‘No way,’ Liberty says decisively. ‘There’s no way those two are an item. No way. I’d bet my last Crunchie bar on it.’
My heart begins a definite rise at hearing this. If Liberty would bet something as sacred as her last Crunchie bar, then it must be true. There is no way on earth that Judd and Claire are together.
‘I think he was probably just swatting a wasp away from her face or something,’ she tries.
‘Swatting?’ I frown. ‘Er…would you really call that a swat?’ I wince. ‘Really? I mean it was the gentlest swat I’ve ever seen if it was a swat.’
Liberty ponders on and I continue the conundrum.‘I mean I’d like to be swatted on a daily basis if that’s the way to get a swat. Wouldn’t you?’
‘Maybe she had some crap on her face,’ Liberty conjures. ‘She was getting well into that baked potato at lunchtime. And baked potato has a habit of clinging to the skin for hours after it’s hit it. He was probably really disgusted for her. He might even be OCD?’
I continue to frown and wonder.
‘OCD? D’you think he could be?’
There’s a ‘ping’ on Liberty’s computer and our eyes fly to the screen. The hoard of Hartley Road Upper are well and truly logged on and are right now regurgitating their days and advertising their evening’s entertainment for the world to view.
‘Oh my god, look! Bethany Landers and Ben Harding are dating! Oh my god, they kept that quiet!’ Liberty realises what she’s just says and immediately (but obviously not quick enough to prevent the words she’s already said from escaping) clamps a hand over her mouth. ‘Oops… shit, sorry,’ she says, her eyes widening apologetically.
I nod resignedly. See? It happens. People have secret lives. Lives they don’t want anybody else to know about until one of them decides to broadcast it to about six hundred and twenty five other ‘friends’ when they’re good and ready.
‘Jeez, look Becs – she’s even given themselves a name - “Beth-amin”. Bethamin! How mental is that? How completely chavvy?’
I try and work out what Judd and I would be if we ever got together and united our names. Budd wouldn’t work – we’d just sound like a lager. How about Jucca? That sounds pretty cool – although a little bit like a cross between a spiky-leaved plant and a large hairy creature from Star Wars.
‘Bethamin!’ Liberty is still repeating. ‘Bethamin! Can you actually believe that? Who does she think she is Who does she think they are? Bethamin!’
‘They sound like a spot cream,’ I say sulkily.