Leaving London

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"Fearne! Will you come and help me shift these boxes?" Mum's distant shouts pierce through my daydream, leaving me stranded on my bed in a heap of messy hair and grey pyjamas.

"Coming!" I yell, brushing a sluggish hand through my curls. I feel awful, jet lag is raging through me, and with a grimace I notice it's eleven o'clock. Oops. It seems like the removal men have already been and gone, because as I descend down the stairs I end up going past a huge stack of books, several boxes over spilling with kitchenware and clothes, and my desk. As I turn into the kitchen, I notice a straggle of boxes piled up on the island counter, all scrawled over in thick black marker, instructing where each box belongs. This just proves how much of a heavy sleeper I can be at the best of times, I managed to sleep through the removal truck arriving...oh dear.

"Fearne, would you do me a favour and move all these boxes, love? They all say on them where they need to go." Mum says, slumped on a stool and clasping a mug of tea. Her face is wearing the same slumped expression. She looks wrecked. Her hair is falling out of her bun in miserable drips, some escaping onto her face, amongst the wearied skin and dark smudges that frame her eyes. It doesn't take long before I've moved the boxes, and so next, I lug my desk up to my room, and carry a few lampshades and curtain poles upstairs. The house is starting to feel vaguely like a home.

Dad has already left to go and sort out the details for a second car for Mum, so he must have been at the garage for several hours. I subconsciously heard the door click open and shut really early this morning, so that must have been him.

After finishing off a plate of sandwiches for lunch, I notice Jake still hasn't surfaced for food, so I decide to take him some sandwiches and a drink; I construct my own iced smoothie kind of thing: throwing chipped ice, strawberries and blackcurrants into the blender, and whizzing them up until they've turned into a dusky pink mush. It actually tastes rather nice, like a frappé, yet tangier, and filled with bursts of fruit instead of coffee. I take a cup of it up to Jake, and because I have my hands full, I have to batter on the door with my knee. I am surprised to hear a jolly 'Come in!' after only the second thud, which means that Jake must be talking in his sleep because a) if he was already awake he would have been downstairs for food in seconds and b) being Jake, he is never jolly, he's usually sulky and refuses to let anyone into his room. I am surprised when I find him sitting on his windowsill, scrolling through his laptop and glancing outside. Yes, the curtains have actually been opened for once before three in the afternoon.

"What are you doing up?" I ask suspiciously, wondering what mischiefs he could be planning now.

"Don't sound so surprised, Fearne. I can move around and get dressed you know." His room actually seems quite organised - he's tidied the drawers and emptied all the boxes labelled for his room. This is very unusual. Usually his room is littered with plates of day-old food, and thick with the stench of Lynx.

"You know what I mean. Hey, I brought you some food." I hand him the plate and the glass of fruit smoothie.

"Thanks," He grins, tucking straight into a sandwich with a massive bite, "I was just checking out the local beach, you know the one down there," he pauses to point past the trees to the sea, "Do you wanna go have a look down there in a bit?"

"Yeah, okay! Have you asked Mum?"

"She'll be fine with it. We need to get down there and make some friends."

"You mean we have to talk to people?" I whine.

"Do you not want friends before you start school?" He asks. I hadn't even thought about that. I can be shy at the best of times, and I was just planning on going to school on Monday and try to fit in. It's quite obvious though that it would help to make friends before...