‘Do you think boobs help?’ Daksha cupped her own blossoming bust, which rested on her equally blossoming stomach, and stared at Victoria’s rather flat chest.
‘I don’t think they do any harm.’ She pulled her shoulders forward inside her cotton vest, trying and failing to achieve a cleavage of any note. ‘I think that if the situation should ever occur where we are liaising with a guy of our choice—’
‘Ooh, good use of “liaising”!’ Daksha interrupted, batting her lashes and feigning coy.
‘Yes, if we are liaising with a guy, we need to do our very best to summon our inner Courtney. I mean, how hard can it be?’ Victoria pictured pulling a Courtneyesque face that was both vacant yet sexy and realised it might actually be harder than she thought.
‘Not hard at all! The secret is in the giggle.’
‘The giggle?’
‘Yes.’ Daksha tutted at her friend’s ignorance. ‘Have you not seen the way they flick their hair and do that kind of high-pitched, silly little giggle that is doll-like and dumb?’ Daksha gave a less than convincing example.
‘Doll-like and dumb. I can do that. Probably.’ She logged this instruction away for future reference.
‘Anyway, forget that.’ Daksha flapped her hand the way she did to indicate a change in topic. ‘My sister is in Maisie McNamara’s class.’
‘So?’ Victoria was missing the point.
‘Flynn’s sister!’
‘Yes, I know who she is, but I told you, don’t meddle!’ She felt conflicted; in part she wanted to glean, if not access to the beautiful Flynn, then any information that might further fuel her fantasy of spending time with him. This boy who seemed to take life in his stride, who whistled as he walked, looking teachers in the eye and giving all manner of excuses about late work or absent assignments, which they fell for! As if they, too, were unable to resist his easy manner and unwavering gaze. It was like Flynn had life figured out. But sadly, she also greatly mistrusted Daks’s sister Ananya’s ability to act as go-between. Ananya, she knew, would not have to try so hard to achieve doll-like and dumb.
‘I’m not meddling! As if I would!’ Daksha rolled her eyes theatrically. ‘But I just might have some information that you may find useful. And anyway, as I seem to recall, you said, “Don’t meddle” as it would be too embarrassing “while we were at school”. But in case you hadn’t noticed, we have finished school. Case in point, it’s the end of August and I haven’t had a panic attack about the start of term.’
‘Okay. Just give me the information already.’ Victoria cut to the chase and stood in the lane with her hands on her waist.
‘Flynn has got himself a job.’
‘Is that it? So what? How is that good information?’
‘I haven’t finished. Jeez! He’s got a job in the sports shop in town.’
‘Well, we are hardly sporty!’ She sniffed, while simultaneously trying to swallow the leap of joy in her throat at the prospect of sauntering casually by.
‘Yes, but he doesn’t know that!’ Daksha beamed.
‘I think he might. Seeing as we were in the same academic year for the whole of secondary school and neither of us made any sports team, ever.’
‘How dare you!’ Daksha laid her palm on her chest. ‘Do I need to remind you that I was selected to throw the discus in that athletics match against Therfield! They even gave me an orange segment at half time!’
‘Selected?’ Victoria laughed. ‘You were only there because the actual athletics team were competing in Leeds and they had to trawl the year looking for anyone willing. I believe you were one of the only people with your PE kit in school that day!’
‘You are cruel. But this is good intelligence, Vic. It means we can swoop by whenever you need a Flynn fix. You just need to brush up on Chelsea FC – his team, apparently. Ananya thought it might be useful to know who he supports.’
‘God, is this what I’m reduced to?’ Victoria hid her eyes with her hands. ‘I refuse to learn about a football team just to impress a boy. I don’t want to be one of those girls!’
‘Well, firstly, I don’t believe you, and secondly, you don’t have to do a thing.’ Daksha beamed. ‘I googled Chelsea for you. You can thank me later. They play in blue and are managed by José Mourinho.’
Victoria shook her head as the two continued their amble into town.
With an iced coffee sunk, her work hours for the following week sorted and amid much laughter, the two window-shopped, idling around the clock tower and further planning their grand tour, bickering playfully over the minutiae of whether to travel by bus or boat and what to pack, both confident that the bigger issues of travelling would take care of themselves.
An hour or so later and with a jar of marmalade and a box of ‘balaclava’ nestling in the bottom of her book bag, Victoria stood on the high street and kissed her friend goodbye, watching as Daksha climbed into the passenger seat of her mum’s navy-blue Mercedes.
‘Are you sure you don’t want a lift, Victoria?’ Mrs Joshi called across the seats through the open window. ‘I’m more than happy to swing by your house.’
Victoria was glad she was out of reach; Mrs Joshi had a habit of pinching her skin. It was, Daksha assured her, how she showed affection. This was good to know, but no matter how well intentioned, it still hurt a little.
‘No, I’m fine, thank you. It’s the only exercise I get at the moment and it’s such a lovely evening,’ she lied, the soles of her feet itching to head in the direction of a certain sports shop.
‘Well, take care, don’t talk to strangers and we will see you soon!’ Mrs Joshi waved as she roared away from the kerb. Daksha pulled a face through the window, which of course made Victoria laugh.
Victoria made the slightest detour and found herself outside the sports shop where Flynn McNamara worked, according to Ananya. Her plan was to peek in casually, just to see if she could catch sight of his dark, dark hair or his lopsided, imperfect smile, which for some reason she could not quite fathom made her heart flip. But as she adjusted the sunglasses on her head and tucked wisps of her unruly hair behind her ears she saw him.
Oh no! Oh my God! Oh no!
She hadn’t banked on actual interaction and yet there he was! Flynn was outside the shop, shifting a large ‘Open’ sign from the pavement nearer to the store.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
As Victoria saw it, she had two choices. She could either click her fingers, as though she had forgotten something, turn on her heel and walk back in the opposite direction, or she could take out her phone and pretend to be absorbed in something fascinating on the screen and march straight past. It was in the split second, as she was deciding which course of action might be the least embarrassing, that Flynn looked up and raised his hand in a wave. She captured the moment in her mind, knowing Prim would want every single detail.
‘Hi, Victoria!’
He knows my name! I am not invisible! He actually knows my name!
‘Oh,’ she said, with as much surprise as she could muster, the delight she felt at hearing him speak the word ‘Victoria’ entirely out of proportion with the act. ‘Hi, Flynn, what are you doing?’