Girls Out Late Read online

  ‘Sick in the head, more like,’ says another girl, looking angry.

  ‘What are you on about?’ says Nadine.

  ‘What’s the matter with Claudie?’ I ask.

  ‘She’s got this boyfriend, right? It was all over the papers last month. Some yobby football player not good enough to kiss her fingertips,’ says a third girl, pulling at her Claudie T-shirt in distress so that Claudie’s image lengthens into a comical grimace.

  ‘So? It’s not a crime to have a boyfriend. It’s Frankie Dobson, isn’t it? I think he’s pretty tasty myself,’ says Magda.

  ‘Oh right, so I suppose you think he’s just being all masterful now he’s told Claudie she has to quit singing,’ says the T-shirt girl.

  ‘She has to quit?’

  ‘Because he says so?’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He went to her concert in Manchester last night and it was a big success. One of my friends was there and she phoned me up and told me all about it. The hall was packed out with fans, and Claudie sang all her most popular numbers, the really stirring stuff. Everyone cheered their heads off. This stupid Frankie couldn’t take it. He thought all the songs were an insult to him because lots of them are about independence and women not needing men, so he gave Claudie an ultimatum. If she didn’t pull out of her concert tour and stop singing all her very best songs he’d leave her.’

  ‘So why didn’t she tell him where to get off?’ says Magda.

  ‘Exactly! But astonishingly she said he meant so much to her that her career wasn’t anything without him.’

  ‘Claudie wouldn’t say that!’ I protest. ‘She’s a total feminist icon. It would go against absolutely everything she’s ever sung about.’

  ‘That’s what I thought – even though it was front-page news in the tabloids this morning. So we came along to the concert hoping it was all some stupid rumour, even a publicity stunt. But it’s true. The concert’s off. She’s pulled out the whole tour, just like he said.’

  I still can’t believe it. We go to the concert hall to see for ourselves. There’s just little stickers on every Claudie poster saying ‘Cancelled due to illness’.

  ‘Perhaps she really is ill,’ I say, because Claudie is my heroine and I’m word perfect in every song and I’ve taken on board everything she’s ever said and I feel as if she’s deliberately let me down.

  But when Magda goes to the ticket office to try to claim a refund the guy behind the desk confirms everything those other girls said.

  ‘You’ll have to write in for your refund. Claudie’s left us in the lurch and we haven’t got enough cash to give out to everyone. The girl’s crazy, wrecking her career for that Frankie. He can’t leave the girls alone. He’ll be off with some new trophy blonde before Claudie has time to turn round and then where will she be?’

  ‘How can she do this to herself?’ I say, practically in tears.

  ‘Cheer up, Ellie. We’ll find you someone else to go crazy about,’ says Magda.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ says Nadine. ‘I want to listen to some music. There must be something else on somewhere.’

  ‘How about coming to listen to us?’

  We all spin round. There’s a group of boys looking at us, reasonably hip guys, though one’s very Gothic, with long black hair and chunky silver jewellery. Nadine stares at him, dazzled.

  ‘So, like . . . you’re a band?’ Nadine says.

  ‘Sure.’

  I’m not so sure.

  ‘Come on, Nadine,’ I say – but it’s a waste of breath. Magda’s smiling too, her head on one side.

  ‘A band, eh?’ she says. ‘What are you called?’

  ‘Well, we’ve gone through a lot of changes. We’re just this little indie band at the moment. We’ve toyed with the name Indie, because I’m Dave and he’s Ian and he’s Ewan so we’re almost there with our initials. I’m lead guitar, he’s bass, and Ewan’s the drummer. We just need to find some guy called Neville or Neil or something to be the lead singer.’ He looks at Nadine. ‘Or a girl, of course. Called Nadine.’

  Yuck! I can’t believe his corny old chat-up line – but Nadine seems to be falling for it. She’s tossing her hair and looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

  ‘Are you really looking for a singer?’ she says.

  ‘Sure! So why don’t you come back to my place and have a little jam session with the band?’

  ‘I can’t sing!’ says Nadine.

  Too right she can’t. I stand next to her in singing lessons so I should know.

  ‘I can sing OK,’ says Magda.

  ‘So you come too, Scarlet,’ says the fair guy, Ewan the drummer.

  ‘What’s your singing like then, babe?’ says Ian, the bass guitarist, looking at me.

  I can’t stand guys who call you babe, like you’re the pig in that sweet little kids’ film. Ian looks a bit like a pig himself, with a snub snouty nose and a bit of a belly.

  ‘We’ve got to get home,’ I say firmly. ‘Come on, Magda. Come on, Nadine.’

  Magda shrugs and waves at the guys – but Nadine is still staring awestruck at Gothic Dave.

  ‘I like your rings,’ she says, nodding at the big silver skulls.

  ‘Do you want to try one on?’ he says, offering it to her.

  ‘Wow! It’s wonderful. I’d give anything for this sort of jewellery,’ says Nadine.

  ‘I’ve got all sorts back home, crosses and stuff. Come and see. And we could try out your voice. You certainly look the part, doesn’t she, you guys?’

  Nadine looks pleadingly at me. ‘Shall we, Ellie? Just for a little while?’

  I shake my head at her, astonished.

  ‘Go on. Our van’s just round the corner.’

  ‘My van,’ says Ewan, as if he thinks we’ll be impressed. He looks hopefully at Magda. ‘Dave’s gaff is only ten minutes away. You’ll come, won’t you?’

  Magda’s starting to see sense now. ‘Maybe not, fellows,’ she says. She links into my arm and jerks her head at Nadine. ‘Come on, Nad.’

  Nadine looks at us. She looks at Dave. She nibbles her lip, hesitating. She looks down, her long hair falling over her face.

  ‘Nadine!’ I say.

  ‘You do what your mates tell you, do you, Nadine?’ says Dave, and he gently pushes her hair back so that he can see her face.

  ‘Not always,’ says Nadine, going pink. ‘I’ll come to your place then, Dave.’ She stares defiantly at Magda and me. ‘How about if I meet you back at the station at eleven, OK?’

  We stare at her as if she’s gone completely crazy. Is she really serious? She’s willing to go off with these three complete strangers in a van???

  ‘Nadine, please,’ I hiss – but I know just how stubborn she can be. And she’s always been so mad about weird indie bands. I suppose this is like her dream come true. Only she can’t see that it could easily turn into a nightmare.

  ‘We can’t let her go off in this van on her own,’ Magda whispers to me. ‘She’s totally nuts. We’ll have to go with her to make sure she’s all right.’

  ‘Oh Mags, this is crazy.’

  ‘I agree! But if we can all stick together we should be OK. Well, sort of.’

  ‘Magda!’

  ‘It’s kind of a chance of a lifetime though, isn’t it? I mean, suppose they eventually make it big. And Nadine gets to be the lead singer. Or . . . or me.’

  I don’t know what to do. They’ve both gone completely loopy. Nadine’s already walking off with Dave Skull and Magda’s smiling at Ewan drummer, asking him where his van is parked. I ignore Piggy Ian and slope after the others miserably.

  The van is an awful old thing, really bashed-in and filthy dirty. Magda looks a bit put-out and even Nadine wavers. I grab her quickly.

  ‘Nadine, we can’t go in that van with them. We haven’t got a clue who they are,’ I hiss at her.

  ‘We do know who they are. They’re these guys in this band,’ says Nadine.

  ‘They’re probably making it