A slight niggling doubt crept into Jemma’s mind. She still had the audition to do in a couple of weeks time. Oh well, she thought, it doesn’t matter. She was bound to get the part anyway. There was just one other problem. As yet, she hadn’t told her mother about the audition.
Sumitha’s newlyfound interest in science grew apace, although due rather more to the delectable Mr Sharpe than to any fascination with molecules and food chains. When Mr Sharpe – Paul as she silently referred to him inside her head – when Paul had asked her to help him set up a science club for Years Nine to Eleven, she was in heaven. It met on Thursdays and, if she played her cards right, she could stay behind and help clear up afterwards which gave her ten whole minutes with Paul all to herself. They were the best ten minutes of the week. Paul talked to her like an equal, discussing everything from education in India to space travel and whether she liked R.E.M.’s music, of which he was inordinately fond. He was so wonderful; she would lie in bed at night going over and over their conversations in her head. She was sure he liked her – and she knew she loved him.
‘You’ve got a brother in Year Seven, haven’t you?’ Paul asked her one evening as they were packing up.
Yes, sir.’ She wanted to call him Paul but didn’t dare. ‘Sandeep. In Mr Bird’s class.’
‘Mmm,’ said Paul. ‘I teach him – is he OK?’
‘What do you mean, sir?’ asked Sumitha.
‘Well, he seems very anxious all the time, rather subdued. His written work is well above average, but he never speaks in class. I just wondered . . .’
‘Oh, he’s all right,’ said Sumitha, put out at wasting precious time talking about her brother. ‘He’s just a bit wet and wimpish and he’s always been shy – he’ll grow out of it.’
Paul eyed her solemnly. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘keep an eye out for him, will you? Let me know if you think there is something more to it.’
Sumitha nodded.
‘At least he’s got that fiesty Morrant kid as a friend,’ Paul added. ‘She should do him good.’
Sumitha hadn’t the faintest idea what he was on about.
‘Sir?’
‘Victoria Morrant – pretty kid, chestnut hair, very much a live wire. Seems to have taken quite a shine to your brother.’ He winked at her. Sumitha’s knees dissolved.
Well, thought Sumitha, as she walked home. Sandeep has a girlfriend. How odd. How seriously sad.
The term was not progressing well for Chelsea. She’d tried getting back to the old closeness with Laura and when she bumped into her one morning, looking particularly miserable, she had asked, ‘Is everything OK?’
Laura looked flustered.
‘Yes, why shouldn’t it be?’
‘Oh, you know, I just wondered if your dad was all right, you know after that evening . . .’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my dad!’ Laura shouted. ‘So just stop sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted, OK?’
‘Please yourself,’ retaliated Chelsea. So much for being friendly.
To make matters worse, her grades were slipping quite badly which resulted in Miss McConnell nagging her on a daily basis, Jemma and Rob were still wrapped up in one another and Sumitha had taken to spending every lunch hour in the lab or swotting in the library. The news about Jemma appearing at the local theatre had spread like wildfire and everyone was saying how brilliant it was, and wasn’t she clever and perhaps she would end up on TV. How come, thought Chelsea, that Jemma gets all the breaks? She takes my boyfriend, gets a great new hairstyle that makes her look really cool and now she’s going to be hogging the limelight for weeks to come. Why can’t my life be exciting?
The last straw was getting caught skiving off school with Bex – the Horrific Horage had apparently been en route to the dentist and spotted the pair of them heading into the mall – Bex was a good laugh and Chelsea needed all the giggles she could get right now. After their first foray they had dodged lessons about three times a week, but then their luck ran out. Mr Horage had frog-marched them back to school and presented them to Mr Todd, the headmaster, who had droned on and on about taking responsibility and only getting out of life what you put into it, and how could they let their parents down in this manner? Bex didn’t seem to care two hoots but Chelsea was worried, especially when Toddy announced that he would be writing to their respective parents.
‘They’ll kill me,’ groaned Chelsea as they left his study, clutching their detention slips. ‘What will your mum say?’
Bex shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘She couldn’t give a toss.’
Lucky you, thought Chelsea. I think I’ll keep a low profile for a day or two.
Laura was also putting off a confrontation with her mother. She had sunk herself wholeheartedly into the recycling project and now she and Daniel were spending their evenings working on posters and banners to take on the Fettlesham demo. Laura would go next door to Daniel’s house because she knew that her mother and Melvyn would kick up a fuss if they knew what she was planning; as far as they were concerned, Daniel was helping her with maths.
Then one evening, when her mother and Melvyn were out learning about panting between contractions, she had a phone call from her father.
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said, cheerily. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Fine, thanks,’ said Laura. ‘I’m doing posters for the demo.’ Damn, she hadn’t meant to let that slip out.
‘Lovely darling,’ said her father, who obviously hadn’t heard. ‘Now, did you speak to your mum?’
‘Well, no, not yet,’ she admitted.
‘Laura, love, I’m depending on you,’ he said imploringly. ‘You see, your mum and me, we should never have split in the first place.’ There was a catch in his voice. ‘I want her to know that I still care, very much.’
‘Why don’t you tell her that, Dad?’ asked Laura, who had a horrible suspicion that her father had been drinking again.
‘Well, it isn’t that simple, you see,’ he said. ‘I mean, she’s got a whole lot of wrong ideas about me and she probably wouldn’t listen. But if you were to speak to her, I know she’d see the sense of it all. You’d like me back with you again, wouldn’t you? I mean, you do love your dad, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Laura emphatically. ‘And of course, I’d love to have you home. Look, Dad, I have to go – I’ve got loads of homework to do.’
She sat for a long time thinking about her father and her mother and what had happened. Her dad sounded really odd, not like her dad at all. She knew she’d have to say something to Mum. Very soon.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Revelations
‘Read this,’ said Ginny, shoving a letter under Barry’s nose.
‘Not now, love,’ sighed Barry. ‘I’ve got to get this hazelnut roulade right – the final’s on Thursday and I’m still not convinced I’ve got the texture correct.’
‘Damn the texture!’ shouted Ginny. ‘Read this!’
LEE HILL SCHOOL
From the Headmaster’s office
Dear Mr and Mrs Gee,
I am sorry to have to write to you in this vein, but I have become most concerned about Chelsea. She has been playing truant from school and was found last week roaming the town centre during school hours in the company of another pupil.
In addition to this lapse, I am told by her tutors that her work has seriously declined during this term and that her general attitude is giving cause for concern.
I have given Chelsea detention for three days this week and hope that this will be sufficient deterrent to ensure that such behaviour does not occur again. Should this not be the case, I feel that we should meet to discuss the whole issue.
Yours sincerely,
Michael Todd Headmaster
‘I’ll skin her alive!’ roared Barry. ‘What the hell does she think she’s playing at?’
‘I think,’ said Ginny, ‘that she is pretty unhappy.’
‘By the time I’ve finished with her,’ s
tormed Barry,
‘she’ll have cause to be.’
‘Daniel and me are going to Fettlesham Downs next weekend,’ said Laura in a rush over breakfast. She had waited until Melvyn had left for the office, believing in the divide and rule policy when it came to handling adults. She didn’t want another session about Melvyn’s campaign experiences.
‘Daniel and I,’ said Ruth automatically. ‘What’s at Fettlesham Downs?’
‘The CurePlan labs – they test drugs on animals.’
‘In that case, no, you are not!’ said her mother decisively.
‘Oh, that’s typical – don’t ask about it, don’t find out what’s happening, just say no!’
‘Obviously it’s some sort of demonstration,’ said Ruth, ‘and I am sorry, but I don’t want you messed up in that sort of thing.’
‘Aren’t you even going to listen to my side of the story?’ demanded Laura.
‘In this instant, Laura, no, I am afraid not,’ said Ruth. ‘The subject is not up for discussion.’
‘Oh great – just like you never listened to Dad!’ shouted Laura. ‘And don’t look so surprised – he’s told me all about it. How you just threw him out because he was seeing Betsy, and never listened to his side of the story.’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Ruth. ‘Now let’s get this straight. Just what has your father been telling you?’
‘The truth at last!’ retorted Laura. ‘How you said he had to leave because of Betsy!’ said Laura. ‘You didn’t even give him a second chance – you just broke our family up without a second thought. And now he’s so miserable that he is becoming an alcoholic and he wants to come back and I said I’d tell you.’
Ruth sat down and took a deep breath. So Ginny had been right; Laura was worried. What was worse, Laura was being used.
‘I think, sweetheart—’
‘Don’t sweetheart me!’ snapped Laura.
‘I think it’s time we had a little chat.’ She took Laura’s hands in hers. Laura snatched them away.
‘Yes, you are quite right,’ Ruth admitted. ‘I did ask Dad to leave. He was seeing Betsy, staying away at weekends, all sorts of things.’
‘But you could have given him a second chance!’
Ruth looked at Laura and smiled wanly.
‘Oh, believe me, love, I had. Many, many so-called second chances. You see, Laura love, it wasn’t the first time.’
‘You mean,’ said Laura incredulously, ‘you mean, Dad had – well, had . . .’
‘Dad had had several girlfriends before Betsy came on the scene. Deirdre, Judy, Belinda, Penny – oh, I lose count. After every one, he said that was the end of it and that he loved me and then – well, then he’d meet someone else who flattered his ego and it all started again.’
Laura twisted her hands in her lap.
‘But when he asked you for a divorce, why didn’t you just say no? Then he would have had to give Betsy up and stay with us.’
‘No love, Dad didn’t ask me for a divorce. I gave him an ultimatum.’
‘WHAT? So it was your fault you split up?’
Ruth sighed. ‘I suppose that’s how it seems to you. I’d had enough of playing second fiddle to whoever took his fancy. I told him that this time he had to choose – Betsy or me. I thought that, faced with that sort of choice, he would choose to stay. I was wrong.’ Ruth bit her lip.
‘Why have you never told me all this before?’ asked Laura.
Ruth smiled. ‘I made a vow never, ever to say anything against your dad. After all, it wasn’t because of you we split up. Dad worships and adores you – he always has, and . . .’
‘Not enough to stay with us,’ interrupted Laura, chewing her lip.
‘He thought he could have it all ways – men often do,’ she said ruefully. ‘I kept thinking that somehow it must be my fault, that if I had been the sort of wife Dad wanted, he would never have needed to look anywhere else. Maybe if—’
‘But Mum, you’re worth a dozen Bestial B’s,’ exclaimed Laura. ‘You’re kind and generous and she’s selfish and—’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Ruth with a laugh. ‘It’s sweet of you to fly to my defence, but believe me, I’m no saint. Anyway, Betsy’s made your dad happy which is more than I was able to do.’
‘But that’s the whole point,’ Laura said earnestly, ‘he told me he wasn’t happy; he said he wished he still had you and that the thought of you having Melvyn’s baby made him really depressed. He was so miserable he had too much to drink,’ she added in a whisper, torn between sounding disloyal to her father and wanting her mum to realise the seriousness of the situation.
‘That must have been worrying for you,’ said Ruth, taking Laura’s hand. This time she didn’t snatch it away. ‘Sometimes people do silly things when they are feeling fed up. But I’m afraid that is something he is just going to have to come to terms with,’ she continued firmly. ‘I love Melvyn, I desperately want this baby and while I shall always be fond of your dad, there is no way he and I could make a go of it together now. I know it’s hard for you to accept, love, but there it is.’
‘It can’t have been easy for you, Mum,’ she said softly.
‘No, love, it wasn’t,’ whispered her mother. ‘It wasn’t easy at all.’
Laura had a lot of thinking to do. She had learned things about her dad that she had never realised before. Not only had she discovered that her dad was rather weak, she had suddenly realised just how strong her mum had become.
‘Chelsea, your father and I want to speak to you,’ said Ginny when Chelsea arrived home that evening. ‘You’re late,’ she added, watching her daughter carefully.
‘Got talking to someone,’ mumbled Chelsea.
‘No, you did not,’ said her father.
‘You were in detention,’ said Ginny, and handed her Mr Todd’s letter.
Chelsea’s stomach flipped. Here it comes, she thought. Here comes the ‘how irresponsible can you get?’ bit.
‘Honestly, Chelsea, how irresponsible can you get?’ began Barry.
‘What were you thinking of?’ asked Ginny. You’ve never done this sort of thing before. What possessed you to slope off from school?’
Chelsea shrugged and inspected her fingernails.
‘Answer me when I speak to you, Chelsea!’
‘It was only a bit of fun,’ said Chelsea. ‘Bex does it all the time – it’s no big deal.’
‘I consider it a very big deal,’ said Barry. ‘What is it with you? We never had this problem with Geneva.’
‘Oh, great, that’s right, throw Geneva in my face!’ cried Chelsea, choking back tears. ‘We all know that Geneva is your precious darling, who can do no wrong. Clever Geneva, who got a 2:1, brilliant Geneva who’s working in Africa, while I’m just – well, I’m just annoying, irritating Chelsea who is in the way. The one you can’t get rid of! I hate you! I really, really hate you!’
‘Chelsea, for heaven’s sake,’ said her mother. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Chelsea, don’t be silly—’ began her father.
‘Oh, why not? Why shouldn’t I be silly? After all, according to you I’m selfish and irresponsible – I might as well be silly as well.’
Ginny grabbed her by the shoulder. ‘Now look here, Chelsea,’ she said, ‘that’s not what we’re saying. All I want is for you to think about the consequences of your actions. I mean, you’re a bright kid, you’ve got exams coming up.’
‘Stuff exams,’ muttered Chelsea and immediately wished she hadn’t.
‘Even if you don’t care about your own future – and you should – you have to realise that I’m well-known in this town. If a daughter of mine is seen to be getting into bad company . . .’
‘Oh marvellous. Oh wonderful!’ yelled Chelsea. ‘So it’s not really ME you care about at all, is it? Just your precious image. All you want is to prove to the world what a fabulous mother you are, how understanding, how clued up – well, you’re not. You don’t understand me at all! Not one bit.�
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‘Now look here, Chelsea,’ thundered Barry, ‘don’t you dare speak to your mother like that. You are grounded. For two weeks,’ he added for good measure.
‘That’s not fair!’ began Chelsea
‘Life’s not fair,’ retorted her father shortly.
‘Look, Chelsea, can’t we sit down and talk this thing through sensibly,’ attempted her mother. ‘Just you and me.’
‘No!’ cried Chelsea. ‘Save your patronising chit-chat for your radio show. I don’t want to know. Just leave me alone!’ And she rushed upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.
‘Now my roulade has collapsed,’ said Barry despondently.
‘I think,’ said Ginny, ‘your roulade may be the least of our problems.’
‘Jemma, please don’t brush your hair in the kitchen,’ complained Mrs Farrant. ‘It’s very unhygienic.’
‘I’m seeing if I can put it in a French plait,’ said Jemma. ‘I’ve got an audition.’
‘That’s nice, petal. Sam, come and wash your hands for tea, please. Daniel, come out of the pedal bin.’
‘It’s on Saturday and you have to get me there for eleven-thirty and I need picking up . . .’
‘Where for what at eleven-thirty?’ asked her mother, spooning cauliflower cheese on to plates.
‘Mum! You weren’t listening to a word I said! I’ve got an audition, for the part of Estella. At the Royal. Great Expectations.’
‘Oh no, petal, I don’t think so,’ objected her mother. ‘I mean, not in school term time.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t think so?’ shouted Jemma. ‘Don’t you understand what I am telling you? I have been selected for an audition. Because Miss Olive thinks I am good – very good, as it happens. This is my big break and you say you don’t think so! What sort of mother are you, anyway?’
Claire closed her eyes momentarily, sighed, took a deep breath and asked God for patience. ‘We’ll talk to Dad about it tonight,’ she suggested.
‘Talk all you like,’ stormed Jemma. ‘Talk till you’re hoarse. You’re not stopping me becoming a star.’
How Could You Do This To Me, Mum? Page 8
