Best Friends

  'You're all sticky' said Alice, but she squeezed my hand back. 'OK, if you get the job I'll do the shopping and cooking and look after the house. I can cook. Well, I can do toast and boiled eggs and I know how to do stuff out of tins like baked beans.'

  'I love baked beans,' I said, but I was thinking about the looking after the house bit. What house?

  Alice was thinking about it too. 'Where will we live, Gem?' she said in a very small voice. She looked like she might start crying any minute.

  'That's simple,' I said firmly. I can never bear it when Alice cries, even though she makes such a habit of it. 'There must be heaps and heaps of empty houses in the whole of London. We'll find one and we'll creep inside. I'll climb through a window – you know I'm good at climbing. We'll clean our house and make it all cosy, our own place, like when we were little and we used to make those cardboard box houses in the garden, remember?'

  'Right,' said Alice, though tears were starting to trickle down her face.

  We both knew it wasn't right at all. We weren't little five-year-olds playing with plastic tea sets and teddies and Barbies. We were two girls really running away. We didn't have a clue where to go in 64

  London. Biscuits' creepy psycho was starting to stalk me in my head.

  'OK, London, here we come,' I said, as we saw the station way down at the very end of the road.

  We walked smartly, hand in hand, giving each other brave, encouraging smiles. Alice still had tears dripping down her cheeks but we both pretended not to notice. We went into the station entrance and up to the ticket window.

  'We'd like two children's fares to London, please,'

  I said, dead nonchalantly. I'd been rehearsing what I was going to say in my head for the last five minutes.

  'Who are you two kids with, then?' said the ticket man.

  I was ready for this too. 'We're with our dad,' I said. 'He's gone to get a newspaper from the kiosk.'

  The ticket man eyed me beadily. 'What about his ticket, then?'

  'He doesn't need one. He's got a season ticket,'

  I lied.

  Alice looked at me in open admiration. The ticket man certainly seemed convinced.

  'Single or return?' he said.

  'Single,' said Alice. 'We're not going to return.'

  'Fifteen pounds then, dear,' he said.

  I felt as if I'd had fifteen punches in the stomach.

  'Fifteen pounds?'

  65

  'That's for the two of you,' said the ticket man.

  I couldn't believe it was so expensive. Alice scrab-bled in her pocket for her money. She found one tightly folded five-pound note. She dug out five gold pound coins. Then another. And another. Two fifty pences. She picked her way through the rest of her change while the ticket man sucked his teeth.

  The chocolate and crisps and marshmallows stirred round and round in my tummy like a sourly sweet stew. If I hadn't been so greedy we'd have had more than enough. I felt so ashamed.

  'Twenty pence, five pence, one, two, three, four, five, six – and two lots of two pees. Yeah!' said Alice.

  'We've got it. Fifteen pounds.'

  She piled the change onto the little turntable tray.

  The ticket man took a long time counting it, check-ing it twice, but then he printed out our tickets on his machine.

  We grabbed them quickly before he could change his mind and darted down the tunnel to the platform. It was a long echoey tunnel so I let out a whoop. It went whoooop all around us, as if fifty Gemmas were whooping in a wild chorus.

  'Ssh!' Alice hissed. Fifty weeny little shushes reprimanded us.

  We both burst out laughing and our giggles echoed above us as we ran the length of the tunnel.

  'We've done it!' I said, giving Alice a big hug 66

  when we were up on the platform. The London train was up on the indicator board, due in two minutes.

  'We've really done it. London, here we come!'

  We hadn't done it at all.

  We didn't get to London.

  We heard shouting

  coming from the car

  park behind the

  platform. We saw a

  taxi and my mum

  and dad and

  Alice's mum and

  dad were jumping

  out of it. They waved their arms, calling our names.

  'Oh help,' I said, clutching Alice. 'Quick! Let's run.'

  We had nowhere to run. We were trapped on the platform.

  I saw the London train approaching in the far distance.

  'Oh come on, train, please!' I willed it to fast-forward so we could leap on board and rush off to our new life in London. But it was still toy-train size and the parents were starting to run up the platform.

  Alice's dad caught her up in his arms. Her mum burst into tears. My mum got hold of me by the shoulders and shook me until there was a roaring in my ears even louder than the approaching train.

  Six

  They all thought it was my idea to run away. I decided I didn't care. After all, I didn't want to get Alice into trouble.

  I was in BIG BIG BIG trouble. Mum was so mad at me. She managed not to say too much in front of Alice's family but when we got home she shook me again and she shouted, her face so close to mine her spit sprayed in my face. She wanted me to cry and tell her I was sorry. I gritted my teeth and stared straight back at her. I wasn't going to cry one weeny tear. Not in front of her. I wasn't sorry.

  I wished I'd run away for ever and ever and ever.

  Mum sent me to my

  bedroom. I lay on my bed with

  my face in the pillow. Dad

  came up after a while and

  sat down on the bed beside

  me, patting me awkwardly

  on the back.

  68

  'There now, Gem, don't cry,' he said.

  'I'm not crying,' I said thickly, my head still in the pillow.

  'I know your mum went a bit over the top, pet.

  But you gave us such a terrible fright. We were so shocked when we got that phone call from Mrs McVitie saying you two were wandering round the town all by yourselves, making your way to the station . . .'

  That traitor Biscuits! He'd told on us. Alice was right about him. I wanted to stuff his great gobby mouth with so many of his favourite bogging biscuits

  – wafers and shortbread and custard creams and jaffa cakes and jammy dodgers and bourbons and digestives and chocolate chip cookies – that he choked to death.

  'Didn't you have any idea how dangerous it was to go off like that? Two little girls out on their own . . .' Dad shuddered so that he shook the bed.

  'Anything could have happened to you. You must promise never ever ever to try to run away again, do you hear me?'

  I didn't want to hear him. I put my hands over my ears. After a while he crept away.

  I stayed lying there, head still in the pillow. But then, even with blocked ears, I heard the sound of Dad's taxi starting up. I ran to the window. Mum was sitting in the back looking very boot-faced.

  69

  I hammered on the window. 'Are you going back to Alice's house? Let me come too! Please! I haven't said goodbye to her.'

  Mum and Dad didn't look up at me. The taxi drew off. I went hurtling out of my bedroom, but Callum caught me on the landing.

  'Let me go! I've got to go to

  Alice's,' I shouted.

  'You can't go, Gem. You're in

  disgrace in both houses, you

  know that. Stop struggling,

  kiddo. Ouch! Don't kick me,

  I'm on your side!'

  'Then take me to see her! Take

  Then take me to see her! Take

  me on your bike, Callum, please, please!'

  'Look, they won't let you see Alice even if I did take you. Her parents went completely bonkers when they knew you were both missing. You should have heard them.'

  'I don't see why. They don't give a stuff about us or they wouldn't separate us,' I
said, but I stopped struggling with Callum. 'No one seems to care about Alice and me and what we want. Imagine if you weren't allowed to see Ayesha any more.'

  'Well, that's different.'

  'It's not, it's not!' I said, clenching my fists and pummelling his chest. 'Just because we're kids 70

  you think we haven't got feelings'

  'OK, OK! Don't get all worked up again. And stop hitting me!' He grabbed my wrists.

  I tried aiming a kick at his shin, but I took care just to scuff it with the tip of my trainer. I knew Callum was right. He wasn't much help, but he was on my side.

  Jack stayed well clear. He hates any kind of fuss.

  But Barking Mad came to visit me when I stomped back to my bedroom. He got up on the bed beside me and licked my face lovingly. This wasn't an entirely pleasant experience as Barking Mad is a bit of a whiffy dog no matter how many times Jack tries to bath

  him and brush his teeth, but he was doing his best to be comforting.

  Then I heard Dad's taxi come back.

  The front door slammed. Footsteps came upstairs, Mum's high heels going stab stab stab on the carpet. She flung open my bedroom door, clutching the crumpled canary dress. She threw it on the bed beside me.

  'I hope you're satisfied, young lady!

  You completely ruined the party. They had to call for a doctor because Alice's mum was still hysterical. All the guests have gone home in embarrassment and they've left fifty steaks 71

  and fifty half chickens and fifty baked potatoes, all going to waste, plus all the puddings, cherry cheesecake and tiramisu and Mississippi mud pie.'

  'Couldn't you have brought some home?' I said.

  I wasn't meaning to be cheeky. I was just feeling sad about all that lovely food going to waste – a-little-teardrop sad compared with the enormous Niagara Falls torment of losing Alice for ever. Mum didn't understand.

  'You are an unbelievably selfish, greedy girl, Gemma Jackson! I can't think how I could ever have had such a daughter. How can you just think of yourself and your own fat little stomach at a time like this?' Mum shouted.

  'I wasn't thinking of my stomach. Anyway, how can it be fat and little? You're not making sense,' I shouted back.

  Unwisely.

  Mum made me stay in my bedroom and miss tea.

  I'd already missed lunch, so she was practically starving me to death. OK, I know I had eaten the chocolate and the crisps and Alice's marshmallows but they were just a little snack.

  I lay miserably on my bed, my mouth watering at the cooking smells downstairs. Bacon. Lovely sizzling savoury crispy bacon! I put my hands over my rumbly tummy. It didn't feel fat now. I was being starved into a skeleton. Mum would feel sorry when 72

  she came to wake me in t h e morning and found a sad little skin-and-bone girl sagging inside h e r Incredible Hulk pyjamas.

  I tossed and turned, getting all caught up with the canary satin frock. I batted it away, h a t i n g its slippery floppety feel. I felt something stuck up one of the big silly puff sleeves. Something rustling and crackling. A note!

  I pulled it out and saw Alice's familiar neat handwriting in her best bright-pink gel ink. The letter was stiff with stickers, hearts, kisses, flowers, blue-birds and smiley suns.

  I read my letter again and again, tracing along each pink line with my finger, stroking every sticker.

  Then I hid it between t h e pages of my best-ever 73

  book, The Enchanted Wood. It was Grandad's when he was a boy, and when I was little he read it to me. I wished that Alice and I could find the Enchanted Wood, climb up the Faraway Tree, and clamber up the ladder into the land above – and never ever ever come back.

  But I was shut up in my bedroom, practically a prisoner. Alice was going to move hundreds of miles away. She'd sent me a wonderful goodbye letter but I had no way of sending her one back. I was so hungry now I couldn't think straight. I went through all the clothes in my wardrobe, searching the pockets of my jackets and jeans. I found a very elderly toffee wrapper in the pocket of my winter duffel coat. I licked it and got a ghostly taste of long-ago toffee which made my mouth water more than ever. I ferreted in my school bag, wondering if I might find a forgotten chocolate bar or a leftover sandwich, but no such luck.

  Then I heard footsteps. I hopped back on my bed in case it was Mum. However, the feet jumped and thumped so I guessed it was Callum. He rushed in, shushing me elaborately. He thrust a bacon sandwich in my hand and then leaped out again before I could even thank him properly.

  The sandwich was lukewarm and a little fluffy from Callum's pocket but I didn't care a bit. I lay back on my pillows and 74

  savoured every bite. Never had a bacon sandwich tasted more delicious. I felt a little guilty having such a healthy appetite on truly the worst day of my life but I couldn't seem to help it. Alice might go off her food entirely but sorrow seemed to make me ravenous.

  More footsteps. Two steady feet and four scam-pering paws. Jack and Barking Mad bounded into my room.

  'Have you got another bacon sandwich for me?'

  I asked hopefully.

  'Well, I did try to shove one into my pocket for you but Barking Mad wolfed it down while it was still in my hand,' said Jack.

  'Oh piffle. So, did you just come upstairs to tell me that?' I said.

  'I came to lend you this,' Jack said, handing me his mobile. 'You can text Alice.'

  'But she hasn't got a mobile.'

  'Oh. Right. Well, that idea's not much use then,'

  said Jack, sighing.

  'I could phone her on their land phone.'

  Jack peered at me. 'Not a good idea, Gem. You're not in their good books, to put it mildly.'

  'I just want to say goodbye to Alice,' I said, dialling the number.

  'Hello?'

  My heart sank. It was Alice's mother. I'd hoped 75

  she'd be in her bedroom still having hysterics. I knew I didn't stand a chance now. She'd slam the phone down the minute she heard my voice. My voice. I took a deep breath, put my fingers over my mouth to muffle things, and then said in the silliest snobbiest poshest voice ever, 'Oh, good evening, Mrs Barlow. So sorry to disturb you.'

  Jack stared at me, eyebrows knitted, lips skewed in a question mark. Even Barking Mad stopped panting and looked at me, puzzled.

  'Who is this?' said Auntie Karen.

  'It's Francesca Gilmore-Brown,'

  I said.

  francesca Gilmore-Brown is a

  total pain of a girl who's in Alice's ballet class. I used to go to ballet too but I got a bit bored and started messing about and the teacher said I'd have to stop going to classes unless I took it seriously. So I stopped because I couldn't possibly take that pranc-ing around seriously. I'd hoped Alice would leave too but she actually liked ballet, especially as she'd been picked for the end-of-term concert and was all set to wear a sparkly pink tutu and be a Sugar Plum.

  Francesca Gilmore-Brown was a Sugar Plum too.

  She certainly acted in a Sugary Plummy way. She didn't half get on my nerves. She got on Alice's nerves too, but Auntie Karen was dead impressed 76

  that a posh rich girl like Francesca wanted to be Alice's friend. She couldn't see that this was never ever going to happen. I'm Alice's friend.

  'Oh, Francesca!' said Auntie Karen in a silly, simpery sort of way. 'Could you speak up a bit, dear?

  Your voice is a bit muffled.'

  I kept my fingers over my mouth. 'I've just heard that Alice is moving to Scotland. Could I possibly say goodbye to her?'

  'Could you say goodbye? Well, Alice is actually up in her bedroom because . . . Well, never mind, dear. Of course you can say goodbye.'

  I heard her calling Alice, telling her to come to the phone.

  I waited. Then I heard Alice in the background, shouting, 'Is it Gemma?'

  'No, it is not Gemma. You know perfectly well she's in disgrace. No, Alice, it's Francesca.'

  'Who?' said Alice.

  'Darling!' Auntie Karen sighed. 'Francesca Gilm
ore-Brown, the nice little girl from your ballet class.'

  'Oh, her,' Alice muttered. 'I don't want to talk to her.'

  'Ssh! She'll hear! Don't be so silly, of course you want to talk to Francesca.' I heard a jangle of gold bangle as she handed over the phone. Then Alice was talking to me.

  77

  'Hello, Francesca,' she said unenthusiastically.

  'It's not silly old Francesca. It's me!' I whispered.

  'Oh!' Alice squealed.

  'Don't say anything! Don't make your mum suspicious. Oh Al, isn't this awful? I can't believe they're being so mean to us. My mum's shut me up in the bedroom and she's acting like she's going to keep me here for ever and she's not even giving me any food! Can you credit that! She's starving me to death.'

  'My mum's trying to make me eat. We've got all the barbecue food, plates and plates and plates of it, and yet we're moving tomorrow,' said Alice.

  'I can't bear it that you're going. If only we'd managed to get that train!'

  'I know,' said Alice.

  'I wouldn't have cared if we'd had to tramp the streets all night or sleep in the gutter, just so long as we could be together,' I said.

  'I think that too,' said Alice.

  'Is your mum still hovering?' I asked.

  'Yes,' said Alice.

  'I wish she'd jolly well bog off,' I said.

  Alice burst out laughing. 'So do I!'

  'What's Francesca saying?' said Auntie Karen.

  'She's – she's just telling me a joke to cheer me up, Mum,' said Alice.

  78

  'She's such a nice girl,' said Alice's mum. 'Why couldn't you have wanted her as your friend?'

  'Ssh, Mum,' said Alice.

  'If she only knew!' I whispered. 'Alice, thanks so much for your lovely lovely letter. It was brilliant of you to hide it in my horrible frock. Will you write me more letters when you're in Scotland?'

  'Of course I will.'

  'And I'll write to you too. Heaps and heaps and heaps. And I'll phone too. Every day.'

  'Not on my phone, you won't,' said Jack. 'Hurry up, Gem, it's costing me a fortune.'

  'I will, Alice. I'll write and I'll phone and I'll come and see you somehow.'

  'Oh Gemma,' said Alice, sniffling.

  Then there was a shriek and a jangle and the phone went dead.