Of course I knew what those alien emotions meant, but I also knew that I wasn’t going to be the one to act on them. I wasn’t going to show Robert that I’d succumbed to his charms and found myself plonked in the middle of his fan club with tens of other girls. Oh yes, he really did have a fan club. The girls in our year, in fact our whole school, swooned over him relentlessly – more so when he’d broken his leg! Huddles of girls would frantically walk around the school to find him on his lunch break, they’d giggle as he passed them on the stairway, dribble at the smallest glimpse of him in the corridor, and if there was ever any accidental body contact, like arms brushing as he walked past, there’d be a near-fainting situation … It was mind-boggling and quite sickening to watch, but Robert loved the attention from his adoring fans and often played up to them, much to their delight. Due to their lovesick nature, his admirers continuously treated me with caution – I was, after all, a girl with unlimited access to Robert. It was something they could only dream of. I wasn’t too bothered by their occasional evil glances. In fact, I found the whole thing funny. Yes, I knew Robert up close and personal – but that didn’t just mean I got to see his handsome (there’s no disputing his good looks) face on a regular basis behind closed doors, but I also got to see him scratching his arse, popping his hand down between his boxers and trousers for a quick squeeze (as though to check his bits were still intact) and a million other little idiosyncrasies that would leave other’s minds boggled. The Robert they saw, the charming, suave and well-groomed prince, was a tad different to my grubby friend Rob – and I loved it that way.
I had a secret piece of him.
Did I really want to give up that piece and turn into every other girl looking at him through rose-tinted glasses? Sadly, it seemed it was way out of my control. That’s what led me to be full of nervousness about going to Paris. If something was going to happen between us, then it was sure to occur there when we were cocooned in a bubble of holiday abandon. Right?
And if it didn’t?
If he ended up kissing someone else right in front of me?
Well, I just wanted to get on that trip so I could witness which of the two scenarios would win out. At least then the anxiety of not knowing could be put to rest.
On the morning we left for the trip, I experienced a rush of excitement as I wheeled my suitcase through the school gates and saw the green coach waiting to take us all across the English Channel. Instead of walking into school with Robert or Ben, my mum had decided to go with me. Partly because of the early start – it was six o’clock in the morning and still dark thanks to it being November – but mostly because it was my first ever trip abroad without her and my dad and she wanted to see me off safely. I could already see the tears of concern threatening to spill in her eyes and had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at her – horrified that she was on the verge of embarrassing me with an emotional goodbye.
‘You just make sure you stick with the group, okay?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ I said, trying to stop her from worrying – although it was no use, she’d had her knickers in a twist ever since she and Dad got the first letter about the trip at the start of the school year. Honestly, you would have thought she’d be happy to have me, her premenstrual-screaming-raging-teenage-daughter-who-is-lovely-to-everyone-else-but-the-actual-devil-at-home, out of the house for a little bit. But it appeared not having me at home caused her just as much stress as having me there did.
‘And listen to everything that your teacher says …’
‘Mum, it’s going to be fine!’ I said for the umpteenth time. ‘I’m not a kid!’
‘Don’t you take that tone with me, madam!’
Luckily, Robert started walking towards us. Not only did a pang of nerves shoot through me, but it also stopped Mum in her scolding as she planted a welcoming smile on her face.
‘Hello, Robbie!’ Mum beamed, opening her arms and giving him a big hug. She was always delighted to see him.
When we were nine years old Robert and Ben melted Mum’s heart as they sat on their bikes at our front door asking for me to play outside – seven years later and they still had the same effect on her, although their relationships varied. Robert had my mum wrapped around his little finger. He was incredibly cheeky with her, always winding her up or telling naughty jokes – she couldn’t help but laugh at his funny ways. As for Ben, she was always going on about how respectful and polite he was whenever he came over. The first thing he used to do in our house was ask Mum if she wanted him to make her a cup of tea or if he could help with whatever she was doing, like dinner if she was cooking, or the gardening if she was weeding on the patio. Their glowing personalities made them look like angels and me look like a hormonal brat, although I think that was just the joy of having a teenage daughter – gone was the little princess she’d dressed up in frilly outfits, replaced by an adolescent who huffed and puffed her way through home life. With that in mind, it’s unsurprising that Mum treated the boys as though they were her own delightful kids – the sons she never had. It was clearly a case of wishful thinking.