rhymes with you,’ said Jess. She wished it could have been a better joke, but her fan laughed anyway.
‘Come on, Chloe,’ said Zoe. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Eat my shorts!’ said Chloe, getting up and scorching past with a glare. She marched off. Zoe watched her go.
‘She’s a little touchy today,’ she sighed. ‘She had a bit of a tragedy last night with one of her poison toads.’ Zoe shrugged apologetically and walked off.
‘Well, I’m exhausted,’ said Jess, sitting down. ‘What does one have to do around here to get some respect?’
‘How much respect do you want?’ sneered Jodie, plonking herself down beside her. ‘She’ll probably come back here when we’ve gone and sit down where you sat. It’ll be a sacred spot.’
‘I just hope Edouard hasn’t got a crush on me after all,’ said Jess. ‘He shows no signs of it, anyway, thank goodness.’
Suddenly a shadow fell across the bench. Fred had arrived. He seemed taller than ever, standing there against the sun, but somehow still not sinister, only absurd.
‘So is the camping trip on?’ he asked. ‘My dad says we can have his old army tent. Just ignore the bullet holes and bloodstains.’
‘Sorry, Fred,’ said Jodie, in her brisk and rather brutal way, ‘you can’t come. My auntie says we’ve got to keep the numbers down and six is the max.’
‘Phew, what a relief,’ said Fred. ‘I was heroically going to go through with it, but to be honest I’m allergic to being outdoors. In fact, I’ve had enough of this so-called fresh air. Ah, well . . . I’m off to weep with disappointment in the loos.’ He strolled away.
‘That was a bit harsh,’ said Jess. ‘Can’t your auntie just let Fred come? Go on, let him. He’s a laugh.’
‘Nope,’ said Jodie, biting through her chicken tikka baguette with an almost crocodile-like snap. ‘Six is the max.’
‘I feel sorry for him,’ said Flora. ‘He was so sweet offering his dad’s tent and stuff.’
‘His tent sounded gross,’ said Jodie. ‘What’s yours like? State of the art?’
Flora looked startled.
‘We don’t have a tent actually,’ she said. ‘My mum refuses to stay in anything less than a four-star hotel.’
‘Have you got a tent, Jess?’ asked Jodie.
‘No,’ said Jess. ‘We sold ours years ago. But buy me the wool and I’ll knit one by Friday.’ Despite the joke, she was feeling uneasy. Surely the weekend wasn’t going to be scuppered by a lack of tents? ‘I kind of assumed you’d be providing the tents,’ she went on.
Jodie scowled. ‘Look, I’m providing the field, aren’t I? Plus, unlike you two losers, I do actually have a tent, but it’s way too small for all of us.’
‘I expect we can borrow one from somebody,’ said Flora. ‘Whizzer has a tent.’
‘He’d want something sordid in return,’ said Jodie. ‘We can borrow Fred’s.’
‘What?’ gasped Jess. ‘You can’t tell him he can’t come and then ask to borrow his tent. Have you no tact at all?’
The bell rang, bringing an end to their lunchtime idyll. A sense of uneasiness was creeping over them. Would their wonderful camping weekend have to be abandoned by a stupid thing like a shortage of tents? But, then again, how could one do camping without them?
However, when Jess got home, she discovered that something much more fundamental was threatening her divine plans.
‘Camping?’ snapped her mum, struggling with a cheese sauce (?Jess had once again mistimed a crucial request). ‘At this time of year? Forget it. We don’t have a tent. It’ll be too cold – he’ll get pneumonia.’
Edouard was sitting with Granny. He was pale with the awful aftermath of a trip to Oxford, and preparing to toy disgustedly with Mum’s leeks and bacon in cheese sauce.
It’s so infuriating , thought Jess. Mum hates cooking with a ferocious passion and still she doesn’t want to get him out of her hair for a weekend .
Jess felt her heart sink down, down, down through the kitchen
‘Come on, Chloe,’ said Zoe. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Eat my shorts!’ said Chloe, getting up and scorching past with a glare. She marched off. Zoe watched her go.
‘She’s a little touchy today,’ she sighed. ‘She had a bit of a tragedy last night with one of her poison toads.’ Zoe shrugged apologetically and walked off.
‘Well, I’m exhausted,’ said Jess, sitting down. ‘What does one have to do around here to get some respect?’
‘How much respect do you want?’ sneered Jodie, plonking herself down beside her. ‘She’ll probably come back here when we’ve gone and sit down where you sat. It’ll be a sacred spot.’
‘I just hope Edouard hasn’t got a crush on me after all,’ said Jess. ‘He shows no signs of it, anyway, thank goodness.’
Suddenly a shadow fell across the bench. Fred had arrived. He seemed taller than ever, standing there against the sun, but somehow still not sinister, only absurd.
‘So is the camping trip on?’ he asked. ‘My dad says we can have his old army tent. Just ignore the bullet holes and bloodstains.’
‘Sorry, Fred,’ said Jodie, in her brisk and rather brutal way, ‘you can’t come. My auntie says we’ve got to keep the numbers down and six is the max.’
‘Phew, what a relief,’ said Fred. ‘I was heroically going to go through with it, but to be honest I’m allergic to being outdoors. In fact, I’ve had enough of this so-called fresh air. Ah, well . . . I’m off to weep with disappointment in the loos.’ He strolled away.
‘That was a bit harsh,’ said Jess. ‘Can’t your auntie just let Fred come? Go on, let him. He’s a laugh.’
‘Nope,’ said Jodie, biting through her chicken tikka baguette with an almost crocodile-like snap. ‘Six is the max.’
‘I feel sorry for him,’ said Flora. ‘He was so sweet offering his dad’s tent and stuff.’
‘His tent sounded gross,’ said Jodie. ‘What’s yours like? State of the art?’
Flora looked startled.
‘We don’t have a tent actually,’ she said. ‘My mum refuses to stay in anything less than a four-star hotel.’
‘Have you got a tent, Jess?’ asked Jodie.
‘No,’ said Jess. ‘We sold ours years ago. But buy me the wool and I’ll knit one by Friday.’ Despite the joke, she was feeling uneasy. Surely the weekend wasn’t going to be scuppered by a lack of tents? ‘I kind of assumed you’d be providing the tents,’ she went on.
Jodie scowled. ‘Look, I’m providing the field, aren’t I? Plus, unlike you two losers, I do actually have a tent, but it’s way too small for all of us.’
‘I expect we can borrow one from somebody,’ said Flora. ‘Whizzer has a tent.’
‘He’d want something sordid in return,’ said Jodie. ‘We can borrow Fred’s.’
‘What?’ gasped Jess. ‘You can’t tell him he can’t come and then ask to borrow his tent. Have you no tact at all?’
The bell rang, bringing an end to their lunchtime idyll. A sense of uneasiness was creeping over them. Would their wonderful camping weekend have to be abandoned by a stupid thing like a shortage of tents? But, then again, how could one do camping without them?
However, when Jess got home, she discovered that something much more fundamental was threatening her divine plans.
‘Camping?’ snapped her mum, struggling with a cheese sauce (?Jess had once again mistimed a crucial request). ‘At this time of year? Forget it. We don’t have a tent. It’ll be too cold – he’ll get pneumonia.’
Edouard was sitting with Granny. He was pale with the awful aftermath of a trip to Oxford, and preparing to toy disgustedly with Mum’s leeks and bacon in cheese sauce.
It’s so infuriating , thought Jess. Mum hates cooking with a ferocious passion and still she doesn’t want to get him out of her hair for a weekend .
Jess felt her heart sink down, down, down through the kitchen
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