‘Y-yes.’ She feels small, contemptible.
A sound of derision. ‘Do me a favour,’ says Amber. ‘We’re not friends. We only knew each other for one solitary day, you silly bitch. One day. And see where that got me.’
1.45 p.m.
The shop is closed, the roller-blinds pulled down. It’s Wednes day, so it’s early closing.
Chloe starts up a childish wail when she realises that she’s getting no sweets, no drink, and rubs at her eyes as though they are full of smoke.
‘Shhh,’ says Bel. The sound sets her teeth on edge, for it’s the same tone with which her sister Miranda attracts attention – attention that usually, one way or another, results in Bel being punished.
‘There’s no point in doing that,’ says Jade, more pragmatically. ‘It’s not going to make any difference, is it?’
‘Want to go home,’ wails Chloe. ‘I want my mummy!’
‘Come on,’ says Jade. ‘We’ll take you back to your sister.’
Chloe, as puce as the hood that wraps her head, hangs behind as they silently retrace their steps.
They’ve both sort of known, of course, that Debbie and Darren won’t be there when they return to the bench, but it doesn’t stop Jade from swearing out loud when she finds it empty. ‘Bloody fucking Norah,’ she shouts. ‘That bloody Darren!’
‘Where’ve they gone?’ asks Bel.
‘I don’t bloody know, do I?’ snaps Jade.
Chloe bursts into tears again. ‘Waaaah!’ she bellows. ‘I want my mummy!’
‘Shut up!’ shouts Jade. ‘It’s not my bloody fault, is it?’
‘What are we going to do?’ asks Bel.
Jade frowns, thinking. ‘Well we can’t leave her here, can we?’
‘I don’t know…’ says Bel. ‘It’s not our fault, is it?’ she repeats hopefully.
‘Yes, but,’ says Jade, ‘it will be our fault, won’t it?’
‘Uh,’ agrees Bel, ‘I suppose it will. Should we ask a grownup?’
Jade imitates her, nastily. She’s hot and hungry and thirsty herself, and doesn’t want to hear any more rubbish. ‘Should we ask a grown-up?’
Bel colours and shuts up. Chloe sits down on the tarmac, feet in front of her like a plastic dolly. ‘We can’t leave her here,’ says Jade decisively. ‘Anybody could come along. You never heard of stranger danger?’
‘Well, what do we do with her?’
‘Take her home, I suppose,’ says Jade.
‘D’you know where she lives?’
‘Yeah,’ says Jade. ‘Down Bourne End.’
‘But that’s the other end of the village!’
‘Have you got any better suggestions?’
Bel is silent. Of course she hasn’t. She just wishes she’d not got mixed up in this in the first place.
Jade crouches by the crying child and tries to look into her face. ‘Come on, Chloe,’ she says. ‘Up you get.’
Chloe just cries louder; adds a slap to Jade’s face to punctuate her howls. ‘OW!’ shouts Jade. Loses her temper and starts to drag at the kid’s arms. ‘We’re bloody taking you home, you little cow! Come on! Get bloody UP! Come on, Bel. Help me, will you?’
Between the two of them, they get Chloe to her feet. She dangles between them by her armpits, but refuses to put the soles of her shoes on the ground. ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ says Jade.
They drag her along the road. The sun beats down, and even though there are two of them, she’s made a dead weight of herself and seems to weigh as much as a small bullock. The three hundred yards to the gates of the school take ten minutes to cover, and all three, by the time they get there, are wringing with sweat.
‘Come on, you selfish little cow,’ pants Jade. Her heart is pounding and she feels like steam is about to burst from her eyeballs.
‘Leave me alone!’ screams Chloe. ‘Put me down.’
Jade loses her temper. Hurls the child on to the ground and shouts: ‘Bugger it! All right, I bloody well will then!’
‘Help!’ shouts Chloe. ‘Help!’
A voice, behind them. ‘What are you doing?’
The two girls look up, surprised to find themselves in any sort of company. The Good Woman of the Flower Committee stands there, holding her basket, hand on the door handle of a turquoise Toyota. ‘None of your business,’ says Jade.
‘It certainly is my business,’ says the woman, ‘when I see two big girls like you bullying a child like that. I’ve a good mind to take you straight down to your mother,’ she says to Bel.
‘Can’t,’ pants Bel. ‘She’s not there.’
‘We’re taking her home, not bullying her,’ says Jade, ‘Mrs Nosy-Parker.’ Then has a flash of inspiration. ‘Don’t you recognise her sister?’ she asks. She knows that Bel’s half-sister is close to Chloe’s age; and the furious beetroot face, half-hidden by the hood, is unrecognisable really. ‘She’s having a tantrum, ’cause the shop was shut.’
The woman looks doubtful.
‘She’s not my sister!’ bawls Chloe.
‘Half-sister,’ says Bel, picking up the theme and riffing on it. ‘Everybody knows that.’
‘Get off me!’
Jade turns away from the woman and glares at Chloe. ‘Well, bloody walk then,’ she snaps. ‘Then we won’t have to carry you, will we?’
‘And why don’t you have a grown-up with you?’ asks Mrs Nosy-Parker.
‘We do,’ says Bel. ‘Romina’s at the garage. She’ll be along in a minute.’
‘What’s she done to her knees?’ says the woman.
Both girls look down, surprised. Somewhere along the way, Chloe’s knees have dangled along the roadway. They are a mess of oil and blood and grass stains. ‘She’s bleeding, look,’ says the woman.
The girls shrug and start to bat at the cuts, as though they’ll just brush off if they use enough force. Chloe shrieks and bats back with clenched fists.
Mrs Nosy-Parker checks her watch. ‘I’m meant to be over at Great Barrow in five minutes,’ she says.
‘It’s OK,’ says Bel. ‘We’ll get her home.’
‘And clean her up,’ adds Jade. ‘She’s just having a tantrum.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ says Mrs Nosy-Parker. Checks her watch again and decides to settle for a lecture. ‘You can’t treat smaller people like this,’ she says. ‘I don’t care who’s dragged you up, Jade Walker. Even you know better than that.’
‘Yes, Mrs Tonge,’ says Jade.
‘I’m going to ring your mother tonight and tell her what you’ve been up to,’ she tells Bel. ‘It’s disgraceful. I suppose I wouldn’t expect anything else from a Walker, but you ought to know better.’
‘No, Mrs Tonge,’ says Bel. The woman’s eyes flick suspiciously over to her, but she’s fixed a look of unctuous respect on her face. Tilts her head to one side like Shirley Temple.