Unbecoming

by Jenny Downham

  ‘Please let go. Where are you taking me?’

  ‘I want to talk to you, come on.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’

  ‘There’s always something to say.’

  But this didn’t feel like talking as Katie found herself against the shadowed brick of the library wall. Simona let go of her arm and stood in front of her. ‘Lesson number two – you’re not as fragile as you feel.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You might feel it, but that doesn’t mean you are it.’ Simona took a step forward. ‘Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.’

  Katie took a step back, but behind her was the wall of the library and there was nowhere else to go. ‘Please, I need to leave.’

  ‘Just listen for a minute. My mum cried loads when she found out about me. She’d come in my room and hold my hand and say nothing at all. She was adjusting, you know – giving up the daughter she thought she had and getting used to the new one. It was really difficult for both of us and it wasn’t that long ago. I do understand.’

  ‘I’m not like you. If my mum did that, I’d crumble.’

  ‘You might not.’

  ‘I would. I’d completely deny everything. I’m rubbish at being brave.’

  Simona smiled. ‘You’re very hard on yourself, aren’t you?’

  Katie looked away because Simona’s smile was beautiful and it got her in the gut every time. She’d have to be strong and not look. She’d have to never go to the café again either. Maybe that nice woman whose door Mary knocked on would let them bring a thermos and sit on her lawn instead.

  Simona said, ‘I shouldn’t’ve taken the piss, I’m sorry. It’s just … well, it’s tough being the only one with my hand up sometimes. It gets kind of lonely.’

  Katie looked at her boots. She knew if their eyes met, she’d be trapped.

  ‘I used to have this fantasy,’ Simona said, ‘that the head teacher would stand up in assembly and announce she’s gay and all the kids and teachers who were sympathetic to how bloody hard it is to be different would stand up to support her. I wanted all the ones left sitting down to be in the minority. But I’ve left school now, so that’s never going to happen, is it?’

  Katie dared to look up. ‘You think the head teacher’s gay?’

  ‘Definitely.’ Simona took two more steps and stopped right in front of Katie. They were so close. Face to face, just standing there. Simona smiled that amazing smile of hers and Katie felt herself falling.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Katie whispered.

  ‘Nothing. I thought it was you.’

  ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘What?’ Simona said as she inched closer. ‘What am I doing?’

  Katie’s back was against cool brick. Over Simona’s shoulder, the little garden was bathed in sunshine. Beyond the wall was the road, the shops, the lunch-time traffic. But here they were out of sight, separate.

  ‘I might have been a little hasty,’ Simona said. ‘I actually think I’d make a brilliant teacher.’

  Every night Katie dreamed of her – her lips, the curve of her belly, the arc of her spine, her fingers, her smile.

  Simona said, ‘How about a taster session, see how we get on?’

  Katie nodded. How could she resist? They were so close they were sharing air and it was so sheltered by the wall she felt as if she was asleep or had fallen through some kind of vortex to a world where things were hidden and private and no one would ever know.

  ‘We can discuss the small print later,’ Simona said. ‘There’s always a way around things.’ She reached out and brushed Katie’s cheek with the back of her hand, then she ran her fingers along the line of Katie’s jaw to her neck and slowly across her bare shoulder.

  Katie thought, What is she doing? Where will this end up?

  It was like being sketched – down her arm to her hand, across the waistband of her dress to her other hand. She could feel Simona’s breath on her face. She could smell the perfume she always wore – something warm and musky and familiar. Simona’s eyes were brown, flecked with gold and she smiled as if she knew what Katie was thinking as her fingers travelled the path of Katie’s shoulder and slowly climbed the back of her neck.

  ‘Lesson number three,’ Simona said as she closed her hand, tangling her fingers in Katie’s hair. ‘Dare to see yourself in your own future.’ She pressed nearer, pushing Katie’s shoulder blades against stone as their lips brushed. ‘Dare to see all your possibilities laid out.’

  There’s no going back from this, Katie thought. Her shoulders rasped against the wall as their tongues met, as she wrapped her arms around Simona’s waist and pulled her closer.

  But then, in the middle of something so miraculous, came something terrifying – the creak of the gate, muffled footsteps.

  ‘Someone’s coming!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Simona whispered. ‘They’ll go away again.’

  Over Simona’s shoulder a boy walked across the grass towards the bench.

  ‘I know him!’

  ‘Shh, keep still.’

  But how could she? It was Lukas, and walking just behind him was Esme. He waited for her, took her hand. They continued towards the bench. They were going to sit down. And as soon as they did, they’d see Katie spread-eagled against the library wall with Simona pressed against her. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere else to go. Any second they’d look over, and how could this ever be made to look like anything other than what it was?

  ‘I don’t want them to see us. Please don’t let them see us.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Simona said gently. ‘They’re only people. What can they do?’

  Katie heard a noise in the back of her throat that didn’t belong to her as she pushed Simona away. She didn’t fall. It wasn’t hard enough for that. It was a discreet, quiet shove that said, Get off, go away, I don’t want to be seen with you.

  Simona didn’t even stumble. Lukas and Esme didn’t even turn round. All that happened was that a strange darkness spilled from Simona’s eyes.

  ‘Get down,’ Simona said. ‘Stay close to the wall. I’ll distract them.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Just do it. I’ll meet you at the café.’

  Katie did as she said. She didn’t even hesitate. She crouched down, staying low and in shadow as Simona stepped brazenly into the middle of the sunlit grass and jogged up behind Esme and Lukas. She tagged their shoulders and ran to the bench. She sat down on it and grinned up at them. ‘Morning, lovebirds,’ she said. ‘How’s it going?’

  They stood open-mouthed, staring at her.

  ‘We were just going to sit there,’ Lukas said.

  ‘Plenty of room.’ Simona patted the bench either side of her. ‘Snuggle down next to me.’

  Katie edged along the wall in terror. Simona was capable of anything. But perhaps she was simply making herself a target so Katie could get clear of the garden. And if someone was prepared to make that kind of sacrifice, then you had to do as they said, didn’t you?

  ‘That’s completely unreasonable,’ Lukas said.

  ‘She’s always like this,’ Esme told him.

  ‘You know her?’ He sounded surprised.

  ‘She goes to my school. She’s a nutter.’

  Simona feigned offence and demanded Esme apologize. Esme said it should be Simona who apologized for stealing their seat. Simona said that actually, since she was offering to share it, she’d done nothing wrong. Esme said if she didn’t get off, she was going to make her. Simona said she’d like to see her try.

  On and on it went as Katie sidled along the wall to the gate, keeping in shadow.

  She thought how slowly time moves, each second ticking by one after the other.

  She thought – count up to twelve and it will be over. You will be at the gate and you’ll be free. You can run to the café, collect Mary and Chris and pretend none of this happened.

  She thought how cowardly she was, how shameful to be creeping along like th
is, and really she should go and be with Simona. She should walk over and proudly take her hand. Then she thought how Simona had university to go to, whereas she had to go back to school, and there was no point bringing the world crashing down.

  As she crept closer to the gate, she told herself, One day this will be a distant memory. I will tell this story at a dinner party and everyone will laugh.

  Esme was trying to force Simona off the bench now. She had her by the arm and was yanking on it. Simona was clinging onto the back of the seat and laughing and Lukas was telling Esme to leave it because Simona wasn’t worth bothering with.

  ‘She can’t leave it,’ Simona laughed. ‘She loves touching girls. She can’t get enough.’

  No, no, Katie thought, don’t go there. Why would you do that? She felt anger surge through her – panic, heat of all kinds.

  At the gate, she didn’t even feel relieved. Look at Esme’s face – she was freaking out and Simona made that happen. Why? Was she stupid?

  Katie stood in the street, shielded by the hedge and watched. Leave it now, she willed Simona. Stop causing chaos. Walk away.

  Simona leaped off the bench. ‘All yours.’

  Lukas stepped forward and blocked her path. ‘You want to explain what you meant by that last comment?’

  Simona looked at him calmly. ‘Not really.’

  ‘What that girl, Katie, did to Esme wasn’t something she wanted. You do know that?’

  Simona put her hands in the air, Italian style, as if all things were possible.

  ‘I don’t care what she thinks,’ Esme said. ‘Just drop it, Lukas.’

  ‘I’m not going to drop it,’ Lukas said. ‘It’s not fair on you.’

  But Simona was walking away now, spinning and weaving her way to the gate, laughing at his confusion. Esme sat on the bench, and maybe Lukas felt stupid chasing Simona on his own because he sat down too and Esme picked up his hand and held it.

  Simona waved goodbye, shut the gate behind her and walked over to Katie. ‘You got a mention, did you hear?’

  Katie could barely meet her eyes. She was feeling a million things. Shame and fear, but mostly a feeling that people might see them together. She was aware her legs were shaking.

  Simona said, ‘So, what happens now?’

  Katie didn’t know what she meant. Did she mean specifically or generally? Would Katie always be such a coward, or where was she eating lunch?

  ‘I’ll get Mary, take her home.’

  ‘I thought you might say that.’

  ‘Well, she’ll be tired.’

  Simona looked along the street to the café as if she’d be able to check Mary’s status from across the road. ‘Fine. Go home. It’s probably best.’

  It was only a short walk. Katie walked slightly behind, not quite with Simona. Not quite.

  Mary was thrilled to see them and asked if they’d be ordering something from the menu now because she quite fancied a curry and Chris said, ‘Are we seeing Dad next?’ And all Katie could think was, Let’s get out of here. Let’s go home. Please, please let’s go home.

  She didn’t say goodbye to Simona, didn’t say anything to anyone as she ushered Mary and Chris from their seats. But Simona insisted they wait while she scooped up the pictures Mary had cut from the theatre book, and as she handed them over to Katie she leaned in and said, ‘To thine own self be true.’

  Which was a quote from Shakespeare and meant Simona was showing off and had no clue about anything. Katie felt something angry pulse up from her gut and she was glad. She wanted it to take over from everything inside her that was swooning.

  1966 – Red Gloss

  They’ve decided to picnic in the car because of the weather. They’re in the Humber – the green Humber belonging to Stanley Wiltshire, the producer fellow Mary met at the 100 Club. It’s a lovely car, with seats made of grey leather and polished wood trim on all the interior doors and around the glove box. They’ve parked on the South Bank, hoping for a good view of the Thames, but rain lashes the windows and the river is almost invisible.

  Very disappointing the weather, really, but they’re making the best of it. Mary sips her coffee. Stan smokes a cigarette. The wind rocks the car.

  And from the back seat, a voice. ‘What if the handbrake slips?’

  Caroline. Beneath every sentence lurks a terror that Mary has no idea how to manage. The girl is afraid of everything.

  Stan laughs. ‘Nothing wrong with my handbrake!’

  ‘But if there was, we’d go flying in the river and smash on the rocks.’

  Mary twists in her seat. ‘The car’s parked in reverse. Even if the handbrake slipped, we wouldn’t go anywhere. And I’m pretty certain there aren’t rocks in the Thames.’

  The girl nods but doesn’t look reassured in the least. She stares grimly out at the river as if only she understands what trouble lies ahead. It must be very tiring, Mary thinks, to be so vigilant.

  Stan pats Mary’s hand. ‘Your daughter has a wonderful imagination.’

  They smile at each other and Mary feels a small rush of love. Daughter. The word thrills. It’s worth it. The pain is worth it. Caroline will settle soon.

  ‘Want an olive?’ Mary asks her. ‘Or some onion dip?’

  ‘I’m allergic.’

  ‘You can’t be allergic to everything new,’ Mary laughs. ‘You’ve been used to Pat’s food, that’s why – tapioca, porridge, boiled eggs. You need to spread your wings.’

  Caroline sits forward in her seat. ‘When can I see her again? You said we’d go on the train. You promised and we haven’t.’

  ‘She isn’t well enough for visitors.’

  ‘If someone’s sick, isn’t that the exact time people should visit?’

  Stan eyes her in the mirror. ‘Why don’t you talk about this with your mum later, love? We’re on an outing now. We’re supposed to be having fun.’

  ‘Fun?’ Caroline shakes her head bemused, as if she’s never heard the word.

  Mary’s throat tightens. She’d do anything to protect this child from pain – dive in front of buses, fight off lions – but, perhaps she’s already failed her by not predicting how Pat would whittle away at her.

  Of course, living with Lionel hadn’t helped. Pat had known his proclivities when she married him, but still thought it the perfect solution – she’d keep herself to herself, get independence from Dad at last and bring Caroline up with a decent father. But not to be loved? Not in that way, not even once … What did that do to a woman?

  Mary’s heart melts for her sister every time she thinks about it, because Lionel was the man suggested for her, and perhaps if she’d married him instead, things would have turned out better. He wouldn’t have minded her having lovers. He’d probably have taken some for himself. They could have been friends.

  What a fool she’d been all those years ago thinking her life had to be so perfect, that she couldn’t marry a man she hadn’t loved, yet allowed Pat to do it on her behalf. What had Pat said to her then? ‘This isn’t about you.’ And she’d been right. It should only ever have been about the child.

  ‘We’ll have a party tonight,’ she announces. ‘How about it?’ She twists round to look at Caroline. ‘We’ll buy you something lovely to wear and invite a few people over.’

  ‘I won’t know anyone.’

  ‘You’ll know me.’

  ‘I’d rather stay in my room.’

  ‘What about if we make it a supper party? You could just join us for dessert, if you can’t bear the whole thing. Just a quick hello and let people have a look at you.’

  ‘Can’t we go and visit the hospital instead?’

  ‘She’ll be wonderful in Chekhov,’ Stan says. ‘All that longing to be elsewhere.’ He turns to grin at Caroline. ‘You’re hired. You start Monday.’

  It’s supposed to be a joke, but Caroline looks aghast and her eyes fill with sudden tears. Mary sends Stan away to fetch more cigarettes and gets into the back of the car. It’s wonderful to put an arm round h
er daughter, to stroke her hair and wipe her tears away.

  To prove to Caroline that she isn’t alone with fear, Mary tells her about the night during the war when she hid in the wardrobe instead of going to the shelter – how her father and Pat had looked for her and then left the house without her. How Mary had sat with a saucepan on her head surrounded by her mother’s coats.

  ‘I went through the pockets,’ she says, ‘and guess what I found?’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘Lipstick. I dabbed some on my lips and cheeks and I knew for sure I’d be safe. It was a sign from my mother, I thought. And you know what? Every raid after that, I kept it with me and our house never got damaged, not even a window out.’

  ‘That’s just a coincidence.’ Caroline has stopped crying now and shrugs off Mary’s arm. ‘There’s no such thing as magic.’

  ‘What about magic squares?’ Mary says. ‘You can’t deny they exist. Not if you like maths.’

  Caroline frowns and Mary reaches for Stan’s newspaper and tears off a corner, rummages in her bag for a pen and shows Caroline the trick a man in a bar had shown her once – a grid where all the numbers in every row, column and diagonal add up to fifteen. The girl’s impressed and Mary feels more glad about that silly trick than about the curtains and sheets she’s chosen with such care, the new clothes in the wardrobe, the cookery books and pans she’s purchased, the rule she’s made with herself to never let a man stay the night now her daughter’s in the house.

  She hands Caroline her brand-new stick of Red Gloss. ‘In case you ever need to feel brave.’

  The girl gives a small smile. That’s more like it.

  Twenty-five

  Mary slapped her empty tea cup on the table and gave the girl a glare. She’d been scribbling away in that book for hours.

  ‘You fancy a shopping trip?’ Mary said. ‘How about Carnaby Street? We could go right now if you like.’

  ‘No adventures for me, Mary. I’m going to live a nice safe life from now on. The world’s got too many difficult things in it.’

  ‘Let’s go out, come on. Why not wear the lipstick I gave you? That’ll keep you brave.’