Kiss Read online

  'Someone sounds happy,' Mum called from the living room. 'Come a n d have a chat, Sylvie. Did you have a good time, darling? Tell me all about it.'

  H e r computer was still on and it gave a little ting to show she had a message. M u m kept her eyes dutifully on me, not even glancing at it. I squinted at the screen suspiciously, hating the 140

  thought of some creepy guy sending lewd lovey-dovey messages to my mum.

  'Hey, you're not m e a n t to peer at my messages,' said Mum, pink a n d beaming. 'Gerry phoned me up tonight too. T h a t was a huge relief, because I'd been a little bit bothered he'd have speech difficulties because of his stroke a n d I was scared I wouldn't be able to unders t a n d him. T h a n k goodness h e s p e a k s absolutely normally. He's got a lovely voice, actually, really warm and friendly. He's still very keen on us going swimming on Sunday.'

  'Do you want to borrow my costume?'

  'I'd never squeeze into it! No, I've treated myself to a new one.' Mum went and rifled in a plastic bag. 'Look, w h a t do you think?'

  It was scarlet with little white roses.

  'It was so h a r d finding anything decent. I like the shape of this one but they only h a d it in red and it's ever so bright. Do you t h i n k it's too bright?'

  I did my best to reassure her. Then she asked me all sorts of stuff about Carl a n d Miranda and Paul. She went on and on about Paul.

  'What's he like? Is he good looking? W h a t sort of clothes does he wear? Is he a nice boy? Did you have fun together?'

  'We weren't together, Mum. It was him and Miranda, Carl and me,' I insisted.

  T know you're totally Carl's girl, darling, b u t maybe . . . maybe it would be good to s t a r t seeing other boys.'

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  'No t h a n k s . I don't want to. Come on, Mum, you know I j u s t want Carl.'

  M u m sighed. 'Yes, I do know, b u t . . . Oh well.

  Whatever. I'm sure things will work out. I j u s t w a n t you to be happy, darling.'

  When I got into my room at last my mobile rang. I hoped it would be Carl, but it was Miranda.

  'Well, I think our little friend Paul belongs in an aquarium,' she said. 'Talk about an octopus!

  I let him have this little weeny snog when we were saying goodbye and it was suddenly h a n d up here, h a n d down there, h a n d s all over the place. Is Carl like that, Sylvie?'

  'Um. No. No, he's not a bit like that,' I said.

  'So, do you like Paul, Miranda?'

  'Mmm. Well. He's OK. Ish. I'd sooner have Carl though.'

  'Well, he's taken,' I said.

  'I know, I know.'

  'Don't sound so disappointed! Miranda, this outing to Kew, do you think it's really going to work? I mean, maybe we could go bowling again? Or we could go for a pizza together? It's j u s t t h a t Kew's such a weird place for us, especially with Paul tagging along too.'

  'Oh, Paul will like it all right. He'll be grabbing hold of me and whisking me behind the potted palms at every opportunity,' said Miranda, giggling. 'Oh well. It might be fun.'

  It didn't look as if there was any way I could talk h e r out of it. Kew was our place, Carl and 142

  me. J u l e s h a d t a k e n us there and we'd h a d a picnic u n d e r a willow tree and t h e n we'd wandered in and out of the glasshouses. Carl and I climbed the rickety steps all the way up to the balcony under the roof. We peered down at all the palms while trapped birds flew in and out of the branches as if we were truly in t h e jungle.

  We'd introduced a glasshouse into Glassworld, a gigantic crystal palace w h e r e a l b a t r o s s e s soared overhead, casting shadows with their great white wings, and enormous red roses and white lilies and pink orchids bloomed in the artificial w a r m t h while snowflakes patterned the outside of the glasshouse like lace.

  Why h a d n ' t I known about this special glass exhibition? Why did Miranda have to push in everywhere and take control? I wondered if I was sick of Miranda. But when she phoned on S a t u r d a y and asked if I wanted to come round I was pleased.

  'Come right now! I'm soooo bored,' she said.

  'Bring Carl too.'

  'I can't. He's watching the Boy with the Golden Boots play flipping football,' I said.

  Miranda chuckled. 'Just so long as I don't have to go a n d watch him. I find football the most tedious game on this planet. OK then, Sylvie, you come. Don't be long, will you?'

  'OK, I'm coming now,' I said, though I wasn't sure how I was going to get there.

  Mum was out, taking Miss Miles to visit h e r mother in some nursing home in Worthing. Miss 143

  Miles seemed ancient enough to me. It seemed bizarre t h a t there was an even older, wrinklier version propped up in a bathchair somewhere. I decided I was never ever going to get really old.

  I wondered about nipping next door and asking J u l e s if she could possibly drive me to Miranda's. It seemed an awful cheek but she was almost like an aunty to me. I hurriedly changed into my best jeans a n d a T-shirt and an embroidered ethnic waistcoat thing t h a t Mum used to wear way back before I was born. I hoped it might make me look vintage and funky.

  I suspected I j u s t looked like I was dressing up in my mum's old clothes but I didn't have time to t r y out another look.

  I grabbed my keys and r a n next door. J a k e a n s w e r e d , eventually, w e a r i n g a s w e a t e r over his pyjamas, his hair sticking straight up.

  'Hi, Jake,' I said. 'I haven't got you up, have I?

  It's two o'clock!'

  'Heavy night last night,' he said, scratching his h e a d and yawning. We were rehearsing, working on my new number.'

  Jake's p a r t of this silly schoolboy band, playing t h e lead guitar. He talks like he's part of a mega-band playing to millions.

  'Did it go well?' I said politely, as if I cared.

  T e a h , it did actually.' He paused, playing air-guitar. 'But we need to try it out on an audience.

  You should come, actually, Sylvie. Bring some friends.'

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  'Like . .. Miranda?' I said, guessing his game.

  'Yeah, whoever,' he said.

  'Well, maybe,' I said. 'Look, Jake, is your m u m in?'

  'Mum? No, I think she's gone up to town to see some a r t exhibition. Dad too. And Boy Wonder's watching football.'

  'I know. Oh. I was r a t h e r hoping to beg a lift to Miranda's from your mum.'

  'I'd give you a lift. If I could drive. You can hitch a lift on the handlebars of my bike if you like.'

  'Oh, h a ha.'

  'I'm serious. You're only a little titch.'

  I winced at t h e nickname.

  'I suppose I'll have to walk it,' I said, and waved goodbye.

  It was a very long walk – all the way across town – to Miranda's house. I'd put on my boots with heels. I realized this was a serious mistake by the time I'd got to the end of the road but I didn't w a n t to waste any more time going home and changing. I staggered on, and then r a n for a bus. Big mistake. I'd come out without any money whatsoever so I h a d to get off again a n d carry on walking. I thought I'd take a short cut down the back streets but I got a bit lost. It was about half past three when I eventually r a n g the doorbell of the white house.

  No one answered. I wondered if M i r a n d a h a d gone off somewhere without me. I r a n g t h e bell again a n d again a n d t h e n t u r n e d a n d 145

  s t a r t e d limping dejectedly back to t h e gate.

  I h e a r d t h e door open behind me.

  'Dear God, you took your time,' said Miranda.

  She w a s w e a r i n g black b u t seemed oddly speckled with white.

  'Fairy dust?' I said, touching it.

  'Hey, you're making it worse,' said Miranda irritably, slapping my h a n d away. 'What took you so long?'

  'I'm sorry. I got a bit lost. I h a d n ' t realized it was so far,' I started, but she wasn't interested.

  'Come in, then,' she said. 'We're in t h e kitchen. We're cooking. You have a lot of catching up to do.'