Read Girl, 15: Flirting for England for Free Online

would be helpful.’
    ‘But Dad was so looking forward to seeing me!’ whined Jess.
    ‘He knows our address,’ said Mum with horrid, crisp sarcasm. ‘I’m going to have a bath.’ She went upstairs. Jess’s wonderful fantasy was over. Her heart was full of cinders.
    She rang her dad, from the kitchen this time, so as not to be overheard by her mum in the bath.
    ‘Dad!’ she said quietly. ‘I’m gutted. Mum says it’s out of the question.’
    ‘Hmmm,’ said Dad. ‘I thought so.’ He didn’t sound quite as devastated as Jess had hoped. ‘Sorry, old bean.’
    ‘She says if you really want to help, come up to town and take us all out.’
    ‘Much as I’d love to do that, of course,’ said Dad hastily, as if he’d worked it out beforehand, ‘because the exhibition’s on for the whole fortnight of Edouard’s visit, it’s impossible . . . I have to be there, you see, all the time. It’s only a tiny little gallery.’
    Dad’s glorious champagne-filled private view shrivelled, in Jess’s imagination, into a tiny feast in a shoebox involving three dormice and an acorn or two. She was too disappointed even to speak. There was a deep, dismal silence.
    ‘Cheer up,’ said Dad. ‘Talking to foreigners isn’t my strong point.’
    ‘That sounds more like a reason for you to be cheerful, not me,’ said Jess acidly. ‘OK, then, Dad. Love you. I’ll call again soon.’
    She hung up before Dad even had time to reply. He could be so kind of deliberately, conveniently weak sometimes. Jess heaved such a huge sigh, she seemed to dislocate one of her ribs. After such a traumatic event, there was really only one thing which could cheer her up. She’d just have to pin Edouard’s photo up on her noticeboard and gaze at it all evening, while pigging out on Doritos and dips.
     
    Next day there was a more gratifying scenario. She took the photo to school. A crowd gathered. Loads and loads of French exchange partners had now sent photos. Tom’s looked like a trout. Alice’s looked like a sniper. Henry’s looked like a gangster.
    ‘OK, here’s Edooooo-argh!’ announced Jess, holding up the photo.
    ‘Oh, he’s a babe!’
    ‘He’s adorable!’
    ‘He’s gorgeous!’
    The girls would be all over him like a rash. Jess made rapid plans never to let her friends anywhere near him.
    Then Jess sensed Fred standing behind her.
    ‘What do you think, Parsons?’ she asked, turning round. Fred grinned.
    ‘Now that’s what I call a love god,’ said Fred. ‘Has he received your photo yet? One can almost hear the sardonic French laughter. How are you going to deal with it? A paper bag over your head? A Hallowe’en mask? I think I have an old one in my garage. You’re welcome to borrow it if you think it’ll help.’
    Jess pulled Fred’s hair extremely hard, and he pinched her earlobes with vicious panache. It was horrid of Fred to tease her on this most sensitive of subjects. He must know how terrified she was at the thought of Edouard looking at the photo of her, let alone her real, horrid, pasty face.
    A couple of days later, there was another letter from Edouard. Or rather, it was a postcard, but contained in an envelope. The postcard was a picture of the French town hall, lit up at night. Dullsville, clearly. But Jess didn’t waste any time looking at the picture.
    Dear Jess, I have receive you letter with photo, it said in Edouard’s cute loopy writing. You are very pritty. I am waiting to see you in England. I am counting the day. My mother send the respects to yours mother. See you on 21st, your friend Edouard. Bons Baisers. x
    A kiss! A kiss! He’d put a shy little ‘x’ at the bottom of the card! And he’d said she was ‘very pritty’! He was clearly smitten! There was no sardonic French laughter at her hideousness, only a kiss!
    Jess was somehow thrilled to bits, and yet, at the same time, scared to death. What was going to happen when they met face to face? When Edouard saw her real face, not the