Жаклин Уилсон - Girls In Love

‘Yuck. Can’t you stuff him in the washing machine too, Anna?’ I say.

She’s on her knees, sorting through the dirty clothes basket, juggling little balls of socks.

‘You just wish you had a willy too,’ says Eggs.

‘Attaboy, Eggs,’ says Dad, finishing his coffee. ‘You’ve got these women sussed out. Right, I’m off.’

‘Why are you going so early?’ says Anna. ‘Can’t you wait and take Eggs to school?’

‘No, there’s someone I’ve got to catch,’ says Dad, scooping up Eggs with one arm and giving him a kiss.

‘Who?’ says Anna, her fists clenching.

‘Oh, for God’s sake. Jim Dean, the graphics guy. Anna, don’t start.’

‘It’s not me that starts things, it’s you,’ says Anna. ‘OK OK, you go to work. Just make sure you come home on time. I’m not going to miss my Italian class again.’

‘You and that wretched evening class. You go on about it as if it’s the most important thing in your life,’ says Dad as Eggs wriggles free.

‘What else have I got in my life?’ Anna says bitterly. She holds out an armful of smelly socks. ‘My life is so full and so rich and so exciting. Here I am, sorting your dirty socks. Wow, I can barely contain my excitement. Why can’t you smooth them out straight for a start? Why should I have to unravel them all? Why can’t you put them in the machine? You keep kidding yourself you’re still a young man. So why don’t you act like a new man and do your share of the chores?’

‘Why can’t you act like the young woman you are instead of a bitter old nag?’ says Dad, and he walks out.

Anna bursts into tears as the front door slams.

‘Mum?’ says Eggs. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’

‘Get washed , Eggs. And put your clothes on,’ I say, steering him towards the door.

‘Mummy do it,’ says Eggs.

‘Don’t be such a baby. Mum’s tired. Now off you go. I’ll take you to school.’

‘I don’t want you to take me to school. Dad takes me.’

‘Listen, Squirt. You wash. You get dressed. You do as I say. And then I might tell you the Egg story on the way to school.’

‘Oh, wow. Right. OK,’ says Eggs, whizzing off. He pauses at the door. ‘Mum? Isn’t it getting better?’

‘Yes. Mmm. I’m fine now,’ says Anna, sniffing. ‘Go on, go and get washed, lickety spit.’

Eggs rushes off, mumbling ‘Lick and spit, lick and spit, lick and spit.’

‘Thanks, Ellie,’ says Anna.

‘Anna. You and Dad . . .?’

‘Oh. It’s – it’s just a bad patch.’

‘Anna . . .’ I stand still in the quiet kitchen. ‘Anna, there isn’t anyone else, is there?’

Anna’s head jerks. ‘Someone else?’ she says. She’s staring at me, her face very white. ‘Why? What makes you say that? What do you know? Ellie?’

‘I don’t know anything. I just wondered . . . Well, Dad can be a right pain at times, and if you’ve met someone else at your Italian class, well, it’s scary because it’s horrid with you and Dad arguing like this, but I do understand. I know I always used to take Dad’s side but now I’m older – well, I wouldn’t blame you if you had an affair, Anna.’

Anna is staring as if she can hardly believe what I’m saying. Then she shakes her head, half laughing, though she’s still got tears in her eyes. ‘ I’m not having an affair, you chump,’ she says.

‘Then . . .?’ I suddenly realize . ‘Is Dad ?’

‘I don’t know. He says he isn’t. I say he is. Sometimes I think he’s telling the truth and I’m just paranoid. Other times I’m sure he’s lying,’ says Anna, hurling the socks into the machine along with all his other stuff.

‘Who do you think it is?’

‘Some girl in his Art class. I don’t know her name but I saw her hanging on his arm in the town. Very young, very pretty, with a lot of blond hair.’

‘Well, couldn’t they just have been walking along together?’

‘Maybe. But I saw the way he was looking at her. The way he used to look at me.’

‘Oh, Anna.’ I hover helplessly.

‘I’m sorry,’ says Anna, shutting the door of the washing machine and getting to her feet. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s probably all my imagination anyway. It’s just when I get started I can’t stop. It’s just . . . I love him so.’

That’s the weirdest bit. I think about it as I take Eggs to school. I’m busy making up this daft serial story he likes about the Eggstremely Ovoid Eggles – there’s Mama Eggle, Papa Eggle, Grandma and Grampy Eggle, and hundreds of eggy little Eggles, Edward, Edwina, Edith, Enid, Ethelred, Ethan, Evangeline . . . and they all sleep in an Eggidorm which has a big bed with oval segments for the eggles to snuggle in and then when they get up in the morning they wobble to a hole in the floor and whizz down this slide to get their breakfast in the kitchen down below. They only ever eat cornflakes – they hate and detest cooked breakfast. And then there are their cousins the Chockies who only visit at Easter and they hate hot weather . . .

I go on and on and it gets sillier and sillier, but Eggs adores it. After a while my mouth takes over and tells the story while my mind thinks about Anna and Dad. How can she still love him like that? I suppose I love him, but he’s my dad. I couldn’t stick him as my partner, especially if he started playing around. Anna must have got it wrong. Why on earth would any pretty young student fall for my dad? And yet Anna did exactly that. I can’t understand it. Dad isn’t even good looking as old guys go. Why don’t they want someone young and gorgeous like . . .

Oh, God, it’s him! My Dan! The dream one, with the blond hair and the brown eyes. I haven’t seen him for ages. I gave up on him and started getting the bus every day. But now he’s walking towards me, getting nearer. I think he’s looking at me, he is ! Oh, what shall I do? I look away. Oh, please don’t let me blush. I’m getting hot, he’s getting nearer still—

‘Ellie? Ellie, what’s up? Go on with the Eggle story!’ Eggs demands, tugging at my arm as if it’s a water pump.

‘In a minute,’ I mutter.

‘ Now! ’ Eggs demands. ‘You promised.’

He’s right in front of me. I look up and he’s smiling, he’s really smiling. Then he shakes his head at Eggs. ‘Little brothers!’ he says to me.

I nod, dumbstruck.

‘See you,’ he says, and he walks on.

‘See you,’ I whisper, dazed.

‘Ellie? Who’s that man?’ Eggs demands.

‘Shh!’ I hiss. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Why have you gone red?’

‘Oh, God, have I?’

‘Ever so. Go on with the Eggles story, please .’

I blurt out a few dumb Eggle incidents, inventing a new egg who is made of solid gold, so gleaming yellow that he dazzles everyone.

I deliver Eggs to his primary school and dawdle off in the general direction of my school. I’m going to be late, of course, but I can’t possibly dash. I need to savour this moment. He said ‘See you.’ He really did. I didn’t make him up. He was there, he spoke to me, and he said ‘See you.’ Which means, See you again! Or even, I want to see you again!

Oh, I want to see you again, so much.

All my problems with the insistence of the real Dan seem unimportant. I can’t even worry too much about Dad and Anna now. This is one of the most magical moments of my life. I feel like . . . Juliet.

I wish I dared bunk off school and drift around all day hanging on to this feeling. But I trudge there eventually and get seriously told off for my pains. Nadine is still being all cold and huffy and when we do PE we see another love-bite, lower down this time. Magda and I can’t help boggling at it as Nadine hurriedly pulls on her games shirt.