grown-up. Nadine is the silly idiot, letting a total stranger send her stupid messages. He could be
anyone
. Ellis sounds a deeply suspect name for a start. Maybe he really
is
a creepy pervert.
I’m furious with Nadine, but of course I still love her to bits underneath. I don’t want her to get into serious trouble. She’s made it plain she won’t listen to me. So maybe I should tell someone? Nadine’s mum or dad? No, I
can’t
. Nadine would kill me. She and Magda would never talk to me ever again.
“Ellie! Hey, Ellie!”
Oh God, it’s Russell standing by the school gate. I very nearly walk straight past him. “Oh, Russell, sorry!”
“You were deep in thought! Thinking about me, eh?”
“Well, I was actually worrying about Nadine because—”
“Because you’re obsessed with her and Magda—I know,” says Russell irritably. “I don’t know why you bother seeing me sometimes. You’d be far happier going round in your girly threesome all the time.”
“We’ve had a row, if you must know,” I say. “Listen, I’m very worried about Nadine, she’s gone completely crazy and—”
“She
is
crazy. Look, forget her, forget Magda. Come back to my place and we’ll have a lovely time, just the two of us.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I
can’t
tell him that I need to be in my own bathroom as soon as possible. I know you should be able to talk to your boyfriend about anything. We
do
talk about some stuff. But not that. I’d feel so embarrassed.
“I—I don’t feel very well,” I say, truthfully enough. “I just want to go home and lie down.”
“Come and lie down with me instead,” says Russell.
“Oh, sure,” I say.
“I’ll be sweet to you. I’ll massage your forehead—and your shoulders—and anywhere else we can think of. . . .”
“Leave it out!” I wish he wouldn’t be quite so insistent all the time. I love it that he cares about me and loves me, but just recently all he seems to want to do is see how far he can go with me. I love the things we do together, but sometimes I wish he’d relate more to me as Ellie the
person,
not Ellie the body.
My body is letting me down big-time. My stomach squeezes. I feel an alarming dampness. “I’m sorry, Russell, I really have to go home
now,
” I say, and I start running.
I’m in a right state when I eventually make it home. Anna’s left a note to say she’s gone up to town to see the buyer of a big chain store who’s interested in some special bargain children’s knitwear, designed by Anna but produced on a massive scale.
“It’ll mean heaps more work if it comes off, so I’m not sure I’ll say yes,” Anna’s scribbled to me. “You know what the Dad situation is like.”
“Definitely say yes, Anna,” I mutter. “Never you mind Dad.”
I read on. Oh God. Eggs has gone to tea with Natasha, Nadine’s little sister.
“I hope to be back around sixish, but if I’m delayed can you be an angel and go and collect Eggs, Ellie?” Anna writes.
Let’s hope she’s
not
delayed. I don’t want to go anywhere near Nadine’s, not now.
It’s lovely to have the house to myself just for once. I have a long hot bath, lying back under the bubbles and stroking my poor sore swollen tummy.
FAT.
No!
I’m not going to think about Nadine. Or Magda. Or Dad. Or Anna and Eggs. Or even Russell. I’m going to think about me.
I towel myself dry, put on my comfy old dungarees and a stripy sweatshirt and then sit cross-legged on my bed drawing Myrtle Mouse. She has any number of scary adventures. She even runs away to London and becomes an Underground mouse, lurking in train tunnels and diving for cover every time the terrifying tube roars past. Her beautiful blue fur turns sooty black and she loses the tip of her tail when she only just manages to scamper clear of a maintenance man’s big boot.
I make sure she has a happy ending, though. A little girl bribes her up onto the platform with a cheese sandwich, wraps her grimy little
anyone
. Ellis sounds a deeply suspect name for a start. Maybe he really
is
a creepy pervert.
I’m furious with Nadine, but of course I still love her to bits underneath. I don’t want her to get into serious trouble. She’s made it plain she won’t listen to me. So maybe I should tell someone? Nadine’s mum or dad? No, I
can’t
. Nadine would kill me. She and Magda would never talk to me ever again.
“Ellie! Hey, Ellie!”
Oh God, it’s Russell standing by the school gate. I very nearly walk straight past him. “Oh, Russell, sorry!”
“You were deep in thought! Thinking about me, eh?”
“Well, I was actually worrying about Nadine because—”
“Because you’re obsessed with her and Magda—I know,” says Russell irritably. “I don’t know why you bother seeing me sometimes. You’d be far happier going round in your girly threesome all the time.”
“We’ve had a row, if you must know,” I say. “Listen, I’m very worried about Nadine, she’s gone completely crazy and—”
“She
is
crazy. Look, forget her, forget Magda. Come back to my place and we’ll have a lovely time, just the two of us.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I
can’t
tell him that I need to be in my own bathroom as soon as possible. I know you should be able to talk to your boyfriend about anything. We
do
talk about some stuff. But not that. I’d feel so embarrassed.
“I—I don’t feel very well,” I say, truthfully enough. “I just want to go home and lie down.”
“Come and lie down with me instead,” says Russell.
“Oh, sure,” I say.
“I’ll be sweet to you. I’ll massage your forehead—and your shoulders—and anywhere else we can think of. . . .”
“Leave it out!” I wish he wouldn’t be quite so insistent all the time. I love it that he cares about me and loves me, but just recently all he seems to want to do is see how far he can go with me. I love the things we do together, but sometimes I wish he’d relate more to me as Ellie the
person,
not Ellie the body.
My body is letting me down big-time. My stomach squeezes. I feel an alarming dampness. “I’m sorry, Russell, I really have to go home
now,
” I say, and I start running.
I’m in a right state when I eventually make it home. Anna’s left a note to say she’s gone up to town to see the buyer of a big chain store who’s interested in some special bargain children’s knitwear, designed by Anna but produced on a massive scale.
“It’ll mean heaps more work if it comes off, so I’m not sure I’ll say yes,” Anna’s scribbled to me. “You know what the Dad situation is like.”
“Definitely say yes, Anna,” I mutter. “Never you mind Dad.”
I read on. Oh God. Eggs has gone to tea with Natasha, Nadine’s little sister.
“I hope to be back around sixish, but if I’m delayed can you be an angel and go and collect Eggs, Ellie?” Anna writes.
Let’s hope she’s
not
delayed. I don’t want to go anywhere near Nadine’s, not now.
It’s lovely to have the house to myself just for once. I have a long hot bath, lying back under the bubbles and stroking my poor sore swollen tummy.
FAT.
No!
I’m not going to think about Nadine. Or Magda. Or Dad. Or Anna and Eggs. Or even Russell. I’m going to think about me.
I towel myself dry, put on my comfy old dungarees and a stripy sweatshirt and then sit cross-legged on my bed drawing Myrtle Mouse. She has any number of scary adventures. She even runs away to London and becomes an Underground mouse, lurking in train tunnels and diving for cover every time the terrifying tube roars past. Her beautiful blue fur turns sooty black and she loses the tip of her tail when she only just manages to scamper clear of a maintenance man’s big boot.
I make sure she has a happy ending, though. A little girl bribes her up onto the platform with a cheese sandwich, wraps her grimy little
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