Page 5 of A Secret Cornish Wish
I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, guys,’ I say quietly. ‘You’ve saved me.’
‘I think we’ve all saved ourselves from a lot of embarrassment,’ Claire whispers. ‘But most importantly we managed to do it and not let Eddie down.’
‘We’ll be the best mermaids St Felix has ever seen!’ I say as the intro of the song begins to float once more over the sand.
‘And the best-looking too!’ Mandy says, as always full of the confidence that both Claire and I lack in our own appearance. ‘The boys won’t know what hit them!’
*
A few days later, our rehearsals are going much more successfully.
While Eddie struts his stuff around the front of whatever our makeshift stage is that day, Claire, Mandy and I sit at the back on whatever we can find to be our rock. We work out our own choreography to fit in with Eddie’s, and although I’m still not overly happy about being on the stage dressed as a mermaid, I’m a lot happier now I don’t have to dance dressed as one.
Suzy, we find out, in exchange for not performing with us, has offered to help Eddie make our costumes. Which I don’t actually mind, because I hate using a sewing machine even more than choreographed dancing.
It’s a weekend in St Felix, and it’s even busier than usual as I take my lunch break from the florist I work in every Saturday, and sometimes after school.
The shop, appropriately named the Daisy Chain, is run by a lovely lady called Rose, and I enjoy working there with her. Rose makes up all the bouquets; I just help behind the counter selling flowers and taking orders, but it’s fun, and it gives me a bit of extra money.
I treat myself to a pasty from Mr Bumbles, the baker’s a few doors down, and head off to look for somewhere quiet and preferably shady to sit and eat. But everywhere is heaving with people – they are either milling around along Harbour Street, where the bakery and flower shop are, or sitting in the sunshine along the harbour front watching the boats and doing what I’m trying to do – sit and eat my lunch.
But the benefit of being a local is you know all the quiet, and often hidden, places to sit. I head up and across the town, through the streets of old fishermen’s cottages to a grassy hill that overlooks one of the many beaches St Felix has to offer. But instead of trying to find a free wooden bench, I head up over the grass to a set of steep steps, cut into the rocky headland, that lead down to the beach.
Halfway down the steps, I climb back onto the surrounding grass and make my way carefully across the tufts towards a natural little shelf worn into the rocks, which I’m overjoyed to find is empty. It’s slightly hidden from view and gives me not only a shady place to eat my lunch, but also an uninterrupted view of the sea. I make myself comfortable on a large flat rock that’s been worn smooth over the years – probablydecades– by the many people sitting right where I am now, looking out to sea, and I sigh happily.
Peace at last.
I’ve always liked my own company. Unlike a lot of people my age who seem to crave being in a crowd or a gang, I’m not afraid to be alone – in fact, I really enjoy it. It gives me a chance to think, work things out in my head, and simplybreathe.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but none of us ever set out to become a part of the tight-knit group we are now. We were all drawn to each other randomly, simply because none of us are what is considered a ‘normal’ teenager.
There’s Eddie – the only male of the group – who is what my mother politely calls ‘a little eccentric’, or ‘full of life’, or ‘a flamboyant young man’, depending on her mood. What she doesn’t ever call him is what he actually is: gay.
Eddie was teased a lot at school when he first came here to St Felix. He got called names because he was different from the other boys and didn’t want to do the kind of things they did. Where most of the boys want to kick a ball around after school or hang out in gangs trying to look cool, Eddie is most likely to be found hiring an old musical from the video-rental shop or practising his latest dance moves. Boys occasionally try to bully him because they think he won’t attempt to defend himself, but they’re always in for a shock. Eddie’s older brother, James, is a highly skilled boxer, who’s been tipped to go to the Olympics, and, before he left St Felix to go and train in Ireland, he taught Eddie how to defend himself. I witnessed many a boy, much bigger than Eddie, scuttle away with a bloody nose or arrive in school the next day with a black eye after trying to pick on him. And because Eddie is Eddie, none of them want to admit that he got the better of them.
Then there’s Mandy, the oldest of our group by a few months. Mandy has a reputation for beingeasy. This makes me really cross, because she isn’t at all. But Mandy never seems that bothered by it. She’s confident and brash, and she doesn’t care who knows it. Mandy likes attention from boys, and she wears clothes and make-up that only encourages their attention. But underneath all her short skirts, jewellery, eyeliner and mascara, Mandy has a heart of gold, she’s deeply loyal and there’s nothing she won’t do for her friends.
Suzy is probably the smartest and most virtuous of all of us. She’s incredibly ethical and all about saving the planet. If there’s a campaign, you can be sure Suzy is a part of it. She was all over Band Aid a few years ago, raising money to help those poor starving children in Ethiopia, and she’s a huge campaigner for both animal rights and the environment. Heaven help you if Suzy sees you miss the bin when you throw a can or a ball of paper towards it. You will be picking up that litter moments later – have no doubt about that.
Suzy isn’t a misfit as such, she’s just a little different and painfully shy. When most girls our age are worrying about their hair or the colour of their nail polish, Suzy is worrying about something called global warming, and she’s recently been banging on about some sort of hole in the ozone layer. I’m not really sure what that is, but Suzy seems quite concerned about it.
Oh, and her other issue – well, it seems to be an issue for some, not us – is she comes from a mixed-race family. Her mum is white and her dad is black. Probably quite common if you live in a big city, but down here on the tip of Cornwall it’s fairly unusual, making Suzy different, and, at our age, different is too often seen as bad.
Claire I’ve known since we were at primary school and, before that, playgroup together. According to our parents, both of us were quiet toddlers, so I guess we must have bonded over our love of keeping within the lines when colouring with our crayons or something like that. Claire isn’t really different, she’s just quiet, and not everyone gets quiet people, do they?
And then there’s me – Frankie. I like my own company, but I’m not quiet like Claire – I speak up if I need to. I don’t like wearing dresses or skirts or anything girly, and I get called a tomboy by those same people that call Eddie, Mandy and Suzy names I choose not to repeat. I’m happiest when I have a paintbrush or a pencil in one hand and a sketchbook in the other. I don’t think I’m really all that different – I’m just me.
But our differences are what brought us together, and, although we rarely tell each other, I know we are all secretly very glad they did.
My pasty, as it always is when it’s bought from Mr Bumbles’, is delicious. I brush the crumbs from my lap, hoping one of the little birds that flit around St Felix looking for scraps manages to get to them when I’ve left, before the huge seagulls that rule the roost around the harbour find them.
I open a can of Diet Pepsi and watch the waves rhythmically rolling onto the sand of Morvoren Cove below while I drink. Little kids try to jump over the white spray, squealing with delight when they don’t succeed and the cold seawater splashes up their little legs.
I can already see several pink-looking bodies, where sun worshippers haven’t used a strong enough sun cream, and a few dogs run about the beach happily chasing balls and frisbees.
I look past them further out to sea and note the differing hues today – turquoises and mint-greens vie for prominence over the usual navy blues and purples. All encouraged by the strong sunshine cascading down onto the waves.
Just as I’m feeling almost hypnotised by the waves, something catches the corner of my eye, making me jump – a splash of salt spray in the water, breaking up the perfect rhythm.
