way through the nice pork chop she’d bought for supper in her string shopping bag. Patsy giggled hysterically now and I saw how it was going to be, both of us vying for Nina’s attention.
Our new form teacher was Mrs Morris, who had curly hair, a big bust like the prow of a ship, and milk-bottle legs that she planted firmly apart. You couldn’t chat too much when she was talking because she was very strict, but you could risk passing a quick note when she was writing on the blackboard. I scribbled a message to Nina and passed it along to her. She grinned and wrote back, lobbing her note quickly in my direction. Then Patsy wrote to Nina and she wrote back. There was a whole flurry of notes, but Patsy and I didn’t write once to each other.
We went to the cloakrooms together at break time and shared our snacks. I had a thin slice of Mum’s jam sponge in a cellophane bag, Nina had a packet of raisins, and Patsy had a Turkish Delight. It was in two sections and I thought she’d give one to Nina and keep one for herself, but she gave me a bite from each first. It tasted overly sweet, sickly, like Patsy herself.
We ate lunch together in the canteen, Patsy and I sitting either side of Nina. We were like the Three Marys in the Bunty comic. I saw Moira standing in the middle of the room, clutching her tray and looking bewildered, not knowing where to sit. I felt a pang, but there was no room on our table, and first years never sat with fourth years anyway. I concentrated on my mashed potato, and when I looked up Moira had vanished, swallowed up by the crowd.
When we were outside in the playground Nina linked arms with Patsy and me, and we walked round together, awkwardly joined. Nina talked the most, telling Patsy all about the different boys she’d met this summer. She mentioned our day at the Lido and I started prickling all over. She was making out she and that Yves had had some kind of grand romance.
‘What about you, Laura? Didn’t you get off with anyone?’ Patsy asked.
‘No!’ I said hastily.
‘Yes, you did!’ said Nina. ‘She went off with Yves’ friend Léon, bold as anything, and then went all coy about what happened next.’
‘Really!’ said Patsy, giggling. ‘I didn’t think you even liked boys, Laura! So did he kiss you?’
‘No!’
‘Then why are you blushing?’ she said.
‘I’m not. I’m just hot,’ I said lamely, fanning myself in a ridiculous manner.
I caught a glimpse of Moira shifting from foot to foot on the edge of a clump of first years. No one seemed to be taking any notice of her. I waved to her to give her some encouragement.
‘Who are you waving at?’ Nina asked.
‘Just one of the first years. She looks so sad,’ I mumbled.
‘Which one? Oh, I see, the little redhead in the giant blazer?’ said Nina.
‘What does she look like?’ said Patsy. ‘Where do they find some of these kids? I bet she’s from Shanty Town. She’s probably got nits. Or worse.’
I burned all over. Nina looked at me. ‘Poor little kid,’ she said quickly, trying to smooth things over.
‘Yes. She is poor, so that’s why she looks a bit odd. And she’s little, but she can hardly help that. And so what if she’s from Shanty Town?’ I said crossly, and hurried away from them.
‘Laura!’ Nina called. I heard her muttering to Patsy, who gave an embarrassed shriek.
I went up to Moira. ‘Hey, Moira! How are you getting on?’ I asked.
She looked at me so thankfully I could have cried. ‘OK,’ she muttered, though she looked anything but. The other girls stared, surprised that a fourth year was bothering to talk to her.
‘Come over here,’ I said, tugging at Moira’s arm. Her wrist was as thin as a Twiglet and looked as if it would snap if I pulled any harder.
She came obediently, giving me a radiant smile. ‘I told them you was my friend but they thought I was fibbing,’ she said, giving a skip.
‘Well, they know better now,’ I said, feeling bad because I probably wouldn’t have come over to her if Patsy hadn’t been such a cow.
Nina had obviously told her where I lived now, and Patsy would likely spread it all round the class to get back at me. See if I care, I thought, though I did care, desperately. I took Moira to the little alcove behind the bike sheds where I used to hang out before I made any friends.
‘This is my special hiding place when I want a bit of peace and quiet,’ I said. ‘It can be yours too if you like.’
‘Oh, thanks, Laura!’ she said, as if I’d said she could share my mansion.
I leaned against the brick wall and she did too. She seemed a little fidgety, still shifting her feet. ‘What’s up?’ I asked.
‘I want the toilet!’ she said. ‘But when I tried to get back in the school after me dinner this old bossy-boots said I had to stay out and play. I’m desperate!’
‘Ah. We’re supposed to go before we have lunch. To wash our hands,’ I said.
‘But I don’t need to wash my hands – they’re still clean as clean, I just want to wee!’ said Moira.
‘I’ll take you,’ I said. ‘Come on.’
She trotted beside me eagerly, like a little puppy. It was Mrs Morris on playground duty, standing near the girls’ entrance. I was worried now. She seemed so strict.
‘Excuse me, Mrs Morris,’ I said timidly.
‘Ah! Laura?’ she said. I was impressed she knew my name already. You could tell if the teachers cared about you or not by the speed with which they learned your name. Some of them still got you muddled up with someone else by the end of term.
‘This is Moira, she’s a first year, and she didn’t realize you had to go to the toilets as soon as the bell goes. Could I possibly take her inside now and show her where to go?’ I asked, using my poshest voice. I was good at it now.
Mrs Morris sighed, but she stood aside to let us into the school.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said.
‘Thanks, miss,’ Moira chirped, giving a little hop.
I took her to the toilets. She was delighted with them. ‘They’re so clean and shiny!’ she said.
I couldn’t help wondering what her own toilet at home was like. ‘So, the lessons this morning were OK?’ I asked her. ‘How did you get on in maths?’
‘It was OK. I quite like sums and these were different new ones. But French is a bit weird. I can learn them words but I can’t say them the proper way yet,’ said Moira.
‘Neither can I,’ I said.
‘And I haven’t got the right clothes for PE’ she went on. ‘I just used to tuck me skirt into me pants before, but the PE lady says I have to have proper shorts. And she turned her nose up at my plimsolls! I’m supposed to have a different sort, would you believe!’
‘Oh dear. They’re so fussy here. As if it matters! Will your mum be able to get you some?’
‘Oh yeah. And the proper school blouse and a satchel and a fountain pen and a party frock and a fur-trimmed coat and my own bedroom,’ said Moira. I must have been looking at her pityingly because she grinned and said, ‘That was a joke.’
‘I might have some old school shorts at home. And some other stuff. You can have them if you want,’ I said.
She threw her arms round me, though her hands were still soaking wet. ‘You’re the best friend ever,’ she said.
It was so much easier being Moira’s friend than it was being Nina’s. I wondered if she was going to gang up with Patsy and laugh at me now because I came from Shanty Town. But though Nina could be horribly mean, she wasn’t actually a snob. At the start of afternoon lessons she gave me a hug.
‘Sorry about Patsy and her big gob. She’s sorry too, though she’s too embarrassed to tell you,’ Nina said.
Patsy didn’t look particularly sorry, but she screwed her finger into her temple to indicate she’d been stupid to say that stuff about Shanty Town. We were an uneasy trio still, and Patsy and I both had to grin and bear it.
We were both invited back to Nina’s house after school. Moira was waiting patiently for me at the school gate – the first years were let out ten minutes before us. I felt a pang when I saw her face light up.
‘Oh dear, here’s your little friend,’ said Nina.
I took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, Moira, I’m going round to my friend Nina’s house today. You know the way home, don’t you? And I’ll look out for you tomorrow morning,’ I said.
‘Yes, OK,’ she said, not making any fuss, but she drooped horribly.
‘You can come round to my house too, if you like,’ said Nina.
I wasn’t sure if she really meant it. But Moira shook her head anyway. ‘No thanks, got to get back,’ she said, and ran off, her dirty duffel bag thumping on the back of her huge blazer.
I should have gone after her. But I wasn’t really her friend. I’d only got talking to her that very morning. Nina was my actual friend, and if I didn’t re-establish my friendship with her I’d be left with no one. Moira would pal up with other first years soon enough. I reasoned like that inside my head all the way to the Bertrams’ house until I’d almost convinced myself.
Mrs Bertram gave me a warm welcome, pressing a chocolate brownie on me, and asking me all about my holiday. She was just as nice to Patsy, of course. Little Richard greeted me with a great whoop and started chatting at great speed, telling me all about his new roller skates.
I went outside with him so he could skate along the pavement and back.
‘Watch this! And this! Look, one-footed!’ Little Richard yelled and immediately keeled over.
I hurried to pick him up.
‘Oh goodness, Little Richard, look at your knees!’ I exclaimed.
‘It doesn’t hurt a bit,’ he insisted, as blood trickled down into his socks.
‘Come inside and your mum will get you mopped up,’ I said, holding onto him.
‘Will you hold my hand if she puts that purple stuff on?’ said Little Richard.
‘Of course,’ I promised.
I loved it that little kids like Richard and Moira really liked me. I seemed to have the knack of getting on with them. When I grew up maybe I did want to marry and have children. Then the bright sunlight dazzled my eyes and everything started going black. I started gabbling, ‘How much is that doggie in the window? …’
‘Laura? What’s the matter?’ Little Richard asked anxiously. ‘What are you muttering?’
‘Nothing! Come on, little pal, indoors. You’re so brave. I’d be howling if I’d skinned both my knees,’ I said quickly.
Mrs Bertram sighed when she saw the state of him. ‘Again?’ she said. ‘Come and sit on the draining board and I’ll get you mopped up, you silly boy.’
‘It’s probably my fault,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have encouraged him.’
‘Nonsense. He was determined to show off to you,’ said Mrs Bertram, smiling at me.
I held Little Richard’s hand while his mother dabbed gentian violet on his sore knee and then joined Nina and Patsy upstairs. I heard them whispering together, Patsy giggling in her irritating manner. Were they whispering about me? Then I heard Nina say, ‘Shut up, she’s my friend!’ That made me feel a lot better. I crept further away and then walked up to her bedroom door again, stomping a little so they could hear me.
‘Hi there,’ I said, opening the door.
My heart sank when I saw they were both squashed up on Nina’s dressing-table stool, experimenting with eye make-up.
‘Hey, what do you think, Laura?’ Nina said, batting thickly caked eyelashes at me.
‘Oh, very glamorous,’ I said insincerely.
‘Here, I’ll do yours,’ she offered, waving a little wand brush at me.
I let her have a go, but I looked as if I had spiders attacking my eyes.
Then they started on hairstyles. Patsy’s mother ran a hairdressing salon and Patsy helped out there on Saturdays. She knew how to do French pleats. She turned Nina’s shiny black hair into a hard helmet, until the smell of hairspray made my eyes water and my mascara smudged. This was all so boring. I had much more fun with Little Richard.
I heard someone walking along the landing and the thump of a bag being dumped on the floor. I was pretty certain it was Daniel. I hoped he might put his head round the door to say hello, but he didn’t come near us. I sat it out for a while and then yawned and stretched.
‘It’s getting quite late. Shall we just make a start on our homework?’ I said.
They groaned at me. ‘You little swot!’ said Patsy.
I knew it was a pathetic suggestion on my part, but I couldn’t help it. Patsy wasn’t the slightest bit interested in doing well at school. She actually said, ‘I’m not the brainy type,’ as if it was something to be proud of. She was only at the Grammar because her parents paid for her. Nina was ultra-brainy, but she didn’t need to work at it. We had double homework, plus a whole long list of French verbs to learn, but she could flash through it all in less than an hour.
I sighed. ‘Well, I’d better be going anyway.’
‘OK, swotty,’ said Patsy.
‘Stop that,’ said Nina, digging her in the tummy with her hairbrush – but she didn’t ask me to stay longer.
‘Bye then. See you tomorrow,’ I said.
I went out of Nina’s bedroom feeling depressed. I walked towards the stairs. Daniel’s door was ajar.
‘Bye, Pat-a-cake,’ he called.
Pat-a-cake! ‘I’m not Patsy,’ I said.
‘Oh! Laura!’ Daniel came to the door. He’d taken his school tie off and rolled up his shirt sleeves. His hair was all over the place and yet he still looked great. ‘I smelled that awful hairspray so I automatically assumed you were Patsy. Hey, are you all right? You look as if you’ve been crying.’
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, probably smudging them even more.
‘No, Nina’s just been experimenting on me,’ I said.
‘Well, watch out! Anyway, how are you? Haven’t seen you for a bit. You were away somewhere, weren’t you?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Wales. That’s why I couldn’t come to your tennis club,’ I said.
‘Oh yes, I remember,’ he said, though it looked as if he’d forgotten all about it. He paused. Then he said, ‘Well, what about this Saturday then? Call round here at two o’clock?’
I nodded as casually as I could, but I danced up the street on the way home.
I worried about not having the right clothes, I worried that I was still so shy with Daniel, and I worried that it might take me a while to get the hang of the game. But I ran to the Bertrams’ house joyfully at one thirty, wanting to be there in plenty of time.
I had to knock at their front door several times. I could see both Bertram cars so I knew they weren’t out. Little Richard came to the door at last. He gave a cheerful cry when he saw me.
‘Laura! Whoopee! I can do proper wheelies on my skates now,’ he said excitedly. ‘I’ll show you in a bit. We’re all in the garden just now.’
They were sitting on benches either side of a long table in their back garden, still having their lunch. It wasn’t just the Bertram family. Patsy was there too, with her mother and father and an older sister, Lizzie. Patsy was pretty in a vacant doll-type way. Lizzie was dazzling, in a kittenish kind of way, like Brigitte Bardot. She was sitting next to Daniel.
‘Hey, what are you doing here, Laura?’ said Nina.
‘This is a lovely surprise,’ said Nina’s mother, politely inserting the kind adjective in front of surprise.
Daniel hadn’t told them about our tennis date! He was looking surprised too, as if he’d forgotten all about it!
‘I’m sorry, I thought … but I must have got it wrong,’ I mumbled, blushing. ‘I’ll go now.’
Nina was staring at my white sleeveless blouse and shorts. ‘Hey, you’ve come to play tennis!’ she said.
‘Oh yes, tennis!’ said Daniel, smacking his temple with the palm of his hand. ‘I told you to come round, didn’t I? Come and sit down for ten minutes, and then I’ll take you up to the club. You’ll lend Laura a racquet, won’t you, Nina?’
‘Sure,’ said Nina. ‘Budge up then, Patsy, make room for her.’
‘There’s plenty of salad left. And fruit tart. Help yourself, Laura,’ said Dr Bertram (female), pouring me a glass of lemonade.
There was enough food to feed the whole street: big blue bowls of different salads, chicken and ham and egg mayonnaise, crunchy bread, and two different fruit tarts, raspberry and apple, with a jug of thick cream. I’d had half a Spam sandwich before I left home because I was too excited to eat.
‘Thank you, but I’m absolutely full,’ I lied.
‘Isn’t it wonderful that this heavenly weather is lasting,’ said Patsy’s mother. She looked rather like a film star too, but her face was harder, and she wore too much make-up, though it was expertly applied. ‘Don’t you just love lunching al fresco?’
