paris 1

We were breathless as we jumped onto the boat train. It was partly out of excitement – Joel and I had somehow managed to convince our parents to fund a month long trip to Paris to improve our French. We’d never been abroad on our own before and we were thrilled at the idea of so much freedom.

The train started to move, and Joel leapt up and opened the window above the door, craning his neck to look back down the platform.

“Anyone coming?”

“I don’t think so.”

He sat down next to me again and we put our feet up on the seats opposite. I was laughing so hard I could scarcely catch my breath.

“How do you manage it?”

Joel blushed and pushed his too-long fringe out of his eyes.

“I don’t know. I just closed it behind me and the whole plate of glass fell out”

He looked at me helplessly. He was the clumsiest person I had ever met. It was the only thing he would get in trouble at home about. His mum and step dad were very understanding about the dyslexia – they stood up for him, even when he was told off the whole time at school for it. Hardly anyone else believed he had something wrong with him – mostly they said he was lazy or slow.

It was different when it came to the clumsiness though. Marnie’s living as a designer depended on networking, and when once Joel had sneezed into an ashtray at an important Soho restaurant, she had been livid. Joel tried so hard not to let her down. He knew how little money they had - how their finances lurched from crisis to crisis.

He also knew he could be an asset at times – his childish mispronunciations entertained and made the adults laugh. If they could swing the jobs for Marnie he was more than happy to oblige and he didn’t mind that she let him carry on saying “grand pricks” for years before telling him how it was really pronounced. He did his best to amuse, and hoped it would make up for the awkwardness. I didn’t think he had ever smashed an entire plate glass door by accident though.

I looked at Joel’s feet – scuffed red Kickers. I looked at mine next to them; dirty white cowboy boots – second hand from Camden market. It didn’t matter about the hole in the side, they were nicer that way. I thought about teasing Joel again for his shoe size – his were only one up from mine – six – and he was so tall as well, but then I couldn’t be bothered – it wasn’t the same without T to join in.

“Such a shame he couldn’t come”

“Yeah well – he could hardly have used the same excuse as us could he?”

T. was half French – he had lived there until he was eight, and he hadn’t been able to come with us – it had made rather a large dent in our plans. We’d been relying on him so we wouldn’t have to bother with the language. Joel didn’t speak a word, and I was far too shy to try out my very limited vocabulary. Just before we’d left, he’d given us the address for his grandparents who still lived there.

“Pop in and say hello” he’d said, ‘they’d be thrilled to meet you.”

I looked out of the window, as dreary South London went past – all as foreign to me as France – no one ever went there if they could help it – we were speeding up a little. I wondered if I should mention the embarrassing incident now that we were alone.

It had made such a weird start to the week. We’d all been in Joel’s room, talking, listening to music, and the two of them had drifted out together. Then Joel had come back in on his own, looking shifty. I hadn't been able to work out what was up with him – was T sick? He certainly looked peculiar enough for it to be something like that. Joel said no, then he looked down at the floor and said T. was wondering if I would go out with him.

I’d been amazed – go out with him? What an extraordinary idea. Why on earth would I want to do that? Looking back I thought I could have phrased it a little better. I had remembered to say thank you after no, but I hadn’t added anything about the fact that in my eyes he was worth a million boyfriends – they were ok as far as they went, but nothing like as important as a best friend. I was so lucky to have two of them – I didn’t want to lose either.

Joel had gone off, and then a minute or two later, they’d both come back in again, acting as if nothing had happened. I decided it was perhaps best to leave it like that.

I relaxed into my seat again, and looked forward to France.

Joel stood up and felt in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m going to see if the bar is open yet. We should start as we mean to carry on.”