Жаклин Уилсон - Girls In Love

P.S. It was truly great meeting you.

Honestly. He is nuts. If only he were older. And not so daft. And good looking.

‘Who’s it from then?’ asks Anna, stirring soup at the stove. She tastes it delicately. ‘More pepper, Eggs. Carefully.’

Eggs likes cooking. He even helps make Eggs Benedict, his namesake. Well, he’s called Benedict, Anna’s slightly poncey choice, but no-one’s ever called him that. He started off as Baby Benny and for the last two years he’s been Eggs. Possibly Pickled. Sometimes Scrambled. Often Bad .

‘It’s just some silly scribble from Dan,’ I say, stuffing the letter into my pocket.

Anna raises her eyebrows. ‘I thought you’d made a hit there.’

‘For God’s sake, Anna, he’s only twelve . Don’t be crazy.’

‘I like that Dan. Oh, great, is he your boyfriend?’ Eggs burbles, shaking pepper enthusiastically.

‘Careful, Eggs. Just a pinch ,’ says Anna, catching hold of his wrist.

‘Pinch pinch pinch,’ Eggs giggles, pretending to pinch her arm.

‘Idiot boy,’ says Anna fondly, turning him upside down and tickling his exposed tummy.

‘I’m going to do my homework,’ I say.

I usually hang around the kitchen for a bit first but I don’t particularly enjoy watching Anna and Eggs together. It always makes me feel weird. Like I was jealous or something. Not that I want to play about with Eggs in the slightest. And I certainly don’t want Anna tickling me! She’d fall flat on her back if she tried to pick me up anyway. I weigh much more than her already, even though she’s heaps taller.

Anna never tried any romping, tickling, cuddling mumsie stuff with me. I’m too old and she’s too young. Of course there’s far more of an age gap between Anna and Dad. He’s nearly old enough to be her dad. He teaches Art and Anna was a student at his college. Dad didn’t teach her. She did textiles. She used to work part time as a design consultant but that firm went bust so she’s been looking for a new opening for ages. Dad still teaches at the college. The students haven’t gone back yet but he’s out at some college meeting nevertheless.

‘Hang on a tick, Ellie,’ says Anna. ‘I don’t know when your dad’s going to get back. You know what he’s like. But I’m supposed to be starting this Italian evening class tonight, so you wouldn’t be an angel and put Eggs to bed for me?’

‘Look, like I said , I’ve got all this homework,’ I whine. For a while. And then I change tack and point out that other girls get paid for being a babysitter.

‘Cheek! I’m not a baby ,’ Eggs intervenes. ‘Why is it baby sitter anyway? They don’t sit on the baby, do they?’

‘Shut up, Eggs, or I’ll take great delight in sitting on you,’ I say.

I do agree in the end. Very very reluctantly. Though I can’t see why Anna’s making such a point of starting up this Italian evening class. It’s not as if we’re going to romp in Rome or flourish in Florence. We will get wet in Wales, as always.

She gets Eggs all bathed and ready for bed after supper, so all I’m supposed to do is supervise his last wee and stuff him into bed. Ha ha.

He starts capering about like a monkey and whenever I catch him he screams and giggles and squirms. When Dad comes in at last Eggs runs down the hall to him yelling at the top of his voice.

‘Hey, hey! Why aren’t you in bed, Mr Eggs-and-Bacon?’ says Dad. He looks at me reproachfully. ‘You shouldn’t get him so excited before he goes to bed, Ellie, he’ll be too worked up to sleep.’

Like it’s my fault!!! That’s the thanks I get. And it’s dead annoying because Eggs does quieten down with Dad. He snuggles up on his lap and Dad reads him a Little Bear story. Eggs smiles angelically and gently strokes each picture of Little Bear with his finger.

They’re my Little Bear books actually. I can’t ever remember Dad reading them to me. Not when I was all sleepy and snuggled up like that.

‘What’s up, Ellie?’ Dad says suddenly. ‘Are you sulking?’

‘No, I’m not sulking. I’m just sitting here. There’s no crime in that, is there?’

‘ Read , Dad,’ Eggs insists. ‘Don’t talk to Smelly Ellie.’

‘Eggs!’ says Dad – but he chuckles.

Suddenly I can’t stand either of them. It’s suffocating even being in the same room as them. I stalk off to my bedroom and put on some music. Loud.

I suppose I ought to make a start on all this horrible homework but I catch sight of myself in the mirror and my hair looks awful, sort of exploding in all directions, so I have to brush it into submission and experiment with different hairstyles. I can scrunch it up into a little top-knot so it looks neater – almost OK – but then it makes my face look so much fatter. Oh, God, my face is fatter. It’s like a huge great white beachball, and I’m getting a spot on my chin, and there’s a little one on my nose too, a pink-and-white polka-dot beachball. I can’t stand spots. Anna says I should never ever touch them but it’s OK for her, she’s got this incredible English rose skin, I don’t think she’s ever had a spot in her life.

I have a little squeezing session. It doesn’t help. I feel so ugly. No wonder I haven’t got a boyfriend. No-one will ever want to go out with me. Apart from Dan. And he’s so short-sighted even he would probably run away from me screaming if he polished up his specs and saw me properly.

I pick up his letter and read it again. Dad suddenly comes barging into my room.

‘Dad! You’re not supposed to come into my room without knocking !’

‘I did knock. You just didn’t hear me because of that awful row. Turn it down . I’ve just put Eggs to bed.’

Eggs Eggs Eggs Eggs Eggs. I see him as a row of Humpty Dumptys sitting on a wall. I tip them off one at a time, smash smash smash smash smash.

‘Oh, of course, we mustn’t disturb the boy wonder,’ I say, switching off my CD player. ‘OK? Happy now? Total silence so his little lordship can nod off in peace.’

‘I didn’t say you had to turn it off altogether,’ says Dad. ‘What’s up with you, Ellie? You’re so prickly all the time now.’ He comes closer, tugging at his beard the way he always does when he’s worried. ‘Hey, what have you done to your face? It’s bleeding.’

‘I haven’t done anything,’ I say, covering my chin with my hand. ‘Now would you mind leaving me alone so I can get on with my homework?’

‘That’s not homework. It’s a letter. Who’s it from, eh?’

‘It’s my letter, Dad,’ I say, crumpling it up. Not quite quickly enough. He sees the end bit.

‘Love from Dan! It’s a love letter!’ he says.

‘No, it isn’t!’

‘So who on earth is this Dan? When did you get yourself a boyfriend, Ellie?’

‘I haven’t got a boyfriend! Will you just mind your own business, please ,’ I say, stuffing the stupid letter in my skirt pocket.

When Dad’s gone I sigh deeply and put my head in my arms. I think about crying but actually fall asleep. I wake up with a stiff neck. I find I can’t sleep when I go to bed.

Dad puts his head round the door when he comes upstairs to bed himself. ‘Are you asleep, Ellie?’ he whispers.

‘Yes.’

‘Anna told me about the boyfriend. He’s that weird brainy kid in the anorak, right?’

‘Wrong wrong wrong. He is not my boyfriend. Oh, God, I’m getting so sick of this,’ I say, putting my head under the pillow.

‘OK OK. Calm down. Sorry. Anna says I shouldn’t tease you. Ellie?’