Life, Death and Gold Leather Trousers Page 9

  I turn and step back inside. “He’s nice,” Lily blurts out.

  I nod. “Yeah, he is.”

  “So are you his girlfriend now?”

  “Er, not really, Lil…”

  “Why not?” she wants to know. What can I say? Because how could anything happen with you hanging out with us for most of the afternoon? I don’t even mind – not really. Seeing him helping Lily to play his guitar showed another side of Riley – an even nicer side. As if there wasn’t enough to like already. “Why aren’t you his girlfriend?” she asks again, furrowing her pale brow. “He likes you, Clover. I can tell he does.”

  “Oh, Lily,” I laugh, sensing my cheeks turning pink. “I can’t explain it. You’re just too young to understand, OK?”

  I head over to Niall’s on Sunday morning straight after breakfast. “What I was thinking,” I say as he beckons me in, “is that I could do a bit of babysitting … er, maybe in exchange for a lesson…” I swallow hard, wondering if that sounded horribly cheeky.

  “You’re pretty young to babysit,” he says with a smile.

  “Yeah, I know, but I helped loads with Lily when she was little. I played with her and read her stories and stuff.”

  “How old were you then?” he asks.

  “Um, five or six.” Suddenly, I feel silly. It sounds too young to be useful, although it really felt like I was. When she was crying I’d hold her close, and within seconds she’d be smiling her toothless smile.

  “Early starter,” Niall says with a chuckle. “Look, Clover, I heard you were going through a pretty tough time at home. I was going to call you and say, if it’s OK with your mum, we can forget paying for lessons for a while. I mean, it’s a group lesson and you’ll be helping me really, because you’re great at showing the others what to do…”

  “Not last time, I wasn’t,” I say quickly.

  “Well, you are usually, and I’m happy with that arrangement if you are…”

  “I can’t not pay, Niall! I’d feel bad. Maybe, if I could help with the baby, then it’d seem fairer…”

  He pauses for a moment. “OK. You’re probably a bit young to babysit in the evenings, but maybe you could do a couple of hours after school – say once a week – so Jen could go for a swim or something? I’d only be upstairs in the workshop if you needed me. What d’you say?”

  “I’d love to do that,” I enthuse.

  “And in return you can have lessons, and you don’t have to feel bad. OK?”

  “OK,” I say, fizzling with delight. “I’ll just have to check with Mum.”

  I come home to find Mum and Lily surrounded by swathes of brown fur fabric, chatting excitedly. “What’s this for?” I ask.

  “We’re going to be the three bears!” Lily exclaims.

  “And you, Clover,” Mum announces, “will be Mummy Bear.” I blink at her, confused. “The carnival, remember?” she says, laughing.

  “Oh, Mum … do I have to be in it this year? Shouldn’t you be Mummy Bear?”

  “No, love,” she says briskly. “I’m the biggest, so I’m Daddy, and you’re middle-sized so you’re Mummy…”

  “But me and Lily are getting far too old for it, and—”

  “I’m not too old,” Lily declares. “I can’t wait for the carnival.”

  “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Clover,” Mum laughs. “Anyway, it’s only a week away now so we need to get organized. What d’you think of our costume idea?”

  What do I think? That this is hardly how I planned to present myself in public shortly after my thirteenth birthday. But, heck, after my chat with Niall I’m in too good a mood to protest. “OK, I suppose I’ll do it.” As if I have any choice.

  “And I’m Baby,” Lily exclaims, struggling into her costume. The head part has an oval-shaped hole for her delighted face to peep through. “Like it?”

  “You look great,” I manage.

  Mum perches on the living room table, which is piled high with her sewing things. “Look, love,” she says, “I know you don’t really want to do this, but it’ll be nice to do something together, the three of us…”

  “It’s all right, Mum,” I say. “I don’t mind, honestly. But, um … can I ask you something?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Is it OK if I look after Niall’s baby for a couple of hours a week?”

  Her forehead crinkles. “You’re too young to look after a baby, Clover…”

  “Yes, but Niall would be at home too, upstairs in his workshop where he fixes guitars. So I wouldn’t really be on my own. I’d just be helping out so Jen could have a break…”

  “Mm-hm,” Mum says warily.

  “And in return Niall says he’ll give me free lessons,” I finish all in a rush.

  “Can I help with the baby too?” Lily demands.

  “No, sorry…”

  “Please, I love babies!”

  Mum looks at her. “Listen, hon, that’s sweet of you, but Clover needs to do this on her own, right?”

  “That’s right, Mum.”

  “Well, I don’t see any harm in it. And I’m proud of you for sorting this out instead of moaning at me.”

  I grin, and I’m glowing all over as if Riley just kissed me again, right here in front of my mum and sister and piles of fur fabric. Mum holds up an almost-finished outfit. “This is for you.”

  “It’s great!” I say with fake enthusiasm.

  “Oh, and listen, girls,” Mum adds hesitantly, “on Saturday, after the carnival, I’ve got, um, a little surprise for you.”

  “What is it?” Lily and I cry in unison.

  Although Mum looks a little uneasy, there’s no hiding the excitement in her eyes. “Just … something I want to tell you about. You’ll see.”

  I don’t have time to ponder Mum’s surprise because the whole week’s taken over by carnival fever. “Not long to go now,” Skelling cackles, trailing behind me along the corridor towards science. “Hope you’ve got your costume ready, Clover. Can’t wait to see it, can we?” There’s an outburst of giggles. I’m determined not to look round. “Gone deaf, have you?” she calls out. I’m aware of her clopping along behind me, her footsteps growing closer until she catches up with me at the classroom door. Three of her friends hang back, smirking, as if eager to see what happens next.

  “It’s none of your business what I’m doing for the carnival,” I snap.

  “Oh.” Her pencilled eyebrows shoot upwards. “So you won’t be coming down to the beach after the parade with me and Riley and the others?” She affects a wide-eyed, innocent face which I could happily slap.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say coolly, striding into the science lab.

  All afternoon, I ponder what to do after the parade on Saturday. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t hang out with Riley, even if Skelling’s there too. I know, though, that she’ll make me feel like a gatecrasher. I feel tense already, and there are still five days to go. Plus, I have the bear costume horror to deal with, too. I can picture it now: Skelling wearing some teeny dress the size of a hankie. And me, decked out in top-to-toe brown fake fur. Riley hurries into class, five minutes late, and is given a sharp telling off by Mr Featherstone. I keep my gaze firmly fixed upon the cross sections of leaves in my textbook.

  I’d been hoping that Riley and I would walk down to Niall’s together after school, but when the bell goes I spot him chatting animatedly to Skelling, who’s still wearing her navy shorts and polo shirt after gym. “Hi, Clover,” she says, all smiles.

  “Hi, Sophie.”

  “How are you getting on with guitar these days?”

  “Er, fine…” I glance at Riley. He swings his guitar as the three of us head away from school.

  “Riley’s getting much better,” Skelling adds, turning to him. “That time you were round at mine and played those songs … G
od, they were so good, like really professional…”

  “I don’t think so, Sophie,” he splutters.

  She rolls her eyes. “He could be a pop star, don’t you think?”

  “Um, maybe,” I mumble, quickening my pace until we reach Skelling’s road and she peels, reluctantly, away from us.

  “Enjoy your lesson, you two,” she trills after us.

  “Thanks, Soph,” he calls back.

  Riley and I fall into silence as we walk on. What did she mean, he’s been over at hers, playing songs for her? My stomach twists with envy. Get a grip, I tell myself as we amble along the tree-lined road towards Niall’s. You’ve had one kiss. He comes over to play guitar at your house. It’s nothing, OK? Well, not nothing exactly. You’re just friends and he’s obviously friends with her too. It’s no big deal…

  “Clover?” Riley stops and looks at me. “You’re not listening, are you? You’re miles away.”

  “What? Oh, sorry…”

  “I was just asking if you’re going to be in the parade on Saturday.”

  “Oh!” I exclaim. “Erm, maybe. I’ll see. I haven’t decided yet.” What made me say that? I could hardly sleep for Mum’s sewing machine buzzing away like an insect last night.

  Niall’s dug out some tricky finger-picking exercises for us this week. Having to concentrate hard takes my mind off Skelling and the carnival and all the other stuff that’s been clogging up my mind too much lately.

  “That was fantastic, Clover,” Niall says after the lesson. I sense Riley glancing at me in admiration. That’s what I like about him (just one of the hundreds of things I like about him). The way he’s not hung up on being the best.

  “Thanks,” I say, beaming.

  “You really should take this further, you know,” Niall adds as we all get ready to leave. “You write songs, don’t you?”

  “Well, I try,” I say. “The problem is, I can’t sing.”

  “Oh, I bet you can…”

  I laugh. “Honestly. Last time I tried, our hamster wouldn’t come out of his tunnel.”

  “Well,” Niall chuckles, “maybe you don’t have to sing. You could find someone who can. What about you, Riley? I’ve heard you. There’s a good voice in there, trying to come out…”

  Riley blushes furiously. “Don’t think so, Niall…”

  He shrugs. “You should work on it, you know. Build your confidence. And Clover, there are people are out there who want to play the music you do. They might just take some squirrelling out.”

  “Maybe,” I say, wondering where on earth I’d start squirrelling at Horsedung.

  “What did you think of that?” Riley asks as we leave Niall’s together and step out into the warm afternoon.

  “What, about starting a band? I’d love to, but…”

  “But what?” he asks.

  “Um, I’ve never really played with anyone else. Only my uncle, really…”

  “And me,” he says with a smile.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “You don’t want me in your band,” he teases, and my cheeks flush pink.

  “It’s not that,” I insist. “It’s just … it seems like such a huge thing – finding people, somewhere to rehearse, and I can imagine what Mum’d make of us all crammed into my bedroom, making a racket. Then Lily’d be popping in every two minutes, begging to join in…”

  “How did your uncle get started?” he asks as we reach the end of his street.

  I pause. “With school friends, I think.”

  “Well, there you go…”

  “But it was different for him,” I add, remembering the promise I made to Jupe in that letter: To make up for everything, the only thing I can think of is to be the best guitarist I can possibly be and start a band and be amazing.

  “Well,” Riley says carefully, “maybe you should believe in yourself more.”

  I look at him, at those hazel eyes which are dappled with sunshine. “You’re right,” I say, smiling. “Maybe I should.”

  Every spare minute over the next few days, I hide away in my bedroom and practise Niall’s finger-picking exercises. Not that I have huge amounts of extra time: on Wednesday, straight after school, Mum sends me straight over to Betty’s next door to help to make the customary bunting to decorate her house for carnival day. Betty has trunks stuffed with fabric, and it’s quite soothing, rummaging through it all and picking out pieces that’ll go together. She then has me cutting out triangles, which she hems on her sewing machine.

  “How’s things these days, Clover?” she asks, delving into a basket to find lengths of tape long enough for the bunting.

  “OK,” I say lightly.

  “Still playing your music?”

  “Oh yes…”

  “That nice friend of yours has been to see you again, hasn’t he? The one who brings his guitar…”

  I smile and glance over at Betty. “You mean Riley?”

  She nods, and her eyes glint mischievously. “Hmm. The good-looking one.”

  “Yes, but he’s just a friend, Betty,” I say with a grin.

  “That’s good, Clover. Looks like a nice boy. So, been seeing much of your dad lately?”

  “Er…” I pause, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. Dad’s invited me and Lily over after school tomorrow. The thought of sitting there balancing china teacups on saucers, with Bernice going on about my bone structure… “We speak quite a lot,” I say lightly, “and I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

  Betty nods, and I catch her giving me the occasional glance as the sewing machine whirrs back into life. “This is looking great,” she exclaims, holding up one end of a finished strip of bunting. “Here, you take the other end and let’s have a look.”

  Obediently, I take the other end of the tape and step back until it’s stretched taut, stepping carefully over Midnight’s food bowl, which still sits by the door, even though he died months ago now.

  “Well, that’s that piece done,” Betty says brightly. “Could you bear to cut out more triangles for me or had you better get home?”

  I pause, thinking of my bear costume lying on our kitchen table, ready for me to try on for the fiftieth time. “Just a few more alterations,” Mum had said earlier.

  “Oh, I think I’ll stay here and cut triangles,” I say with a grin.

  Tea at Dad and Bernice’s next day isn’t too bad, especially as Bernice has baked specially for us – the table is laden with cupcakes – and we’re allowed Coke, which Mum hardly ever buys. “I think I’m gonna be a hairdresser,” Lily announces as Bernice styles my sister’s thick, dark hair into a sophisticated updo. I can tell Bernice is trying to be especially nice to Lily, who’s lapping up all the attention.

  “You’ll probably change your mind a million times before then,” Dad says with a smile.

  “What do you want to be, Clover?” Bernice asks as we clear the table together.

  I’m about to remind her of my music thing, but feel less comfortable sharing my hopes and plans than I did at the Cutting Room. “Haven’t decided yet,” I say lightly.

  What I have decided, though, is that there’s no way Lily can show up at home with her hair piled up professionally like that. On the way home, just around the corner from Dad’s, we stop so I can pull out all the clips.

  “I don’t want to take it all out!” Lily protests, cheeks flaming angrily.

  “You’ll have to,” I say firmly.

  “But why? I wanna show Mum!” Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes flood with tears.

  “Look, I’m sorry…” I stuff the clips into my jacket pocket and try to smooth down her hair. “It’s just … Mum’ll be upset if she sees it, Lil.”

  “Why?” she cries.

  “Because Bernice did it.”

  “So what? It’s my hair! It’s nothing to do with Mum!”

 
“Listen,” I say firmly, “I’ve got all the clips, OK? I watched how she did it and sometime I’ll put it up for you exactly the same.”

  Her lip curls and she gives me a suspicious look. “You’re rubbish at hair. You made your fringe all up-and-downy.”

  I grab her hand and start walking briskly. “Yeah, well, that was cutting,” I say. “Putting it up’s a lot easier. You can help me – we’ll play hairdressers sometime.” That perks Lily up. My other hand curls around the clips in my pocket, and I wonder how something as simple as hair suddenly got so complicated.

  All of Friday, I try to think about anything but the carnival. Maybe it’ll be called off. Perhaps, if I wish hard enough, there’ll be a freak hurricane. Then it’d be unsafe to have the parade with all those floats with people dancing on them. It doesn’t sound right, almost wishing a natural disaster would happen. But that’s how desperate I am.

  Before I’ve opened my eyes next morning, I can feel sunshine beating hard on my face. Great. Carnival Day looks set to be the hottest day of the year. Just what you need when you’re bundled up in fur fabric. I find Mum and Lily downstairs, giggling together as they struggle into their costumes. “Couldn’t we put them on in town, just before the procession starts?” I suggest.

  “No,” Mum says firmly. “Everyone arrives in their costumes, Clover. Anyway, Betty will be dying to see you all dressed up.” Maximum humiliation, she means. So I moan a bit more, then climb into my rug suit and we set off – Daddy, Mummy and Baby Bear – but not before our photocall with Betty. “Just one more!” she trills, waggling her old-fashioned camera at us. I blink through the eyeholes of my costume. It’s only one day, I remind myself. One day, then everything will be normal again.

  By the time we’ve plodded into town, my whole body’s slithering in sweat. The streets are thronging with cavemen, hula dancers and every cartoon character imaginable. There’s even a giant papier mâché Dumbo. I spot Skelling, who’s come as a glammed-up version of herself in a tiny white dress and silver sandals. Inside my fat furry costume, my flesh crawls.