Girls in Love Read online

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Oooh!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t have a clue anyone was sitting there!’

  ‘You’re kneeling on me!’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. Here, let me help you up.’

  ‘Careful!’ He was hauling so vigorously we both nearly toppled downwards.

  ‘Whoops!’

  ‘Watch out!’

  I struggled free and stood with my back against the damp wall. He stood up too. It was too dark to make out more than a vague shape.

  ‘What were you doing, sitting in the dark? You haven’t hurt yourself, have you?’

  ‘I wasn’t hurt. I might be now. I still feel very squashed.’

  ‘Sorry. I keep saying that, don’t I? Though it is abit crackers to crouch like that in the dark. Next time you might get a whole troop of boy scouts hiking over you. Or a coachload of American tourists trampling you with their trainers. Or . . . Or . . . I’m burbling. It’s difficult making conversation when you can’t see. Let’s go on up to see if it gets any lighter.’

  ‘I don’t think you can. The steps seem to give out.’

  ‘Oh, well. That figures. Let’s go back down then.’

  I hesitated, having a quick wipe of my face with the back of my hand. There wasn’t much point sitting there any longer. Dad and Anna and Eggs had probably forgotten all about me. Gone right back to the cottage. They’d suddenly snap their fingers three days later. ‘What’s happened to Ellie?’ they’d say. And shrug. And forget about me again.

  The boy seemed to think I was timid. ‘I’ll hold your hand if you like. To help you down.’

  ‘I can manage perfectly, thanks,’ I said.

  Though it was a bit hairy feeling our way down. The steps seemed more slippery, and there wasn’t any handrail. I stumbled once, and he grabbed me. ‘Careful!’

  ‘I’m being careful,’ I said.

  ‘I bet you there’s an attendant waiting for us at the bottom to nag us rotten about the danger,’ he said. ‘That’s the trouble, though. The minute I see something roped off I have this desperate urge to explore inside. So consequently I’m forever in a fix. Dopey Dan, that’s what my family and friends call me when they’re narked. I’m Daniel. But I’m only called that when they’re really really really going ballistic. It’s plain Dan most of the time.’

  He went on like this until we emerged blinking into the daylight. Plain Dan was perfect. He had wild exploding hair and a silly little snub nose that he twitched to hitch his glasses into place.

  I blinked through my own smeary specs and focused properly.

  ‘It’s you!’ we said simultaneously.

  His family had another equally damp and dilapidated holiday cottage about half a mile down the valley from ours. We saw them in the village Spar buying their groceries and they were often in the pub in the evenings too. My dad and his dad sometimes played darts together. Anna and Dan’s mum sat and made strained conversation. They looked like they came from different planets, even though they were both in jeans and jerseys and boots. Anna’s jeans show off her tiny tight bum andher jersey is an Artwork designer sweater and her boots have got buckles and pointy toes. Dan’s mum has a bum much bigger than mine. Her jumpers were all too tight, too, and one of them was actually unravelling. Her boots were serious walking boots caked with mud.

  The whole family were serious walkers whatever the weather. We’d see them setting out in a downpour in their orange cagoules, and hours later we’d spot these mobile marigolds at the top of a dim distant mountain. There were five children, all earnest and old-fashioned. Dan was the eldest, about my age, a good inch shorter than me even though I’m little. He had a fat guidebook about castles sticking out of his cagoule. Typical.

  ‘We made it!’ he said, as if we’d just returned from outer space. He tried to jump the rope in triumph but tripped.

  ‘No wonder they call you Dopey Dan,’ I mumbled, as I skirted the rope.

  There was still no sign of Dad and Anna and Eggs. Maybe they really had gone off without me.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Dan asked, brushing himself down. ‘Rapunzel?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I found you languishing in a tower, didn’t I?’

  I had sudden memories of a little Ladybird fairytale book. ‘Are you into fairytales?’ I said.

  I intended it as an insult, but he took me seriously. ‘I don’t mind them actually. Some. My dad gave me a copy of The Mabinogion, seeing as we’re in Wales.’

  He could well have been speaking Welsh for all the sense he was making.

  ‘It’s old Welsh fairy stuff. Dead romantic in parts. I’ll lend you the book if you like.’

  ‘I don’t think it sounds my sort of thing.’

  ‘So what is your sort of thing, eh? What do you like reading? What’s that little black book you’ve always got with you?’

  I was surprised. He must have been watching me carefully. I usually kept my book hidden in my jacket pocket. ‘That’s just my little sketchbook.’

  ‘Let’s have a look then,’ he said, patting my pocket.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Go on, don’t be shy.’

  ‘I’m not the slightest bit shy. It’s private.’

  ‘What sort of thing do you sketch? Castles?’

  ‘Not castles.’

  ‘Mountains?’

  ‘Not mountains either.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘God, you aren’t half nosy.’

  He wrinkled his snub nose at me cheerfully.

  I gave in. ‘I don’t sketch. I draw. Stylized pictures. Cartoons.’

  ‘Oh, great. I love that sort of stuff. Do you ever do comic strips? I love Calvin and Hobbes. And Asterix, I’ve got all those books. Look, I’ve even got Snowy on my socks.’ He hitched up his jeans and straightened his socks, which were all bunched up in his Woollies trainers.

  ‘Very cute,’ I said.

  He grinned. ‘OK, OK. I know my clothes aren’t exactly hip.’

  He was dead right there. If I was home I’d be terrified of being seen talking to him. But he was kind of fun in a silly lollopy way, as persistent as a puppy. He didn’t even seem to mind my being so snappy with him. I wouldn’t normally have been anywhere near as sharp. It was just I was getting seriously bothered about my stupid family.

  His family were all down in the grounds, peering knowledgeably at little heaps of stones. One of his sisters looked up and spotted us. ‘Hey, Dan! Come on down, we need your castle book!’

  All the other little marigolds waved and shouted.

  ‘I’d better get cracking. They won’t stop now they’ve started,’ said Dan. ‘You coming?’

  I followed him down. Dad and Anna and Eggs weren’t anywhere. Maybe I’d have to join up with the marigolds. I was getting so desperate that it began to seem an attractive idea.

  But guess who I came across strolling round outside the castle walls. Dad and Anna and Eggs. They didn’t look the slightest bit concerned.

  ‘Hi, Ellie,’ said Dad. ‘Hey, have you made a friend? Great.’

  Dan grinned. I glared.

  ‘Where have you been?’ I demanded.

  ‘Well, we were showing Eggs the way medieval people went to the loo in the castle – and then he needed to go himself so we had to trail right over to the toilets. Oh, poor Ellie, were you getting worried?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said sulkily.

  ‘See you around . . . Ellie,’ said Dan.

  I did see him around a few times after that. Mostly with the marigolds. And Eggs. One day we joined up for a picnic. It even drizzled that day so we ate damp sandwiches and soggy sausages and mushy crisps. No-one else seemed to find this depressing. Dan was especially good at keeping all the little ones amused. Eggs adored him. I got sick of all this clowning around and went and sat on a wet rock and drew.

  I was doodling away when a shadow fell across my page. I snapped my book shut.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Dan.

&nbs