Cross Her Heart(25)
He offers me a lift, but I say I’ll get a taxi. He has a long drive ahead of him as it is. The restaurant orders one for me, and we go outside and wait in the cool summer night.
He stays with me until the cab pulls up. ‘Can we do this again?’
‘Stand outside in the cold?’ I smile. ‘Sure.’
‘Very funny. This. Dinner. Drinks.’
Although the other D word, date, hangs in the air, I find myself nodding. ‘I’d like that.’
He beams and leans forward. I turn my head sideways at the last minute and his lips land on my cheek. They’re soft and warm. ‘Goodnight,’ I say. My heart is all panicked wings, but it feels good. ‘Drive safely.’
‘Have fun with Ava at the River Festival tomorrow.’
‘Ha!’ I get into the car. ‘I doubt I’ll see too much of her.’
‘Well, have fun with Marilyn. I’m sorry I can’t be there.’
The door closes and I sink back against the leather.
‘Good night?’ the driver asks as we turn out on the main road.
‘Yes,’ I answer, as I realise I can’t stop smiling. ‘Yes, it was.’
19
AVA
The River Festival is one of the highlights of the town’s year. Everyone at school always bitches about how lame it is, but we love it really, under the skin. Like us though, it’s changed over the years. Where it used to be a few stalls and games and maybe a canoe race, it now covers the fields on both sides of the river, the two old footbridges serving to connect them, one to go one way, one to come back. There’s a full funfair, several music stages, clowns and fortune tellers, art displays, stalls to buy stuff, a huge cafe marquee run by the WI that only the old people use, several beer tents and loads of vans serving any kind of fast food you could want.
I love the festival. We all do, though we would rather die than admit it. We swagger through the crowds, hips thrust forward, glossy lips slightly parted, eyes locked behind our mirrored shades. The air is filled with the shrieks of kids and mums. The past couple of years I haven’t come down until about four when the little ones are being dragged home, but after too much cheap wine last night, I – we – needed to get out in the sunshine to blow away the clinging cobwebs of hangover. The boys brought the wine and after a few glasses I didn’t even mind snogging Courtney. I told him my period was here – it still isn’t – but I gave him a handjob to get him off my case. Lizzie and Jack got off together but I think that was just the drink. Jack’s not her type at all. They’re all so immature anyway. I feel a fizz in my lower belly. A week until I meet him.
‘Let’s find somewhere down by the riverbank,’ Jodie murmurs, ‘where we can laze in the sun for a bit. What do you think?’
We all agree. None of our stomachs are quite ready for the rides yet. We’ll need some food and Cokes first.
The boys are coming down later, but I’m glad of this time of only girls. We’re not even sure we’ll meet up with them. After last night, Lizzie’s not keen, and I’m finding the glamour of their roughness compared to the KEGS boys is wearing off. We come from different tribes. Under the skin we might not be so different, but at our age it’s only everything on the surface that matters. We get up early and swim. They go to bed late and smoke weed. They watch football. We watch Glee reruns. Maybe it’s only sex that draws us together, I think as we wander closer to the river. Maybe it will be the same way with him. Once the lust wears off, I’ll be bored. It’s an alien thought. The girls make the boys seem immature, he makes MyBitches seem immature. One week. One week to go.
It’s hard to keep the smile off my face. Me and Mum are almost back to normal today. Her weird mood of last week seems to have faded and she was almost glowing this morning so her work dinner must have gone well. She gave me an extra twenty quid and for once I said I didn’t need it, but she insisted I take it anyway in case everything was more expensive this year. It made me feel warm inside. Close to her again. Me and her against the world, even as the world pulls me away from her. She’s still my mum. I do love her, cautious and careful as she is.
Picnic blankets are everywhere, like quilt patches laid out for sewing. The festival is busy although it’s not officially being opened until one. These days people arrive well before eleven and if all the rides aren’t quite open, there’s food and drinks and stalls to wander through. This year’s official guest is that hot guy from Hollyoaks who won Strictly Come Dancing last year and constantly seems to be in every magazine ever. It said in all the flyers he’d be signing pictures and doing photographs too. Lizzie wants one. We told her she could queue alone.
We find a spot a little way from the families where the bank is a steep drop to the water and the kids can’t paddle, and I flop to the ground, the grass cool and ticklish against my bare legs.
‘I’m hungry,’ Jodie says.
‘Starved,’ Lizzie agrees. ‘We should’ve stopped at Maccy D’s. I’m also busting for a wee.’
‘I can’t be arsed to move,’ I say. It’s true. I just want to sit and let my thoughts drift in the sunshine for a while. ‘But if you’re getting some food, I’ll have some.’ I drag the twenty from the tight warmth of my denim pocket. ‘Whatever you’re getting. And a Coke. I’ll keep our spot.’