Authors: Sophie Kinsella
‘Well, within reason! Nothing
too
expensive . . .’
‘This wouldn’t be expensive, what I’m thinking of.’
‘It sounds great!’ says Dad at once, and Mum frowns at him.
‘I want to play in the
LOC
qualifiers with Frank,’ says Linus. ‘That’s what I want more than anything.’
‘Oh.’ Mum stares at him, discomfited. ‘Really?’
‘You’re in a team already,’ says Frank gruffly. I can tell he’s super-touched from the way he won’t even look at Linus.
‘I want to play in your team. They’ve got a reserve. They don’t need me.’
‘But we haven’t got a team!’ says Frank, and there’s a sudden depth of misery to his voice. ‘I haven’t got a computer, we don’t have a team—’
‘Yet,’ chimes in Dad, bubbling over. ‘Yet.’ He grins madly at Frank. ‘Yet.’
‘What?’ Frank stares blankly at him.
‘You haven’t got a computer
yet
.’ Dad gives one of his stage winks. ‘Just look out for a big brown box, is all I’m saying. But no more hacking my emails.’
‘What?’ Frank looks almost heady with hope. ‘Seriously?’
‘
If
you follow our rules and don’t make a fuss when we tell you to stop playing,’ says Mum. ‘If there’s any trouble, it’s going out of the window.’ She gives a satisfied little grin. ‘You know I’ll do it. You know I want to.’
‘Anything!’ Frank seems almost beyond speechless. ‘I’ll do anything!’
‘So you can play in your game,’ says Dad, who looks almost as fired up by this as Frank. ‘I was reading a piece about it in the
Sunday Times
magazine. I mean, this
LOC
is a big business, isn’t it?’
‘Yes!’ says Frank, as if to say
Finally!
‘In Korea it’s an official spectator sport! And they have scholarships for it in the States. Actual scholarships.’
‘You should read the piece, Anne,’ says Dad. ‘What’s the prize pot – six million dollars?’ He grins at Frank. ‘So, are you going to win that?’
‘We don’t have a team.’ Frank suddenly deflates. ‘We’ll never get a team together. It’s, like, a week away.’
‘Ollie could play,’ suggests Linus. ‘He’s not bad, for a twelve-year-old.’
‘I could play,’ I offer, on impulse. ‘You know, if you want me to.’
‘You?’ says Frank derisively. ‘You’re crap.’
‘Well, I can practise, can’t I?’
‘Exactly!’ says Mum. ‘She can practise. So, that’s sorted.’ She glances at her watch, then at Linus and me. ‘And now we’ll leave you two alone, for Audrey to . . . Well, for you to . . .’ She pauses. ‘Anyway. You don’t want us hanging around embarrassing you!’
OK, the thing is, no one was embarrassed till she said the word
embarrassed
. As it is, Linus and I wait in awkward silence while they all get up, and Felix drops his biscuit and wants another one, and Dad starts looking for his BlackBerry, and Mum tells him he didn’t have it, and honestly, I love them to bits, but could my family be
any
more annoying?
I wait until they’ve well and truly left and the glass door has closed behind them. And then I turn properly to Linus and look at him.
‘Welcome to my eyes,’ I say softly. ‘What do you think?’
‘I like them.’ He smiles. ‘I love them.’
We’re just looking and looking at each other. And I can feel something new between us, something even more intimate than anything we’ve done. Eye to eye. It’s the most powerful connection in the world.
‘Linus, I’m sorry,’ I say at last, wrenching my gaze away. ‘I should have listened – you were right—’
‘Stop.’ He plants his hand on mine. ‘You’ve said it. I’ve said it. Enough.’
He has a point. We’ve sent about five zillion texts to each other since I came back. (Only Mum isn’t supposed to know how many, because I was ‘resting’.)
‘So . . . are we OK?’
‘Well, that depends,’ says Linus, and I feel a lurch of fear in spite of myself.
‘On what?’
Linus looks at me thoughtfully for a moment. ‘On whether you can ask that blonde woman three tables away directions to the circus.’
I start laughing in a way I haven’t for ages. ‘The
circus
?’
‘You’ve heard the circus is in town. You’re desperate to see it. Especially the elephants.’
‘OK. I’ll do it.’ I get up and do a mock curtsey. ‘Look, no glasses! Just eyes!’
‘I know.’ He looks up, smiling. ‘I told you, I love them.’
‘You love them?’ I preen myself.
‘You.’
Something catches in my throat. His gaze is fixed on mine and there’s no doubting what he meant.
‘Me too,’ I manage. ‘You.’
We’re sinking into each other’s gazes. We’re like starving people gorging on cream cakes. But he’s challenged me, and I’m not going to wuss out, no way. So I wrench myself away and go to pester a strange blonde woman about the circus. I don’t look back once, the entire time I’m talking to her. But I can feel his eyes on me all the time. Like sunshine.
Mum’s printed us T-shirts. She’s actually printed us team T-shirts. We’re called The Strategists, which got pulled out of a hat when we couldn’t agree on a name.
You wouldn’t believe the playroom. It looks like Gaming Central. Ollie and Linus brought their stuff over yesterday, so now there are two desktops (Dad’s, which he’s lending me for the match, and Ollie’s) and two laptops, each with a chair and a headset and a bottle of water so we stay hydrated. And – last-minute purchase by Mum – a box of Krispy Kremes.
I mean, we could all play online in our own homes. That would be the normal thing. But Mum was like, ‘OK, if this is a team sport,
play
it like a team sport.’ And it’s a Saturday morning, so actually it works fine.
Mum’s suddenly become interested in
LOC
for the first time in her life, and we’ve spent all week explaining the characters and the levels and the backstory and answering her dumb questions, like, ‘But why does everyone have to be so
greedy
and
violent
?’ In the end, Frank snapped, ‘It’s
Land of Conquerors
, Mum, not
Land of Community Service Volunteers
,’ and she did look a bit embarrassed.
I’ve put in a few hours online and I’ve sharpened up my game a little. I mean, I’m no Frank. But I won’t let them down. I hope. Actually, I think I’m a little better than Ollie, who asked me at our first practice session if I was dating Linus, and when I said, ‘Yes,’ looked deflated for about thirty seconds, then said, manfully, ‘Well, let’s just be good friends and team-mates, then.’ He is quite a cutie, old Ollie.
‘I bought some Cokes for the team!’ Dad arrives at the door of the playroom.
‘Chris!’ Mum frowns. ‘I got them water!’
‘One Coke won’t hurt.’
‘Oh God. Look at this,’ Mum is peering around the room as though for the first time. ‘
Look
at this room. Coke? Krispy Kremes? Computers?’ It’s like the triumvirate of all the things she despises and fears. I feel quite sorry for her. ‘Are we bad parents?’ She turns to Dad. ‘Seriously. Are we bad parents?’
‘Maybe.’ He shrugs. ‘Probably. What of it?’
‘Are we, Audrey?’ She wheels round to me.
‘Hit and miss,’ I say, deadpan.
‘We’re not as bad as
these
guys,’ says Dad in sudden inspiration, and hands her a copy of the
Daily Mail
which he must have bought while he was out. ‘Read this.’
Mum grabs the
Mail
and her eyes fall avidly on a headline.
‘
We have to wear identical clothes every day
,’ she reads. ‘
Mum forces her six kids into matching clothes
. Oh my God.’ She looks up, totally cheered. ‘We’re
so
not as bad as this! Listen:
The children are teased at school but Christy Gorringe, thirty-two, is unrepentant. I like my kids to match
,’ she says. ‘
I buy my fabric wholesale
.’ Mum shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Have you seen them?’
She turns the paper round so we can see a line-up of six miserable kids, all in matching spotted shirts.
‘That’s made my day!’ Mum hastily adjusts her expression. ‘I mean, poor kids.’
‘Poor kids.’ Dad nods.
‘But at least we’re not as bad as that.’ She hits the paper. ‘At least I don’t make my children wear vile matching clothes. Things could be worse.’
I don’t know where Mum would be in life without the
Daily Mail
.
MY SERENE AND LOVING FAMILY – FILM TRANSCRIPT
INT. 5 ROSEWOOD CLOSE. DAY
The camera (held by Dad) shows the playroom littered with empty Coke cans and water bottles.
Seen from behind, Frank, OLLIE, Linus and Audrey are playing
LOC
intensely. Mum is looking from screen to screen, peering over their shoulders and trying to follow, without success.
FRANK
Go on him. Jesus.
He clicks madly and his screen explodes in graphics.
MUM
(alertly)
What was that? Which one’s you?
LINUS
Initiate. Initiate.
AUDREY
Stay in the trees. Nooo! Ollie, you noob.
Ollie is desperately clicking, his face red.
OLLIE
Sorry.
Mum’s head is swivelling wildly from screen to screen.
MUM
Are you dead? What happens when you die? How can you keep up?
FRANK
Fireblast the fucker. Die! Die!
MUM
(shocked)
Frank!
A series of Russian swearing comes from the audio Skype link.
FRANK
Na kaleni, cyka.
MUM
What does that mean? Is that in the game?
LINUS
It’s Russian. You don’t want to know what it means.
MUM
So is that chap a Russian? Or is that you, Frank?
She points at the screen.
MUM
I mean, they all look the same to me. Do they look the same to you, Chris?
The camera (held by Dad) focuses in on a screen.
DAD (VOICE-OVER)
Of course they’re not the same. Die! Die!
We didn’t win. Not only did we not win, we were stomped.
I think Mum was genuinely shocked. I think she’d mentally checked us in for the finals in Toronto and the six-million-dollar prize pot, with her lording it over all the other parents.
‘So, how did they beat you?’ she said in astonishment when we’d finally got it through to her.
‘They played better,’ said Frank despondently. ‘They were really good.’
‘Well, you’re really good too,’ says Mum at once. ‘You killed loads of people. I mean, you have great technique, Frank. Doesn’t he, Chris? Very good technique.’
You have to love Mum. She’s now behaving as though the only thing she rates in life is
LOC
.
‘Anyone want the last Krispy Kreme?’ she says, and we all shake our heads. It’s a pretty sad atmosphere in here, what with the silent computers and the Coke cans and the air of defeat, and I think Mum realizes this.
‘Well, anyway!’ she says brightly. ‘We’ll go out for a team lunch to celebrate the taking part. Pizza Express, everyone?’
‘Cool.’ Frank takes off his headset and switches off his laptop. ‘And then I might go into the Fox and Hounds,’ he says casually. ‘Ade said I could help in the kitchen or whatever at weekends. I need to talk to the head chef. I’ll give Ade a ring now, sort it out.’
‘Oh.’ Mum looks a bit flummoxed. ‘Well . . . OK, Frank. Good idea!’ As he lopes out of the room, she turns to Dad, her jaw sagging. ‘Did I hear that right? Is Frank
getting himself a job
?’
But Dad can’t hear. He’s put on one of the headsets and is logged into another
LOC
game with Ollie.
‘Dad, can you play?’ I say in surprise.
‘Oh, I’ve picked up a bit,’ he says, and clicks furiously. ‘Here and there.’
‘But who are you playing with?’
‘A couple of friends from school,’ says Ollie, who is equally engrossed. ‘They were online, so . . . Go on him!’
‘I’m on it,’ says Dad breathlessly. ‘Oh, shit. Sorry.’
Mum is staring at Dad, flabbergasted. ‘Chris, what are you doing?’ She pokes his shoulder. ‘Chris! I’m talking to you! Did you hear what I said about Frank?’
‘Right.’ Dad pulls off the headset for a moment. ‘Yes. I heard. Ground him.’
I can’t help giggling, and even Mum gives a little smile.
‘Get back to the game, you big kid,’ she says. ‘But we’re going out in half an hour, OK?
Half an hour
. And I don’t care if you have to interrupt the game.’
‘OK,’ says Dad, sounding just like Frank. ‘Great. Yeah. Can’t wait.’ He clicks madly, then punches the air as the screen explodes in colour. ‘Die, you bastard! Die!’
MY SERENE AND LOVING FAMILY – FILM TRANSCRIPT
INT. 5 ROSEWOOD CLOSE. DAY
The camera wobbles as someone stabilizes it on a high surface. As this person backs away we see that it is AUDREY, in her bedroom. She hesitates, then peers into the camera.
AUDREY
So, this is me. Audrey. You haven’t met me yet. I’m probably not what you expected. Like, my hair’s probably darker or lighter or whatever . . . Anyway. Hello. Nice to meet you.
She pulls up a chair and looks into the camera for a while, as though sorting out her own thoughts.
AUDREY
I’ve been thinking a lot about everything. And I guess Mum was right about the jagged-graphs thing. We’re all on one. Even Frank. Even Mum. Even Felix. I think what I’ve realized is, life is all about climbing up, slipping down, and picking yourself up again. And it doesn’t matter if you slip down. As long as you’re kind of heading more or less upwards. That’s all you can hope for. More or less upwards.
There’s another silence. Then she looks up with a sunny smile.
AUDREY
Anyway. I can’t stay. I have an important engagement with . . .
She reaches down and produces a large flat case made of chrome.
AUDREY
This! Mum bought it for me. It’s eye make-up. Look.
She opens the palette and starts displaying it proudly.
AUDREY
This is mascara, and this is . . . primer or whatever . . .
She makes a face as she surveys the tube.
AUDREY
I have
no
idea what to do with that. But Mum’s going to show me. I mean, it’s only lunch at Pizza Express, but Linus is coming so it’s kind of a date, right?