Mouths of Babes Page 12

  They held hands then, over the table. Saz stood, staring around the room, eager to get away. Andrea was so clearly exactly the same woman she’d been years ago and yet somehow she’d forced herself into this pastel-shaded mould, husband and kids and house and money, all straight out of the catalogues they’d spent teenage years despising and envying in equal measure. This was one half of Andrea only, taken over and made the whole – Andrea out of focus, and the fuzziness was disorienting. Saz swayed between the two of them. Then the breadmaker stopped its noise. The children were distracted by a fox on the lawn. They ran outside and their noise level fell as quickly as it had risen. It certainly wasn’t a voice she heard, but Saz understood in a rush that she’d been here before now. Many times, desperate to run away, get past the uncomfortable place and back to where she was safe. Only this time she wasn’t running from, she was running to. She knew Andrea would agree to meet with Janine Marsden. Just like the rest of them, she had her secrets, no matter what she said about Robert. She really had no choice. Saz was scared about the meeting to come and running full speed at it anyway.

  Andrea drove her back to the station and they agreed that Saz would call when they had a time to meet with the others.

  As Saz climbed down from the vehicle, Andrea turned to her, “I know you think it’s strange, but this is my life now.”

  “What about the Andrea who loved to fuck and take drugs and drink and party all hours?”

  “She grew up.”

  “And away?”

  “Not entirely. I replaced her with other stuff.”

  “Like your faith?”

  Andrea shook her head. “No, not really. I mean, I do believe, but that’s more Robert’s thing actually.”

  Saz was confused, “But you said … ?”

  “I go along with it. It works for him and that means it works for me too. I left one husband already, Sally, I have three children. I might crave excitement, but I crave stability more. Always have done. Even with all the problems it caused, being part of our little gang back then was a safety net for me. I want a normal life, I don’t want to have to try hard again. It was hard enough leaving Tim when I fell in love with Robert. I’m sure you think I’m weak, but I don’t believe I’m unusual. Most people I know would choose safety over the alternative. The truth is, it matters to me that my life looks good, acceptable, from the outside.”

  “Even if you’re not truly happy with it on the inside?”

  Andrea started the engine again, frowning. “Truly happy? That’s asking a lot, don’t you think?” She nodded towards the station entrance. “You should go. You don’t want to miss your train.”

  In the train Saz pulled a thin strip of photos from the back of her jeans. It was what she’d been looking for when she went upstairs to the loo. She’d checked out the possible places that any secrets might be hidden when Andrea and Robert were showing her the glories of their beautiful home. No matter what Andrea said, Saz didn’t believe that her old friend was entirely capable of settling down, giving up completely on true happiness – or its attendant dangers. Aware that the children had commandeered the downstairs toilet, Saz had taken her only chance and headed straight for the happy couple’s bedroom. On Andrea’s bedside table was a pile of books, mostly obscuring a large silver-framed photo of her and Robert’s wedding. Saz was fifteen when Andrea had shown off the perfect hiding place in her little lilac bedroom. Her good Catholic parents would have been furious if they’d known she was on the pill, Andrea had invented the perfect safe. Every morning she took off the back of the photo frame, removed the stabilising piece of cardboard, took her pill, and put the frame back together again. The frame that held her dead grandma’s picture was deep, it had stored the pills, up to three grams of speed, as well as photos of Andrea and Will in compromising positions.

  Saz wasn’t sure what she was looking for when she carefully took apart the frame, but she knew there had to be something; she didn’t believe anyone could change that much. When she pulled out the photo, she knew she’d found it. She’d stuffed it down the back of her jeans, put the frame back together and hurried downstairs. She waited until the train was well away from the station before taking a good long look. Staring up at her were Andrea and Daniel – the adult versions, fairly recent versions – in four full-colour photo-booth poses. They did not look like just good friends.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Time to make it happen.

  Sally walked back with Janine to her home, saying they needed to talk, she knew things were hard, she wanted to make it better. Said how she’d been thinking about it too. Talked to her sister Cassie, you know how sisters are good at this stuff? Janine didn’t. Sally knew Janine didn’t, but it was a thing to say, a name to use. Janine’s big brother was in the army now, her little brother drove her crazy, she didn’t say much to her mother, and she barely conversed with her father. Not because he wasn’t nice, but who talked to their dad? She was sixteen, what was there for the two of them to say? Sally nodded, agreed, carried on. Her thought was that the boys – Will Gallagher for one, and Daniel Carver for two – they just needed to get to know Janine better, they all did, all the others. Because Andrea Browne wasn’t really like that, her whole school image, she wasn’t that bitchy at all, not once you got to know her. And sure, Will was preoccupied with how bloody gorgeous he thought he was, and Daniel was just too fucking clever, but there was more to them than that. More to all of them. (Sally was lying, doing it well, surprising herself and believing her story more with every scripted word.) And Sally had a plan. She was sick of all the stuff that was going on every day, and if she was sick of it, then Janine must be really fed up. So maybe there was a way to fix things. Maybe, if they just had a talk. Got to know each other a bit better.

  Janine stared. She and Sally had been friends years ago. Not great friends, best friends, but there was that time, those times, way back, when they’d known each other better. Sat together in primary school, surnames one after the other in the register and became friends out of proximity if nothing else. That had been before big school, before the move up and away, on to new people. Before Sally moved on to new people. Janine shook her head, screwed up her forehead, that annoying wincing thing she did that had always pissed people off, always got her picked on. Sally tried not to notice it, not to comment, asked Janine if she thought maybe they could try. Janine tried a laugh, thought perhaps Sally was offering up the possibility of friendship as a new joke at her expense. But then Sally smiled back. Not a teasing, taunting smile, but a real one. A smile Janine recognised and remembered, from way back, when it was nice. Apparently Sally meant what she was saying, meant they could make it better. And so Janine agreed. How could she not? She’d had enough of the fear and the sickness in her gut every morning.

  “Yeah, maybe we could.”

  “OK, do you want to come back to mine?”

  But Janine had to get the dinner on, her dad was working late, doing an extra shift for his mate. Her little brother went to judo on Thursdays. Her mum would be home late too; on Thursdays she picked up the shopping on her way home from work, a tube of Smarties at the bottom of her bag for Janine, Twix for Sam. So there was no one at home right then, she had to get the tea on for them all. Sally knew all this, had expected all this, told the others all this.

  “No, I can’t, I have to get back.” Janine automatically walking on, Janine who didn’t know how to trust this surprising new possibility, but was also so pleasured by the hope of reprieve that she was eager to make a leap of faith, wanted to believe. To make friends. Have friends. Be friends. Again. Sally was wondering what to say next, how to make it happen, how to get Janine back and then Janine turned round.

  “But you could come to mine? If you like.” Even as she made the offer Janine felt her stomach lurch. Again the self-doubt, back-sliding, knowing only too well that eagerness had so often been her downfall, a spur for the nasty barbs, an opening through which they hurled their little hurts. Each new thought
tumbling out on top of the other one, each new thought squirming past averted eyes, heavy frown, and then the rest of Janine Marsden’s offer mumbled between tight lips: “I mean, only if you want to. It’s not far.”

  Sally knew it wasn’t far. That was why she was standing there, on the way to Janine’s house, in the opposite direction from her own home. Why she’d left school early, to get here on time. She knew where Janine lived. “Yeah. OK. Let’s go.”

  Janine’s house was poor. Sally’s house wasn’t flash either, but there was a difference. Both her parents worked, not bad jobs and they got by OK. This was more like properly poor. Sally didn’t know what had happened. When they were little kids the Marsdens had had a bigger house, much nicer, way nicer than Sally’s. But the year after they moved up to big school, something had happened and Janine’s dad had lost a bunch of money and they had to move house and her dad went to hospital and when he came back he had to get another job and her mum started going to work too and everything was different. Where Janine lived now was more like Will’s dad’s place. Will Gallagher had got some kind of scholarship to be at their school, as well as the exams they’d all had to do. Everyone knew Will’s dad didn’t have any money, but the rest of them had long since stopped taking the piss about it. Will didn’t have a mother at home, she’d buggered off years ago according to Andy. That was why Will was so nasty about the girls who fucked around on the blokes they went out with, why he’d never two-timed anyone, said he never would either. Will thought fucking around on your boyfriend or girlfriend was disgusting behaviour. Andy told Sally that Will thought lying was the worst thing ever. Andy told Sally that Will was just really hurt by his mum leaving. And that it explained a lot.

  Will didn’t talk about his mum, he just got on, living with his dad, the two of them, blokes together really, in this flat above the old sweetshop in their road. But Will’s was a different kind of poor to Janine’s, it looked the same, but it felt different. Maybe because it wasn’t what they were used to, maybe the Marsdens still weren’t used to it. Sally understood gradations of poor. Understood a few gradations of rich as well, knew they weren’t all the same. Sally understood she was right in the middle when it came to her own mates, but if you included all the other kids she knew, the whole school say, then she and Will and Janine Marsden were mostly kind of closer to the poor end. Not crappy poor, but not like most of the kids at their school either.

  Daniel’s place was pretty much like Sally’s, except there was all his film equipment all over the place – he was an only child and his mum really spoilt him and let him have whatever he wanted like that. Sally’s mum thought it was stupid of Mrs Carver, but Sally wouldn’t have minded her mum being a bit stupid like that sometimes. Ewan’s place was different though – it was a house and surgery all in the same big new house, modern and low. His dad was a doctor, and Ewan’s mother was the practice nurse. Everyone knew doctors earned loads of money, so the Stirlings had some nicer things, a bit bigger house, but they weren’t as flash as Sally had expected before she got to know Ewan. He was going to be a doctor too. But not just a GP like his father, as Will said, lancing old men’s boils and kids with snotty noses and your hand up and down smelly cunts all day, definitely not. Ewan was aiming way higher than that, he was going to be a surgeon. Loads more money in surgery. Plastic surgeon maybe. Treating beautiful people all day and just making them more beautiful. And Ewan was clever too, really good at chemistry and biology, so that helped.

  Ewan wanted to have money, he liked the idea of being rich, richer than his mum and dad anyway. He wanted to be rich like Andrea Browne’s parents. Mr Browne did something with money, some banking thing, no one understood what really, but it meant that at her fifteenth birthday party they had waiters handing out food on trays. Andrea said it was embarrassing actually, and all they had to drink was disgusting wine and no cider or even any beers. Sally had thought it was cool, waiters for wine and little canapés on trays, but she didn’t say so. Sally didn’t say much when it involved disagreeing with Andrea.

  Janine pulled her key up from the bottom of her school bag. “No one else is home.”

  “Right. Good.”

  Janine fed the cat while Sally looked around – she’d never been in this kitchen before, this tiny version of the big old house the Marsdens used to have. The thick nets and hand-made rug were the same, though too large for the room. She thought maybe it was a new kitchen table, definitely new chairs – the old ones would never have fitted in. Janine made them instant coffee and Sally stopped herself just in time before she was rude about it. None of her group ever had instant coffee anymore if they could help it. Daniel said instant coffee was for plebs and if he couldn’t have proper coffee he’d rather drink hot water with milk in it. He wouldn’t have wanted that now though – not even to show off – it was UHT milk Janine was pouring into the mugs. But Sally smiled, took the mug, had a sip. Then they sat down at the kitchen table, Sally at one end, Janine on the corner beside her, the old ginger cat rubbing its muzzle on the soles of their school shoes, finally settling on the chair beside Janine. And Sally started on the rest of her script.

  Being nice to Janine because that was what she was here for. Said how they all knew things had got out of hand, that she’d seen it sooner than the others, but that everyone knew now. Enough was enough. Apologised to Janine because that was what she was here for. Told Janine how much she liked her, really, honest, always had. Told Janine how it had all just started out as a joke, Janine knew that, didn’t she? They hadn’t meant to give her such a hard time, Sally in particular hadn’t meant to give her such a hard time. She did remember they’d been friends before after all. Janine remembered that too, right? Sally was sitting close to Janine and then she stood up to make another coffee for each of them and when she came back to the table she sat closer still. She said it all, the words she’d rehearsed, and the whole scene played out just the way Will had said it would. Half of Sally’s attention on what was going on in front of her, she and Janine at the kitchen table, half her mind amazed that it should be so easy, just as Daniel had predicted when Ewan had dared to ask him what if it all went wrong: “Of course it won’t go wrong, you twat. Janine Marsden’s a moron. Of course she’ll believe it. Everyone gets off on it when people are nice to them – fuck, even Janine Marsden isn’t that weird.”

  Will and Daniel had been sure it would all work out perfectly, even more sure than usual, and now Sally could see they were right. She watched Janine relaxing before her very eyes, saw Janine’s flinching frown mask relax back into a calm face, a clear face. God, you know, maybe it was even a pretty face. With a proper haircut, and if she did something about those blackheads across her nose. She saw Janine’s shaded dark eyes lift and look right into Sally’s now, Janine properly turned towards her and looking her full in the face in a way she never usually did, hadn’t done for years. And Sally thought perhaps this was all it took, maybe if Janine went into school tomorrow with her head up and the twitching frown missing, maybe if she just went in and smiled and looked straight ahead with her dark blue eyes, and surprisingly, really long eyelashes, then maybe it would be different. Maybe it could stop. Perhaps all Janine needed to do was to stop acting like such a bloody victim and then the others might give her a chance. And even as she thought that, Sally knew it was too late. Too late for Janine to change and too late to stop now.

  Sally was following instructions, Will’s voice in her head:

  “OK, so you reach over, and you take her hand – you guys taking notes? Daniel? You bloody well need to. You’re too clever by half, Daniel, and fuck knows, girls don’t care about clever when they can have better. Trust me, this works every time … worked with Andrea anyway! Piss off, Andy, it bloody did too. Right, so you take her hand and you say some shit like, you know … I understand you or you understand me or we understand each other, some nice bollocks – but don’t say too much, right? Your problem is, Sally, you always talk too much. Not this time. Leave i
t to her imagination. Let her think you’re deep. Girls love it when boys say that crap. Yes, I know you’re a girl, but it must be the same, right? I mean, Janine Marsden is a twat, but she is a girl. Anyway, you say some nice stuff, and then, you’ve got her hand in yours, OK? Your other arm goes over the back of her shoulder, nudge her in just a little bit closer, bend your head down. This is the good bit, you keep looking at her lips … not in her eyes, her lips. And there you go, she has to kiss you. Really. I promise. Oh, how much d’you want to bet, Ewan? I guarantee it. And you don’t start talking about it, Sally. Just do it. If you start talking it all goes to shit. Don’t give her a chance to ask questions or think about what she’s doing. All right?”

  All right. It was all right. Will’s voice in her head, Andrea’s snigger under her breath, Daniel’s sneer swallowed back, Ewan’s licked and leering lips kissed away, put away with this new feeling and these new kisses. Old kisses. Instead of her fears there were Janine’s tight shoulders under her arm, relaxing, settling, Janine’s calmer shoulders under her arm, bitten nail hand in her hand, dark blue eyes to her brown, now mouth to hers, lips to hers, and kissing her then. Real kissing now, not playing kissing. At the kitchen table, in Janine Marsden’ house, with the big brother away in the army and her little brother at judo and her mum picking up the shopping and her dad working an extra shift and no one was getting dinner ready. Not then. Not yet. Not now.

  Sally was kissing Janine. Like she was supposed to, the way they’d planned that she would, like in the rehearsal Will made her and Ewan work on for the others. He’d wanted her to try it out on Andrea, but Andrea refused. None of that lezzie shit for her, not even for Sally to get the practice before Janine. Sally was so not going to snog Daniel, and no way was Andrea going to let her snog Will – Ewan would have to do. He didn’t care and neither did Sally, that’s what they said. And the rehearsal worked OK and Sally and Ewan did the snogging and kept on doing it too, until Ewan went and tried to push his hand down the front of her top in front of everyone else and Will burst out laughing and she told them all to piss off. But it had worked then, more or less, and it was working now.