Two
‘, three, four and . . . Frankie, why haven’t you moved?’
‘Sorry,’ I say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. ‘I told you I wasn’t good at this kind of thing.’
Eddie looks at me with a mixture of frustration and pity. ‘Why don’t you sit this one out and watch the others?’ he suggests. ‘Maybe it will help if you see what you’re supposed to be doing.’
‘Sure.’ I shrug, happy for any excuse to stop this torture.
We’ve been rehearsing down on Morvoren Cove, one of the quieter beaches in St Felix. We’ve tucked ourselves in among some large rocks for a little privacy, and we’ve been going over and over Eddie’s planned routine for our spot in the Enchantment Under the Sea talent show.
It’s all right for Eddie and Mandy; they are natural performers – neither of them ever one to shy away from the spotlight when it’s on them. My other friend, Claire, is naturally quiet and shy, so I was surprised to hear she was going to be a part of the performance. But Eddie can be very persuasive, and I have no doubt he’s sweet-talked her into this somehow.
Sitting cross-legged on the sand, I watch them move around in front of me to a track I’m already sick of hearing played over and over again on Mandy’s portable cassette player, and I can’t help but smile at their very different ways of performing.
Eddie is the life and soul as always; his moves and gestures are pronounced and over the top – just like he is.
Mandy somehow manages to make Eddie’s choreography look feline and sexy as she moves her curvy figure around and bats her long black eyelashes.
And Claire – well, she’s just Claire. As always, trying her absolute best, but somehow always managing to scuttle around in the background like a little mouse.
‘Yes!’ Eddie claps his hands triumphantly when they complete the routine reasonably successfully without me. ‘That’s it – we’ve nearly got it!’
‘Have we, though?’ Mandy asks, throwing herself down on the sand beside me. She opens a can of Fanta and takes a long slurp. ‘It still seems pretty sloppy to me.’
Claire also sits down beside us. She too opens a can, but she sips delicately from it while she neatly arranges her legs underneath her.
‘It’s only sloppy when I’m involved,’ I reply, smiling. ‘Without me it’s ten times better.’
‘Oh, no!’ Eddie fiddles with the cassette player again, no doubt rewinding it ready to play yet another rendition of the Beach Boys’ ‘Surfin’ USA’. ‘You’re not getting out of it that easily, Frankie. You’ll pick it up eventually.’
I look desperately at the others for help while Eddie is turned away.
They just grin back at me.
‘If we have to do it, you do too!’ Mandy whispers. ‘What I wanna know is how Suzy managed to get out of it so easily.’
‘Claire?’ I whisper, and I clasp my hands together as though I’m praying. ‘Help me – you know I have two left feet when it comes to dancing.’
Claire thinks for a moment, then she nods. ‘You know, Eddie,’ she says suddenly, making us all jump. Claire is always quiet and rarely speaks up unless she has to. ‘I was wondering about something.’
‘Yep?’ Eddie is still trying to set up the track.
‘If we’re supposed to be dressed as mermaids on stage, then how are we actually going to be able to dance?’
‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asks, turning around.
‘Well . . . mermaids have tails, don’t they, not legs. How can we dance if our legs are hidden in a fishtail?’
Yes, Claire!
I think euphorically. Brilliant!
Eddie’s face suggests he hasn’t considered this small, but important, fact.
Claire continues. ‘What about if we sat on a wall or something and just sort of swayed in time with the music – would that work? It would be a lot easier for all of us.’
I’m grateful she hasn’t said, ‘Easier for Frankie.’
‘Yeah, Eddie,’ Mandy joins in. She jumps up and goes over to him. ‘I mean, we all know you are the star of the show, aren’t you?’ She puts an arm around his shoulders and then gestures as though they can see a mock-up of the stage in front of them. ‘We’re just there to make up the numbers – and of course look totally and utterly lip-smackingly gorgeous! Couldn’t we be perched on some sort of rock or a shell or something?’ She encourages us to put this into practice now on the nearby rocks.
Claire and I hurry over to the nearest one and begin to arrange ourselves on top with our legs pressed together as though we have long mermaid tails.
‘I’m sure our budding Picasso over there could whip something up for the stage, couldn’t you?’ Mandy asks, looking at me.
‘Oh, yes, I could paint a large shell or a rock – whatever you like,’ I hurriedly say, suddenly envisioning a much less embarrassing time for myself on the stage.
Mandy lets go of Eddie and joins us on the rock, then we begin to make up some impromptu moves by swaying our hands to and fro like a hula dancer describing the sea.
Eddie watches us.
‘It might work, I suppose . . . ’ he says a little reluctantly. ‘I still get to be a surfer dude, though, don’t I?’
‘Of course,’ I tell him keenly. ‘You’re the main man, Eddie. You will be . . . ’ I try to think fast. ‘The Jason Donovan to our Kylie Min . . . No, wait, our Kylie Mer . . . maid
.’ I thank my brain for coming up with this analogy so fast. One which I know Eddie will appreciate.
Eddie nods, clearly enjoying this thought. ‘All right, let’s try it with the music.’ He goes back to the cassette player to press play.
I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, guys,’ I say quietly. ‘You’ve saved me.’
‘I think we’ve all saved ourselves from a lot of embarrassment,’ Claire whispers. ‘But most importantly we managed to do it and not let Eddie down.’
‘We’ll be the best mermaids St Felix has ever seen!’ I say as the intro of the song begins to float once more over the sand.
‘And the best-looking too!’ Mandy says, as always full of the confidence that both Claire and I lack in our own appearance. ‘The boys won’t know what hit them!’
*
A few days later, our rehearsals are going much more successfully.
While Eddie struts his stuff around the front of whatever our makeshift stage is that day, Claire, Mandy and I sit at the back on whatever we can find to be our rock. We work out our own choreography to fit in with Eddie’s, and although I’m still not overly happy about being on the stage dressed as a mermaid, I’m a lot happier now I don’t have to dance dressed as one.
Suzy, we find out, in exchange for not performing with us, has offered to help Eddie make our costumes. Which I don’t actually mind, because I hate using a sewing machine even more than choreographed dancing.
It’s a weekend in St Felix, and it’s even busier than usual as I take my lunch break from the florist I work in every Saturday, and sometimes after school.
The shop, appropriately named the Daisy Chain, is run by a lovely lady called Rose, and I enjoy working there with her. Rose makes up all the bouquets; I just help behind the counter selling flowers and taking orders, but it’s fun, and it gives me a bit of extra money.
I treat myself to a pasty from Mr Bumbles, the baker’s a few doors down, and head off to look for somewhere quiet and preferably shady to sit and eat. But everywhere is heaving with people – they are either milling around along Harbour Street, where the bakery and flower shop are, or sitting in the sunshine along the harbour front watching the boats and doing what I’m trying to do – sit and eat my lunch.
But the benefit of being a local is you know all the quiet, and often hidden, places to sit. I head up and across the town, through the streets of old fishermen’s cottages to a grassy hill that overlooks one of the many beaches St Felix has to offer. But instead of trying to find a free wooden bench, I head up over the grass to a set of steep steps, cut into the rocky headland, that lead down to the beach.
Halfway down the steps, I climb back onto the surrounding grass and make my way carefully across the tufts towards a natural little shelf worn into the rocks, which I’m overjoyed to find is empty. It’s slightly hidden from view and gives me not only a shady place to eat my lunch, but also an uninterrupted view of the sea. I make myself comfortable on a large flat rock that’s been worn smooth over the years – probably decades
– by the many people sitting right where I am now, looking out to sea, and I sigh happily.
Peace at last.
I’ve always liked my own company. Unlike a lot of people my age who seem to crave being in a crowd or a gang, I’m not afraid to be alone – in fact, I really enjoy it. It gives me a chance to think, work things out in my head, and simply breathe
.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but none of us ever set out to become a part of the tight-knit group we are now. We were all drawn to each other randomly, simply because none of us are what is considered a ‘normal’ teenager.
There’s Eddie – the only male of the group – who is what my mother politely calls ‘a little eccentric’, or ‘full of life’, or ‘a flamboyant young man’, depending on her mood. What she doesn’t ever call him is what he actually is: gay.
Eddie was teased a lot at school when he first came here to St Felix. He got called names because he was different from the other boys and didn’t want to do the kind of things they did. Where most of the boys want to kick a ball around after school or hang out in gangs trying to look cool, Eddie is most likely to be found hiring an old musical from the video-rental shop or practising his latest dance moves. Boys occasionally try to bully him because they think he won’t attempt to defend himself, but they’re always in for a shock. Eddie’s older brother, James, is a highly skilled boxer, who’s been tipped to go to the Olympics, and, before he left St Felix to go and train in Ireland, he taught Eddie how to defend himself. I witnessed many a boy, much bigger than Eddie, scuttle away with a bloody nose or arrive in school the next day with a black eye after trying to pick on him. And because Eddie is Eddie, none of them want to admit that he got the better of them.
Then there’s Mandy, the oldest of our group by a few months. Mandy has a reputation for being easy
. This makes me really cross, because she isn’t at all. But Mandy never seems that bothered by it. She’s confident and brash, and she doesn’t care who knows it. Mandy likes attention from boys, and she wears clothes and make-up that only encourages their attention. But underneath all her short skirts, jewellery, eyeliner and mascara, Mandy has a heart of gold, she’s deeply loyal and there’s nothing she won’t do for her friends.
Suzy is probably the smartest and most virtuous of all of us. She’s incredibly ethical and all about saving the planet. If there’s a campaign, you can be sure Suzy is a part of it. She was all over Band Aid a few years ago, raising money to help those poor starving children in Ethiopia, and she’s a huge campaigner for both animal rights and the environment. Heaven help you if Suzy sees you miss the bin when you throw a can or a ball of paper towards it. You will be picking up that litter moments later – have no doubt about that.
Suzy isn’t a misfit as such, she’s just a little different and painfully shy. When most girls our age are worrying about their hair or the colour of their nail polish, Suzy is worrying about something called global warming, and she’s recently been banging on about some sort of hole in the ozone layer. I’m not really sure what that is, but Suzy seems quite concerned about it.
Oh, and her other issue – well, it seems to be an issue for some, not us – is she comes from a mixed-race family. Her mum is white and her dad is black. Probably quite common if you live in a big city, but down here on the tip of Cornwall it’s fairly unusual, making Suzy different, and, at our age, different is too often seen as bad.
Claire I’ve known since we were at primary school and, before that, playgroup together. According to our parents, both of us were quiet toddlers, so I guess we must have bonded over our love of keeping within the lines when colouring with our crayons or something like that. Claire isn’t really different, she’s just quiet, and not everyone gets quiet people, do they?
And then there’s me – Frankie. I like my own company, but I’m not quiet like Claire – I speak up if I need to. I don’t like wearing dresses or skirts or anything girly, and I get called a tomboy by those same people that call Eddie, Mandy and Suzy names I choose not to repeat. I’m happiest when I have a paintbrush or a pencil in one hand and a sketchbook in the other. I don’t think I’m really all that different – I’m just me.
But our differences are what brought us together, and, although we rarely tell each other, I know we are all secretly very glad they did.
My pasty, as it always is when it’s bought from Mr Bumbles’, is delicious. I brush the crumbs from my lap, hoping one of the little birds that flit around St Felix looking for scraps manages to get to them when I’ve left, before the huge seagulls that rule the roost around the harbour find them.
I open a can of Diet Pepsi and watch the waves rhythmically rolling onto the sand of Morvoren Cove below while I drink. Little kids try to jump over the white spray, squealing with delight when they don’t succeed and the cold seawater splashes up their little legs.
I can already see several pink-looking bodies, where sun worshippers haven’t used a strong enough sun cream, and a few dogs run about the beach happily chasing balls and frisbees.
I look past them further out to sea and note the differing hues today – turquoises and mint-greens vie for prominence over the usual navy blues and purples. All encouraged by the strong sunshine cascading down onto the waves.
Just as I’m feeling almost hypnotised by the waves, something catches the corner of my eye, making me jump – a splash of salt spray in the water, breaking up the perfect rhythm.
What was that – a fish jumping in the waves?
No, it was too big to be a fish’s tail – must have been a dolphin. We often get schools of dolphins around the St Felix coastline.
It happens again, and for a couple of seconds I see the flick of a large fishlike tail in amongst the waves, and then nothing. The waves go back to their usual rhythmical rolling pattern.
Even though I only saw it for a brief second or two, I knew it wasn’t a dolphin’s tail, or even the moon-shaped tail of one of the basking sharks that occasionally make their way closer to the shore at this time of year. No, this definitely looked like a fish’s tail, but it would have had to have been an incredibly large fish to have a tail that size. The mackerel that are so profitable for the local fishermen’s nets are never as big as that.
I check my watch and realise that it’s already time I headed back to the shop. So, forgetting all about the fish’s tail for now, I pick up my rubbish and climb back along the rocks to the steps and then up the hill and across town back to the florist.
‘Did you have a nice lunch, dear?’ Rose asks as I return.
‘Yes, thank you. I managed to find a shady spot to eat overlooking Morvoren Cove.’
‘How lovely. Will you be all right if I just pop out for a bit and get myself something to eat? It’s been pretty quiet in the last hour.’
‘Of course, Rose. I’ll be fine.’
Rose smiles. ‘I know you will. You’ve been such a blessing to my little shop since you came to work here, Frankie, I can’t thank you enough for all you do.’
‘Oh,’ I say, completely thrown by her kind words. ‘It’s nothing. You know I love working here.’
‘If my granddaughter, Poppy, turns out anything like you when she’s older, I’ll be a very proud grandmother indeed.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say. How are your grandchildren – it’s Poppy and . . . William, isn’t it?’
Rose nods. ‘They’re very well. They’re coming to stay in a few weeks with their mother. I’m sure I’ll be exhausted having a four-year-old and a six-year-old running rings around me, but I can’t wait to see them again and give them a big cuddle.’
‘If you need me to cover any more shifts, I’m sure I can.’
‘Won’t you have school, though?’
‘School holidays begin in a couple of weeks! I’ll be as free as a bird all summer!’
‘Ah. Yes.’ Rose nods. ‘What a wonderful situation to be in. When is the dance you were telling me about?’
‘Next Saturday.’
‘Do you have your dress yet?’
I shrug. ‘I’m not really a dress person, so I’m finding it a bit difficult to be honest.’
Rose nods knowingly. ‘Just between the two of us, I was a bit of a tomboy too when I was younger. However, I did bloom – no pun intended!’ she says, looking at the pots of flowers surrounding us. ‘When I got to about eighteen or twenty.’ She looks me up and down. ‘You know you’re about the size I was back then. I’ll get some of my old dresses out for you. Pop round to the cottage one night and you can have a look. No pressure!’ She holds up her hand. ‘I know you’re probably thinking what’s an old bird like me going to have for a youngster like you, but you never know. I won’t be offended if you don’t like anything.’
‘Sure,’ I reply to be polite. I simply can’t turn up at the dance in one of Rose’s old cast-offs though, I’d be the laughing stock of the school. But I haven’t found anything myself so far that I either like or that suits me, so I guess it might be worth a try.
‘Right, I’ll be off to get that lunch, then,’ Rose says. ‘See you in a jiffy.’
I wait for her to leave the shop, then I look around for something to do. There’s always something, whether it’s refilling the big silver buckets that Rose keeps all her flowers in, or sweeping the floors of stray leaves and greenery. I know that if someone came in wanting something more complicated than a few stems of flowers, like a bouquet or a wreath for instance, then all I have to do is take their details and either ask them to come back when Rose is here or tell them she will call them. As I look around, I notice Rose has been making up a bouquet for someone in the back of the shop, so I grab a broom and begin to sweep the floor.
The bell over the shop door rings to signal that someone is entering, so I leave the back room and return to the main shop.
‘Hello,’ I say, then stop when I see who it is.
‘Oh, hi.’ Rob looks equally as surprised to see me as I am to see him. ‘I didn’t know you worked here?’
‘Yes, every Saturday and sometimes after school, too.’
Rob nods and looks awkwardly at some of the displays.
‘Was there something in particular you were looking for?’ I ask, still in automatic shop assistant mode.
‘Yeah, it’s my mum’s birthday tomorrow and I thought I’d get her some flowers.’ He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a five-pound note. ‘This is all I have right now, though. Can I get much with it?’
‘Yes, I’m sure we can find you something,’ I say, looking around for inspiration, and I begin to pick out a few stems from the silver buckets. Flowers that I knew if they were still here at the end of the day, Rose would offer to me to take home for my own mother. Rose always begins a new week on Monday morning with fresh flowers. Anything not sold by four-thirty on a Saturday afternoon is always given away.
‘How long have you worked here?’ Rob asks to make conversation while I gather various buds and arrange them in my hand into a posy of sorts.
‘A few months now. I really enjoy it.’
‘That’s good. I wish I could get a part-time job.’
‘Why can’t you?’
‘My parents won’t let me. They say it would interfere with my education too much.’
‘Oh.’ I’m not really sure what to say to this; my parents were really pleased for me when I got a job and started earning some money for myself.
‘Couldn’t you help out round the pub – you know, clearing tables and stuff?’ Rob’s parents bought the Merry Mermaid pub on St Felix harbour when it went up for sale – that’s why they moved here in the middle of the school year. I only know this because Mandy’s mum has a cleaning job there and is always full of gossip about the pub and the people who go there, which Mandy delights in passing on to us if it involves anyone we know from school or their parents.
‘I’d like to, but because they bought the pub at this “critical time in my education” – that’s what my mum says, anyway – and I had to move school and stuff, they want me to concentrate on that for now, until I’ve done my GCSEs, anyway.’
‘That’s fair enough, I suppose. What about these?’ I ask, showing Rob the bouquet in my hand. ‘I’ll tie it up with some ribbon. Rose – that’s the lady who owns the shop – she always likes to use white ribbon. Is that OK?’
‘That’s great. Are you sure I can get all this for five pounds?’
‘Yes, some of these flowers will only go to waste if we don’t sell them before we close, so you’re doing us a favour really.’ As expertly as I can, I wrap some of Rose’s special white ribbon around my bundle of flowers, immediately transforming them into a small posy. ‘Here.’ I pass them to him, at the same time taking the five-pound note in his outstretched hand. ‘I hope your mum likes them.’
‘I’m sure she’ll love them – thank you. I don’t really know much about flowers, but they look pretty.’
‘You’ve got roses in there.’ I point to them. ‘And these are alstroemeria. Those little white ones are gypsophila, and the big ones are gerberas.’
Rob nods. ‘Mum will be impressed if I know the names.’
I ring the five pounds up in the till and turn back towards him again. ‘Well . . . ’ I say, not knowing what to say or do next.
He looks just as awkward as I feel. ‘Well . . . ’.
‘How’s the pub doing?’ I ask at the same time as Rob asks, ‘How’s the mermaid rehearsals going?’
‘How do you know about that?’ I stare at him. ‘I didn’t think it was common knowledge we were going to be mermaids.’
Rob flushes in embarrassment. ‘I’ve seen you,’ he admits. ‘Down on the beach, or on the school field practising. You look good. I mean you all look good – you know? Well rehearsed.’ His cheeks redden even more.
I grin. ‘I’ll take well rehearsed as a compliment.’
‘Good. Your act looks much more interesting than the one I’m in.’
‘You sounded good the other day when you were rehearsing.’
‘Thanks, but even though we can play all the tunes, I think it’s a bit dull. At least you’re singing and dancing. It will be much more entertaining.’
‘Entertaining might be a bit generous.’ I grin. ‘But I appreciate the encouragement.’
Rob nods. ‘I better be going, I suppose. Put these in some water for tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ I wish I could think of something else to say to keep him here a little longer. But what?
‘Why did you agree to be in Jenny’s group?’ I ask suddenly as Rob is about to turn towards the door.
‘What do you mean?’ He looks confused.
‘I . . . I mean . . . ’ What
do I mean? Come on, Frankie, think! ‘Guitar is quite cool, isn’t it?’
The words barely have time to form in my brain before they’re tumbling out of my mouth. ‘And Jenny’s group . . . well, they’re not cool, are they? They’re more of a formal orchestra – although they’re very good!’ I add, in case he’s offended. ‘But I always see a guitar as being more at home in a group . . . you know, like a rock band?’
To my enormous relief, Rob smiles.
‘Now it’s my turn to thank you
for the compliment. I wish I was cool enough to be in a rock band. I’ve not had many offers though.’
‘I’m sure you’re cool enough,’ I say before I’ve thought it through. ‘Perhaps St Felix isn’t the best place to get offers though – Bon Jovi doesn’t often pop into the Merry Mermaid for a pint, does he?’
To my delight, Rob laughs.
‘No, sadly he doesn’t. Neither does Freddie Mercury.’
‘I’ve heard Guns N’ Roses sometimes take a cottage here over the summer, though . . . ’
‘Yeah, right – I wish!’ Rob grins. ‘You like rock music?’
‘Yeah, I do. My parents soon bought me headphones when I started playing AC/DC full blast in my bedroom.’
‘Nice. Who else?’
To my surprise, Rob and I begin to have a very detailed conversation about rock music, who we like, and who we don’t, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I almost forget who I’m talking to and where I am. So that when the bell rings again over the shop door and Rose returns with her lunch, I almost jump out of my skin.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she says as we both stare at her like she’s caught us up to no good. ‘I’ll just take my lunch out the back.’ She raises her eyebrows good-naturedly at me as she passes.
‘I . . . I’d better go,’ Rob says, looking at his flowers. ‘Water . . . you know.’
‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. I . . . I hope your mum likes them.’
‘I know she will. Thanks again, Frankie.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
‘See ya around.’
I nod.
As he leaves the shop, my legs actually buckle underneath me as my knees give way, something I thought only happened in romantic novels, and I have to hold on to the shop counter to stay upright.
‘Nice-looking young man!’ Rose’s voice sounds from the back room, clearly having heard the door open and close.
‘Yes,’ I can only murmur as I begin to regain the feeling in my legs again. ‘He is.’
Rose pops her head back into the shop.
‘Ah,’ she says, smiling at me. ‘Young love, the most powerful and yet often the most painful love of all.’