Unbecoming (29 page)

Katie wasn’t surprised when her mother’s car pulled into the courtyard just after dawn. She’d sent Mum a text over an hour ago: PLSE CME HME. Since then, Katie had been sitting on the balcony, drinking coffee and preparing for what lay ahead. She knew what she had to do, and everything was set up, but still, she was afraid.

She watched her mother climb out of the car and lock the door. She looked so familiar down there, yet everything was different between them after last night and would never be the same again. Katie tried to hold onto the fact that change could be positive and that what she was about to do might distress her mother, but hopefully wouldn’t kill her.

Fairy tales always have a heroine who is set difficult tasks, like spinning gold from straw or carrying water up a mountain in a jug full of holes. By completing the challenges, the heroine gets some reward – she marries a prince or she gets to live in splendour for the rest of her days. But sometimes, all she gets is a spell broken – the one that silenced her or bound her to the wrong life. Her reward, better than princes or castles, is to be free to be herself.

If Katie had only one wish for today, it would be that by the end of it, after all the tasks she’d set herself were complete, she’d have that kind of freedom.

She shut the balcony doors, went into the kitchen and had one
last look at the photo while the kettle boiled. Her mind still buckled when she looked at her four-year-old self laughing on Mary’s back. She could almost feel the sun on her face, the warmth of Mary’s neck, the scent of flowers in the garden and the birds singing. Mary had told the story in such a visceral way that Katie’s whole body had roared with knowledge. She and Mary had met before! Not just met, in fact, but known and loved one another. The deep familiarity

Katie felt in Mary’s company finally made sense and it was such a relief.

Katie tucked the photo in her pocket as she heard Mum’s key in the lock. She felt calm, more certain than she had for weeks. ‘Katie,’ Mum said as she walked into the kitchen. Just that. Nothing else. Like an acknowledgement of being in the right place at the right time. Her eyes skimmed the room as she took off her coat and sat down. Perhaps she was surprised it was tidy, or that Chris and Mary were still asleep or that Katie had made coffee and arranged biscuits on a plate.

Katie pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. ‘Thanks for coming back.’

‘Of course I came back.’ Mum frowned gently at her. ‘I was always going to come back.’

‘I wasn’t sure. I thought you might enjoy being in a hotel room on your own.’ Katie kept her voice light to show she didn’t mean it badly, that she understood the stress of being constantly in charge. ‘I wish you’d texted to let us know you were safe. We were worried.’

Mum nodded, like she knew she should’ve done that. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.’

‘Chris found it difficult.’

‘I’ll talk to him when he wakes up.’ Mum took a sip of coffee. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was all greasy and flattened against her head.

Katie clenched her jaw tight against the softness she felt creep up from her heart and pulled the photo from her pocket. She slid it to the middle of the table.

Mum didn’t pick it up, but stared down at it. ‘Where did this come from?’

‘It’s Mary’s. She showed it to me last night.’

‘Your dad must’ve taken it.’ She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. ‘I had no idea.’

‘You knew Mary came to stay with us though? You knew I’d met her before?’

Mum took off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes. She looked exhausted. ‘Do we have to do this now?’

Katie was aching to say,
Yes we do!I want to know why you left us. I want to know how long you were gone and what happened when you got back. I want to know why you lied for years and said I’d never met my own grandmother
. But she knew she had to tread softly if she was going to get what she needed.

‘Mary’s got a blue blank.’

Mum frowned. ‘A what?’

‘It’s the phrase Jack invented, remember? I told you before. It’s like she’s got the pain of a memory and none of the details. Anyway, it’s to do with this photo and the old house and I was thinking maybe you could tell her anything you might know about it so she wouldn’t feel scared.’

‘Scared?’ Mum looked startled. ‘What’s she been saying?’

‘Just that you went away and Dad wrote and asked her to come and help look after us. She couldn’t remember anything else.’

There was a horrible stillness, a moment when Mum’s whole face tightened. She could say anything, deny everything, make up any old story.

‘She cried herself to sleep last night, Mum. She couldn’t get
beyond the lovely garden and the sweet little kids and all her plans for the summer. Whatever she’s forgotten – she really needs it back. It’s what made her freak out at Dad’s house, I’m convinced of it. She thinks something terrible happened.’

For what felt like hours, but might only have been seconds, Katie waited for Mum to say something, and when she didn’t Katie stood up. She felt a stab of fear as she pushed her chair under the table. ‘I’m going out now, Mum.’

‘What? Where are you going? It’s barely light.’

‘I’m meeting someone for breakfast.’

Mum opened her mouth, but quickly shut it again. Perhaps she thought she wasn’t in a strong enough position to protest. Katie pulled on her jacket. She picked up her bag and put it on the table.

In some fairy tales, the heroine has to give away her most precious possession in order to save those she loves, but knowing that fact didn’t make unzipping her bag any easier. Katie knew she was trembling as she pulled out the book and placed it gently in the middle of the table. ‘I’d like you to read this.’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s a memory book.’

Mum shook her head. ‘I don’t want it.’

Katie wanted Mum to look at her, but she wouldn’t. She wanted them to look at each other and understand they’d reached the end of something and had to start some new way of being. But perhaps it was easier not to be looked at as you handed over the story of your life. ‘It started off as a family tree, then I began to write Mary’s stories in it so I could tell them to her when she forgot. Then I turned it upside down and started my stuff at the back.’

‘Your stuff?’

It wasn’t too late. Even now, Katie could snatch the book up and
run out the door. She could buy matches and burn it. She could go to the library and shred it. She could hurl it from a cliff. ‘Some secrets are bad for your health, Mum.’

Mum looked up, aghast. There was a sudden vulnerability about her that made Katie ashamed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘There are things you don’t know about me.’

They kept looking at each other. Mum didn’t look away, although perhaps she wanted to. ‘What kind of things?’

‘Things I’ve been struggling with.’

‘Struggling?’ Mum whispered.

Katie buttoned her jacket and shrugged her bag onto her shoulder. ‘I better go now, or I’ll be late.’

Mum put her head in her hands. ‘Oh Christ, what am I going to find out?’

Katie thought of the dead ancestors upstairs – Pat’s critical gaze, Great-granddad’s stern frown, all the old ladies in the wedding photo with their tight lips.
Young people should be seen and not heard! Respect your elders! Don’t hurt your mother!
Then she thought of Mary up there asleep, and how she navigated by stories. They represented a place to rest, something she was sure of.

Watching Mary face up to emptiness made Katie want to walk beside her. Giving her own story away was her first brave act. It was like shouting, ‘This is me!’

‘Read it, Mum. But start at the back.’

Mum moved the book tentatively towards her as if was hot. She turned it, so the back cover was facing her.

Katie knew exactly what was written on the opening page –
Stop being weird. Stop being a coward. Stop being neurotic
. Words she’d written weeks ago, nothing too incriminating. But then would come the list of difficult questions for Simona, the ones Katie had never dared ask:
How do I tell my family? Will life always be this
tough
? What do I do about bullies? How do I meet other people like me? What should I do next?
And then came the monologues, the poetry …

‘Don’t hate me,’ Katie whispered as Mum opened the book.

Mum’s shoulders sagged as she began to read. She got smaller on the chair.

Katie had done this to her.

She felt transparent, exposed, as she walked out of the kitchen and very quietly left the flat.

Katie knew she looked like an idiot sipping her latte in silence, saying nothing about why she’d asked Jamie to meet her so urgently. He’d think she was unstable. She was actually shaking as the silence grew bigger. All sorts of ridiculous words came into her head. Words everywhere pressing to get out.

Jamie said nothing. He took a bite of his breakfast muffin. He licked his lips and frowned. He chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed and took another bite.

Katie said, ‘For so long I’ve felt terrible. Closed in or closed off or something.’

‘Sorry,’ Jamie said, pointing at his plate. ‘Do you want some of this? Should I cut you a piece off?’

Katie said, ‘There’s this girl, you might know her actually because she goes to our school. She’s called Simona and she works in a café. You know who I mean?’

And still Jamie didn’t answer. And then Katie realized what the problem was. She was speaking so softly that her lips didn’t move and no sound came out at all.

She said, ‘I’m really sorry, but I kissed her and also I keep thinking about her and most nights I actually dream of her. The other thing you should know is that I also kissed my ex-best friend, who incidentally is a girl too, and lots of kids at school know this, so
you’re bound to find out soon and that might be tricky for you. So, that’s why I can’t go out with you again. It’s not you, it’s me. You’re lovely. I wish I fancied you.’

Jamie said, ‘So, there’s this gig on Friday. Do you think you might like to go?’

Speak, Katie, speak! You are pathetic! Open your mouth and say these words out loud!

Around her, people were talking and laughing and sipping their drinks and all the sounds they were making seemed bizarrely amplified. Also, Jamie looked so sweet and vulnerable sitting there opposite her asking her if she wanted to go out with him again, risking his heart like that.

‘Shall I tell you something?’ he said. ‘About why I’m really glad you said yes when I first asked you out.’

‘No!’ she yelled. ‘Don’t tell me anything! Absolutely don’t say anything nice to me ever!’ But that wasn’t out loud either.

He told her how he’d noticed her around school and had always thought her hair was lovely, like polished conkers. And he told her how he used to have a girlfriend called Martha, but he realized whenever he was with her that he was actually thinking about Katie instead. ‘I wanted to ask you to my party so badly. I think I even decided to have the party just so I could invite you, but then I didn’t dare and no one seemed to know your mobile number and I tried to pluck up courage so many times and I even spoke to some lads in your maths class and told them to tell you about it.’ He smiled. ‘I know I’m sounding incredibly uncool here, but I guess I’m trying to tell you why I was so stupidly keen at the cinema.’

She missed the next bit. Something about how he couldn’t believe his luck when she turned up at the party, how it made his night, how he’d even told his parents, who incidentally had invited her for supper next week, though of course he didn’t expect her to
come. In fact, he was going to slow right down and maybe they should just have one date a week and she could set the pace and how would that be?

And then he stopped talking and the only words she could hear were in her own head. They didn’t seem to belong to her, like her head was a cave and the words were an echo from someone else. ‘I want to tell you something true,’ reverberated off the walls. ‘Can I trust you?’ dribbled down the stalactites. ‘Because if you’re sickened at what I’m about to say I’m not sure I’ll cope …’ She really needed to say this out loud, because this was really what she wanted to say and Jamie deserved more than her silence. And how are you supposed to find out exactly how you fit into your seventeen-year-old skin and how everything works and what it all means if you aren’t prepared to take risks?

‘I’ve got something to tell you.’ The words tumbled out and Jamie definitely heard them because he stared at her.

‘OK,’ he said carefully.

‘It’s a pretty big deal.’

‘You’re not dying, are you?’

‘No! Of course not!’

‘Sorry.’ He looked immediately shamefaced. ‘Really sorry. I’m a tosser.’

‘You’re not. It’s just what I’m going to tell you is really hard to say and I haven’t told a single person in the whole world. Well, not out loud anyway. I wrote it down for my mum. She’s reading it right now, in fact.’

‘Christ! It sounds pretty massive. Maybe you shouldn’t tell me.’

‘I should. You’re absolutely the person I should be telling. It’s just, well, the thing is … I’m not sure I like boys.’

He half smiled, not sure if this was a joke perhaps, or if he should feel insulted. ‘Specifically or generally.’

‘Generally. All boys.’

‘You don’t like them?’

‘I have this friend, Esme, well, she’s an ex-friend actually …’

‘I know who you mean.’

‘Well, a few weeks ago, I was round her house and we kind of got together.’

‘Yeah, I heard something about that.’

‘You did? What did you hear?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m fine with it. People do all sorts of crazy stuff.’

‘It does matter. It wasn’t crazy. She went round telling everyone I jumped her, which was complete crap because it wasn’t like that at all.’

‘What was it like?’

‘It was reciprocal.’

Jamie looked confused. ‘So, what exactly are you saying? You’re going out with her now?’

‘No! She hates me. Looking back, I think she knew I liked her and maybe she was curious, or maybe it made her feel powerful or special or something, but we’re not friends any more.’

Jamie sat looking at her, not saying anything. It went on for ages.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ she asked eventually.

‘I don’t know what to say. You said you’d never told anyone, but you’re also saying loads of people know. You and Esme kissed. Now she hates you. What exactly are you telling me?’

That she wasn’t curious about boys. That she had no desire to undo a button or to explore the particular texture of skin on their hands or neck or inner thighs or anywhere else. She felt about Jamie’s body the way she felt when she saw Chris come out of the bathroom and wander about in a towel.
Oh, your leg hair is darker
than
mine. Oh, you have muscles. Oh, you have chest hair
. Objective about it. When she thought of Simona, she thought of the scent of her – coffee and hot skin and something underneath that even, something familiar and alive and pulsing. And how kissing her at the library wasn’t like kissing Jamie. There was heat and urgency. It was like she could climb inside Simona and still not be near, never be close enough.

She couldn’t tell him that though because it would hurt him, so she told him about the weeks of being blanked by girls at school, about going to his party and hoping to sort things out with Esme. She told him about seeing Simona at the café every day and realizing she wasn’t just going there for Mary’s sake. ‘I wanted to
be
Simona,’ she said, ‘but I wanted to be the customers she was flirting with too. It was the maddest thing. I couldn’t work it out. Then a couple of weeks ago, we kissed and I’m sorry, because that wasn’t fair on you. What I’m telling you, Jamie, is that I don’t really fancy boys. I like you loads, but I don’t think we should see each other any more.’

Jamie was in pain. It was palpable. It was like watching someone fall from a building and as they fell, they bumped against sharp edges and all you did was watch, you didn’t even bother putting a mattress at the bottom.

He said, ‘So, I was some kind of experiment?’

‘No, you’re lovely and I wanted it to work out.’

He didn’t look convinced.

‘Jamie, if I didn’t have these feelings for girls, I would totally snap you up. I’d marry you in fact. You’re gorgeous and funny and kind and I wanted so badly to fancy you.’

‘But you didn’t?’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘Great. That’s just great.’ His eyes shone with tears and she
wanted to hold him or something, but he shook his head when she leaned across to stroke his arm. ‘I’m going to leave now,’ he said. ‘I don’t want my coffee if that’s OK with you?’

He pushed back his chair and stood up. It was horrible watching him walk away. People stared and she wanted to tell them to piss off, because this wasn’t a lovers’ tiff and they shouldn’t be looking. This was about humiliation and not feeling worthy, about believing you weren’t enough. She knew how it felt, and now so did Jamie and she wanted to run after him and tell him she was wrong and they’d work something out because vulnerability was excruciating.

She found him outside the café, just leaning against the wall looking sad. ‘I forgot to pay,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t just walk out and expect you to cover it.’

What a lovely boy. Of all the boys in the world, this one would pass all her mother’s tests.

‘It’s all right. I left money on the table. This one’s on me.’

He nodded. ‘Well, I’ll see you after the holidays or on results day, or whatever.’

‘We could meet before then if you like. As … friends?’

‘I don’t think so.’

And again, she wanted to tell him she was wrong, because he was so nice and the alternative was so difficult. But she had to let him go, so she said nothing and he simply shrugged and walked away. She counted seventeen steps until he turned the corner and was gone. And in the space he left behind, in the loss of him, she felt an actual physical pain in her belly.

She’d lost a friend and she didn’t have many of those.