Boys for Beginners (18 page)

Me and Charlie are going to the prom together. And if he doesn't ask me out properly, then I'll just have to ask him.

‘Hey, Dad, how's it hanging?' I say as my Dad walks into the living room.

‘It's hanging superbly, Gwyndoe, just bloody superbly.' He gives me a big kiss on the top of my head, which I let slide.

‘Why are you in such a good mood?' I ask him.

‘Wouldn't you like to know?' he says.

I would, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of asking when he's looking so smug. ‘Have you just taken a pill that can make you happy but will make your hair even more frizzy?'

‘No, Gwynnie, I haven't. And I wouldn't need one as I am extremely frizzy and as happy as a clam.'

‘Tell me.'

‘No.'

‘Tell me, Dad.'

‘No.'

‘You know you can't keep a secret.' I roll my eyes in this overly dramatic way. ‘Tell me now and then we can skip over the whining and pleading and get on to your boring secret, then have dinner.' I'm not being
unpleasant
here, I am only teasing him and he knows it.

‘Oh, Gwynnie . . . This is
so completely
not boring.' Dad thinks he's speaking like me, but I so completely don't speak like that. Oh.

‘Tell me or I'll tickle you.' My dad's weakness is tickling. I stand up and get him at the back of the neck, where I know he's most vulnerable. He does that thing that's sort of in between laughing and screaming in agony, and then he yells, ‘Stop! I surrender! I'll tell you everything.'

‘You'd be rubbish in a torture situation, Dad. They wouldn't need a dripping tap, just a feather duster.'

Dad looks at me and he's smiling. I can see that he's really properly smiling like I haven't seen him smile in ages. Not since Mum was alive and he had his proper job at the warehouse and Mum had her part-time work at Dixons and we didn't have a lot of money but we were fine.

Suddenly Dad goes all serious.

‘Gwynnie, I'm sorry if I've been a bit of a rubbish dad sometimes.'

I don't say anything. I could tell him he's not a rubbish dad, because he's not. Well, not all of the time. But I'm waiting to see what bombshell he's about to drop.

‘Since your mother died I've found it really difficult to manage on my own . . . with everything . . . There's a lot of stuff that I feel I have messed up that I know your mother would have handled better, and there is a lot stuff you have missed out on.'

‘I don't need stuff, Dad.' When have I ever needed stuff?

He takes a breath and then continues. ‘Angela wanted me to tell you that you can always come to her if you ever need any – erm –
girl talk
—' Oh no, he's not going to talk about condoms and diseases again, is he? ‘And she knows that she's not your mum and she'd never be as good as your mum, but . . .'

What's Angela got to do with anything? Please don't tell me he's marrying Angela.

‘Is this about Angela?' There's this weird crack in my voice and I realize that I am on the verge of crying. It sometimes happens when
people start talking about Mum in a serious way.

‘This isn't about Angela at all really, and I don't know why I brought it up. I just wanted to say that I know things have been difficult since Mum died . . . And I'm sorry that I ruined your birthday by not having any money. If there was anything I could change about the past couple of months, that would be it.'

‘It's OK, Dad.' And it was OK. So why did I make such a big deal about it at the time?

‘Anyway, I wanted to make it up to you by doing something brilliant. Just the two of us.'

‘You don't have to, Dad.' Part of me is excited that maybe he's got us tickets to New York Fashion Week, but part of me is worried that he is about to suggest counting sparrows at Bradlaugh Fields.

‘So . . .'

‘Yes?'

‘You know how Spurs have kicked the bums of every other team in the FA Cup for the first time since 1991?'

‘Yeah.' Doesn't everyone know that?

‘And you know that we usually watch the final down the pub with the lads?'

‘Yeah.' I can see where he is going with this but I don't dare to dream it's true.

‘Gwynnie . . .' He makes it all dramatic like he's a gameshow host. ‘I've . . . gotusticketstotheFACupfinal!!!'

This is amazing! So amazing that I can't register what he's saying. My mouth hangs open like a goal when the keeper's been sent off, while my dad does this dance that makes him look like he's stirring three different pans of soup at the same time, two with his hands and one with his bottom. ‘We're going to see Spurs?' I ask. I've only ever seen them play four times.

‘Yup.'

‘In the FA Cup final?' I will probably never see Spurs in the FA Cup final again.

‘Yup.'

‘This is the best thing you have ever done for me ever!' I run over and gave him a big hug.

‘I thought we'd make a day of it; go down to London, watch Tottenham lift the FA Cup, and then after we've shouted ourselves hoarse, get something to eat somewhere, like pizza or something, before we come home.'

I can picture it now: there we are with
thousands of screaming Spurs fans. It's the eighty-ninth minute, it's two all, and Andros Townsend makes the most amazing tackle before passing it down the line to Frazier Campbell who lobs it over to Robbie Keane who takes it round one of their defenders, then two, then three, before chipping it over the keeper and scoring the most amazing goal since Gazza's 1991 stonker against Arsenal. The crowd will jump up in amazement and when the ball finally passes the goal line everyone will go mental and start hugging and bawling. Then the ref will blow for full time and everyone will go even more mental because they will realize that we have actually done it. Then Charlie Notts will ring me and ask if I saw it, and I'll be like,
Saw it? I'm here
! Then he'll tell me that I am the most amazing girl he has ever met and he'll say he wants more than anything to be my boyfriend.

‘Thank you so much, Dad. You're the best.'

‘Well,' he says, like it's no big deal or anything, ‘I figured that we were doing nothing special on Saturday so . . .' He trails off when he sees my face.

Nothing special
.

‘What's the matter?'

‘Nothing, Dad. This is brilliant.' But absolutely everything is the matter.

‘I am the happiest man in the whole entire world,' he says. ‘I am going with my favourite daughter to watch my favourite team play. You can't get better than that . . .'

The FA Cup final is the same day as prom. What the flan am I going to do?

Hi c soz but i can't come to prom on sat

I'm texting Charlie. If I told him I was going to the FA Cup final he might understand. But I can't tell him I'm still into football or else he'll transfer my number back into his Mates list, and I'll never be his girlfriend no matter how many eyelashes I pull out or chicken fillets I put in. Instead I tell him it's something I can't get out of.

u c the thing is is that my 2nd cousin twice removed is getting married and the wedding is in scotland and its on sat which is the same day as prom and i really have 2 go coz she is like my cousin and gives me the best pressies so it wld b properly rude if i didnt go
.

The text is running on into three, but I have to do it in a way that he knows I'd be there if I could.

i mean im fine and everything but my dad wont let me stay here without him so i really have 2 go 2 it. im so so soz

Then, I add, for extra good measure,

o and im a bridesmaid as well so I definitely can't come

That should do it. I wonder if he's going to call back, saying he's going to cry and beg me to go to prom with him. I wait and wait . . . nothing. No reply. Nothing. What do I do now?

I'll call Jenny. She's always brilliant at things like this. I know they suspended me from the BB Club, but Jenny didn't say anything about not being her friend any more
.

‘Jenny?'

‘Sorry, Gwynnie, I can't talk to you right now—'

‘But I need your help.'

She must be able to tell that I mean it from the tone of my voice. She makes the time for me. ‘What is it?'

‘I can't go to prom with Charlie! I can't go to prom at all!'

‘Why?'

‘My stupid dad isn't letting me.' She doesn't need to know the truth.

‘Is this because you got your belly-button pierced?'

‘Um, yeah.' Good one. Why didn't I think of that?

‘Oh my God, hun. This is the worst thing that could ever happen to you.'

I'm so glad she realized.

‘What did Charlie say?' she asks. ‘Did he mind?'

‘I've texted Charlie and he hasn't texted me back. I don't know whether it's because he's angry or upset or he thinks I hate him . . . Which I don't, obviously.'

Jenny goes quiet. That's so unlike her and I am pleased that she understands how serious this situation is.

Finally she says, ‘Or he could have just not got the message yet. You know? Like maybe he's off helping out with some orphans or playing soccer or something.'

It would be so like Charlie to be helping out with orphans.

‘But what if he
is
upset? Should I call him?'

‘No!' she says quickly, so I know it must be the right answer. ‘If he's not upset it will be fully weird if you ring him and ask if he's upset. If he
is
upset then that's good. You're playing hard to get and boys love the chase.'

‘Are you sure? Are you sure that I shouldn't just call him and tell him that it's not my fault that I can't go with him.'

‘I'll tell you what – I'll give him a call and find out what he's thinking.'

‘Thank you so much, Jenny. I don't know what I'd do without a friend like you.' I really don't.

After the phone call I go downstairs to make a really big celebratory bacon sandwich. Everything was looking bad before, and it's still looking bad, but I feel like Jenny is on the case and is going to sort it out like a fairy godmother. But without the grey hair and the mice and the pumpkins.

When I get into the kitchen I see a note from Dad saying that he is round at Angela's again. I've had enough of all Dad's sneaking around. I am going to go over to Paul's to see if I can catch them at it.

I'm at Paul and Angela's front door in like thirty milliseconds, all ready to confront and expose them in a big
a-ha!
-type way. I just hope they are not doing it or anything, because then
I would have to sign up for a lobotomy to erase the memory from my mind. Paul answers the door and he looks kind of funny. As if maybe he's seen them doing it and he has already been for the lobotomy.

I have no time for niceties. ‘Where's my dad?'

‘Not here. They said they were going to the garden centre or something.'