Free Girls Out Late by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

face.
    I giggle. Nadine’s mum is one of those women who seem to spring from their bed fully made up, hair lacquered into a helmet, armed with a J-Cloth and a DustBuster.
    “Don’t you dare laugh! She’s still very much looking down her pointy nose at me because you were out so late on Thursday, and she doesn’t want you to be a bad influence on her Nadine.”
    “Oh God, she wasn’t going on about it
again,
was she?”
    “For a while, yes. But she was also telling Anna about this local photo shoot she’s dragging that showy little sister of Nadine’s to this afternoon— and she wondered if Anna wanted to take Eggs.”
    “What?
Eggs!”
    “I know, I know, I can’t really see the little guy prancing around in front of a photographer myself, but apparently this particular company wanted to find little boys who
look
like little boys—that is, filthy dirty and fooling about. It’s for this washing powder where a little girl is all dressed up in a pristine party frock—”
    “Natasha!”
    “And all these little boys come along and get her to play football with them and then push her over and get her all muddy.”
    “Ah, Eggs might be good at that!”
    “That’s what Anna thought. He seemed to relish the idea too. And you get paid! So that’s where they went. Only they’ve been gone hours and hours.”
    “Eggs probably got too enthusiastic and completely coated Natasha in mud. They might have to hose her down and dry her off and pretty her up again for each take—that would take ages.”
    “And meanwhile we’ve got rumbly tummies. I suppose I ought to mosey out into the kitchen and get something started for supper.”
    Dad sounds totally lacking in enthusiasm. He understands the concept of the New Man but has all the laziness and lack of inclination of a very
old
man.
    “I’ll rustle something up, Dad,” I say cheerily, determined to keep in his good books so that he might just extend this ludicrous nine o’clock curfew.
    I rustle—and hustle and bustle—and we sit down to burnt omelettes and soggy chips.
    “This is delicious,” Dad says determinedly. “But the thing is, Ellie, I’m starting to get really worried about Anna and Eggs, so I’ve sort of lost my appetite.”
    It’s only partly an excuse. He does look a bit tense and twitchy.
    “They’ll be all right, Dad. This shoot thing will have just gone on for ages. Look, I’ll phone Nadine again and ask her how long these things take.”
    I phone Nadine, but this time Nadine’s mum answers. She doesn’t sound too thrilled when she hears my voice.
    “Oh, it’s
you,
Ellie. I hope you’ve done your best to show you’re sorry for your behavior last Thursday night. Your poor parents were in a terrible state. And I wasn’t at all happy about you involving my Nadine in your little deception.”
    She rants on in similar vein for ages. I hold the receiver away from my ear, sighing. Eventually there seems to be a little pause.
    “I’m really sorry, but anyway, I just wanted to ask—”
    “No, you can’t talk to Nadine just now, she’s having her supper. You girls! You’re on the phone every two minutes and yet you see each other every day. What? No, Nadine—go back to the table! What’s that, Natasha, pet?”
    “Have you and Natasha just got back from the photo shoot?” I gabble quickly.
    “No! No, we’ve been back since five o’clock. It was a reasonably quick shoot—
no
thanks to your little brother, who ran wild and wouldn’t behave sensibly at all. So much so, they didn’t even
use
him in the end.”
    “So where are Eggs and Anna now?” I ask.
    “
I
don’t know.”
    “But didn’t they come back with you?”
    “No. I offered them a lift in my car but Anna had got talking to some strange man and they went off with him.”
    “Anna went off with a strange
man
?” I say.
    Dad comes rushing to the phone. He grabs it from me and starts asking Nadine’s mum all sorts of questions.
    “I keep telling you, Mr. Allard, I