Blueberry Wishes (2 page)

“That's fantastic,” said Mum. “Let's make sure we do the same next week.”

“And I did rose nail art for two girls today,” Saff said proudly. “It's only an extra fiver, but it all helps, and it looked fantastic. Hopefully when their friends see it at school on Monday, they'll all want them.”

“Well done, love,” said Mum. Grace and I shared a secret smile. Saff hadn't been sure about doing a beauty course at college at first (she'd been set on becoming a famous singer even though, sorry to say this, but she isn't exactly Adele). It was great to see how she was madly into being a beautician now, and she was really brilliant at it, too.

“We've got some rebookings for next Saturday already,” said Grace, “and I'm sure we can fill up the other spaces by the end of Friday.”

“Oh, it's a bit daunting, though,” Mum said then, “thinking of you all going back to school and college, and me running this place on my own…”

“You won't be on your own,” Saff assured her. “I don't have college on Tuesdays, so I'll be here to help, and we'll all be back just after four most days.”

Mum smiled, stretched out her arms and caught us all into a hug round our waists. “I know. I'm so proud of you girls. You're amazing. This – everything we've done – is amazing. Now we're up and running, we're just going to go from strength to strength.”

“Too right!” cried Saff. “Look out, world, here we come! Well, look out, Devon, anyway!”

“Right, I think we're all sorted here. Let's head upstairs,” said Mum, linking arms with me. “I need to get ready to go out before I run out of energy and change my mind.”

“Oh, Saff, that reminds me, can I borrow your blue top to wear to the gig?” I asked, as we headed for the door. “Pur-lease…” I added, batting my eyelashes at her.

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Okay, seeing as you're meeting up with your
boy-friend
, who you
lu-rve
.” Argh, not again!

We locked up, then all bustled upstairs to the flat. It looked so much better now that we'd had a couple of months to get settled in. Mum's colourful designer scarf covered up most of the revolting brown sofa in the corner of the kitchen (that, and the telly on the end of the peeling worktop, was basically our living room). Saff and Grace had covered their room in posters (completely different ones, obviously – Grace's were all
Twilight
and quotes from Einstein and Saff had romcom ones scrounged from the local cinema). Still, they hid the grubby, eighties' wallpaper – that was the main thing.

I shared a room with Mum (
Yikes!
you're thinking, and yes, at first I'd been horrified, but we'd got used to it). It looked better since I'd hung some of my clothes up on the walls as outfits with accessories to make it look like some kind of fashion mag's store cupboard. And we'd put the lovely big wool picnic blanket on the bed, since that was more cosy and dressed up than just the plain duvet.

And now I had my chill-out room, of course. It had started off as the manky Hoover cupboard but then Mum, Grace and Saff had secretly decorated it for me, in a warm burnt orange, and added big sequinned floor cushions, fairy lights and a CD player. It was my special place to draw, write, daydream, read – and come up with new ideas for our home-made pamper products, of course.

For supper, Mum had made a big dish of cannelloni the night before, so that was all ready to go in the oven.

“Yum!” exclaimed Grace as we tucked into it half an hour later. “Proper food is back on the menu! You're right, Saff. We're definitely on the up!”

We all giggled at that. When we'd first moved down to Totnes, our fave dinner had been reduced to a tin of tomatoes and an economy bag of twisty pasta. But now Mum's signature cannelloni was back to being creamy and delicious, full of spinach and mozzarella and crème fraiche.

After we'd eaten, Saff put some music on and we all took turns in front of the bathroom mirror (well, okay, nudged and jostled and tried to borrow stuff and complained about each other taking all the space).

Eventually Saff got really annoyed and marched us all back into the kitchen, emptied her make-up bag (well,
bags
) onto the rickety Formica-topped table and said, “Look,
I'll
do you lot up, okay? It'll be good practice for when my course starts. Form an orderly queue and behave yourselves.”

“Yes, ma'am!” said Mum, saluting. We all giggled at that, even Grace.

Saff did a really classic look on Mum, with blusher and plum lipstick, and when Mum went off to get dressed, Saff then did this amazing transformation on me. She used my usual lashings of black eyeliner and mascara (I'm sure I've mentioned the headless thing) but with loads of grey-black cream eyeshadow too, and paled-out lips, so I looked really rock chick-y. “Oh, Saff, I love it!” I shrieked, when she showed me in the bathroom mirror. “And you know what would really finish the look? Your black skinny jeans…”

I thought I was pushing my luck there, but Saff was so happy playing make-up artist that she said, “Oh, go on then, and you can borrow my slouchy boots, too.”

“You're the best sister in the world!” I cried, and Grace said, “Ahem, she might be the best sister
now
, but Monday morning when you need help to do your Maths homework in the loos before school, I think you'll find
I
am…”

I grinned at Grace. “Yes, I've got the best
sisters
in the world, that's what I said,” I replied sweetly.

“Abbie, you don't
really
leave your homework until Monday morning in the loos, do you?” asked Mum then, so I gave Grace a look and luckily for me she promised she'd just made that up.

Grace even let Saff put a bit of mascara and lip gloss on her and we managed to talk Mum up to half ten on our curfew. She made my sisters absolutely swear to be back on time so that when Summer's dad dropped me home, I wouldn't be there on my own. “I'm sure I'll be home long before then anyway,” she added. “But just in case there's a queue for taxis or something…”

“Mum, go out, have fun, relax!” I cried. “I'm
fourteen
– I could go and babysit for little kids, and you're worried about me spending ten minutes in the flat on my own!”

She blinked at me. “Yes, I suppose you're right,” she said. “I can't believe my girls are growing up so fast!”

Just as we were all about to head out, I dug around in my bag for the little vintage compact that held my home-made solid perfume (my signature scent – geranium and rose) and dabbed some on. Then I slicked a bit of shine onto my lips with my Peppermint Kiss Lip Balm. I'd been wearing it when Marco and I had our first kiss, as we danced in the empty beauty parlour to “Somewhere over the Rainbow”, and the scent always brought back that memory. For a moment, my fingers lingered on my lips, remembering… I stood, daydreaming, smiling…until Saff stuck her head round the bathroom door and dragged me out to help her choose the right eyeshadow to go with her slinky red vintage dress.

Mum came back into the kitchen then and I noticed her do a double take at me, and then start giving me a “you're not going out like that” kind of look. I thought she was about to grab the wet wipes and un-rock-chick me, so I quickly announced that we really ought to go. I started bustling everyone towards the door, handing them bags and coats on the way.

Halfway down the hall, Mum stopped still and I thought my cool make-up was doomed, but then she said something that surprised us all. “Do I look overdone?” she asked anxiously. “I mean, are you sure about this top of yours, Saff? Does it look too young for me?” She was breathing fast, like she was about to have a panic attack. “I'm not sure what the others will be wearing,” she went on. “I don't know Trish's friends apart from having a quick chat with the ones who came in to Rainbow Beauty. Oh, goodness, I hope we'll get on alright. Look, I think I'll just stay here after all. You go on…” And with that, she turned and hurried back to the kitchen, looking very unsteady.

We all rushed after her.

“Mum, calm down!” I cried. I was really shocked to see such big cracks in her confidence – they'd never been there before.

Saff was staring at her, and I knew she was also thinking,
Is this really Mum talking
? “You'll be fine,” she said.

“You look great,” Grace insisted.

Mum sighed. “Oh, girls. I really don't know if I can do it,” she muttered. “I haven't been out, properly
out
, since…since…”

“What, since Dad had an affair, split up with you, moved out and lost his business, and the bailiffs took our house and most of our stuff from right under us, and we ended up in this hellhole flat?” asked Saff breezily.

Grace and I held our breath. The silence seared and burned around us for a moment, and I felt the pain of it all again, as scorching and sharp as when it had just happened. We looked at Mum, worried she was about to burst into tears and collapse in a heap.

But instead she breathed in sharply and said, “Saff, whatever you do, never ever chat to our clients about their problems, will you? They'd run a mile!”

“Sorry…” Saff half-whispered. “It just came out…”

“It's fine, love,” Mum insisted, managing a smile. “And you've put things into perspective for me. We've come this far. We can get through anything. It's only a night out, for goodness' sake. I'm not being asked to perform brain surgery.”

“You'll have a great time,” I insisted.

“Yeah, go for it,” added Saff.

“And if it's awful, you can always make an excuse and come back early,” said Grace.

“Oh, my girls, my lovely girls! Come here!” Mum cried, pulling us all into a big hug again. Then she let us go, smoothed down her top and skirt, and patted her hair. She always did that before she went anywhere or opened the door to anyone. And then she said, “Look out, Totnes. Here come the Green girls!”

And with that we bustled down the stairs, chatting and giggling, and stepped out into the blustery September evening.

We all crossed the bridge beside Vire Island, one of my favourite places to hang out, and then, after more hugs, we headed our separate ways. I walked up Fore Street, stealing little glances at myself in the shop windows to make sure I hadn't suddenly started looking rubbish or anything. When I got to the arch thingy at the top of the hill, Summer was already there, waiting for me. We both spotted each other at the same time and started running, ending up in a big, squealy, girly hug.

“OMG, you look amazing!” Summer cried.

“No,
you
look amazing!” I shrieked.

“Well, you look totes amazeballs!” she gasped, going totally OTT.

“Well, you look totastically amazeballsacious!” I cried. “Ha, beat that!”

And it was true. Summer always looked good, but in one of her signature floor-length tattered Cinderella skirts, a skinny-fit stripy top and loads of jewellery, she looked like she should have been onstage at Glastonbury. We ducked down the little alleyway that led to the cafe, and even though it was only just past seven and the band wasn't on till eight, there were already little groups gathering outside. I felt my stomach flip over with excitement, thinking that everyone was here to see my BOYFRIEND onstage. (Well, and the rest of the band, of course, I suppose, a bit!)

Just as we were about to go in, Summer said, “Hang on a tick,” and then took out the little perfume compact I'd made for her, with her own signature scent of bergamot, jasmine and geranium inside. She dabbed it on, slicked on some Rainbow Beauty Scrummy Strawberry Lip Balm and then produced a little hand mirror from her sequinned bag and checked her face and hair in it.

Huh. That was weird.

Summer never bothered looking in mirrors usually – well, only when we were
pretending
to check our hair in the loos while actually having a girly gossip. She wasn't bothered about how she looked, and anyway, she didn't need to be. She had long dark curly hair that fell in just the perfect place for a tousled, hippy look, dark eyelashes that went on for about a mile and peachy perfect skin. So you can see why I had to wear loads of make-up to look even
vaguely
non-hideous next to her.

“You're making an effort,” I teased. “For anyone special?”

As soon as I'd said it, I kind of wished I hadn't. I'd promised myself I wouldn't get involved in Summer's love life. Not since the whole awkward, embarrassing, off-the-cringe-scale beach-party situation. (Basically, she'd had a crush on Ben for a while, and, playing matchmaker, I'd gone over at the party to tell him how she felt. But somehow, just as I was about to say she liked him, he'd got the wrong end of the stick and tried to kiss
me
instead. Which, as you can imagine, was basically AWFUL, for all of us. It's sorted now, though – the boys didn't kill each other, Ben wasn't really into me and Summer's not into Ben any more.)

Luckily, she just smiled at me and said, “Why would it be
for
anyone? Girls should enjoy looking good to feel good for themselves, not for boys.”

“OMG, you sound like Grace!” I cried.

“Is she coming?” she asked.

“No, she's gone to the cinema with Saff.” I smiled to myself, imagining them standing in the foyer right at that moment, bickering about which film to see.

“Oh, that's great,” said Summer. “Her getting out more, I mean.”

“Yeah, we're all out at once, for the first time in ages, even Mum,” I said. “And you're right – it does feel great. Like we're getting back to normal – well, a new kind of normal, anyway.”

Summer gave me a big smile and linked arms with me. Then we headed into the cafe, which looked gorgeous, with fairy lights glowing against the bare brick walls, and little tea-light candles in jars everywhere. The tables had been pushed back to the edges of the room and the band's gear was set up in one corner. People were sitting on some of the tables, or standing around chatting. We went up to the counter to get some drinks and Summer talked to the owner, Pete – she seemed to know every single person in Totnes. When we came to pay, I found my mouth loudly announcing to him that I was the GIRLFRIEND of the guitarist. Yikes!

Summer smirked. “You've got it bad, haven't you?”

“It's not me, it's my mouth!” I cried. “I have
no
control over it, like
zero
.”

We crossed the room and spotted Ben, who was wearing his Scooby-Doo T-shirt as usual, and chatting to his footie mates.

“Hiya,” I said, as we reached him.

“Hey.”

We hugged, and I thought he and Summer would hug too, but instead they just did that little “hi” wave thing. Okay, so maybe things were still a
teeny bit
awkward between them after the beach party.

“I thought you weren't getting here till later,” I said, “what with Gabe's bedtime.”

“Nah, Dad's just back from Germany, so I skipped off early,” he told us. Ben helped out with his two-year-old brother a lot. Having a toddler in the family meant things were pretty hectic, especially when his dad, a long-distance lorry driver, was away.

“Cool,” I said. “Right, I'm off to say hello to Marco backstage.” I swanned off in Saff's slouchy boots, thinking that if things
were
still a bit strained between Summer and Ben, the quicker they spent a bit of time alone together, the quicker it would be sorted.

“Backstage” turned out to be a little stockroom next to the loos where Marco was standing with Tay, Chaz and Declan, the rest of the band. He was leaning on a cash-and-carry-sized box of biscotti and talking through their set list. Two girls, who I recognized as Shalini and Jas, Declan and Chaz's girlfriends, were chatting by a stack of egg-free mayo jars, while listening to an iPod between them. They smiled at me as I walked in and I did a massive grin back, then toned it down a bit and tried not to look completely uncool.

When I said “hi” to the band guys, they did the traditional boy greetings of grunt, slight hand wave and mumble.

“Hey,” said Marco, giving me a smile.

My stomach flipped over and my knees actually buckled a bit under me and I thought I was going to have to hang on to the shelf of organic orange juice cartons to avoid falling in a jelly-legged heap on the floor. However often I saw him, Marco still seemed to have that effect on me. It took me a while to get used to him, so that I wasn't just staring at his dark blue eyes and mop of black curls with my mouth hanging open. He caught me into a hug, and electricity buzzed between us, the same way it had when we'd first met, when he'd pulled me out of a storm into a doorway, and put his blazer round my shoulders. I was swirled up in his cinnamon, musk and cedar wood smell all over again and I had to actually
force
myself to put him down. “How's it going?” I asked.

“Good, yeah. We were just sorting out a few last-minute things. You look really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said, and clamped my lips shut before my uncontrollable mouth started going on about me being headless if I don't wear loads of make-up…

“You know Shalini and Jas, don't you?” he asked.

The girls gave me another smile and chorused “Hi”.

“Hi,” I said.

“I like your top,” said Shalini.

And I almost did the mad-person grin again. I stopped myself just in time and managed to do a normal smile instead and say, “Thanks, it's my sister's.”

“I'll come out and see Ben,” Marco said. “We're pretty much done here, anyway.”

The boys did that whole laterz-and-back-slapping thing, even though they were seeing each other in about ten seconds' time, and then Marco followed me back down the little corridor, holding my hand. He only let go because he saw Ben and of course they did the complicated high-five thing that all boys have to do. (They do it instead of the hugging and cheek-kissing and squealing “OMG, you look amazing” to each other that girls do.)

Lots of the people who'd been meeting up outside had come in by then, and I spotted Amany and Iola from Art Club. Some of Tay, Chaz and Declan's mates were there too, and Selima, Alex and Raven (I know – SO Totnes hippy-style to call your kid that!) from Media. There was a buzz of chatter round the room, and loads of the girl-hugging and boy-high-fiving thing was going on as friends found each other.

I recognized a group of girls who we used to call Marco's Year 8 Fan Club (about to be his Year 9 Fan Club). He used to flirt with them when they came over to our table in the canteen at school and stuff, and me and Summer always teased him about it and killed ourselves laughing.

Strangely enough, it didn't seem all that funny now that I was his girlfriend. I started to worry that somehow just seeing them would make him go back to his old flirty ways, but when they came up to us, he hardly spoke to them, apart from to be polite. Actually, they seemed to talk to me more than him, saying they'd heard we were together and asking how it happened, and then going “Aww!” and “Wow!” and “Soooo romantic!” when I told them (while he stood there blushing, then sidled away – hee hee).

As Pete went by, he stopped and said to Summer, “Oh, I meant to ask, are you doing the Autumn Fayre at your place again this year? It was great fun last time.”

“Yeah, on the seventeenth,” she told him. “As in, not this Saturday but next. Mum's about to ring you.”

“Put Sue and me down to volunteer. We'll do a mobile cafe again – it raised quite a bit last time.”

Summer grinned at him. “Thanks, Pete, I'll let her know.”

“Oh, yeah, the Fayre,” I said, remembering that Summer had mentioned it a couple of weeks back. “You still haven't let me know what I can do.” They put on a hog roast, raffle and stalls in their garden, all in aid of the local cancer hospice.

“Don't worry, you're on Mum's list of happy helpers,” she told me. “And, by the way, I'm impressed,” she said, gesturing after the Marco Fan Club, who were heading off to the loos. “You know I've had my doubts about Marco as boyfriend material, but he hardly even noticed them.”

I tried hard not to say,
I told you so
. Then, “I told you so,” I said, because of my unstoppable mouth.

Ben came up just then. “I was talking to Pete about the Autumn Fayre,” he said. “Put me down to help with the hog roast.”

“You're on Mum's list as well,” Summer told him, smiling. “But I'm not sure if she's given out the jobs yet. I'll ask her. And
you're
down to help out too,” she called over to Marco. “Hey, maybe we could sell your autograph for a fiver a time!”

“Make it ten, and you're on!” he called back, and pulled a face at her.

Summer swatted the air, pretending it was his head. Those two had known each other for so long they acted like brother and sister – including arguing and taking the mickey out of each other at all times. Marco gave me a smile, and headed over to the stagey bit where the rest of the band had gathered. Then they began to get sorted out and tune up.

A few minutes later, a hush fell over the crowd as Headrush started to play. I absolutely loved watching Marco onstage – I mean, licence to stare or what?! I loved the concentration on his face, the way he moved to the music, his hair flopping around in time to the beat. I leaned against a table and settled back to enjoy it all. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Declan handed the mic to Marco. My BOYFRIEND cleared his throat and gave me a slightly embarrassed smile and said, “I wrote this for you, Abbie.”

Well,
everyone
turned to look at me and I was so shocked that I stood bolt upright and slopped apple juice down myself. Oh, well. I guess I knew that Saff's clothes could only make me
look
cool, not act it.

“Ahem,” said Tay, raising his eyebrows at Marco.

“Okay, Tay helped a bit with the lyrics. I'm not going to force you lot to listen to me sing it, but I want Abbie to know it's from me to her.”

“Ahhh!” went most of the girls in the room, and I saw Shalini and Jas beaming at me. Ben pretended to be sick, so I slapped him one, and only a couple of Marco's Nearly Year 9 Fan Club looked like they wanted to kill me. Most of them seemed to think it was the most romantic thing they'd ever heard.

So the band played my song, and I'm not going to write the lyrics down here but to give you a rough idea it was going on about “that new girl” and “seeing that girl” and “wanting to get to know that girl” and stuff. Anyway, it was really good, and if I'd heard it on the radio and it hadn't been about me I would still have thought it was really good.

When it had ended and they'd gone on to something rocky, I thought it was safe to move my eyes from the stage and risk looking around (I'd been too embarrassed to do that when the song was playing, in case anyone thought I was being, like,
Oh yes, I am sooooo that girl, check me out!
). All my new friends were there, my gorgeous boyfriend was on the stage and had written a song for me, and my family was safely out having a good time. A ripple of pure happiness ran through me. Amazingly, even after all we'd been through, I really felt that things couldn't get much better.