Жаклин Уилсон - Girls In Love

As I say it there’s a sudden shout, raised voices, stupid laughter, swearing. People stop dancing, turn and stare. There’s a whole crowd of guys over by the door. Strangers with real skinhead haircuts and real tattoos and real cans of Tennants in their hands.

Stacy’s brother and her boyfriend and some of the other boys are arguing with them, trying to get them to go.

‘Nah, we’re staying, right? We’ve come to join the party, have a little drinkie, have a little dance,’ says the biggest boy, tipping his can. He looks round, staggering a little, obviously already out of his head. His mates follow him, egging him on.

‘So which bird shall I pick, eh? Where’s the bleeding birthday girl?’

Stacy bobs behind her boyfriend, her face white.

The skinhead doesn’t see her. There’s only one girl not up on the dance floor. It’s me.

‘Hey, what are you sitting down for, darling? Little bit of a wallflower, are you? Come and dance with me,’ he says.

I freeze.

‘She’s with me,’ says Dan. His voice is as squeaky as his trainers.

‘You what?’ says the skinhead. ‘Who the hell are you, creep? Now, come on, darling, dancie-dancie. He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me up. ‘Woooaa! Up you get.’

‘She doesn’t want to dance with you,’ says Dan.

‘Yes she does, don’t you, darling?’ says the skinhead, hanging on to me. ‘You come and have a little dance with me and my mates.’

‘Are you deaf or something?’ Dan says desperately.

‘Dan! It’s OK. Don’t argue with him,’ I hiss, because I’m so scared there might be a fight. They could have knives.

‘There! She wants to dance, don’t you, sweetheart?’ he says, and he puts his arms round me, his horribly beery breath hot on my cheek. ‘That’s it – let’s get cosy, eh?’ he says, his hands on my bottom.

‘Leave her alone!’ Dan shouts, jumping up.

‘Shut him up, eh, Sandy,’ the skinhead says.

The heaviest of his mates lumbers over to Dan. There’s a thud, a squeal, and then Dan is sprawling on the floor.

‘Dan!’

‘Shut up or you’ll get it too,’ says the skin. ‘Did you pop him one, Sandy?’

‘Help!’ Dan screams, staggering up. His white T-shirt is stained dark red. ‘He’s stabbed me! I’m bleeding, look!’

Screams echo right round the room as Dan lurches forward and then sinks to his knees.

‘What you done now, Sandy? Quick! Run for it!’ the skinhead yells, shoving me aside and taking to his heels. The others follow him. No-one dares stop them.

‘Dan!’ I say, bending down, clutching him, trying to prop his head on my knees. ‘For God’s sake, someone dial 999, and get an ambulance!’

‘It’s OK,’ says Dan, trying to sit up. ‘I don’t need an ambulance.’

‘Are you crazy ? You’ve been stabbed!’

‘No I haven’t,’ says Dan, grinning. ‘Those thugs have gone, haven’t they? I thought they might run for it if they thought I was bleeding to death. I don’t think that guy even had a knife. He just punched me in the stomach and I fell over.’

‘But the blood!’

‘Smell it,’ says Dan, holding out his sopping T-shirt.

‘Yuck!’

‘It’s the wine punch. I spilled it all over me.’

‘Oh, you idiot !’ But then I think about it. ‘Though it worked . They did go.’

‘That was real quick thinking, pal,’ says Charles. ‘It could have got really nasty with those louts.’

‘Thank you so much, Dan. You’ve saved my birthday party from being an absolute disaster,’ Stacy gushes.

‘Yeah, well done, Dan.’

‘Great thinking.’

‘Really cool.’

‘Hear that, Ellie? I’m cool ,’ says Dan.

‘You’re wet and sticky, I’ll say that,’ I say, shifting him off my lap. ‘Get up then, I don’t want wine all over my new skirt.’

‘After I’ve seriously rescued you from a fate worse than death? I’m heartbroken. You were supposed to tell me you love me and beg me not to die,’ says Dan, gingerly getting to his feet and rubbing his stomach.

‘Dream on, matie,’ I say, because I’m not going to say anything else in front of everyone.

I wait till later, when there’s just him and me in a corner. Which is much much later, because everyone keeps clustering round, wanting to talk to Dan and congratulate him.

‘Your head’s going to be so swollen you’re never going to squeeze out of the door,’ I say.

‘Just as well I’ve had my new haircut then,’ says Dan.

‘You are a nut,’ I say, and I rub my hand over the bristles. ‘But . . . you’re a brave nut. You stuck up for me when they were really scary blokes.’

‘They’ll be pretty scared themselves, thinking they’ve murdered me,’ says Dan.

‘I hope they’ve really cleared off, and they’re not hanging round outside waiting to get us,’ I say. ‘Lucky job my dad’s coming to collect us in the car.’

‘Hey, Ellie. Nadine and I were thinking,’ says Magda, coming over. ‘We’ll go home to my place, right? You won’t want us sleeping over with you if you’ve got Dan.’

‘Ooh, am I sleeping with Ellie then?’ says Dan, grinning.

‘No you are not! I guess you’ll be tucked up with my little brother Eggs, which serves you right. No, Magda, Nadine, do come back with me, please . It’ll be fun.’

And weirdly, it does turn out to be fun. Dad arrives dead on twelve and when the four of us thank Stacy she’s still being ever so gushingly grateful and she gives me a hug and then she gives Dan a hug too.

‘Wow,’ says Dan. ‘This is definitely my night.’

‘You certainly look as if you’ve been celebrating,’ says Dad, taking in Dan’s dramatically stained T-shirt.

‘Dan’s the hero of the hour,’ says Magda.

‘He fought all these skinheads to protect Ellie,’ says Nadine.

‘Well – not exactly ,’ I say.

‘See, Ellie? All your friends appreciate me,’ says Dan. ‘Come on, Nadine and Magda, I’ll squeeze in with you two in the back. Ellie can sit in the front with her dad. Then she’ll maybe get all jealous.’

‘You wish,’ I say.

When we get back home Eggs wakes up even though we try to be quiet and he’s ecstatic when he sees Dan. He runs to him and gives him a great hug and a slobbery kiss. When he realizes Dan will be sharing his bed he goes really bananas, leaping up and down until his pyjamas fall down round his ankles.

‘Hey, no indecent exposure in front of the ladies,’ says Dan, yanking his pyjamas into place and picking him up. ‘Come on, little guy, let’s go to bed.’

Anna has been great sorting out pillows and cushions and duvets and sleeping bags so we’ve all got somewhere to sleep.

‘I’m sorry about Dan arriving out of the blue,’ I whisper.

‘It’s OK. In fact he was tremendously sweet, arriving with a battered bouquet of flowers and a crushed box of chocs. He practically went down on his knees to me to beg to stay here. Almost as if he felt I was some utterly unreasonable ogress who had to be appeased.’

‘I wonder what gave him that idea,’ I say guiltily. ‘Anyway, thanks Anna.’

‘No problem. I like Dan, he’s a sweet boy.’

And amazingly Magda and Nadine think he is too. We stay awake for ages, whispering and giggling. I have to tell the entire Dan story right from the beginning, explaining how I embellished the original Dan into this super dishy hunk based on the fair boy I bumped into on the way to school.

It’s not really such a big deal telling them, though it maybe helps that we’ve all drunk several glasses of wine punch. It’s dark too, so I can go as red as the wine and they can’t see. Magda and Nadine say I’m seriously screwy, but don’t act that surprised. Magda gets interested in the dream man.