Girls, Muddy, Moody Yet Magnificent (10 page)

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19

I was just planning to run away from home and not speak to my mum again for five years when the Land Rover arrived, with Brendan driving and Oliver sitting in the passenger seat. I was still reeling from the idea that Chloe might go to Newquay without me, so for once I hardly registered Oliver’s presence.

‘Hop in, girls!’ He grinned. ‘Who’s for a picnic? I’ve brought a few bits and pieces myself this time, and as it’s clouding over I thought we could have it in the hay barn.’

Oliver jumped out and helped me into the back again, while Chloe jumped into the cab alongside Brendan. I was still scared in case she had started to plan a trip to Newquay without me, but I was a hundred per cent behind her in her attempt to pull Brendan. He was such a lovely bloke.

When we got to the barn, the guys helped us up on to the huge pile of bales. Oliver’s hand was warmer today. I had held hands with him twice now! Maybe, if I made sure that every day involved some climbing, I could hold his hand every day for the next month. What a shame we weren’t working in the Himalayas.

I’d brought some French bread, hummus and satsumas; Chloe had some ham sandwiches and olives; and Brendan produced some pepperoni and spring onions. Oliver had fruit again, and a packet of crisps – smoky bacon. So that was his favourite! I planned to rub a few smoky bacon crisps on to my pulse points next time we were due to meet.

‘I’m not sure about spring onions,’ said Chloe nervously. ‘They make your breath smell.’

‘Well, you’ll be all right,’ promised Brendan with a naughty smile, ‘as long as you’re not planning on kissing anybody. Zoe, would you like one?’

‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘They’re a bit strong.’

‘So you’re planning on kissing somebody?’ twinkled Brendan.

‘No way!’ I grinned, blushing. I didn’t look anywhere near Oliver. I didn’t even look at his boots.

Chloe had prepared jam sandwiches for herself as usual, and brought a little Munch Bunch yogurt.

‘What’s with all this nursery food, Chloe?’ asked Brendan. ‘Jam sandwiches again?’

‘I have to eat jam sandwiches every day,’ said Chloe nervously. ‘I’m hypo-allergenic.’

I wasn’t sure this was the right word. Brendan raised his eyebrows.

‘I’m interested in wild food,’ he said. ‘Nettle soup, that kind of thing.’

Chloe pulled a disgusted face. I started to worry that Chloe’s food fads would put Brendan off. I would have to force her to swallow a whole oak tree in front of him – that should do the trick.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot!’ He smiled. ‘I picked some fresh watercress just now, down in the stream. Here . . .’ He reached inside his rucksack and brought out a rather muddy carrier bag.

‘Has that been washed?’ asked Oliver suspiciously, peering at it.

‘It’s been washed in the stream!’ Brendan assured him. ‘Its whole life has been one continuous rinsing.’

Chloe backed off – even sitting down, she can refuse food in a way which is almost acrobatic. And Oliver shook his head sadly, as if the watercress was a big mistake.

Brendan was cramming it into his mouth and crunching away and saying how wonderful and peppery it was.

‘What about liver fluke?’ asked Oliver.

‘What’s liver fluke?’ asked Chloe.

‘It’s an interesting disease,’ said Oliver. ‘It’s a parasite called
Fasciola hepatica
which has two hosts. First it parasitises a snail, then it moves on to cattle, sheep, or humans. It attacks the liver.’

‘Ugh!’ shrieked Chloe.

‘It’s no picnic.’ Oliver shook his head doubtfully.

‘You’re wrong there, Olly!’ grinned Brendan, still chewing. ‘A picnic is precisely what it is! My picnic!’

Brendan was so obviously trying to make Oliver look like a big girl’s blouse with his macho gobbling of dangerous wild food. But I found Oliver’s quiet scientific manner a turn-on. I so loved it when he talked Latin! We would call our first son Caesar!

At this moment my phone rang. ‘Hello, old boy! How’s agriculture?’ It was Dad. This could only mean one thing. He must have persuaded Mum to let me go to Newquay. I crawled away into a semi-private corner of the hayloft.

‘Listen, Zoe, I’ve had a brilliant idea,’ said Dad. ‘We could
all
go to Newquay! Together!
En famille
!’

My heart plummeted violently through the bales of hay and the rocks beneath until it arrived at the molten centre of the earth. ‘I haven’t actually run it past the boss,’ Dad prattled on, ‘but it could be the answer! We would rent a cottage somewhere, and you and Chloe could share a room. There’s loads of interesting things down there – I’d no idea. I’ve been surfing the websites. There’s a thing called the Saints Trail – you know how Mum loves walking – and loads of wonderful old houses and gardens – there’s even a Japanese garden and bonsai nursery – and the history is fantastic! The history of pilchard fishing and mining, and sacred sites, not to mention King Arthur’s castle just down the coast.’

I was drowning in the shock and horror. To think that only a moment earlier I had been stressing out over eating a few leaves of watercress! Now I was prepared to eat whole streams full of watercress, complete with slugs, leeches and live trout, if I could only escape from the threatening horror of a family holiday to Newquay.

I could imagine it in vivid, toe-curling detail.
Oh, hey, guys, sorry I can’t come surfing today but we’re going on a seven-mile walk with my mum and dad to visit the ruins of the pilchard mines and after that Mum wants to visit the Bonsai monastery.

What could be worse? Apart from one’s parents actually plunging eagerly into the surf themselves, and tagging along when night fell and we wanted to go clubbing.

‘Dad . . .’ It was so hard to say this. ‘It’s really kind of you to think of this . . .’

‘Kind?’ exploded Dad. ‘It would be a treat for me, old boy! I wonder if they do wetsuits in my size?’

At the thought of this horror I almost literally retched. ‘We’ll have to talk about this when I get home,’ I said. ‘I can’t talk now, sorry.’

‘Oh, are you working?’ asked Dad. ‘Sorry. I thought you’d be on your lunch break. I was just so excited when I thought of it, I had to tell you right away.’

‘Talk when I get home, right?’ I said, briskly terminating the conversation.

I rang off and turned round. Oliver was lying on his back and staring at the roof of the barn, but Brendan was
actually holding Chloe’s hand
!

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20

‘Look, something’s bitten me, Zoe!’ Chloe held out her hand. ‘Brendan thinks it’s a sort of little insect that lives in the hay.’ I looked at her hand with its tiny red swelling.

‘Hmm, could be fatal,’ I suggested. ‘Maybe we should get out of this barn and go back to town, where we belong.’

‘Oh no, Zoe!’ giggled Chloe. ‘I lurve the countryside! Anyway there’s loads of pests in town. I could live in this barn. Hey! Do you think Martin and Sarah would let us spend the night here?’ She turned to Brendan, and her eyes were very, very shiny in that tell-tale way which has to do with trying to sweep a guy off his feet.

Brendan looked dubious. ‘Ah, there’d be loads of little creatures biting you all night,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘You could protect us!’ Chloe grinned. ‘Or be on hand to administer first aid! You come too, Oliver!’

Oliver shook his head. ‘I’m not brilliant in this kind of environment,’ he said. ‘Because of hay fever.’

‘And you’re not going to get me away from my attic,’ said Brendan. ‘After I’ve been working out of doors all day the last thing I want to do is have fleas and rats jumping over me all night.’

Chloe screamed. I had to admire the way Brendan had got out of this tight corner. And I also had
to admire the way, if Chloe fancied a guy, she’d find some excuse to spend the night with him without it looking too saucy.

‘I don’t fancy it either,’ I said. ‘Things that are lovely in the daylight have a way of going sinister after dark.’

Oliver gave me a look for a split second, and my insides did another of those secret somersaults. It was as if we shared a moment of understanding. I’m not sure quite what we were understanding, though. It might have been that I was way more intriguing and desirable than my crazy friend. It may just have been that he had forgotten my name.

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When I got home that night, Dad came hurtling out of the kitchen and hustled me into the dining room.

‘I’m doing Jamie’s fish-with-olives dish!’ he whispered. ‘That’ll get her in the mood for Newquay!’ Then he remembered some little cookery thing he needed to do and dashed off back to the kitchen.

I ran upstairs. I had to discuss the crisis with Tam. She was sitting on the floor of her room surrounded by lingerie.

‘Shut the door!’ she whispered. I obeyed, and then sat on the bed.

‘Dad’s got this terrible idea about us all going to Newquay!’ I warned her. ‘We’ve got to head him off and make him see it would literally be the most appalling holiday in history.’

‘Never mind that for a minute!’ she said impatiently. ‘Tell me, which has more sex appeal? The red lace or the leopard print?’ She held up two bras.

‘Don’t drag me into it,’ I said, and threw myself back on to her bed, where her disapproving old teddy bear, Captain, was sitting bolt upright with a face like thunder. I gave him a hug. We would be prudes together. ‘I’m warning you, if we don’t act fast, Mum and Dad will be dragging us off on the holiday from hell.’

‘Don’t worry, Mum’ll never buy it,’ said Tam with a lazy yawn. She wasn’t really concentrating. She was smiling a secret smile and staring out of the window. Sunlight slanted in across her head, turning her hair into a halo of gold. She looked like an angel, whereas I was sure I resembled an overweight fiend.

At dinner, Dad waited until Mum had had three mouthfuls of the divine sole with olives, herb and lemon, and then he pounced.

‘I’ve cracked it,’ he announced. I noticed he was wearing the shirt Mum had given him last birthday and loads of Ralph Lauren aftershave. ‘We
all
go to Newquay!’ he announced with panache, beaming at Mum. ‘You and I will dine at Fifteen – you know, Jamie’s restaurant on the beach – while the girls frolic in the coffee bars or whatever young people do these days.’

Mum put down her knife and fork, looking daggers. ‘I am not, repeat NOT, going to Newquay, Jeremy!’ she snapped. ‘I wouldn’t be seen dead in Newquay! It’s OFF the agenda!’

Tam tried to look as fierce as Mum, but with kinder overtones. ‘And I’ve got to go and see Parv that week,’ she said firmly. ‘Sorry, Dad, I know you’re trying to sort things out for Zoe, and it’s brilliant of you, but this idea won’t work.’

‘We could go to somewhere near Newquay,’ pleaded Dad. ‘A cottage somewhere – near Bodmin Moor. There’s all those lovely gardens down there – Lanhydrock . . . The Eden Project . . .’

‘Jeremy!’ yelled Mum. ‘I am NOT going anywhere near Newquay!’

I was watching with baited breath. It was so ironical. There was Dad batting gallantly for England, trying desperately to fix me up with the holiday from hell.

‘If you want to be really useful,’ Mum went on, ‘get online and find us a flat in Florence for a week. Somewhere in the Santo Spirito area would be ideal. Or Snowdonia. Or Paris.’

Dad gave me an apologetic look. He looked quite spaniel-like with disappointment. I pulled a face which attempted to convey graceful thanks for trying, while concealing immense relief that he’d failed.

‘Sorry, Zoe,’ muttered Dad. ‘At least I tried. Maybe you can go to Newquay next year.’

‘I’m going to Newquay this year,’ I said quietly.

Mum looked up with a sudden laser-like flash of the eyes.

‘Zoe!’ she snapped. ‘You are NOT going to Newquay on your own! You are coming with us even if Tam can’t!’

‘Tam could easily go to see Parv another week,’ I objected. Tam gave me a horrid glare. I was treading on thin ice, but I was determined to make her feel uncomfortable. Why should she duck out of the family hol so easily, leaving me to scream with boredom alone?

‘I have to see Parv that week,’ she snapped. ‘She’s going away with her family the week after. I’ve promised her dad I’ll watch his cricket tournament.’ Tam had the grace to blush at this series of outrageous lies. ‘And I’m worried about Parv. She’s never completely got over that glandular fever.’

‘Hasn’t she?’ said Mum with a hypochondriac’s pounce. ‘What symptoms has she got, then?’

‘Oh, tiredness,’ said Tam, shrugging. ‘Poor old Parv. She needs a bit of TLC.’

‘More sole, old boy?’ Dad offered me second helpings. That’s what he always does when he loses a battle with Mum. Overeat. I declined his kind offer. I had to be lean and mean. I had to come up with a miracle.

And then, suddenly in a flash, I thought of it: the perfect solution to the Newquay dilemma. Biting my lip as I mulled it over, I wondered if it would work out. I finished dinner and went upstairs and lurked on the landing for a few seconds, planning my speech.

Downstairs I could hear one of our
Miss Marple
DVDs. Mum always finds it soothing to watch 1950s murder. I could also hear her talking to Dad occasionally, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. It sounded fairly chilled out, though.

I knocked stealthily on Tam’s door. ‘Come in!’ she called. I slipped inside. She looked up from a huge pile of dresses.

‘I’m sorting out some of my old stuff,’ she said. ‘I’m going to sell the best things on eBay, cos I still owe Dad over two hundred.’ For months Tam had been paying Dad back for quietly rescuing her from her money crisis earlier in the year – when she’d spend all her student grant on making her college room look like the Ritz. ‘The rest of it can go to the charity shop,’ she went on. ‘Help me decide!’

Then she looked up and saw my determined expression. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

‘Look, Tam,’ I said. ‘I know this is asking a lot, but if you were prepared to come to Newquay with me and Chloe, it would solve everything – Mum wouldn’t freak out if we were with you and we could stay anywhere we wanted. It would only be for a week, and we’d be so, so grateful.’

Tam waved the idea away breezily, shaking her head. ‘No way, Zoe!’ she drawled, as if it was out of the question. ‘Sorry, but you’ll have to work this out on your own.’

‘But I got you out of your mess when you spent all your money at uni! I’ve never asked you for a favour in return and I just want to have a nice holiday with my friend. And it would be ten times nicer if you were there, anyway!’

Tam frowned and chewed her lip. ‘I’m really sorry, Zoe, and I really wish I could help, but it’s impossible. Ed and I have such little time together as it is –’

‘Oh,
him
again!’ I snarled. Suddenly it hit me. There was only one thing left to do, and it made me feel sick. I hated the thought of doing something so mean to Tam, but I was infuriated by her refusal to even consider helping me out, just because she was so wrapped up in her goddam affair. I took a deep breath.

‘OK,’ I said, screwing up my nerve in my body and trying not to think too closely about what I was saying, ‘fine. Unless you come with us, I’m telling Mum and Dad about Ed.’