Kiss Read online

  But t h e n she smiled at me. 'Well, getting married got me you, and t h a t makes it all worth while,' she said, giving me a hug. 'Come on, let's go to bed. It's OK for you, you can have a lie-in on Saturday. I've got blooming work.'

  She gave me a goodnight kiss and t h e n 69

  peered at me suspiciously. 'Have you been drinking beer?'

  'Have you been drinking wine?

  'I'm not thirteen years old, Cheekyface.'

  'I'm very nearly fourteen.'

  'Will you w a n t a party?'

  'No! J u s t a birthday tea with Carl.'

  It was his birthday next. I had his present all ready, carefully wrapped and hidden in the back of my wardrobe. It was an old crystal champagne glass, decorated around the stem with green grape vines. I'd found it in a Cancer Research shop. I wasn't sure how old it was or whether it h a d any real value. I simply thought it was beautiful. I wished I h a d a pair so t h a t Carl and I could drink pink champagne from t h e m on our wedding day.

  I dreamed about Carl when I went to sleep, but Miranda was in the dream too, and Raj and Andy a n d Alice. T h e bottle k e p t s p i n n i n g a n d t h e n I seemed to be s p i n n i n g too, round and round until I was totally dizzy. I was in pitch darkness and I couldn't grab hold of anyone to steady myself. I kept feeling for Carl b u t I couldn't find him. He wasn't there any more". He'd somehow crept out of the room.

  I woke up and t h e phone was ringing and ringing. It was gone ten. Mum h a d left a cup of tea on my bedside table but it was stone cold now. I r a n downstairs in my pyjamas, wondering if it was Carl, hoping he wasn't going to back out of our Glassworld date.

  70

  It was only Lucy, desperate to know how I'd got on at Miranda's party.

  I told h e r exactly w h a t h a d happened, needing to see w h a t she made of it all. She kept giving little squeals.

  'That Miranda! What a C-O-W!' she said, spelling it out. It was the nearest she got to swearing. 'Fancy kissing Carl. And he seriously let her?'

  'Well, it was j u s t a game. It wasn't serious,' I said anxiously.

  'Don't be silly, Titchy, she's trying to take him away from you. She makes me so sick. I wouldn't have any more to do with her if I were you.'

  I was pretty sure Miranda wouldn't w a n t any more to do with me now I'd walked out of h e r party. I decided not to tell Lucy t h a t she'd asked me to be her best friend. It would make her even more vitriolic. She suggested we go shopping together in the afternoon but I said I was going to go round to Carl's.

  'Oh, OK,' she said. Then, 'Can I come too?'

  I took a deep breath. 'Well, we're going to be working on our book together.'

  'I could work on it too. I'm good at English, you know I am. In fact I'm thinking of being a writer when I grow up. I've written lots of stories about my teddies.'

  I s h u t my eyes. I knew exactly how Carl would r e a c t if I b r o u g h t Lucy along a n d suggested we introduce Billy a n d Bobby and Bernie to Glassworld.

  71

  'Our story's kind of private, Lucy. It's j u s t for Carl and me. We write it in Carl's hut.'

  Lucy sniffed at the other end of the phone.

  'It's not a dirty story, is it?' she said.

  'No it's not!' I said crossly.

  'It sounds a bit weird though. What's this h u t like?'

  'It's where Carl keeps his glass collection.'

  'Yeah, that's a bit weird too, a boy collecting glasses!'

  'It's not j u s t glasses. It's all different kinds of glass – he's got the most fantastic collection.'

  'Then show me, go on. Please. Ask me over this afternoon and take me round to Carl's.'

  'I can't, Lucy. Carl doesn't ever let anyone in the Glass H u t apart from me.'

  Lucy rang off, sounding very huffy. I worried t h a t I'd h u r t her feelings, but I couldn't really help it.

  I spent the rest of the morning working out new episodes of Glassworld to impress Carl. I invented a new character, a Princess Mirandarette, who lived in a glittering white snow palace. I drew her dressed in black velvet with a white fur h a t and collar and black boots with spiky steel heels. I gave h e r a white snow leopard and a black j a g u a r for pets, and drew a huge black crow perching on her shoulder. I drew Queen Sylviana beside her. She was Queen of all Glassworld and I drew her in her purple robes of state with her ruby crown and her regal ruby high-heels, but she looked pale and powerless standing next to 72

  Princess Mirandarette. Her leopard a n d j a g u a r looked like they could eat Queen Sylviana's twin talking Siamese cats for breakfast.

  I sighed. I drew King Carlo in the middle of the page, between the Princess and the Queen.

  I hadn't left much space for him so I h a d to draw a very slim, pared-down version of His Regal Majesty, leaving out his customary lengthy ermine train. I drew his crystal crown, each point studded with a round ruby; I drew the royal-blue sash over his shoulder; I drew his white silk suit, leaving most of it plain white page but carefully shading it with pale grey; I drew his ruby cuff links j u s t peeping out from his sleeves; I drew his glass boots; I drew his dear face, big brown eyes, small neat nose, soft lips with a perfect cupid's bow. These lips were smiling b u t his eyes weren't looking left at me.

  They were turned to the right, towards the interloping Princess.

  I suddenly scribbled all over h e r with my black felt pen, ruining my picture.

  I made myself cheese on toast for lunch. I knew Jules wouldn't mind if I went next door and ate with t h e m but Carl h a d specifically said afternoon and I didn't w a n t him to feel I was being too pushy. I tried to work out in my head his definition of afternoon. I t h o u g h t he probably m e a n t three o'clock, but when it came to it I couldn't wait any longer t h a n two.

  I went out of t h e back door and walked down our garden. It wasn't a garden any more, it was 73

  wilderness. Mum h a d long since stopped trying to mow the lawn or do any planting or weeding.

  'I've got to prioritize,' she said defensively.

  Carl's father mowed our lawn several times the first summer my dad left us, but then he slipped out of the habit and Mum was too proud to ask him. We h a d a couple of student lodgers for a while and they sometimes had a go, but they couldn't seem to work the lawnmower and go in a straight line. Then Mum caught them taking drugs and got rid of them in case I got corrupted and we all got prosecuted.

  Miss Miles fiddled around planting a few pansies here and there, b u t she didn't have the strength to mow the lawn. Mum wanted to get rid of the grass altogether. She h a d a vision of a Japanese garden, all smooth grey pebbles and decorative green shrubs.

  'One day, when I've got the time and cash,' she said. 'One day . .. when pigs s t a r t flapping their little wings and go flying through t h e air waving their trotters.'

  I decided t h a t when Carl and I published the Glassworld Chronicles and made our fortunes I'd t r e a t Mum to h e r J a p a n e s e garden. I'd buy her an embroidered kimono to wear in it. She could lie on a little futon reading haikus and drinking green tea . . .

  I waded through nettles and borage and dandelions to the door in the wooden fence at the bottom of our garden. I edged through it into the colourful flowery world of the Johnsons' gar-74

  den and walked over to the Glass Hut. I rapped our special knock on the door but there was no answer.

  I waited for a minute. I could walk up to t h e house a n d find Carl. Or I could go into the Glass H u t a n d wait for him there. Carl h a d never told me not to enter the Glass H u t without him. He hadn't needed to. It was far more private t h a n his bedroom. I only went there at his invitation.

  I knew I should wait. But my h a n d was itching. It reached out as if acting inde-pendently. It seized the handle and opened the door.

  I stepped inside a n d closed t h e door after me. I didn't switch the light on. Red a n d blue a n d green glowed t h r o u g h t h e s t a i n e d - g l a s s windows, softening t h e gloom. I gazed at t