(Continuation of Anthony and Chloe-patra)
I must sort out my life. As of today I shall be a completely different person with real goals and actual aspirations, because somehow I don't think starring in a Haribo TV advert will ever work out for me.
And this whole clumsy thing needs to stop. I suppose it was quite cute when I was 17, but I'm 19 now. People need to start taking me seriously. I can't keep tripping up in the middle of the store, take down a whole clothes rail with me and then blame it on an earthquake. It's getting embarrassing and frankly, no one believes me.
Oh, and of course there's Anthony. Well that obsession obviously needs to end, because
a) I ruined the entire thing and he doesn't want me anymore, and
2) he's with Chloe now who's very lovely and beautiful, and from my last encounter with her a little unhinged, so Anthony probably has enough on his plate.
I put my pen down when I finish writing the list and rise from the bed, walking over to the mirror in the en suite.
"Urgh, why can't I stop looking rough?" I say to myself as I scan my reflection. My eyes have horrid dark circles underneath, and my skin is so pale at the moment it's practically transluscent. I blame Mel for this. She's put my name down on the work rota for every day this week and despite my protests, I haven't been able to get away from it.
"But Clara's only just got back to work. She's been very ill and can't cope on her own," was Mel's excuse.
Oh please!! I saw Clara doing shots at Purple Mustard last weekend. She was so out of it a guy asked for her number and she took her top off.
But what can you do. And let's face it, it's not like I'll be revising anyway. I opened up my Maths for Economics textbook, saw the word 'Derivatives' and shut it immediately. I'm hoping in this instance ignorance really is bliss.
"You look nice," Jo wolf whistles as I emerge in the kitchen. She's sitting cross legged on the floor with a Tort Law book opened up in front of her. I don't think she's doing much reading though because the Hollyoaks omnibus has started. Which instantly makes me feel better about the fact that exams are looming ever so closer and I've barely read anything. Except for this month's edition of Marie Claire. Which doesn't count.
"Your face looks nice. That dress doesn't," she looks at my ancient work dress and throws me her best pity face.
I choose to ignore her latter comment.
"Well, I'm glad you've noticed," I say, pouting my lips to show that I'm wearing Syrup by Mac. "It's the new me,"
"The new you? I'm very impressed," she says, rising from the floor and making her way to the sofa. "And what does the 'new you' include?"
"A few things, but to summarise, it includes expensive perfume and a new man,"
"I'm liking the new you already. Especially because your perfume has neutralised the stench of Rex's stir-fry,"
I don't think that's a compliment, but I'm going to take it as one anyway.
"I'm off to work," I say walking out of the kitchen.
"But it's midday!"
"Half day,"
"Aren't you lucky! Was Mel having a generous moment?"
"No, I managed to convince her that we've already talked about me having a half day today, but she'd just forgotten,"
"Clever girl,"
"All part of the new me. See you later," I say at the other end of the corridor.
"You want to buy new uniform?" Mel is looking at me like I've just shot her favourite puppy and then asked to borrow some sugar.
"Yes. I've had this same dress for a few months now. We don't even have it on the shop floor anymore," but Mel's just tapping her foot with her arms crossed.
This is just typical! What's the point of working in a trendy, high-end High Street store when you're not allowed to wear any of the clothes? I'm about to recite an entire monologue of how it says in our contract that we should buy new uniform with our 75% off as soon as the current one leaves the shop floor, but to my surprise Mel says, "OK, fine. Go and pick something," and then walks away
I'm left there in absolute awe, so much so, that I'm about to question it. But the new me steps in before the old me spoils it. And I go shopping at work.
"Well, I suppose you look OK," Mel sticks her nose up at me after she's invited herself inside the fitting room. She's lucky she stepped in 3 seconds after I stopped adusting my tights, otherwise I'd never have been able to look her in the eyes again.
I turn back to the mirror after she's pulled the heavy fitting room door behind her. She's wrong because I look more than just 'OK'. I look fabulous! The dress is a deep raspberry which really brings out my brown eyes, and my recently dyed medium brown hair, hangs perfectly against the sheer, short sleeves. I'm swishing my dress in the mirror when I hear a voice from the other side of the door.
"Is Ella working today?" It's Anthony's voice.
"Yes, she's here but she's very busy at the moment," Clara replies in her usual nonchalant style.
There's a pause before Anthony answers. "Just tell her I came by to see her, and I'll try to pop in later,"
I undress as quickly as I can and put back the normal work dress in hope to catch him before he disappears out into the High Street, but as I emerge from the fitting rooms, I'm too late. It's only Clara on the shop floor. Her head is tilted to one side as she stares out of the windows. Even with her back to me I can tell her face looks miserable.
"Did I hear someone ask for me?" I say as I approach her.
She turns to focus on me. It's the same look I imagine a vampire would give their victim. "No," she manages.
What???
"Are you sure? Because I thought I heard Anthony's voice," I probe.
She huffs and looks at me again like she's already fed up of me pestering. "OK, fine. Yes, he came by and asked if you were working today. He said he'd come by later. There was another guy with him. A rather dishy one," she smiles to herself and then moves away before I get to find out anything else.
He was with a guy? Why wasn't he with Chloe? Have they broken up? Did they break up because he's madly in love with me?
Oh, stop it Ella! The new you, remember? The new you who doesn't care about Anthony.
I turn around to help a customer but catch my reflection in the mirror. The new you who has her dress tucked into her tights.
It's already 4pm and he still hasn't turned up. I've purposely changed the rota so that I'm on front cover all day, guarding the door in the hope that he'll turn up and I won't miss him.
And whilst being here I've learnt that there is such a thing as being overly keen at work. I'm showing such interest with every customer who comes in, that they're engaging in a full conversation with me. The trouble is that I don't think any of them want a conversation. A man had to literally pull his wife away from me and say, "Come on dear, our dog's very sick,"
I almost want to say, "I don't actually find you interesting. I'm only talking to you so that my boss sees I'm good with customers and keeps me by the door for the rest of the day!"
I peer out of the shop to look at the clock towering over the street. It's two minutes past four. And Anthony's still not here. I cross my arms in agitation and avert my eyes inside the store. I notice Clara marching towards me like she's on a mission. Oh no, she's found out I accidentally ate her chocolate bar!
"That's the guy," she says when she comes near me, but instead of looking at a particular person, she's looking at the floor.
"What guy?"
"DON'T look around and make it look obvious!" she shouts.
"Make what look obvious? I have no idea what you're talking about,"
She rolls her eyes at me, "There's a guy standing next to the new burnt sienna suit. See him?" I nod when I notice him. His eyes are glued to me. "He's the guy who was with Adam earlier,"
"Anthony,"
"I don't actually care. Anyway, he's been staring at you for the last ten minutes. Do you know him?"
I glance at him again trying to see if I've met him. "No," I say with utter confusion. "Is Anthony here?"
"Nope," and Clara disappears into the sea of customers.
My eyes flick towards the stranger and I see him coming over. I'm instantly tense and for some reason start looking at my nails like there's something wrong with them.
"Hi," he says awkwardly.
"Hello," I smile. "Do you need my help with choosing anything?"
He coughs and starts adjusting his jacket as if he's nervous. "Umm...no. I came here to see you," his brown eyes intensify as he looks at me. "I'm friends with Ant," he clarifies.
"Oh, ok..."
"We came by to see if you were here but he had to go and meet up with his girlfriend,"
My stomach loops into a tight ball and I feel like I'm in severe pain. Looks like they're still together.
"Anyway, he came by to invite you to a party we're having tonight. He explained that the two of you are good friends?"
"Umm, yes, we're good friends," only a half lie I suppose.
"It's a joint birthday party," he smiles. Clara was right. He really is dishy! "I'd love you to be there. I mean, Anthony would love you to be there"
"I will try my best then," I smile at him, accept the crisp white invitation and fidget with it as it remains in my hands. He should really leave now, but he hasn't and it's getting difficult to know what to talk about.
"So, I shall be there tonight at 8," I say, trying to get him out of the door.
"See you later. Oh, I'm Jens by the way" he says, and backs himself outside, still looking at me until he's a good distance away.
"I think he likes you. He's been leering like a right perv," Clara has somehow appeared out of nowhere. I jump in fright at the sound of her voice.
I look down at the invitation. My thumb starts to gently move across Anthony's name. Clara notices and snatches it from my hand. "Are we going to a party?"
"No!" I snap, taking it away from her paws again. "I'm going to a party. I don't know where you're going,"
"You're no fun sometimes," and she goes away again in a strop.
I gaze out into the High Street somehow thinking that Anthony will appear out of nowhere, but then remind my brain of the new me.
A woman approaches me with one of our coats in her hand. I'd say she's in her mid-fifties with a blonde perm, and bad make-up. She's about to ask if we sell that coat in a larger size, but before she even gets the chance to speak, I announce,
"I do not like Anthony,"
"OK, dear," she replies, puts the coat down and probably tells herself that this store isn't for her on the way out.
Follow Ella Ivey and other characters in their wonderful world of dating.
Monday, 29 August 2011
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee
"I like you,"
I'm in line at the restaurant queue. It's lunchtime and I only popped out because today's menu had roast dinner. And I have a thing for Yorkshire puddings. But here I am unexpectedly hearing words I never thought I'd hear.
"A lot," he continues whilst pouring gravy on his plate.
I don't know how to respond.
"Yorkshire pudding, madam?"
"No," I whisper without thinking.
I mean yes. YES!! I want a Yorkshire pudding! Oh, too late. We've already moved on to the sprouts. And no one wants those.
Should I play dumb and pretend that I haven't understood what he actually means?
"One date?" he asks holding his tray like at trophy. "Just one date, and if you don't like what you see, I'll stop bothering you like I have been,"
What? He's been bothering me? I hadn't even noticed.
I really should be saying something. 'No' springs to mind. But 'yes' pops out of my mouth.
We're at The Natural History Museum in London. Now, normally this is a happy place for me - fond memories of a school trip in Year 5 spring to mind - but today it's as if all possible fun has been sucked out.
Because we've been staring at dried out insects for an hour.
"Am I allowed to tell you that you look as beautiful as this butterfly?" he drawls.
No, you're not. Because a) my make-up is completely ruined after that woman got startled by the moving dinosaur and threw her water all over me, and b) because this butterfly is all dried out! I've seen slugs more appealing to the eye than this!
I smile and sway my yellow summer dress to imply that I'm flattered.
"Butterflies are probably the most interesting insects out there. Apart from bees, obviously,"
Obviously!
"They taste with their feet to find out whether the leaf they're on is good enough for laying eggs,"
"Wow," my enthusiasm lacking slightly.
"They're strong too. Like all insects they can carry about 50 times their own body weight. It would be like me carrying two heavy cars full of people," he laughs aloud at his own words. I don't even bother to pretend to find him funny.
"And caterpillars are wondrous creatures too. You know, an old wives tale states that when the black bands of a Woolybear caterpillar are wide, a cold Winter is coming,"
"Do the black bands tend to be wide around November time, say just when the weather's getting really cold?"
He's in a fit of laughter again, "You're hilarious!"
Yes. And you're not.
"Butterflies need the warmth of the sun to help them fly. Oh, and here's another interesting fact," he really needs to re-learn the meaning of the word 'interesting', "none have been found in Antarctica,"
"Well, I suppose that does make sense if they need the warmth of the sun to fly," I say. He looks at me full of wonder. I feel like I've said something horribly wrong, but to my surprise, his face creases into a broad smile. "You really are a butterfly, aren't you,"
What does that even mean?
"You always look so graceful," he continues.
"Then looks are incredibly deceiving,"
He laughs again. It's getting highly annoying.
"Do you like butterflies?"
"It comes in five colours," I continue, not understanding why he isn't taking me seriously. "Today I'm wearing 'Trance',"
He finally stops and looks at me with intense eyes, "Butterflies are rare," his expression begins to soften as his eyes burn into me. I half expect him to burst into song declaring his undying love for me. Or butterflies. "Habitats are changing, so there are fewer numbers than before,"
"Really? I saw about 15 on the way here,"
But he's stopped listening to me. "We desperately need them as they're the second largest group of pollinators. Bees being the first," he sighs as he continues to look at the dried out insects behind the glass. "And bees are disappearing too,"
"Like in Doctor Who,"
"What?"
"Never mind,"
"Bees can recognise individual human faces,"
"I knew it!" I declare, "I told Tia that the same bee was buzzing around me that entire week!" and I'm really not joking. It followed me to two bars!
"They have nasty stings,"
I nod my head trying to remember a time I've been stung. It's only happened once when I was very little. I was out buying a watermelon with my grandad and a bee sat on my thumb.
"Bees are just a form of specially adapted wasps. So they may look beautiful and friendly, but deep down they can really hurt you,"
I begin to walk ahead, trying to entrance him towards the gemstone section. Hopefully he'll have less to say over there. He follows weakly, his hands gracing my waist when he catches up with me. In an instant, he's pulled me towards him, his arms cocooned around me so there's no escape.
"Can we do this again?" he asks me with an whisper, his eyes longingly scanning every contour of my face.
I was really hoping to avoid this situation. I was hoping he'd realise I'm not the girl for him, we'd go our separate ways and revert to occasionally bumping into each other at the restaurant queue. Him drowning his plate with gravy, and me stealing all the Yorkshire puds.
"Umm, I should really head home now," I tell him, pushing his arms away from me.
"Oh," he says deflated and hurt. And there it was. I'd stung him, then floated away.
I'm in line at the restaurant queue. It's lunchtime and I only popped out because today's menu had roast dinner. And I have a thing for Yorkshire puddings. But here I am unexpectedly hearing words I never thought I'd hear.
"A lot," he continues whilst pouring gravy on his plate.
I don't know how to respond.
"Yorkshire pudding, madam?"
"No," I whisper without thinking.
I mean yes. YES!! I want a Yorkshire pudding! Oh, too late. We've already moved on to the sprouts. And no one wants those.
Should I play dumb and pretend that I haven't understood what he actually means?
"One date?" he asks holding his tray like at trophy. "Just one date, and if you don't like what you see, I'll stop bothering you like I have been,"
What? He's been bothering me? I hadn't even noticed.
I really should be saying something. 'No' springs to mind. But 'yes' pops out of my mouth.
We're at The Natural History Museum in London. Now, normally this is a happy place for me - fond memories of a school trip in Year 5 spring to mind - but today it's as if all possible fun has been sucked out.
Because we've been staring at dried out insects for an hour.
"Am I allowed to tell you that you look as beautiful as this butterfly?" he drawls.
No, you're not. Because a) my make-up is completely ruined after that woman got startled by the moving dinosaur and threw her water all over me, and b) because this butterfly is all dried out! I've seen slugs more appealing to the eye than this!
I smile and sway my yellow summer dress to imply that I'm flattered.
"Butterflies are probably the most interesting insects out there. Apart from bees, obviously,"
Obviously!
"They taste with their feet to find out whether the leaf they're on is good enough for laying eggs,"
"Wow," my enthusiasm lacking slightly.
"They're strong too. Like all insects they can carry about 50 times their own body weight. It would be like me carrying two heavy cars full of people," he laughs aloud at his own words. I don't even bother to pretend to find him funny.
"And caterpillars are wondrous creatures too. You know, an old wives tale states that when the black bands of a Woolybear caterpillar are wide, a cold Winter is coming,"
"Do the black bands tend to be wide around November time, say just when the weather's getting really cold?"
He's in a fit of laughter again, "You're hilarious!"
Yes. And you're not.
"Butterflies need the warmth of the sun to help them fly. Oh, and here's another interesting fact," he really needs to re-learn the meaning of the word 'interesting', "none have been found in Antarctica,"
"Well, I suppose that does make sense if they need the warmth of the sun to fly," I say. He looks at me full of wonder. I feel like I've said something horribly wrong, but to my surprise, his face creases into a broad smile. "You really are a butterfly, aren't you,"
What does that even mean?
"You always look so graceful," he continues.
"Then looks are incredibly deceiving,"
He laughs again. It's getting highly annoying.
"Do you like butterflies?"
"I like the Butterfly Ball lipstick collection by Lipstick Queen,"
And he's laughing yet again. What was so funny about that???
"Really? I saw about 15 on the way here,"
But he's stopped listening to me. "We desperately need them as they're the second largest group of pollinators. Bees being the first," he sighs as he continues to look at the dried out insects behind the glass. "And bees are disappearing too,"
"Like in Doctor Who,"
"What?"
"Never mind,"
"Bees can recognise individual human faces,"
"I knew it!" I declare, "I told Tia that the same bee was buzzing around me that entire week!" and I'm really not joking. It followed me to two bars!
"They have nasty stings,"
I nod my head trying to remember a time I've been stung. It's only happened once when I was very little. I was out buying a watermelon with my grandad and a bee sat on my thumb.
"Bees are just a form of specially adapted wasps. So they may look beautiful and friendly, but deep down they can really hurt you,"
I begin to walk ahead, trying to entrance him towards the gemstone section. Hopefully he'll have less to say over there. He follows weakly, his hands gracing my waist when he catches up with me. In an instant, he's pulled me towards him, his arms cocooned around me so there's no escape.
"Can we do this again?" he asks me with an whisper, his eyes longingly scanning every contour of my face.
I was really hoping to avoid this situation. I was hoping he'd realise I'm not the girl for him, we'd go our separate ways and revert to occasionally bumping into each other at the restaurant queue. Him drowning his plate with gravy, and me stealing all the Yorkshire puds.
"Umm, I should really head home now," I tell him, pushing his arms away from me.
"Oh," he says deflated and hurt. And there it was. I'd stung him, then floated away.
Saturday, 16 July 2011
The Bunny Boiler - Chapter 9
...Just a little bit more and I've got it...and...there!
I pull the tiny rowing boat back towards the river bank with all my might and breathe a huge sigh of relief. Apparently, there is a reason why you're supposed to tie them up and not leave them loose on the river.
"Got it back. It's ready," I shout over at Tia who is lazily sitting on the grass, sunbathing. "Thanks for all your help!" I input.
She pulls up her sunglasses so they sit above her eyes and looks at me nonplussed. "You go on it and I'll take pictures," she says, letting the sunglasses fall back on her nose.
For a second I actually think that her idea is rather a good one. I always go on about how we should photograph our adventures more, but one look at my tiny red and white boat, a glance at the heavy paddles, and a gaze at the mass of water, and I go back to my original idea.
"Tia! I can't do this on my own. Please, get in the boat and steer!"
"Steer what?"
Well, she's got me there. "The river?" I attempt defeated. She looks at me with confusion before getting up from her spot.
"Are you going to hold on to that rope all day?"
"I don't want it drifting off again,"
In a huff she takes off her shoes and starts to roll up her trousers. "Why did you buy a boat anyway? Are you having a Quarter Life Crisis?"
"No, I don't plan on having one till I'm at least 22," I respond. She looks up at me mid trousers roll-up with yet another confused look.
Honestly, like buying a boat is so strange! People do it all the time. Like in that episode of Friends where Joey buys a boat and Rachel tries to help him learn, but she ends up shouting and realises that she's turned out like her father. I wonder what my realisation will be on my boat. I hope it's a good one. You know, not too life changing like realising I'm a lesbian. But also not too mediocre like realising I've left the GHD's on.
Actually, did I leave my GHD's plugged in?
"Ella?"
"Yes?"
"How are we getting on it?"
Oh, I hadn't really thought of that. I was hoping we'd be able to simply walk on it, but the way the boat is bobbing up and down the river I don't think we can.
"I'll hold on to the rope, you get in. Then I'll let go of the rope and jump in also," I say, full of optimism.
Tia puts both hands on her hips to tell me that there's no way she's doing that.
"Fine! I'll go in first," I say, handing over the rope. "I don't know why you're so frightened. This'll be easy," and I immediately regret my words.
Because in actual fact I have no idea how I'm going to do this. The boat refuses to stay in one place, and the moment I think I have the perfect distance to get on, it moves. But I have to do this. It's vitally important that I get on this boat. I have to show Jamie that I'm a very serious person, and I have to show Kate that she cannot win no matter how severe her Bunny Boiler tantrums are. I don't know how this will do that, but I'm positive it's a start.
Right. 3... 2... 1...GO! Nope, still not on the boat. OK, this time I will definitely jump in. 3... 2.... 1... 1 and a half... 1 and a quarter... 1 and...
Damn! I wish I was better at fractions!
.... 1 and 20%... 1 and 15%... 1 and...
"Get on the boat!"
One foot drops in followed by the other one, and with a heavy fall as both feet refuse to balance, and a loud 'Ouch', I'm in the boat. Yay! I made it!
A second later, Tia's in there with me. I look at her in annoyance. "Why was that so easy for you?"
"Oh, we go on boats all the time when we're down in Chichester," she says sitting down opposite me.
"So, you could have helped?"
"I could have. But it does mean I wouldn't have been able to get these amazing photos," she brings out her phone whilst giggling.
Oh thanks a bloody bunch!
I grab the phone off her. Actually, some of these photos are incredibly flattering. I think the April sun does wonders for my complexion. Oh, hang on. This one's not so great. It must have been taken when I was trying to do fractions.
I hand the phone back. "Right," I say with a beaming smile, looking ahead at the grand river, "where shall we go?"
"Chertsey,"
"What? No! We're not going to another town! I was thinking more a choice between The Swan or The Weir,"
"We can't go to either pub. We're seventeen,"
"We're not going to go inside! I'm using them as locations,"
"Oh. Let's go to The Swan then," she jolts her head about in both directions, "there seem to be less swans over there. Ironically,"
"To The Swan it is," the current has already taken us quite a way from the river bank. At this rate, perhaps we'll end up in Chertsey after all.
I'm about to grab a paddle and start our journey, and then I realise both paddles are still on the grass.
Shit!
This is really bad. And also not the sort of realisation I was hoping for.
"Move the water away from you a bit faster, Tia. We're never going to make it back with you using only your fingers!" I say as I dip my hands in the water again to make the boat move. This theory worked for a little bit. But then we got tired, and now we're pretty much just sitting there trying to keep the sun from our faces. I feel lost at sea.
"I knew I should have said no to helping you. There clearly was a reason Mikey was conveniently busy. He knows you far too well by now,"
I roll my eyes. "Mikey's in Oxford at a uni induction day. He would have killed for the chance to be here,"
"You're very testy today," Tia's looking at me like a mother pitying a child who writes S instead of 2. I almost feel like she'll say, "Don't worry, pet. You'll get it eventually,"
But she doesn't. Instead she says, "If you want Jamie, you have to call him. You can't carry on being this stubborn,"
"I'm not stubborn!" I say, crossing my arms and looking away into the distance. "And anyway, I texted him a couple of days ago telling him I have a boat. He didn't reply," I look down at my feet, far too scared that if I make eye contact with Tia, I'll cry. We sit there in silence, but it's as if I can hear her thoughts. Because I know for a fact we're both thinking the same thing - I've lost him.
"Oh well," I say and force a smile.
"Ella, you don't have to pretend that it's all fine,"
"But it is fine. It's not as if I'm married to him and we're about to have a messy divorce, and kids are involved, and we have to decide who gets the good coffee machine. I'm 17. I think I'll manage," I laugh a little and hope to God that I'm right. "Now paddle, please!"
We're about to start all over again, but I hear something. "Is someone saying my name?" I ask, looking around but not spotting anything. We stop splashing and have a listen.
"Ella!"
"Did you hear that?" I say to Tia, looking around furiously. And then I spot him. My heart flutters as I see him standing by the river smiling at me. And then it sinks completely. Because standing next to him, is Kate.
I pull the tiny rowing boat back towards the river bank with all my might and breathe a huge sigh of relief. Apparently, there is a reason why you're supposed to tie them up and not leave them loose on the river.
"Got it back. It's ready," I shout over at Tia who is lazily sitting on the grass, sunbathing. "Thanks for all your help!" I input.
She pulls up her sunglasses so they sit above her eyes and looks at me nonplussed. "You go on it and I'll take pictures," she says, letting the sunglasses fall back on her nose.
For a second I actually think that her idea is rather a good one. I always go on about how we should photograph our adventures more, but one look at my tiny red and white boat, a glance at the heavy paddles, and a gaze at the mass of water, and I go back to my original idea.
"Tia! I can't do this on my own. Please, get in the boat and steer!"
"Steer what?"
Well, she's got me there. "The river?" I attempt defeated. She looks at me with confusion before getting up from her spot.
"Are you going to hold on to that rope all day?"
"I don't want it drifting off again,"
In a huff she takes off her shoes and starts to roll up her trousers. "Why did you buy a boat anyway? Are you having a Quarter Life Crisis?"
"No, I don't plan on having one till I'm at least 22," I respond. She looks up at me mid trousers roll-up with yet another confused look.
Honestly, like buying a boat is so strange! People do it all the time. Like in that episode of Friends where Joey buys a boat and Rachel tries to help him learn, but she ends up shouting and realises that she's turned out like her father. I wonder what my realisation will be on my boat. I hope it's a good one. You know, not too life changing like realising I'm a lesbian. But also not too mediocre like realising I've left the GHD's on.
Actually, did I leave my GHD's plugged in?
"Ella?"
"Yes?"
"How are we getting on it?"
Oh, I hadn't really thought of that. I was hoping we'd be able to simply walk on it, but the way the boat is bobbing up and down the river I don't think we can.
"I'll hold on to the rope, you get in. Then I'll let go of the rope and jump in also," I say, full of optimism.
Tia puts both hands on her hips to tell me that there's no way she's doing that.
"Fine! I'll go in first," I say, handing over the rope. "I don't know why you're so frightened. This'll be easy," and I immediately regret my words.
Because in actual fact I have no idea how I'm going to do this. The boat refuses to stay in one place, and the moment I think I have the perfect distance to get on, it moves. But I have to do this. It's vitally important that I get on this boat. I have to show Jamie that I'm a very serious person, and I have to show Kate that she cannot win no matter how severe her Bunny Boiler tantrums are. I don't know how this will do that, but I'm positive it's a start.
Right. 3... 2... 1...GO! Nope, still not on the boat. OK, this time I will definitely jump in. 3... 2.... 1... 1 and a half... 1 and a quarter... 1 and...
Damn! I wish I was better at fractions!
.... 1 and 20%... 1 and 15%... 1 and...
"Get on the boat!"
One foot drops in followed by the other one, and with a heavy fall as both feet refuse to balance, and a loud 'Ouch', I'm in the boat. Yay! I made it!
A second later, Tia's in there with me. I look at her in annoyance. "Why was that so easy for you?"
"Oh, we go on boats all the time when we're down in Chichester," she says sitting down opposite me.
"So, you could have helped?"
"I could have. But it does mean I wouldn't have been able to get these amazing photos," she brings out her phone whilst giggling.
Oh thanks a bloody bunch!
I grab the phone off her. Actually, some of these photos are incredibly flattering. I think the April sun does wonders for my complexion. Oh, hang on. This one's not so great. It must have been taken when I was trying to do fractions.
I hand the phone back. "Right," I say with a beaming smile, looking ahead at the grand river, "where shall we go?"
"Chertsey,"
"What? No! We're not going to another town! I was thinking more a choice between The Swan or The Weir,"
"We can't go to either pub. We're seventeen,"
"We're not going to go inside! I'm using them as locations,"
"Oh. Let's go to The Swan then," she jolts her head about in both directions, "there seem to be less swans over there. Ironically,"
"To The Swan it is," the current has already taken us quite a way from the river bank. At this rate, perhaps we'll end up in Chertsey after all.
I'm about to grab a paddle and start our journey, and then I realise both paddles are still on the grass.
Shit!
This is really bad. And also not the sort of realisation I was hoping for.
"Move the water away from you a bit faster, Tia. We're never going to make it back with you using only your fingers!" I say as I dip my hands in the water again to make the boat move. This theory worked for a little bit. But then we got tired, and now we're pretty much just sitting there trying to keep the sun from our faces. I feel lost at sea.
"I knew I should have said no to helping you. There clearly was a reason Mikey was conveniently busy. He knows you far too well by now,"
I roll my eyes. "Mikey's in Oxford at a uni induction day. He would have killed for the chance to be here,"
"You're very testy today," Tia's looking at me like a mother pitying a child who writes S instead of 2. I almost feel like she'll say, "Don't worry, pet. You'll get it eventually,"
But she doesn't. Instead she says, "If you want Jamie, you have to call him. You can't carry on being this stubborn,"
"I'm not stubborn!" I say, crossing my arms and looking away into the distance. "And anyway, I texted him a couple of days ago telling him I have a boat. He didn't reply," I look down at my feet, far too scared that if I make eye contact with Tia, I'll cry. We sit there in silence, but it's as if I can hear her thoughts. Because I know for a fact we're both thinking the same thing - I've lost him.
"Oh well," I say and force a smile.
"Ella, you don't have to pretend that it's all fine,"
"But it is fine. It's not as if I'm married to him and we're about to have a messy divorce, and kids are involved, and we have to decide who gets the good coffee machine. I'm 17. I think I'll manage," I laugh a little and hope to God that I'm right. "Now paddle, please!"
We're about to start all over again, but I hear something. "Is someone saying my name?" I ask, looking around but not spotting anything. We stop splashing and have a listen.
"Ella!"
"Did you hear that?" I say to Tia, looking around furiously. And then I spot him. My heart flutters as I see him standing by the river smiling at me. And then it sinks completely. Because standing next to him, is Kate.
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