Girls Out Late by Jacqueline Wilson
OK. What about in the dark? In the park. Me in the park with Russell, and the moon above and the poplar trees? Yes.
I write. I forget this is my English lesson and Mrs Madley is in a mood and my tights are all skew-whiff because I pulled them up too quickly after P.E. and my hair has gone even wilder than usual so it’s spiralling up and out like there’s been a minor explosion in my head.
I’m not here at all. I’m back in the park with Russell, and the key words form on the page, my hand writing as if it’s got a will of its own.
‘Time’s up, girls,’ says Mrs Madley. ‘Right, you’ve all been very busy. I hope the fruits of your labour are mellow. Who’s going to read first?’
Oh no. She wants us to read them out loud! I sit, heart thudding. She picks Jess first and she reads out this neat little poem about flowers, simple and safe. Then Stacy gets chosen and she gushes on about the sea, the wild white horses and the flying foam until she’s practically foaming at the mouth too. It is a totally phoney poem with Absolutely Awful Annoying Alliteration but Mrs Madley goes a bundle on this too. She picks poor shy Maddie next, who blushes and says hers is rubbish and then she whispers it so we can barely hear. Stuff about mills and fields and harvests and yields. Mrs Madley doesn’t look impressed but says very good, dear. Then she picks Nadine.
‘Mine’s about night, Mrs Madley,’ says Nadine.
It’s good too, very Gothic, a total stormy night with bats flying and cats stalking and trees tapping on windows and flashes of lightning like spears from hell and the crash of thunder as the devil rides out.
‘You’ve really tried hard, Nadine. Well done,’ says Mrs Madley. ‘Now . . . Ellie.’
Oh God. My eyes flash over the page. No, I can’t.
‘Ellie?’
‘Er – mine’s about the night too. It’s similar to Nadine’s. It’ll be so repetitious, night after night. Can’t we have a day poem instead?’
‘Ellie, I’m used to you girls being repetitious. Now start reading.’
‘Night in the park
The pale moon bare
Luminous above the poplar trees –
Tall thin dark
A giant feather frieze
Surrounding the soft square.’
I stop and swallow. I feel my face going red.
‘Go on,’ says Mrs Madley. ‘It’s good, Ellie.’
‘That’s it,’ I say. ‘I’ve finished.’
‘No you haven’t. I can see there’s another verse. And I stipulated a bare minimum of twelve lines. I can count, Ellie.’
I take a deep breath.
‘Hold me in the park
Your paleface intent
Luminous above mine
Tall, thin, dark
Around me twine
Surrounding, savouring, spent.’
There’s a gasp and then the entire class explodes. Mrs Madley stares at me, and then she sighs. Heavily.
‘Quieten down, you idiotic girls. Eleanor Allard, what did I ask you to write?’
‘A poem, Mrs Madley.’
‘What sort of poem?’
‘On Nature.’
‘Did I ask for adolescent soft pornography?’
‘No, Mrs Madley.’
‘That’s right. It seems to me unbelievably stupid to waste your poetic talent and my valuable lesson time on such nonsense. You will do double homework. An essay on Nature Poetry and another nature poem – and on Monday you will read it out aloud and if anyone so much as titters at the content you will start all over again. Do I make myself plain?’
As plain as a pikestaff. What is a pikestaff? Some sort of weapon? She’s a deadly weapon. A member of staff with the features and ferocious nature of a pike. It’s so unfair. I wasn’t trying to be insolent – I just got carried away thinking about Russell and me in the park. And it was a poetical comment, contrasting Nature with human nature. Mean old bag!
Nadine and Magda are mouthing messages at me but I daren’t respond with Mrs Madley in this mood. What’s the matter with all the teachers today? I can’t stick school. I go off into a private dream about when I’m grown up and I have my own little studio flat and I can draw all day. Maybe it could be a big studio flat with two desks. I could work at one end of the studio, Russell at the other . . .
I am mad, I’ve only just met him and already I’m thinking about living with him. I wonder what it would be like spending all the day with him. And then all the night too . . .
I jump when the bell goes, startled right out of Russell’s arms. Magda and Nadine pounce on me the moment we’re outside the classroom.
‘Tell us what happened with Russell, Ellie!’
‘Your poem! God, you really spelt it out. How could you read it out in front of the entire class?’
‘I didn’t want to. She made me.’
‘But you wrote it in your English book, you idiot.’
‘Yes, well, the words just came.’
‘Like Russell!’ says Magda, and she and Nadine hoot with helpless laughter.
‘So you actually did it with Russell?’
‘I can’t believe it when you’ve only just met him.’
‘And you lectured me like crazy about not going too far with Liam.’
‘You were careful, weren’t you, Ellie?’
‘What was it like?’
‘Tell us absolutely every little detail.’
I stare at them like they’ve gone bananas.
‘OK, OK, he kissed me. Once. Several times.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s it.’
‘But you made it out in your poem you did it.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘You did, you did. Here, give us it.’
Magda snatches my English book and fumbles for my poem. She reads the last line – and she and Nadine curl up laughing again.
‘What?’
‘You put spent.’
‘Yeah, I know it sounds a bit odd.’
‘I’ll say.’
‘But, I wanted an s word to make it alliterative, right, seeing as Mrs Madley’s so hot on it – and it had to rhyme with intent and it was all I could come up with.’
‘Can you believe it, Nadine!’ says Magda, sighing and raising her eyebrows.
‘Oh Ellie! You mean you didn’t mean “spent”?’
‘I meant – well, we spent time together, the evening was spent – it was the end. What else could I mean?’
‘It sounded like you and Russell – you know. So then he was spent.’
‘Oh my God, I didn’t mean that. No-one thought I meant that, did they?’
‘That’s what we all thought you meant. Including Mrs Madley.’
‘No wonder she’s given me all this extra homework.’
‘So you and Russell didn’t really do anything,’ said Nadine, sounding disappointed. ‘The way your dad was creating you’d have thought you’d both eloped.’
‘I’m sorry, I feel awful about him harassing you.’
‘No problem. I just wish I could have invented some satisfactory excuse for you. I didn’t know what to say.’
‘Neither did I. He’s still really mad at me. He says I’m not allowed out at all now.’
‘What – ever?’
‘For the foreseeable future. Of course I’m not taking any notice. I’m seeing Russell tonight.’
‘Really! Wow, he must be keen.’
‘So are you just going to walk out or what?’
‘Well, Dad’s not going to be at home so it’s simple.’
‘What about Anna?’
‘Oh she’s no problem,’ I say lightly – hoping it’s true.
‘You’re so lucky, Ellie. My mum’s my big problem,’ says Nadine.
‘So you’re really stuck on Russell?’ says Magda.
We’re sitting down in the canteen by this time, eating school pizza. Magda’s licking up her melted cheese strands. Her little pink cat tongue is very pointed. Her tone is a little pointed too.
?
What about me? I wish I knew! Sitting here eating pizza in my gungy school uniform I feel almost like I made him up. I’m glad I’ve got Nadine and Magda as witnesses to the fact that he actually exists.
I can’t quite conjure his face up now. I know longish hair. I know brown eyes, but that’s about it. I’m not even a hundred per cent sure of his voice. Is he really posh or just sort of ordinary? There’s one thing I do remember vividly. The feeling of his mouth on mine.
‘Ellie! You’re blushing.’
‘I’m not,’ I protest foolishly, though my face is red hot.
‘Are you sure you didn’t do anything else but kiss?’ says Nadine.
‘Sure!’
‘What’s he like at kissing?’ asks Magda.
‘Good!’
‘Mmm – that sounds heartfelt. Better than Dan?’
‘I’m sure Eggs is a better kisser than Dan.’
Dan was never a real boyfriend anyway whereas Russell . . . Can I call him a boyfriend yet? I know one thing, I simply have to see him tonight – and there’s nothing Anna can do about it.
It’s hard all the same. Anna has a lovely little snack of fruit bread and soft cheese and plums waiting for me when I get back from school. We have a little munch together while she tells me all about Eggs’s new little girlfriend in Year Three – an older woman! Eggs gollops down half a bag of plums and smiles smugly whenever Mandy’s name is mentioned.
‘It was a bit bold of you to chat her up, seeing as she is in the juniors,’ I say.
‘She was the one who chatted me up,’ says Eggs, biting into another plum. ‘She thinks I’m sweet. She wants me to play with her every day.’
‘She won’t think you’re sweet tomorrow when you’re stuck in the boys’ bogs with terrible diarrhoea after eating all those plums,’ I say.
‘It’s Saturday tomorrow, so I won’t be at school, ha ha ha,’ says Eggs and he puts an entire whole plum in his mouth.
‘Eggs! Don’t be so greedy and disgusting. Oh God, you’ll choke,’ says Anna, leaping up and bashing him on the back.
The plum flies out of Eggs’s mouth and lands with a messy phut on the kitchen floor.
‘My plum!’ Eggs protests, about to pick it up.
‘It’s all grimy now,’ says Anna, whisking it away quickly.
‘So is Eggs,’ I say. ‘Look at him, he’s filthy.’
‘He had finger-painting today,’ says Anna. ‘Only in Eggs’s case it was more like entire-body-painting. Shall we give you a bath, little chap?’
‘Oh, I want a bath,’ I say quickly.
Anna looks at me. I usually have my bath late at night. I only have a bath early if I’m going out. She hesitates. We haven’t even referred to the tempestuous events of last night and this morning. I can see her struggling, not wanting to spoil our friendly time unless it’s absolutely necessary.
I whizz out of the kitchen before she makes up her mind – up to the bathroom, where I wash hurriedly, glad that the hot bath has steamed up the mirror. After my stupid anorexic bulemic blip I’m trying hard to accept my body the way it is – but the way it is is P-L-U-M-P. When you’re about to go out on your first serious date you’d so much rather look skinny! I pull on my best trousers and a lacy top, decide they look way too tight (why did I have three slices of fruit bread?), put on my baggy trousers and a shirt, decide I look too casual, put on a dress, which looks much too dressy, stand in my knickers and search my entire wardrobe, and eventually shove my best trousers and lacy top back on.
Time is tick-tocking faster and faster. I do my make up, doing a serious cover up job of every weeny snippet of a spot. I outline my eyes to make them look big and beguiling and put mascara on my lashes so I can flutter them provocatively. I leave the lipstick out altogether as I don’t want to smear it all over Russell. Then it’s hair raking time. I flex my muscles, brandish my fiercest hairbrush, and do my best to tame it – though it’s curlier than ever from getting damp in the bath. I still hate the way I look when I’ve finished, but I looked worse yesterday and yet I was the one Russell sketched. Not Magda, not Nadine. Me.
That’s still so amazing I can hardly take it in.
‘Me me me me me!’ I sing, sounding like an opera singer warming up.
Then I go downstairs, steeling myself. I could just charge up the hall and out the front door without saying anything. Maybe it would be easier all round?
‘Ellie?’ Anna calls. She comes to the kitchen door. ‘You’re going out!’
‘Bye Anna,’ I say, trying to act perfectly normally.
‘Ellie! Your dad says you’re not allowed out.’
‘I know, but he’s not here.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, don’t do this to me! Ellie, you can’t go out, not after last night.’
‘You know Dad overreacted.’
‘Maybe he did a bit, OK – but if you go out now he’s never going to back down over this.’
‘He won’t know. I’ll be home long before him.’
‘I should tell him.’
‘But you won’t, will you?’
‘I don’t know. Look, Ellie, can’t you invite this Russell round here? That way you could still see him and not defy your dad.’
‘I don’t know his phone number. I don’t even know his second name. That’s why I have to go and meet him, Anna. If I don’t he’ll just think I’ve stood him up and then I’ll never see him again.’
‘And you really like him?’
‘Yes! Oh Anna, please. I’ve got to go and see him.’
‘I can’t just let you go off with him. What if anything happened?’
‘What could happen? Look, we’re meeting at Flowerfields. I expect we’ll go to McDonald’s. Or maybe for a pizza, I don’t know. I’ll explain that I have to get back early – really early. By nine. Well, nine thirty say. Please, Anna. Please let me go. I promise I’ll get back by nine thirty. I won’t let you down. Please trust me. Please.’
‘Oh go on then, you bad girl,’ says Anna and she even gives me another fiver.
I throw my arms round her and give her a big kiss. ‘You’re a darling,’ I say, and I rush off.
I’m so thrilled she’s let me go that I bounce up the road. It isn’t until I’m on the bus into town that I start to get nervous. I wonder what I’m going to say when I see Russell. ‘Hi Russell,’ I mutter to myself, grinning and giving little waves. Oh God, someone’s staring at me. They’ll be wondering about the mad girl sitting muttering and waving to herself. I am starting to get very hot inside my lacy top. It’s quite cheap lace so it’s itchy. I’m scratching myself with both hands. Now everyone will think I’ve got fleas.
I must keep still when I meet Russell. No more grins, mutters, waves and definitely no more scratching – otherwise he’ll sketch me as a monkey.
The bus is taking for ever. I’m scared I’m going to be late, and he’ll think I’m not coming. Oh Russell, of course I’m coming. I’ve braved my dad, I’ve bullied poor Anna – I’ve chanced everything to see you.
I leap off the bus as soon as it gets into town. I run wildly all the way to Flowerfields Shopping Centre. I pull up, panting, with one minute to spare. I’m first.
And last. This is why.
I wait.
Russell is late.
I wait and wait and wait.
Russell is very very very late.
I wait until eight.
And then I trail home, trying not to cry.
‘Oh Ellie, thank goodness. You are a good girl! But you didn’t have to come back this early,’ says Anna.
Then she sees my face.
‘Ellie? Oh dear. What happened? Wasn’t he so nice this time? Did he do anything to u
‘He didn’t do anything. He didn’t turn up!’ I wail, and then all the tears inside me gush like the waters in Titanic.
Eggs is in bed, thank God, and Dad is out of course. So it’s just Anna and me. She puts her arms round me and I howl on her shoulder. She’s wearing a new pale blue sweater her friend Sara gave her and I’m wearing a lot of mascara.
‘Oh God, Anna, I’ve got black splodges all over your sweater. I’m so sorry,’ I burble.
‘Never mind. I don’t actually like this sweater anyway – simply because Sara shows off so much about designing her own-label clothes. She thinks I’m dotty about her stuff but I only bought it to be polite.’
‘I’ll have it off you if you don’t like it.’
‘I wonder why you want to wear everyone else’s sweaters,’ says Anna, mopping at my face with a tissue.
‘I draw the line at Dad’s,’ I say. ‘Oh Anna, don’t tell him Russell didn’t turn up, will you?’
‘Of course not. I’m not even telling him you went out! I’m so sorry, Ellie – but I’m so relieved you’re OK. I shouldn’t have let you go out. Not because of your dad. It’s really not safe for a girl your age to go out by herself.’
‘Yes it is. All too safe. No-one wants to have their wicked way with me. Certainly not Russell. Oh Anna, it was so awful waiting there. All these girls were hanging around and they kept looking at me and giggling. It was totally obvious they knew I’d been stood up.’
‘You’re sure it was tonight you were supposed to be meeting?’
‘Yes, the time, the place, everything. He obviously didn’t mean it. Dad was right. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested in me. He just wanted to try it on.’
‘Did he?’ Anna asked, alarmed.
‘No. We just kissed.’
I think about Russell’s kisses – and how special they were to me and yet he obviously doesn’t want to kiss me ever again. I cover my face and sob.
‘Poor old Ellie. Don’t take it to heart. I’ve been stood up before. So has everyone. Don’t get so upset. Look, why not phone Nadine or Magda? Have a good moan to them.’