Forever Fredless

CHAPTER ONE

Standing perfectly still, I watched them dance all around me, arms and legs flailing around like puppets, dressed in high top trainers, faded jeans and oversized, brightly coloured T-shirts. Their parents stood some distance from the dance floor, chatting, drinking and taking photos of their beloved children. 

But I couldn't stand still for long. The moment the next song began, a giggle burst from my lips and I jumped upwards, fists banging an imaginary low ceiling above my head. As the music began to speed up, I began to join in the fun. 

Singing along and dancing to the tones of Right Said Fred's I'm Too Sexy, I felt something gently brush against my back. When I turned around, my breath caught in my throat as butterflies exploded deep within my stomach. The most beautiful boy stared back at me. His eyes were deep blue and his jet black hair just brushed above his slim shoulders, while his high cheekbones were flushed a deep pink. 

In that very second, it was as though all the other kids disappeared. It was just the two of us, standing still, silently staring into each other's eyes. I felt ever so slightly giddy and light headed; my face blushed every shade of red, but I just couldn't look away. My body felt as if it would melt into the floor at any moment. Even now, twenty years later, that moment continues to be the most overwhelming experience of my existence. 

Suddenly, life seemed to fast forward once more as my dad appeared out of nowhere. Grabbing my hand, he gently pulled me away from the dance floor. 

'Come on, Petal, it's time to go. Your mum's waiting for us outside.' 

As we reached the exit, I yanked my hand away from his and turned to look back, but the boy had vanished. The song had changed and kids were now dancing around to the sounds of Snap's Rhythm Is A Dancer, a favourite song at the time. 

I scanned the crowd to see if he'd found someone else to dance with, but I couldn't see him anywhere. My dad grasped hold of my hand again and tugged me gently. 

'Come on,' he half shouted above the thud of the music. 

Mum stood outside in the drizzle, puffing away on a cigarette. 

'Darling, you were fantastic. My lovely little dancing Kate,' she whispered as she bent down and hugged me and kissed my cheek. I could smell tobacco and alcohol on her breath. She must have had another fight with Dad. Arguments were pretty much the norm in those days, but I tried to block them from memory. I'd rather remember all the fun times we'd had together. Although looking back now; they were pretty few and far between. I should have known at the time what was going to happen. Mind you, I was only twelve. A mature twelve but still, I shouldn't have had to worry about things like that. 

'You two wait here, I'll just pop round and fetch the car. Just hold on a minute. I'll be right back,' Dad said, in a poor attempt to sound cheerful. 

Moments later, the car pulled up beside us and I reluctantly climbed into the back seat. Just as Mum slammed her door, I looked out the window and there he was, standing by the side of our faded red Peugeot, as the engine chugged into motion. He was staring at me with a flower in his hand with such a sad expression on his face. He must have disappeared outdoors to go and pick one for me. Glancing from his eyes down to his hands, I saw that it was a bright yellow daffodil. 

The car began to lurch forward, so I climbed onto my knees, turned around and looked out of the rear window. I could feel my eyes welling up. I pushed my hand against the glass and several tears slid slowly down my face. He held up his hand and casually rubbed his eye, as if he was rubbing away a tear, too. Our eyes locked together, just for a moment, until the car turned the corner, and he was gone. Out of my life. 

If only I'd spoken to him. If only I'd asked Mum and Dad to stay an extra day of the half term holiday. If only I'd got his phone number. I could be with him now. We wouldn't have lost so many years. So many wasted years. But there were far too many 'if onlys'. I didn't speak to him. I didn't get his phone number. I didn't ask Mum and Dad to stay an extra day. I had done nothing. I had been with my soul mate for just a brief moment in time. I had to live with the fact that I would never find him again. My Fred. My one and only Fred. 

You're probably wondering how I know his name. 

The truth is, I don't. I couldn't go on calling him t'he boy without a name', so I made it up. After all, we were dancing to Right Said Fred when we first saw each other; it was only appropriate that I should call him Fred. 

Sometimes I wish I'd said something to Mum and Dad about Fred, but I doubt they'd have understood, even though they always used to say that I was much older than my years. When they introduced me to their friends, they'd say, 'this is our daughter Kate, she's twelve going on twenty'. It always made me feel so grown up. 

But still, I don't think they'd have taken too kindly to the fact that I'd fallen in love at such a young age. They'd have said it was just a passing phase that I'd grow out of, or something like that. Only I knew I'd never grow out of it. I was in love with Fred and I'd always be in love with Fred. Nothing would change that. Not that it matters. I never told them. I never told anyone. It was best kept to myself. 

I did ask my parents if we could go to that same caravan park in Skegness again. We went a few more times when I was a kid, and I even went on my own once I'd moved out. Always hoping that I might find him. 

But after Dad ran off with Mum's best friend's daughter, she was never quite the same and she said she just couldn't face that place anymore, because it reminded her of him, I guess. 

I rarely see either of them now. Dad's too involved with his recent acquisition - a baby daughter, my half-sister, or should I say my fifth half-sister. He loves having babies in the house. He really is quite brilliant with them. The trouble is once they start talking and walking, he doesn't really know what to do with them. So his answer is to get the wife pregnant again. I feel sorry for Julie. She's exactly the same age as me. We even went to school together. So she's twenty-eight years old and already has five daughters. 

They moved to Newcastle when they ran off together - almost nine years ago - and they've been there ever since. It's too much hassle for them to come and visit me in London and I feel a bit uncomfortable staying with them. The atmosphere always feels so tense. I know that Julie loves my dad, but I get the impression that she feels a bit guilty about it all. 

Mum eventually started dating again, but she was never particularly happy until she met the guy she's with now. He seems to be a really decent, honest guy. Like Dad's wife, he's a lot younger than Mum - a year or two older than me. It doesn't bother me though. His name is Nick and he's an environmentalist who loves animals and nature. He has to recycle everything and can't waste a thing. 

Currently they're living in Africa. I've no idea where, exactly. Every now and again I get a postcard just to let me know that they're alive and well. I'm really proud of her. She gave up everything that she had here - sold the house (she got it in the divorce) and gave much of the money to charity. Now they move from place to place, living off the land, as she puts it. A couple of Nomads, is how best to describe them. It's pretty cool, actually. 

She sent me a photo a few months ago; she looked so young and full of vitality. I admire her. I could almost imagine doing the same thing with Fred. Although I'd have difficulty giving away all my money. Actually, I don't think I could do what she does. Thinking about it, no... I couldn't stand all those creepy crawlies and mosquitoes. But what if Fred was into all that stuff? No, he wouldn't be. I don't think he would. He didn't look the type.