Chapter 4

Jess was swept up into a gigantic hug.

‘I’ve been hanging about here,’ growled Fred into her hair, ‘for three hours. I’m on all the CCTV footage. Prime suspect for all the major crimes round here. Where have you been, for goodness’ sake? Flirting with lover boy?’

Jess giggled into his shirt. Fred could make her laugh even in moments of the deepest gloom – which, let’s face it, just about described the situation right now.

‘Who’s lover boy?’ she demanded indignantly.

‘Ben Jones, of course,’ said Fred. ‘I know you still secretly long for him. You’re dying to run your fingers through his beautiful blond football-captain’s hair. Admit it!’

‘What utter garbage, Fred!’ said Jess. ‘You’re lover boy these days – or hadn’t you noticed? Ben was just a very old crush. So last season. Besides, I actually came round your house at five o’clock, looking for you – and you were out. So where on earth were you? Giving extra English lessons to Jodie?’

‘Aha!’ said Fred mysteriously. ‘I was out in town, arranging a very special treat for you.’ He released her from his arms, reached inside his jacket and produced a glamorous white envelope.

Jess knew, at the back of her mind, that she must tell Fred the bad news about her enforced holiday with her stupid family, but she couldn’t bear to mention it yet. Whenever she was with Fred they had the best time. Right now, he was waving the white envelope above her head. Jess jumped up a couple of times, laughing and trying to snatch it, but Fred was so much taller, he just reached up and it was way out of Jess’s reach.

‘It’s rather like training a small but eager dog,’ he said mockingly. ‘Shall we go walkies?’

‘Give me the envelope!’ said Jess, ‘or I’ll morph completely into a cute little dog and pee on your shoes!’

‘Sweet!’ said Fred with a grin. ‘Tempting . . . But OK . . . you can have the envelope. It’ll cost you . . . hmm, one kiss, though.’

Jess launched herself eagerly back into his arms.

She had read somewhere that you shouldn’t throw yourself at boys. It was best to preserve an elegant sort of mystery and poise. That was how you would retain your allure, or something. Jess knew for sure that her allure was zilch. Her only hope of retaining Fred’s interest was to grab him and cling to him and never let him go. So, completely without mystery or poise, they kissed.

It was a humdinger. Five minutes later they broke apart for breath. In an ideal world they would have had access to a half-time shower, a pep talk from the coach and some high-energy sport glucose drink. But none of these was available: just a dark, deserted street.

The kiss had completely wiped from Jess’s mind everything else in the world: the envelope and her awful news. Maybe her mother was right about relationships with men destroying one’s brain. Jess looked up at Fred and Fred looked down at Jess. He widened his eyes and made a soft hooting noise like a baby owl. They had always imitated animals and birds to each other, all their lives, since they were little kids at playgroup.

Then he produced the white envelope again and, with a formal bow, presented it to her. Jess was vastly intrigued. Her hands trembled slightly. There was something so white, so beautiful and crisp about it. It glimmered in the street lamps, full of promise.

Jess tried to open it very gently and elegantly, but her little finger sort of got stuck under the flap, so in the end she ripped it open with an impatient yell. Inside were two tickets to something . . . for a moment Jess couldn’t quite make it out in the gloom. Then she saw the words: Riverdene Festival. Oh wow! It was the music event to die for! All Jess’s favourite bands were going to be there!

‘It’s two tickets for Riverdene,’ said Fred. ‘I thought we could elope there next week. I’ve been saving up for months, working in the newsagent’s on Sunday mornings and stashing away my gold in a strongbox under my bed. My mum says we can borrow one of our tents – or if your mum’s not happy about us sharing a tent, we can take two. Just to keep her quiet. So. What do you say?’

Jess was dumbstruck. She couldn’t think of anything more amazing than going to Riverdene with Fred. But what catastrophic timing! Her heart seemed to crack and crumble. It was hopeless. But Fred was looking at her with such happy, shiny eyes that she couldn’t bear to disappoint him. So for a moment it was impossible to say anything at all.

‘You’re right to hesitate, of course,’ he said, filling the silence, but there was a slight edge of worry in his voice. He speeded up. ‘The thought of spending several days in a field with thousands of unwashed kids would fill anyone with dismay. Of course. Perhaps it’s the idea of proximity with me which is causing you a moment’s hesitation? Let me assure you that, if you require it, I will happily pitch my tent half a mile away. I will only speak to you from a respectful distance. Or possibly even send a note.’

Jess laughed, but her face was filling up with secret tears again. Poor, dear Fred! This lovely surprise of his made her bad news so much worse.

‘And if the discomforts of open-air living are a cause for concern,’ Fred continued, ‘the good news is that the long-range weather forecast is fine. Though personally I have a sneaking regard for rain. Indeed, I feel it is a very underrated weather pattern and possibly its time will come, though not, I hope, while we are at Riverdene.’

Still Jess said nothing. But a tear slid down her cheek. Fred put his arm round her shoulders.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. It was very unusual for Fred to speak in such a short sentence. He had obviously begun to sense the crisis.

Jess looked up at him and shook her head dolefully.

‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful,’ she said. ‘This is so sweet of you, Fred. To use up all your savings like that and organise this brilliant, brilliant surprise for me. But there’s a problem.’

‘What?’ said Fred, urgently. He had uttered only one word. He was clearly already deeply troubled and he hadn’t even heard the worst of it yet.

‘My mum informed me this afternoon that she’s taking me away on a holiday the day after tomorrow,’ said Jess.

Fred’s shoulders slumped. He suddenly looked only about 5’7” instead of his usual 5’11”. He said . . . nothing. For Fred to be speechless was, perhaps, a first in the history of the world.