every underage teen to the bones.
‘ID.’
The others reach into their pockets, producing driving licences without a second thought. I stand there, quaking in my Birkenstocks.
‘ID,’ the bouncer says again, when the others have all filed through. I want to shout, ‘Wait!’ But I don’t.
‘I don’t have any with me,’ I reluctantly admit. ‘But I am eighteen.’
‘Sorry, love.’
He looks straight past me to the next person in the queue and I know that no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind so I step away from the door. My face burns as everyone stares at me. What the hell am I going to do now?
‘Lily!’ Josh calls to me from the door.
Phew!
‘He won’t let me in. I forgot my ID.’ I give him a meaningful look.
Josh turns to the bouncer. ‘Oh, come on, mate, she’s just come all the way from England. You know what these Pommies are like.’
‘I don’t give a possum’s arse if she’s just come from Buckingham Palace. If she doesn’t have ID, she’s not coming in.’
Josh stares at him, frustrated, then he glances over his shoulder at his mates.
Bollocks to this. ‘Just point me in the direction of the bus stop,’ I snap.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks, looking guilty.
‘Yep. I’ll be fine.’
Of course, I realise as soon as I board the bus that I haven’t got a clue how to find my way home from Crafers. I think it was a long bendy road . . . I should have borrowed Josh’s phone again to call Mum. I rang her a few hours ago to let her know what I was up to. Maybe I should find a payphone. But when I step off the bus, there she is waiting.
‘How did you know I’d be here?’
‘Josh called Michael.’ She leads me to her car. ‘What on earth that boy is doing letting you catch a bus on your own at this hour . . . Michael had a few strong words to say to him,’ Mum says, climbing into the car and slamming the door behind her.
My insides burn with shame. I hate the thought of Josh getting into trouble because of me. Although Lou will be making him feel better right about now . . .
‘You’re alive then,’ Ben remarks when I turn up to work on Monday morning.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I hope you caught the bus home on Saturday night.’
‘I did actually.’ I don’t want to tell him what happened. ‘Why?’
‘Josh usually drives when he’s had a few.’
‘Oh, right. Pass me the broom, would you?’
I was appalled when I woke up yesterday morning to see Josh’s car parked in the driveway.
‘Did you drive home?’ I asked him. I’d assumed he’d be catching the bus himself.
‘Yeah,’ he replied defensively.
‘When you were pissed ?’
‘I didn’t have that much to drink.’
‘You bloody did!’
‘What are you – my mother?’
At that point I remembered that his mother was dead so decided to shut up about it, but he’d continued to justify himself. ‘I drank a few beers, but it was over several hours, and I ate loads. I felt fine.’
I shook my head in disgust.
‘Don’t tell Dad,’ he urged.
So here I am on Monday morning getting the third degree from Ben.
‘That bloke is a menace behind the wheel,’ he mutters, as he passes me the broom. We’re mucking out the koala enclosures. ‘Are we paying you for this yet?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘I think Michael is speaking to Trudy today.’ A little flutter of nerves passes through me. I so want a job here.
Good news comes at lunchtime, but my enthusiasm takes a nosedive when Michael presents me with my uniform.
‘Did Trudy say yes?’ I squeal, closely followed by, ‘Do I really have to wear the shorts?’
‘What’s wrong with them?’ Ben enquires, ploughing into his homemade cheese sandwich.
‘I hate my legs,’ I moan.
‘There’s nothing wrong with your legs,’ Michael scoffs.
‘How would you know?’ I whine. ‘You’re practically elderly.’
Ben finds this very amusing.
‘You can talk, you’ll be thirty soon,’ Michael jibes.
‘Not for
‘ID.’
The others reach into their pockets, producing driving licences without a second thought. I stand there, quaking in my Birkenstocks.
‘ID,’ the bouncer says again, when the others have all filed through. I want to shout, ‘Wait!’ But I don’t.
‘I don’t have any with me,’ I reluctantly admit. ‘But I am eighteen.’
‘Sorry, love.’
He looks straight past me to the next person in the queue and I know that no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind so I step away from the door. My face burns as everyone stares at me. What the hell am I going to do now?
‘Lily!’ Josh calls to me from the door.
Phew!
‘He won’t let me in. I forgot my ID.’ I give him a meaningful look.
Josh turns to the bouncer. ‘Oh, come on, mate, she’s just come all the way from England. You know what these Pommies are like.’
‘I don’t give a possum’s arse if she’s just come from Buckingham Palace. If she doesn’t have ID, she’s not coming in.’
Josh stares at him, frustrated, then he glances over his shoulder at his mates.
Bollocks to this. ‘Just point me in the direction of the bus stop,’ I snap.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks, looking guilty.
‘Yep. I’ll be fine.’
Of course, I realise as soon as I board the bus that I haven’t got a clue how to find my way home from Crafers. I think it was a long bendy road . . . I should have borrowed Josh’s phone again to call Mum. I rang her a few hours ago to let her know what I was up to. Maybe I should find a payphone. But when I step off the bus, there she is waiting.
‘How did you know I’d be here?’
‘Josh called Michael.’ She leads me to her car. ‘What on earth that boy is doing letting you catch a bus on your own at this hour . . . Michael had a few strong words to say to him,’ Mum says, climbing into the car and slamming the door behind her.
My insides burn with shame. I hate the thought of Josh getting into trouble because of me. Although Lou will be making him feel better right about now . . .
‘You’re alive then,’ Ben remarks when I turn up to work on Monday morning.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I hope you caught the bus home on Saturday night.’
‘I did actually.’ I don’t want to tell him what happened. ‘Why?’
‘Josh usually drives when he’s had a few.’
‘Oh, right. Pass me the broom, would you?’
I was appalled when I woke up yesterday morning to see Josh’s car parked in the driveway.
‘Did you drive home?’ I asked him. I’d assumed he’d be catching the bus himself.
‘Yeah,’ he replied defensively.
‘When you were pissed ?’
‘I didn’t have that much to drink.’
‘You bloody did!’
‘What are you – my mother?’
At that point I remembered that his mother was dead so decided to shut up about it, but he’d continued to justify himself. ‘I drank a few beers, but it was over several hours, and I ate loads. I felt fine.’
I shook my head in disgust.
‘Don’t tell Dad,’ he urged.
So here I am on Monday morning getting the third degree from Ben.
‘That bloke is a menace behind the wheel,’ he mutters, as he passes me the broom. We’re mucking out the koala enclosures. ‘Are we paying you for this yet?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘I think Michael is speaking to Trudy today.’ A little flutter of nerves passes through me. I so want a job here.
Good news comes at lunchtime, but my enthusiasm takes a nosedive when Michael presents me with my uniform.
‘Did Trudy say yes?’ I squeal, closely followed by, ‘Do I really have to wear the shorts?’
‘What’s wrong with them?’ Ben enquires, ploughing into his homemade cheese sandwich.
‘I hate my legs,’ I moan.
‘There’s nothing wrong with your legs,’ Michael scoffs.
‘How would you know?’ I whine. ‘You’re practically elderly.’
Ben finds this very amusing.
‘You can talk, you’ll be thirty soon,’ Michael jibes.
‘Not for
Similar Books
