Page 82 of If I Could Say Goodbye
‘Chocolate!’ she shouts. Then laughs. ‘You’re supposed to shout what makes you sad at the same time!’
‘Oh. Um, sad films?’ I reply.
She rolls her eyes. ‘Let’s try again. You have to say the first thing that comes into your head or it won’t work. But see . . . you watch a sad film but eat chocolate. Problem fixed. Right, fists up. Rock, paper, scissors!’
I snip her paper. ‘A tidy house!’ I say.
‘Losing things!’ We both start laughing. ‘You see how it works!’
‘Let’s go again.’
This time my scissors are blunted by her rock. ‘Kerry!’ we both say. Kerry takes a regal bow and climbs into the pool.
We try again, me shouting the kids, her shouting Erica. At this point we give up and reach for our drinks as ‘Spice Up Your Life’ begins.
‘What were you like when you were a kid? Is Erica like you?’ I ask while the Spice Girls go rou-ow-ownd.
‘God no. I was a little bugger. Mum said I was always running off, I used to scare her to death.’
‘Where were you running off to?’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, I just remember not wanting to stand still . . . it kind of made me feel, I don’t know how to describe it, itchy? Like unless I ran away I would scratch away my skin. I almost got run over once.’
Red coat, red boots, screeching of brakes.
I blink.
‘What about you?’ she asks, bringing me back.
‘Me? Oh, I was a bit timid, a goody two-shoes. I had to be.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Kerry would get us into trouble all the time . . . one of us had to be responsible. It’s funny, when I was watching Oscar dancing earlier, wiggling his bare little bum without a care in the world . . . I don’t think I’ve ever felt that free . . . even as a kid.’
‘What? You never played in the paddling pool in the buff when you were a kid?’
I shake my head. ‘At least I don’t think I did.’
I look over to Kerry, who is leaning with her arms outstretched along the back of the pool, her sunglasses sitting neatly on her sunburnt nose.
‘Don’t ask me,’ she replies.‘If you don’t know then neither do I.’
I turn back to Nessa, who is untying her bikini.
Kerry pulls down her sunglasses from her nose and peers over the frames. ‘Baywatch, eat your heart out,’she says.
‘Um . . . what are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Taking off my clothes.’
‘I see that!’ I cover my eyes with my hand.
‘Oh, stop being such a prude. Get ’em off.’
‘What? No! Absolutely no way.’
‘Absolutely no way.’ She mimics me with a posh voice. ‘My name is Jennifer Jones and I’m far too responsible to have any fun.’
