mates. They were laughing at me, all of them. And your precious Debbie,” her eyes narrowed as she said it, boring into Corrine’s, “doesn’t like me either. She makes that quite obvious.”
“Look,” said Corrine, reaching out her hand, “you don’t want to listen to Rowlands, he’s a knob end, everyone know that. No one care what he think. Everyone like you, Sam.”
The look in Sam’s eyes said she didn’t believe her. Corrine thought she had better go further. “And if they don’t, well … then I don’t like them either.”
“Really?” Samantha’s eyes softened, blue flooding into the green.
“I’ll always stick up for you, you know I will,” Corrine said fiercely. “I don’t take no shit off no one.”
Samantha nodded solemnly. “All right,” she said. “Give me your little finger.”
Corrine did as she was told.
Samantha ran the side of the marram grass across the top joint of Corrine’s finger, fast and deep, drawing blood. Kept hold of her hand as Corrine recoiled.
“No,” she said, digging her nails into the other girl’s hand, “wait. Now I have to do it.”
The sudden pain bringing tears to her eyes, Corrine watched as Sam repeated the manoeuvre on her own little finger, making the cut without even flinching. Then she pressed their fingers together, holding them fast with her other hand.
“Now our blood has mingled,” she said, that intense expression back in her eyes, “we’re sisters. No one knows but us. But we share all our secrets from now on. Right?”
Corrine nodded, locked in the thrall of that stare.
“Good!” said Sam, letting go of her hand and jumping to her feet. “Now let’s go and see Nana. She’s made some cakes for our tea. Come on, I’ll race you.”
And she sprinted away over the dunes, faster than a bewildered Corrine could catch up with.
* * *
Edna’s insides churned as she sat at the kitchen table. Her eyes kept darting from the clock, where the minutes dragged towards seven o’clock, and the ceiling. Sitting on her rigid lap, Noodles was being stroked to within an inch of his life.
Edna was wishing she had X-ray vision, wishing she could see what was going on up there in Sammy’s room, between her granddaughter and that … creature she had brought home with her. Wished that Eric would hurry up and get home. Wondered if she dared go up and suggest, since it was a school night, that it was time Sammy’s guest was leaving …
She and Eric had been so delighted at the prospect of meeting their granddaughter’s new school friend. Until she had opened the front door on Corrine Woodrow and gazed upon the rigid waves of garishly highlighted hair, violet eyeshadow and lipstick. Edna winced at the memory of a hand closing in on her fairy cakes, black-painted fingernails encased in a lace mitten. A thieving hand, if ever she had seen one.
Noodles, fed up now with being ground into his mistress’s thighs, looked up and yapped, jumped off Edna’s lap and shook himself furiously, sweaty-palm-dampened fur springing back to attention. Then, casting a look over his shoulder as if to say,
If you won’t sort it out then I will
, he trotted briskly up the stairs.
* * *
“There,” said Corrine, stepping back from the stool so that Sam could see herself in the mirror. “What d’you reckon?”
Samantha’s cool gaze took in the transformation. Her hair had been backcombed so that it stuck up and out, her eyebrows plucked and pencilled in. Black eyeliner and thick mascara against shocking pink and yellow eyeshadow, vivid, angular streaks of blusher down each cheek and Clara Bow lips outlined in black and filled in with purple gloss.
Corrine looked from the reflection to the palette she held in her hands, a row of pouting lips in every colour from sugar pink to deep mauve, a sweet little brush to paint them on with. “This is ace,” she said. “You must have got it up London, I in’t seen anything like this round here, or I’d have …”
“Look,” said Corrine, reaching out her hand, “you don’t want to listen to Rowlands, he’s a knob end, everyone know that. No one care what he think. Everyone like you, Sam.”
The look in Sam’s eyes said she didn’t believe her. Corrine thought she had better go further. “And if they don’t, well … then I don’t like them either.”
“Really?” Samantha’s eyes softened, blue flooding into the green.
“I’ll always stick up for you, you know I will,” Corrine said fiercely. “I don’t take no shit off no one.”
Samantha nodded solemnly. “All right,” she said. “Give me your little finger.”
Corrine did as she was told.
Samantha ran the side of the marram grass across the top joint of Corrine’s finger, fast and deep, drawing blood. Kept hold of her hand as Corrine recoiled.
“No,” she said, digging her nails into the other girl’s hand, “wait. Now I have to do it.”
The sudden pain bringing tears to her eyes, Corrine watched as Sam repeated the manoeuvre on her own little finger, making the cut without even flinching. Then she pressed their fingers together, holding them fast with her other hand.
“Now our blood has mingled,” she said, that intense expression back in her eyes, “we’re sisters. No one knows but us. But we share all our secrets from now on. Right?”
Corrine nodded, locked in the thrall of that stare.
“Good!” said Sam, letting go of her hand and jumping to her feet. “Now let’s go and see Nana. She’s made some cakes for our tea. Come on, I’ll race you.”
And she sprinted away over the dunes, faster than a bewildered Corrine could catch up with.
* * *
Edna’s insides churned as she sat at the kitchen table. Her eyes kept darting from the clock, where the minutes dragged towards seven o’clock, and the ceiling. Sitting on her rigid lap, Noodles was being stroked to within an inch of his life.
Edna was wishing she had X-ray vision, wishing she could see what was going on up there in Sammy’s room, between her granddaughter and that … creature she had brought home with her. Wished that Eric would hurry up and get home. Wondered if she dared go up and suggest, since it was a school night, that it was time Sammy’s guest was leaving …
She and Eric had been so delighted at the prospect of meeting their granddaughter’s new school friend. Until she had opened the front door on Corrine Woodrow and gazed upon the rigid waves of garishly highlighted hair, violet eyeshadow and lipstick. Edna winced at the memory of a hand closing in on her fairy cakes, black-painted fingernails encased in a lace mitten. A thieving hand, if ever she had seen one.
Noodles, fed up now with being ground into his mistress’s thighs, looked up and yapped, jumped off Edna’s lap and shook himself furiously, sweaty-palm-dampened fur springing back to attention. Then, casting a look over his shoulder as if to say,
If you won’t sort it out then I will
, he trotted briskly up the stairs.
* * *
“There,” said Corrine, stepping back from the stool so that Sam could see herself in the mirror. “What d’you reckon?”
Samantha’s cool gaze took in the transformation. Her hair had been backcombed so that it stuck up and out, her eyebrows plucked and pencilled in. Black eyeliner and thick mascara against shocking pink and yellow eyeshadow, vivid, angular streaks of blusher down each cheek and Clara Bow lips outlined in black and filled in with purple gloss.
Corrine looked from the reflection to the palette she held in her hands, a row of pouting lips in every colour from sugar pink to deep mauve, a sweet little brush to paint them on with. “This is ace,” she said. “You must have got it up London, I in’t seen anything like this round here, or I’d have …”
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