Suzy P and the Trouble with Three (14 page)

As soon as Mum returns with the cash, I head over to the market stall and buy my bag. The trader puts it into a carrier bag for me and I grin broadly at him.

I know it’s just a bag. I know it’s not going to change anything dramatically. But everything feels that bit better and a touch more sparkly with my almost-Mulberry packed up and ready to go.

I’m swinging my carrier bag happily when I spot Millie and Isabella emerging from one of the little side alleys. Their arms are linked, and their heads are close together as they chat away non-stop.

My happiness disappears in a flash.

They look more and more like best friends every day.

And check out the bags Isabella’s carrying. She’s given her credit cards a serious workout. And they’re not the cheapy plastic carrier bags she’s got, either. They’re the proper ones, made of cardboard, with ribbons for handles. Designer bags, from expensive shops.

Millie’s got one too, a funky turquoise one with hot pink ribbons. How did she get the money to shop there?

All of a sudden I feel cheap and silly, with my plastic bag full of fake Mulberry from the market.

“Hi!” Millie says, running over.

“Hi,” I say, forcing a smile.

“How did you get on at the baby shop?” Millie asks.
Without waiting for my answer, she continues, “Isabella and I had such a great time. She spent so much money, it was insane. She’s brought us these amazing new matching outfits for the talent show.” Millie holds the shopping bag aloft, bubbling away. I can’t remember the last time I saw her so happy.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Isabella says, dismissively. “This was nothing compared to how much I usually spend. The shops are rubbish here.”

“And you got something too,” Millie says. “What did you get?”

“Um, just a new bag,” I say, trying to hide it behind my back, but Millie grabs it and peers inside.

“Ooooh, a Mulberry,” she squeals. “It’s gorgeous.”

Isabella peers in. “Fake.”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “But you can hardly tell it’s not the real thing…”

“You really can’t,” Millie says, loyally.

“If you don’t know what the real thing looks like, maybe,” Isabella says. “But the stitching’s all wrong, and the clasp is different…”

I snatch the bag back.

Why does Isabella always have to do that? And why doesn’t Millie ever notice?

I’m dreading
hanging out with the boys tonight.

I just don’t want to. I don’t want to get stuck with Joe again, although he’ll probably avoid coming anywhere near me, after last time. I don’t want to watch my best friend conveniently ignoring the fact she’s got a boyfriend. I don’t want to feel left out and miserable.

But Isabella’s not stopped going on about Tom. And Millie’s going where Isabella is. Which means I’m stuck.

As soon as supper’s finished, Millie and Isabella are racing out of the caravan to get changed. Then we’re traipsing across the field to where the bonfire’s burning. Ant’s waiting for Harry, and they immediately disappear off to his tent. If I didn’t know my tomboy sister better, I’d think something was going on with those two. Isabella nestles in close to Tom, while Millie finds a spare seat on the log next to Ben. There’s enough room for me, too,
so I squeeze in next to her. Matt’s on my other side. That should be safe enough.

“Dad doesn’t know you’re here, so if you see him coming, make yourselves scarce, okay?” Ben says.

“Will do,” Isabella says, putting her hand onto Tom’s thigh.

“So, what have you guys been up to today?” Millie asks. “Was it the canoeing? How did it go?”

“Mind if we join you?”

We look up to see two girls standing at the edge of our circle. Gorgeous girls. Older girls. Ridiculously tall girls. One blonde, one brunette, with swishy hair, amazing figures and an easy confidence. Girls who wouldn’t have to pretend to be sixteen.

“Sure,” Matt says, the biggest grin in the world on his face.

Isabella’s expression is the polar opposite. She’s giving the girls the fiercest death stare I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I’m Jem,” the brunette says as they collapse down onto the logs. “And this is Cat.”

Isabella scoots possessively closer to Tom.

“When did you get here?” Matt asks.

“This afternoon,” Cat says. “With my parents. It’s dead round here, isn’t it? Thank God we found you.”

“You not got any parents with you?” Cat asks.

“Yeah, my dad’s around somewhere,” Ben says. “I think he’s in the entertainment tent or something.”

“Oh God, the entertainment, what’s that about?” Jem says. “It’s actually painful to listen to.”

“Keeps the olds out of the way, though,” Tom says, hefting another log onto the fire.

“So what are you lot doing here?” Cat asks. “Family holiday?”

“Adventure sports,” Matt replies. He’s clearly thinking his luck’s in.

“We’re going white-water rafting tomorrow,” Cat says. “You done that yet?”

“Not yet, we’re going tomorrow too. It’s Ben’s birthday.”

“Fantastic,” Cat replies, flashing Matt a flirty smile. “Maybe we’ll see you down at the centre.”

“So what else are you doing to celebrate your birthday?” Jem says, twisting a strand of hair around her finger and raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Something fun, I hope?”

“Erm, yeah, we were thinking about going to hang out at this cave we found out in the woods tomorrow night,” Matt says.

“You are?” Isabella says, looking put out. “You didn’t ask us.”

“Didn’t think you’d be able to come,” Tom says.
“We’re going late. After Dave’s gone to bed. He’ll never let us, so we’re sneaking out.”

“Sounds fun,” Cat says. “We’d be up for that, wouldn’t we, Jem?”

“Absolutely,” Jem says.

“Us too,” Isabella says hurriedly. I stare in horror. My parents will kill us if we get caught. Like, properly dead and grounded for all eternity. And I don’t want to be grounded when I get home. Or dead. I want to see my boyfriend!

“What do you say, Millie?” Isabella asks.

“If you’re going, I’m going,” Millie says. “I don’t want to miss the fun. And you’ll come too, won’t you, Suze?”

“Sure,” I say weakly.

“Has anyone got any speakers?” Isabella asks. “We could rig the cave up like a club.”

“Couldn’t bring mine,” Tom says. “Not enough space. Had to leave them at home.”

“I’d kill to go to a club right now,” Isabella says.

Isabella’s actually been clubbing? I suppose she could easily pass for eighteen. Unless, of course, she’s lying.

“Where do you go out?” Ben asks.

“Places in Italy, mainly. That’s where I used to live,” Isabella says. She’s clearly relishing playing the sophisticated European card.

“There are some great places in London, you’ll love it
when you get there,” Millie says, and I turn to her in astonishment.

What does Millie know about London nightclubs? Only what she’s read in magazines. Same as me. But no, she’s now chattering away with Isabella and Tom, talking like she’s a regular at half the places in London. She’s lying her head off!

“Is anyone up for a game of spin the bottle?” Jem suggests, smiling wolfishly.

My heart sinks into my shoes.

The boys laugh. “I am if you are,” Tom shrugs. “Isabella?”

Isabella quickly rearranges her features into something resembling a smile. She’s obviously realised that she can’t lose face in front of these girls. “Sure,” she says. “Sounds fun.”

No, no, no! I don’t want to play this game! Only Joe, who’s sitting opposite me, looks equally horrified. Oh God, what if I have to kiss him? Or anyone else, for that matter? How am I going to get out of this without looking like a complete baby and incurring the wrath of Isabella forevermore? I have a boyfriend! A boyfriend I came perilously close to blowing it with not that long ago, so I can’t go around kissing random boys.

I look over to Millie for help, wondering how we’re
going to get out of this one, since we’re clearly the only ones who are attached. I’m stunned to see her grab a discarded bottle and place it down on the ground next to the fire.

“Who’s first?” she asks.

“Me,” Matt says. He spins the bottle and it lands on Joe.

“No offence, mate, but I’m not kissing you,” Matt says.

“Spin again,” Jem says.

Matt spins the bottle and I hold my breath as the bottle slows down… but it comes to a stop pointing at Cat.

Matt couldn’t look more chuffed if he tried. He crosses over to where Cat’s sitting, and they share a long, lingering kiss.

Oooh, this is horrible. This is proper making out!

Now it’s Cat’s turn. She spins the bottle and it lands on Tom. She stands in front of him for slightly longer than necessary. He’s sitting down, so he’s staring right up at her boobs, and something tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. Then she reaches down to take his face in her hands and pulls his lips to hers.

Isabella looks ready to maim and kill.

“Tom, your turn!” she says shrilly.

Cat pulls away, smirking.

The bottle spins around again. It gets closer and closer to me, and once again I hold my breath. It wobbles its way past me… and lands on Isabella.

Isabella is thrilled, and doesn’t release Tom for ages, clearly trying her hardest to erase the kiss with Cat from his mind.

Then Isabella kisses Joe, but very quickly. Joe spins the bottle and it lands on Jem.

How much longer can I keep getting away with this? It’s going to be me soon. It’s got to be.

Jem kisses Ben, and then Ben gets Millie.

Oh God. She’s not… is she?

“Mills! You’re up!” hoots Tom as Ben grins at Millie.

I can’t watch this.

What am I supposed to say to Jamie when we get back? Do I tell him what Millie’s been up to? Or is Millie expecting me to lie to him? I thought she loved him. I thought she loved our group of mates and hanging out in Bojangles… but maybe I was wrong. All kinds of wrong. Maybe she wants to be like Isabella, wearing expensive clothes, kissing boys that she hardly knows, pretending to be sixteen, and lying about nightclubs she’s been to.

I can’t watch this. I just can’t.

I don’t care if it makes Isabella dislike me more than she already does, I’m not staying.

“I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go to bed,” I say.

Nobody pays attention as I stand up. I don’t think
anyone’s even registered I’ve spoken, because they’re all watching Ben and Millie.

Ben reaches for Millie and leans in slowly, their lips getting closer and closer.

And that’s when I turn and leave.

I’m heading
over to brush my teeth the next morning when I hear footsteps slapping in the wet grass and then Millie’s alongside me.

“Hey! Where did you go last night? I looked up and you were gone.”

“Went to bed,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

When actually, it
is
a big deal.

A huge deal.

A deal so massive I want to grab Millie by the shoulders and scream, “WHY WERE YOU KISSING SOMEONE WHO ISN’T YOUR BOYFRIEND?”

But I don’t. I just keep on walking like everything’s normal.

“Isabella was
not
happy about Jem and Cat rocking up,” Millie says. “Jem was giving Tom the serious
come-on after you left, so there’s no way Isabella’s not going to this party later. We’re waiting for the parents to go to sleep after the talent show, then we’re heading out. I can’t wait, can you?”

“I guess.”

“Oh, come on, live a little. We’re on holiday, Suze. We never do this kind of thing, so let’s enjoy ourselves.”

I don’t reply.

“What’s up?” Millie asks. “You’re acting kind of weird.”

“I’m fine,” I mumble.

“So you’ll come?”

“We’re going to get into a whole heap of trouble if we get caught,” I say.

“So we don’t get caught,” Millie says, like it’s obvious.

“I’m just not sure…”

“Weren’t you having fun last night?” Millie asks.

I wrinkle my nose. “Not really,” I admit.

I want to tell her how I felt awkward and uncomfortable and babyish compared to everyone else. How I felt ignored and left out. How I felt majorly boring for not wanting to play spin the bottle because I have a boyfriend.

“Um, are you going to break up with Jamie?” I say instead. I hate not knowing what’s going on.

Millie looks at me like I’m insane. “What? No! Why’d you say that?”

“Because of last night. You kissed Ben.”

“It wasn’t a proper kiss,” Millie says.

“Looked that way to me,” I say.

“It was only on the cheek,” Millie says, frowning. “Did you really think I’d do that to Jamie?”

“I dunno,” I say. “It looked pretty bad.”

“After everything that happened with you and Zach, I can’t believe you thought I’d do the same thing to Jamie,” Millie says. She seems really miffed.

Oof. That was kind of out of order, bringing Zach into things.

“You know what, let’s just forget it,” I say.

“Let’s,” Millie says, forcing a smile. “I’ve got to get back. Isabella wants us to nail this routine for tonight. The boys are coming so she wants it to be perfect. I’ll see you later, okay?”

The rest of the day is spent sulking by myself as everyone busies themselves with last minute practising for the talent show.

Considering nobody apart from Mum was all that bothered about it, all of a sudden, people seem very keen to win.

Finally it’s the evening, and we’re getting ready to head over to the entertainment tent.

“Everyone ready?” Mum asks, walking out of the
caravan, Clare following close behind. “Dad’ll be with us in a minute.”

She and Clare are dressed in matching jeans and white T-shirts. They did their best to make Murphy look presentable, but he ran away before supper and rolled in a cow pat, requiring a hasty wash-down in the showers. He’s still whiffing of eau du bovine, and his curly fur is sticking out at all angles. Maybe Murphy and I have more in common than I knew.

Harry stands up. She’s dressed as a wizard, with a bin liner cape that’s been covered in tin foil stars. She’s fashioned herself a wizard’s hat that doesn’t stay on properly, so she’s holding it with one hand, and clasping Hagrid with the other. The most surprising thing of all is that she’s wearing the skirt she chose the other day. To the best of my knowledge, Harry’s never worn a skirt in her life. Who’s she trying to impress?

“I can’t wait to go and perform my magic in front of a proper audience,” she says, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

“What, to all three people coming?” I ask.

“Oh, you’re just grumpy because you’re not taking part any more,” Harry retorts.

“Relieved, more like,” I say.

“Go on, Amber, out you get,” Dad says from inside. “I need to get dressed.”

“Oof,” Amber says, her hand clutching her ever-expanding bump as she joins us in the awning.

“Seat?” I offer my sister.

“No thanks,” she says, wincing. “Oooh, these weird pains. I think if I sit down I’ll never get up again. Mum, can you get me some salt water to gargle with? I need to warm up my vocal cords.”

“Of course,” Mum says. “You’re going to catch your death in that,” I hear her say to Dad as she returns with the water and passes the glass to Amber.

“Thanks,” Amber says. She tips her head back and gargles enthusiastically, before spitting the water into the glass. “La la la la la la la…” she trills. “I can sing, I can sing, I can sing,” she says, getting higher and more out of tune. “This is what Conni G does before a performance, I saw it on YouTube,” she explains, seeing the funny looks we’re giving her.

“Yeah, and look how well Conni’s singing career went,” I say. Conni released a terrible single earlier in the year, that, despite a string of media appearances featuring her pregnant body in a skintight lemon-yellow lycra catsuit, only managed to scrape into the charts at number sixty. Amber bought about eight copies, ‘to be supportive’.

“Her song was great,” Amber says loyally. “It didn’t get enough radio airplay, that’s all.”

I’m pondering getting into a debate with Amber over the merits of Conni G’s musical talents when a shout comes from inside the caravan.

“Are you lot ready?” yells Dad. “Brace yourselves. I’m coming out.”

Oh dear Lord. Oh no, no no no no.

Dad’s squeezed himself into tiny gold hot pants, gold boots and absolutely
nothing else
.

There isn’t enough brain bleach on the planet to recover from this.

His beer gut, hairy chest and pasty chicken legs are on display for the whole world to see. Plus, it’s so cold, he’s covered in goosebumps and is turning a rather nasty shade of purple.

“These trunks fitted better when I was a student,” Dad says, tugging the side of his shorts and wincing as he pulls some leg hair.

“That’s because you were about two stone lighter back then,” Mum says.

“Oh, ha ha,” Dad replies. “I admit, I’ve put on a few pounds, but they still fit, don’t they?”

He bends down to grab two large, battered, rectangular cases.

“What’s in there?” Harry asks.

“Just wait,” Dad says with a grin. “I don’t want anything
to take away from the surprise. You’re going to be blown away. Now, let’s go. I hope there’s heating in that marquee, I’m freezing.” For the first time he properly clocks Harry’s outfit.

“Harry, what are you wearing? Oh God… it’s happening. You’re becoming just like the rest of them!”

Dad stops his moaning as Millie and Isabella duck into the awning. They take one look at Dad and stop dead. Millie’s mouth flaps open and shut, her eyes blinking at twice the normal speed. Isabella on the other hand, is clearly horrified.

“I’m so sorry, we’ll let you finish getting dressed.”

Dad laughs. “No, you’re fine, I’m ready. This is my costume. Right, now we’re all here, let’s go.”

I don’t want to think what we look like as we traipse across the field. I’m trying to catch up with Millie, who’s ahead, speaking to Clare. Millie’s voice is raised.

“Why won’t you do it?” Millie says.

“It’s not that easy,” Clare says. “I’m doing my best but there are problems on both sides, okay?”

“But if you ring…”

Clare sighs heavily and rubs her hand across her head. “Please drop it, okay? Let’s not do this here. There’s a lot you don’t understand and you’re really not helping.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I said, not now.”

What are they talking about? Their voices sound so tense.

There are stifled titters when we enter the marquee and people catch sight of Dad. He takes it all in good humour, laughing and slapping his beer belly enthusiastically, getting the crowd on side as they whoop and applaud him.

Millie and Isabella clock the boys sitting on the far side of the tent and immediately distance themselves from the rest of us, waving at them.

There are plastic chairs set up around the horribly precarious looking ‘stage’ in the middle of the tent, and quite a lot of people here. I guess they were bored and had nothing better to do tonight. All the boys have come, plus Dave. And just behind us, Cat and Jem have walked in with some people I presume must be their parents.

As we settle into our seats, I notice Millie’s got a weird expression on her face and keeps staring off into the distance. The marquee is filled with the sound of chattering, which dies down when Devon walks in and heaves himself up onto the stage, smiling.

“Welcome, everyone,” Devon says, with a quick glance at his clipboard. “Thank you so much for coming to our exciting event! Tonight we’ve got nineteen acts to watch – it’s a brilliant turnout. I’m sure you’re all going to have
a wonderful time, and don’t forget, there are some fantastic prizes to be won, worth hundreds of pounds!”

There’s an intake of breath and Devon laughs. “Oh yes. I can tell you’re excited. Right, let’s get cracking. I did a random draw earlier and the first act is… Clare and Jen with Murphy and Crystal Fairybelle!”

A few boos ring out as Mum, Clare and the two dogs take to the stage.

Murphy’s not made many friends here.

“I’m not sure about this,” Millie mutters in my ear. “Murphy’s got that look in his eye – that one he gets when he’s about to do something wild.”

“Let me know when you want me to start your music,” Devon calls, hovering with his hand over the play button on the stereo.

Mum and Clare take their places on stage, Mum holding Crystal and Murphy trotting between them.

Clare unclips the lead and Millie grabs my hand in alarm. “This isn’t going to end well,” she hisses. “Mum,” she calls. “Be careful with Murphy!”

But Clare doesn’t hear.

“We’re ready,” Mum calls to Devon, who hits the play button.

Mum and Clare fix smiles onto their faces, and start walking jauntily across the stage. You can see Mum’s lips
moving as she counts the number of steps she needs to take.

But Murphy doesn’t go anywhere. In fact, he sits down, watches for a moment, and starts to howl. He howls so loudly you can hardly hear the music, then he lies down, flips onto his back, and yowls some more, waving his legs in the air.

“Stop it, Murphy!” Clare says, tugging at his collar. Behind her, Mum looks unsure, but carries on strutting.

Crystal Fairybelle’s actually doing pretty well, trotting prettily and looking adorable. But Murphy howls again, then jumps to his feet, barks like he’s gone mad, takes a flying leap off the stage, barges through the chairs and starts running laps of the marquee. He runs faster and faster, head down, ears flapping, moving so fast he’s just a blur.

I have to admit, it’s pretty funny. And lots of other people agree too, especially when Clare starts to chase him. Up on the stage, Mum stops dancing. “I’ve forgotten what to do,” she mouths.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Devon announces, after Murphy has been reclaimed and Mum and Clare have sat down, the panting Murphy between them, lead clipped firmly back on.

We sit through a couple more acts – a small boy with a screechy recorder, followed by a young gymnast who’s actually really good, but the stage is a little too small.
Then Devon announces it’s Amber’s turn.

“I’m going to sing a love song,” Amber announces. Her eyes are already glistening with tears. “This is for my husband, who’s not with us. He’s the father of my babies, and I miss him so much…”

“He’s not dead,” Devon interjects quickly, seeing several members of the audience showing signs of alarm. “He’s fine. Rings me all the time.”

Amber sniffs loudly and takes a deep breath. “Okay. You can play the music now. I’m ready.”

As the high notes of the ballad ring out, Amber starts to sing. “
I miss you daily, nightly
…” She’s getting more upset and more out of tune as the song goes on. She makes it as far as the chorus before she cracks. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, everyone. I miss him too much.” She sits down, burying her head in her hands as she weeps loud, snorty sobs.

Harry’s up next. She climbs up onto the stage where she places her bag down onto a chair. Ant applauds her enthusiastically. As Harry opens the bag to retrieve her playing cards, Hagrid pokes out his nose and sniffs the air.

“It’s a rat!” someone screams. A lady jumps to her feet and pushes her chair back.

“Rat! Rat!”

Squeals ring out around the tent.

“He’s friendly,” Harry calls, but she can hardly be heard over the noise.

“Would it help if I put him down?” Harry asks, placing Hagrid on the floor by her feet.

Another lady stands up, knocking her chair over backwards, and sprints out of the tent.

“I think you need to go back to your seat,” Devon says kindly, patting Harry’s shoulder as the screams intensify. “And I’d put the rat away if I were you. Quickly.”

“But I’ve not done any of my tricks,” Harry says, looking gutted. “There’s a really good one where I make Hagrid disappear under a cup and reappear on my shoulder.”

“I’m sorry,” Devon says. “Another time.”

After Harry there’s a woman called Mimi who performs a deeply inappropriate dance dressed as a French maid, complete with garter and low-cut top revealing way more cleavage than is fitting for a family show. She doesn’t do much apart from trot around the stage, bending provocatively as she pouts and dusts the front row, but most of the men in the audience seem to enjoy it. Dad gets a firm jab in the ribs from Mum as he gives Mimi some very hearty applause.

“And now we’ve got Millie and Isabella, who are performing a dance routine,” Devon says.

The boys roar their approval as Millie and Isabella take to the stage. Cat and Jem don’t clap, and do their best to look bored.

The Drifting music rings out in the tent… and they’re brilliant. They look great, in their matching costumes and sky-high heels and they’ve not got a foot out of place. As much as part of me is willing Isabella to fall over, or slip on her bum, or something equally mean and uncharitable, another part is really impressed. After they’ve finished, they give each other triumphant smiles, and Isabella looks extremely smug. I can tell she thinks they’ve got it in the bag.