No Sister of Mine (ARC)

by Vivien Brown

  I made a quick sandwich and opened a bag of crisps. At least then I could spend the

  whole ten pounds Dad had given me, and the fiver I’d got from Mum earlier, on clothes. Tilly

  would have to take care of her own lunch.

  ***

  Paul’s breath smelt of chewing gum. As we left the exam hall side by side, he spat the shapeless

  plug of white goo out into his hand and slipped it down the back of the nearest radiator. ‘All

  right?’ he said, nodding back towards the hall. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it? Question three

  was a bit tricky, but the rest of it was easy enough, all stuff we covered in the mocks.’

  I nodded, not entirely sure I agreed with him about any of it being easy. It was Maths,

  after all.

  ‘Paul. Can we . . . ?’

  He sidestepped the main throng of people streaming out into the corridor and pulled me

  with him against the wall. ‘Can we what? You’re looking very serious all of a sudden. What is

  it, Sarah? Only, I haven’t got long. I have to get some lunch and then I’m meeting someone at

  three.’

  ‘A girl?’

  ‘Now, where did that come from? Of course it’s not a girl.’ He raised his eyebrows and

  laughed. ‘You’re my girl, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so. Am I?’ I could feel my face go red. This wasn’t the kind of

  conversation I was used to having, and I didn’t want to sound too clingy, or get the whole thing wrong.

  ‘Sarah, I don’t know what this is about, but chill out a bit, okay? So, we’ve had a bit of

  fun a couple of times, but we’re not exactly joined at the hip. It’s not as if we’re engaged or something. I can meet whoever I like without having to tell you about it.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. Of course. I just thought it might be nice to spend some time together.

  And it’s ages until three.’

  He looked at his watch and nodded. ‘Smart, isn’t it?’ he said, seeing where my gaze had

  fallen. ‘A present from my mum and dad.’

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  ‘For doing the exams?’ What was it with parents and watches? Were there no other gifts available?

  ‘Birthday, but first time I’ve worn it to school. Thought it might bring me luck. No, I’m

  getting a car when the exams are over. Well, if I pass with decent grades anyway. Which I

  will.’

  ‘A car? But you’re not even old enough to drive.’

  ‘Almost. And there’s nothing to stop me learning, as long as I stay off the roads. My

  granddad’s got a farm, plenty of fields to practise in. It won’t be a new car. Just a second-hand Mini probably. And my dad’s going to show me some stuff about engines, help me do it up a

  bit before I take my test. That’s where I’m off to at three, meeting my dad outside where he

  works and we’re going to look at some cars. So, I’ve got a couple of hours, I suppose. What

  did you fancy doing? Getting something to eat?’

  ‘How about your mum? Is she at home?’

  ‘Nope. She’s gone to see her sister, my aunt Denise. She’s just had a baby. Mum’s been

  knitting like crazy, so it’ll be all bootees and shawls and stuff all afternoon. Almost makes me glad I had an exam so I didn’t have to go with her.’

  ‘So there’s nobody at home then? At your house?’

  ‘Sarah Peters! Are you suggesting what I think you are?’

  ‘Not if you don’t want to.’ I turned away, my embarrassment obvious in my face. ‘I’ll

  just go home, shall I? And be boring. Maybe get my knitting needles out?’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I felt him come up close behind me, one hand sliding sneakily down

  over my bottom behind the cover of the jacket he was holding over his arm, and the other

  pushing me gently forward. ‘Go on, grab your bags and stuff and I’ll see you outside,’ he said, hardly louder than a whisper. ‘Wait round the corner by the post box. I’ll be five minutes,

  okay?’

  I had never been to Paul’s house before. It was only a ten-minute walk away, which

  probably explained why I so rarely saw him on the bus. But it was a walk we took quickly,

  staying a foot or two apart all the while, with neither of us saying very much. The house, when we got to it, was a fairly standard-looking semi, similar in size to ours, with a blue front door and bright geraniums in pots to either side. Paul found his key and hurried me in, looking up

  and down the road as if we were about to be caught and exposed as some kind of intruders.

  ‘Phew!’ he said, leaning against the inside of the front door and smiling. ‘We made it

  in without Mrs Burton from two doors down seeing us. Or I hope we did, anyway. I swear that

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  woman is a witch. Eyes in the back of her head, that one. There’ll be a full written report handed in to my mum before we’ve even made it upstairs if that one catches us.’

  ‘And who says we’re going upstairs?’ I said, smiling back at him. ‘I thought we might

  watch telly and have a glass of squash and a biscuit. That’s what I usually do when friends

  come round to our house.’

  ‘And is that what you want to do now, Sarah?’ He dropped his bag and jacket on the

  floor and put his hands on my shoulders. The chewing-gum smell had worn off and in its place

  there was just the warm sweet taste of his mouth as he leaned forward and placed his lips on

  mine. ‘Because I’m sure I can find you some lemon barley and a bourbon, if that’s what you

  really fancy.’

  ‘No, I’m not hungry.’ I shivered, despite it being June and the sun shining in through

  the patterned glass in the front door, throwing rose pictures onto the carpet at our feet.

  ‘Then what do you fancy? Or who?’ His voice had gone all husky and sexy and I could

  feel myself melt inside.

  ‘You know the answer to that.’

  ‘Hello,’ he shouted, stopping totally still at the foot of the stairs and listening for any

  sound of a reply. ‘Just checking,’ he said after a moment’s silence, when all I could hear was

  my own heart pounding away in my chest. ‘And it looks like no one’s at home, except us. Come

  on.’ He grabbed my hand, led me up the narrow staircase and opened a door on the landing that

  led into what was obviously his bedroom. Football posters on the wall, revision books scattered all over a small desk, an unmade bed piled with rumpled pillows and discarded clothes and

  what just might have been a cuddly toy. One swipe of his arm landed most of that on the floor

  and he pulled me down, roughly, on top of him, his hand already up inside my top and feeling

  for the fastenings at the back of my bra.

  ‘First time in a bed,’ he said, nuzzling into my neck. ‘Makes a change from doing it

  outside. Those park benches are way too uncomfortable. And it’s not dark this time, which

  means I can look at you properly.’ He was pulling my arms up, easing my top over my head,

  scooping at my bra as its straps fell down over my bare shoulders, somehow managing to kick

  off his shoes and wriggle his way out of his trousers at the same time.

  It only took a few moments until we were both completely naked and I saw everything

  clearly for the first time, in daylight. His penis, long and stiff, the curls of dark hair around it, his chest flat and pale, the determined look on his face as he sat up and rummaged about at the 55

  back of his bedside drawer, throwing out various boxes and bits of paper until he came to the hidden stash of condoms disguised in an old toothpaste packet at the back.

  ‘You put it on for me this time,’ he
instructed, ripping the packet open with his teeth

  and passing me a small, rolled-up pink thing that felt slimy in my hand. ‘But hurry up . . .’

  I wasn’t at all sure what I was doing, but it was fun finding out, gliding the condom

  back over his skin, seeing it expand to fit him, leaving just a little floppy empty bit dangling at the end. ‘What’s that for?’ I asked, my curiosity way ahead of any feelings of lust.

  ‘To catch the sperm,’ he said. ‘Stop it from going where it shouldn’t. We don’t want

  you getting pregnant, do we?’

  ‘No.’

  And then we were rolling together, his body coming down on top of me, flattening me

  and pinning me to the bed.

  ‘Do you think we could slow down a bit this time? Do it like they do in films? You

  know, more kissing, less pushing?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Sarah. Can’t you see I’m nearly there already? Wait much longer and

  it’ll be squirting out before I even get inside you.’

  ‘But I’d like to see what it feels like . . .’

  ‘Just lie back and let me get on with it. It’ll feel good, I promise you.’

  But it didn’t. It was over in seconds, just like before, and I lay there with his head

  between my breasts, his hot breath slowing against my skin. I felt his penis flop out of me and onto the bed beside me, its rubber casing already slipping off where I obviously hadn’t quite

  put it on properly, leaving a puddle on the sheet.

  I reached for his hand and put it between my legs. I was supposed to feel something,

  wasn’t I? I’d read about orgasms in magazines, read that most women didn’t get them from

  being entered, that a man could do amazing things just with the carefully placed rhythm of his

  fingers. But Paul wasn’t a man. He was a kid, just like I was. His hand didn’t move in

  mysterious ways. He just shoved a finger straight up inside me and prodded me, jabbing like

  someone digging wax out of their ears. And then he went to sleep.

  And as I lay there feeling disappointed, it was pretty obvious he was just a Car

  Mechanics and Football Monthly kind of person. Like it probably was for most boys of his age, sex was a selfish thing. Intense, frantic, quick. He’d had what he wanted, and given me what

  he thought I wanted too. One thing was for sure: he certainly hadn’t read any of the same

  magazines I had.

  56

  ***

  ‘Where’s Paul then?’ Tilly nudged me and looked quizzically around the school hall as we

  stood together in the doorway. The big heavy curtains were closed, so the room was already

  quite dark, with just some brightly coloured disco lights flashing randomly overhead, and the

  thump of the music making the floor throb. ‘Only, if you’re intending on running straight over

  to him and staying glued to his side all evening, I’d rather know now.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ I pulled at my tight top, making sure it hung a little lower, and smoothed

  out any creases my skirt might have suffered during the drive here in Tilly’s dad’s car. ‘I

  haven’t made any plans to meet up with Paul at all.’

  ‘You mean he didn’t ask you!’

  She was right, of course. Things had certainly cooled since that lunchtime in his room

  and, as we weren’t studying a lot of the same subjects, our exam timetables rarely coincided

  and we had hardly seen each other at school.

  ‘I’ve been busy revising. There are some things that are more important than boys . . .’

  Tilly laughed. ‘If anyone else had said that I just might have believed them, but since

  when have you worried about putting school work first? And besides, the exams are over now

  so he’s got no excuse.’

  ‘He doesn’t need an excuse. If he wants to see me he knows where I am, and if not then

  I’m really not bothered. Plenty more fish in the sea.’

  ‘Well, you’ve changed your tune. I thought he was Mr Wonderful. The perfect man.’

  ‘Oh, that’s enough about Paul Jacobs. There’s no such thing as perfect. Come on, let’s

  get inside and find a drink. It’s free, after all.’

  ‘Yeah, if all you want is fruit juice or Coke!’

  ‘Can’t see them providing alcohol, can you? As far as they’re concerned, we’re all just

  kids. But I know as well as you do that there’s a little bottle of vodka hidden at the bottom of your bag.’

  ‘That’s just where you’re wrong,’ Tilly giggled. ‘It’s gin! But you’re not getting any of

  it if you abandon me for Paul . . . or any of those other fishes in the sea.’

  ‘No chance. All I want to do tonight is dance and drink and have fun, knowing I will

  never ever have to sit another exam again.’

  ‘Definitely not staying on for A levels then?’

  ‘I’m not sure there’s much point. Unless the unimaginable happens and I suddenly get

  a load of A grades. Fat chance of that! Even my mum and dad have given up on me, and I’m

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  never going to match up to my sister, so I may as well get out there and start earning some money. If only work didn’t look so horribly boring.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be.’ We picked up two paper cups of lemon squash and found

  ourselves a corner from where we could watch what was happening on the dancefloor but still

  just about see who came in through the door.

  ‘You’re definitely coming back in September then?’

  ‘Yeah. If I want to be a dentist . . .’

  ‘A dentist? That’s the first I’ve heard about that.’

  ‘Well, you don’t know everything about me. So, if I’m going to be a dentist, I’m going

  to need some decent qualifications. And I am going to work hard, I’ve decided. No getting

  side-tracked, especially by boys.’

  ‘Tilly, you have never shown any interest in boys, so it’s hardly going to be a sacrifice,

  is it?’

  ‘Well, from what you told me, I don’t actually think I’m missing much.’

  ‘What I told you was secret, so don’t you go blabbing . . .’

  ‘As if I would. But I wish I’d been there, if only to see that teddy on his bed.’

  ‘Well, I only saw it for a few seconds before he knocked it onto the floor, but I think it

  might have been wearing a football shirt.’

  ‘That figures. More of a mascot thing than something to cuddle. Boys and their football

  . . .’

  ‘There were actually a couple of other balls in the room, you know. Ones I was paying

  more attention to.’

  Tilly didn’t get it at first, and then she laughed out loud, jiggling her cup as she sloshed

  gin into her lemon squash and accidentally splashed some onto her hand. ‘Yuck!’ she said.

  ‘That’s something I do not want to think about. Looking at pictures in Biology was bad enough.

  All those wrinkles and hair and stuff. How you let them anywhere near you I don’t know.’

  ‘I don’t think I will again.’ I stared out into the gloom, my foot tapping to the music,

  hoping I might see him come in but also hoping just as much that I might not.

  ‘What? Not ever?’

  ‘Maybe, one day. But not him. Not Paul Jacobs. It was sort of necessary, you know, the

  losing my virginity thing, but I think next time I’d like it to be with someone who actually

  knows what they’re doing.’

  58

  59

  CHAPTER 9

  EVE

  Waking up in my old bed at home still felt comforting, as if I had never really left. The narrow cra
cks in the ceiling which I was sure had grown wider, and the swirly pattern in the curtains

  where I had imagined I had seen pictures that were never really there. The gurgling sounds of

  the pipes coming from the bathroom next door. My dressing gown on the back of the door, my

  posters still above the bed, Buster snuffling at my hand asking to be walked, or cuddled, or fed.

  But beneath the familiarity I knew things had changed and would never be quite the same again.

  I didn’t live here anymore. My life – my real life – was in Wales now, in that small

  room in Block P that I had asked to hang onto for a second year, and with my new friends and

  my English course. Oh, how I was loving that course. I was already living and breathing those

  wonderful novels and poems, absorbing the language and the imagery, spending hours reading

  and discussing and analysing. And being away from all that for the whole of the summer felt a

  bit like a bereavement, as if the better part of me had been left behind, and what I had brought home was just a shell. I was going to miss it all so much. And then, of course, there was Josh .

  . .

  During the last few weeks at university Josh had slowly crept his way into my head and

  he was still there. I thought about him a lot. Well, most of the time, if I was being honest about it. I didn’t want to. I had gone away to study and to take the first steps towards an independent future, to push away bad memories and start again. And it was not as if Josh was ideal partner

  material, after all. His family lived too far away – somewhere near Leeds – so hopping on a

  train (or more likely, several trains) from Wales to see each other now he had left uni was not going to be easy, and certainly not frequent. He was destined to a future in a suit, a numbers

  man more at home with a calculator than a book. Someone who wouldn’t know a sonnet if it

  jumped up and bit him! And yet, despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we seemed

  to be drawn together. I liked being in his company, liked the feel of my hand in his, found