by Fiona Neill
‘Mika!’ said Barney to us all. ‘He’s going to be big, big, big! Remember you heard it here first.’
The music abruptly stopped. Someone in the car had turned it off. Unperturbed, Barney turned to Dad and hugged him tightly, pulling him from one side to the other so heartily that Dad had to put an arm on my shoulder to steady himself.
‘Barney, it’s great to see you,’ said Dad breathlessly.
His mouth was laughing but his eyes were filled with something like tolerant contempt.
‘Good journey?’
Barney didn’t answer because his attention had turned to Mum. He used to adore Mum.
‘Sorry about the delay, Rosie. Must have been like Geffen waiting for The Stone Roses’ second album. I’ll make it up to you. You look properly gorgeous, by the way.’
Mum danced skittishly from one leg to the other in embarrassment, but I could tell she was pleased.
‘We’re just so happy you made it at all,’ she said, behaving as though they were doing us a favour by coming on holiday when it was obviously the other way round.
Barney bent down to kiss me on the cheek and I almost gagged when I smelt the sourness on his breath. It was like he was rotting from the inside out. His face was so shiny that it looked as if it was melting.
I don’t remember much about Lisa. Over the years I have tried to cast my mind back to that moment. But unlike Barney, Lisa was always subtle. I remember her standing behind him wearing cut-off denim shorts and a pale pink T-shirt that might have belonged to Ava. If everything about Barney seemed louder and larger than I had remembered, everything about Lisa was smaller and quieter.
She got out of the car, gave Mum a smile that almost qualified as a grimace and mouthed ‘sorry’. They hugged for a little too long, and when Lisa’s sunglasses tumbled to the ground I could see she had been crying.
‘Bloody hay fever,’ she said, vigorously rubbing her nose when she saw me staring.
I looked at the car, expecting Ava to throw out her bags from the back seat, but instead Rex bounded out like a big, clumsy dog being released from a kennel that was too small. He stretched and I saw how his jeans hovered above his ankles and hair seemed to sprout from any part of his body that wasn’t covered by clothes. When he came over and stood beside Barney I noticed that he was now the tallest in the group, apart from Dad.
‘How did that happen?’ Mum asked, craning her neck to speak to Rex as he gave her a quick hug before turning his attention to me.
‘How are you, Small?’ he asked, enfolding me in his arms.
‘I’m good,’ I said shyly. ‘How’s your earache?’
‘What earache?’ he laughed.
He had called me Small ever since I could remember. All the girls in my year at school fancied Rex and although I won a lot of points by declaring that I couldn’t comment because I had grown up with him and he was like a brother to me, the sensation between my legs definitely wasn’t sisterly. I tried not to breathe, so he would forget that I was in his arms. Rex always felt safe.
‘You’re not going to fit on the bunk bed,’ I mumbled into his shoulder.
Mum gave him the once-over and quickly suggested he sleep on the sofa bed in the sitting room. ‘You’ll have more privacy there,’ she said, eyeing Lisa for backup.
But Lisa was back at the car, leaning into the boot to get out bags with dirty laundry spewing out of half-undone zips. As she bent over Barney slapped her on the bum and said, ‘I bet you look good on the dance floor.’ Barney was always loud but this was something different. He was fizzing.
Max and I giggled, and Barney responded by doing a few more Dad-dance moves.
‘My feet can hang over the edge of the bed,’ said Rex self-consciously. ‘Ava will just have to accept she goes on the bottom bunk.’ It was an old argument whose familiarity made us laugh longer than the joke deserved and it occurred to me that during times of upheaval most human beings find comfort in rituals.
Ava chose to get out of the car at this moment – for maximum impact, I realized later. It was five weeks since I had last seen her at school and in that time she had transformed. She was sleek as an otter, taller, leaner and tanned in a way that is only possible after weeks in the South of France. Her hair was shorter and her legs longer. Everything about her had evolved. She was wearing a short striped crocheted halter-neck top that I had never seen before. It drew immediate attention to her breasts, which had grown so big that it was impossible to avoid them. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Dad ended up shaking her hand instead of hugging her, probably to avoid accidentally touching in case any contact might cause them to burst out of their skin. Max hung back shyly behind Mum, staring at Ava as if she was an exotic creature. Only Mum stepped forward.
‘We’re so pleased you’ve come,’ said Mum, hugging her.
Why hadn’t Ava warned me? I wondered. And then I realized it would have diminished this moment of triumphant arrival. I glanced down at my own breasts and found them lacking. They were insecure and needy, requiring padded bras to make them stick out further than my tummy which, unlike Ava’s, was coated in an extra layer of white blubber. I had been proudly wearing my new yellow-and-white striped bikini on the beach and knew immediately that I would hide it in my drawer and put on my old baggy navy swimsuit. I looked at her but all I could see were my faults reflected back. The fat calves and thick thighs. The red patches of sunburn set against pale skin that would never turn mahogany. Ava shot me a gloating smile that said she had made it to the other side of puberty to a place where her body worked in her favour and she had the power to bend the will of even men like my father. She had left me behind. This was her first act of betrayal.
‘Greetings,’ she said as everyone tried and failed not to stare at her.
I waited for her to come over and hug me but she didn’t. Sometimes it’s not the things people do that show you how they are feeling, but the things they don’t. Usually after so much time apart we would have peeled off together and talked non-stop until we were convinced we had downloaded every detail of the space between us since we had last been together.
‘Greetings,’ responded Max, sensing an opportunity. ‘Would you like to see my Lego Millennium Falcon?’
‘Love to,’ said Ava sweetly.
She slung a denim bag with French writing on the side over her shoulder, took Max’s hand and they headed off into the house. She turned to me just as she reached the door.
‘Coming?’ she asked, and I followed them. Perhaps it was going to be all right.
I leapt up the stairs to the attic three at a time, hoping this would swing things in my favour, and when the clock in the hall struck three as I hit the top step I felt sure luck was with me. In the bedroom I waited for Ava to turn her attention from Max to me but she was too busy scrutinizing every single stormtrooper from his Lego ship, even though they were all identical. Then he told her about the ladybirds and she insisted on examining each matchbox and checking the details on the side.
‘Daisy collects the wings every evening so that I can unite them with their bodies,’ he explained. ‘Daisy says they’re like fairy dust sprinkled over the house.’
I felt myself go red with shame at being exposed as the half-child I was.
‘That sounds like fun,’ said Ava indulgently.
This was so far removed from Ava’s usual idea of fun that even Max looked disbelieving. She began to climb up the ladder to the top bunk of the bed at the far end of the room, but before she had even reached the second rung, Rex charged into the room and rugby tackled her on to the floor.
‘Not so fast, Average,’ said Rex, using his pet name for her. ‘I’m sleeping up there.’
‘Rex, you total bastard,’ said Ava, her face all stubborn bottom lip. Suddenly she looked and sounded like Ava again. ‘I always sleep on top the first night.’
‘I’ll go on the bottom and you can go above me,’ suggested Max to Ava from the other side of the room. ‘So you are comfortable.’
He treated Ava like something breakable.
‘Great,’ said Ava. ‘Rex can go on the top bunk of the other bed.’
Before I could say anything, Rex threw his bag on the top bunk of my bed. The idea of him sleeping above me was terrifyingly pleasurable even though I was already wondering how long I would have to wait for him to go to sleep so that I could run through all my stuff.
‘I can put up with anything for six nights,’ said Rex.
‘Only six nights?’ I said too quickly. ‘I thought you were coming for ten?’
‘It took us five days to get here,’ said Ava, addressing me directly for the first time. ‘Apparently Dad can only take a week off work, even though he hasn’t got a proper job. And I’ve got a party next Saturday.’
‘Whose party?’ I asked, as casually as possible.
‘I don’t think you’ve met her,’ said Ava, deliberately vague.
‘Can’t Daisy go with you?’ asked Max. Despite the fact he was only ten he was old enough to smell betrayal.
‘I’ve already got a plus one,’ said Ava. ‘I’m taking Molly.’
‘But you hate Molly,’ I spluttered, my voice coated with indignation and hurt. ‘You said she was totally shallow and obsessed with boys.’
‘Actually, that was me,’ said Rex. ‘And after a week with her in France I can confirm that is an understatement.’
‘You took Molly to France?’ I asked Ava incredulously. I couldn’t believe it.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘We share a lot of the same taste in music and clothes. Molly’s cool.’
This was all the confirmation that I needed. My best friend had dumped me. Even worse, she hadn’t even bothered to let me know.
‘Shall we go and see the sheep?’ suggested Rex, realizing his mistake.
It was his kindness that got me most. When we reached the field behind the house, we found the ewes forlornly bleating for their lambs that must have been taken away the same afternoon. That night, as I waited in bed for everyone to fall asleep, I listened to the sheep crying and understood that life was all about loss.
To stop the tears I pressed my fingers into my eyelids until I saw stars. My nose started running and I tried silent sniffing while I organized my thoughts. I needed to sort out which rituals I could run through without anyone noticing and leave the others till later. I arranged the alarm clock, glass of water and book in a triangle on the bedside table, made tiny adjustments and then started tapping out the triangular pattern on the bedroom wall beside the bottom bunk with the knuckle of my right index finger. Immediately I felt calmer.
Midway through the fourth set I felt a hand slide down from the top bunk to grab my wrist. It happened so quickly that for a moment I was paralysed with shock. I tried to pull away but Rex’s grip proved too strong. He held my wrist in a vice for what seemed like ages. When I realized he wasn’t going to release me without a fight I relaxed and his fingers slid away from my wrist and up on to my hand. I opened my palm in surrender and Rex began drawing small delicious circles that sent shivers up my body.
The same feeling stirred between my legs and spread over me until even my scalp tingled. My breathing got heavier but instead of counting the rise and fall of my chest I closed my eyes and gave in to the sticky pleasure of desire. For the first time in my life I didn’t need words to articulate what was happening to me. I had kissed a boy from school at a party at the end of last term but it hadn’t made me feel like this. I had explored his mouth with my tongue, conscious of the difference in texture between the softness of his gums and the hard white enamel of his teeth, but it was more like scientific research. This was totally different. It was so exquisitely pleasurable that I felt almost nauseous and when eventually he pulled his hand away the sense of loss left me feeling winded. I put my hand over my face and breathed in the smell of him on my skin. The same thing happened the following night, except the second time his hand was waiting and I searched for it with my own.
Tuesday was going to be the hottest day of the year and we decided to spend it on Mum’s favourite beach because she had to get the train back to London the next day for work. It was within walking distance of the house but preparations to get there always took so ridiculously long that you would have thought we were travelling to the outback for weeks. We all assumed roles rehearsed over years and, for a short while, it felt like old times. Barney took charge of drinks, filling the cool box with water, cans of beer and a bottle of white wine; Dad made a tomato sauce with at least ten ingredients to put inside wraps that he would heat up on the beach in a frying pan; I stood beside him crushing garlic and chopping onions, debating whether we should leave out capers and include black olives. Cooking with Dad used to be one of my favourite activities. Lisa fried bacon for the filling and talked about how she couldn’t wait for lunch even though she never seemed to eat anything, while Barney made bad jokes about the advantages of a mostly liquid diet. Mum and Ava got together all the equipment. Over the years this had got more and more elaborate to include a luxury camping stove, kettle, three windbreaks, beach chairs and a blow-up whale. I watched as Mum took out a knife from the kitchen drawer.
‘What’s that for?’ I asked casually.
‘To cut the cheese,’ she said.
‘Why don’t we grate it instead and leave the knife here?’ I suggested.
‘Good thinking,’ said Dad.
Mum put the knife back. I felt calmer than I had in ages. For the first time in around six months I hadn’t gone through any rituals that morning. My head was too full of Rex.
I was hyper-aware of his presence. At breakfast he had sat down beside me on the wide-backed bench, close enough that I could feel the heat from his right thigh. The energy flowing between us was so strong that I was sure someone would notice. As he buttered toast I furtively observed his long, elegant fingers from beneath my fringe. I imagined them tracing a line from my hand, up to my shoulder, and then stopped in case someone could read my thoughts. I was certain he would engineer an opportunity to be alone with me, but after finishing four pieces of toast (unlike mine, his appetite was undiminished) he announced that he was going for a run.
‘Are you listening, Daisy?’ Dad asked, as he put the lid on his tomato sauce.
‘Sorry?’
‘I was asking if you want to come to the beach to help light the barbecue.’
‘I need to look for my swimsuit,’ I said, even though I was already wearing it underneath my shorts and T-shirt. I knew no one would notice my untruth. Everyone’s focus on that holiday was someplace where it shouldn’t have been. I went into the washroom and pretended to search through the laundry basket, waiting for the anxiety and the bad thoughts about Mum, but they didn’t come. At the bottom of the basket I found a T-shirt belonging to Rex. I sat down on the floor between the washing machine and tumble dryer where no one could see me and lifted it to my face and inhaled his scent, a sweet mixture of sweat, cheap aftershave and smoke.
Ava had gone without telling me, Max trailing behind her like a devoted puppy. I could hear Dad and Barney heading out through the front door, complaining about the overloaded baskets that they had just packed.
‘How’s it going?’ I heard Mum ask Lisa as soon as the front door banged shut.
I put down the T-shirt.
‘Not good. I found an empty bottle of vodka in his computer bag this morning,’ said Lisa. ‘He tried to pretend it belonged to Rex but I pointed out that the label proved it came from an off-licence by his old office in King’s Cross. He won’t admit it, but it was the drinking that lost him the job.’
I was more taken aback by the savagery of Lisa’s tone, like knives shredding Barney apart, than the revelation about his drinking, which frankly was anticlimactic. All adults drank too much. Period.
‘It’s not Barney’s fault that the Internet is killing journalism,’ Mum said. ‘Why would anyone pay for something they can read for free?’
‘So why did they get rid of Barney and keep on the guy he
recruited two years ago?’
‘Maybe he costs less,’ said Mum without conviction.
‘Maybe he drinks less, Rosie.’
‘Did you mention the bottle?’
‘He told me he could handle it, that my intense scrutiny made him feel as though he had a plastic bag over his head and was slowly asphyxiating, which is strange because that’s exactly how he makes me feel.’
Mum didn’t say anything and I guessed she was giving Lisa a hug.
‘I can’t go on like this, Rosie.’
‘He must be feeling so bad about his job,’ said Mum gently. ‘What Barney needs is a plan. Has he put out any feelers?’
‘His editor said he can freelance but they’re not going to give him a contract and the word rate is piss poor,’ said Lisa. ‘Barney’s kind of journalism is dead but he won’t accept it and instead of doing something positive like going for a run or offering to write about something other than music, he’s smoking and drinking himself into oblivion. Like Keith Richards without the bank balance.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Lisa and Barney were one of those truly, madly couples who went to glamorous parties with famous people. They weren’t like any of Mum and Dad’s other friends who were, quite frankly, pretty boring. Barney and Lisa still kissed in public and had parties that people talked about for weeks. For my twelfth birthday Barney had not only got me a free ticket to see Girls Aloud but had also arranged for me to meet Cheryl Cole. I didn’t realize the invitations dried up the moment he lost his job.
‘Barney’s only consistent quality is his ability to suck the joy out of almost every situation.’
‘At least he’s not going out late and shagging other women,’ said Mum.
I sat up straight. I had never heard her speak like this before. It struck me that Mum and Lisa were more intimate with each other than I was with Mum. Just like Ava and me, I thought. Then I remembered our friendship was over. I waited for the stab of loss but it was already blunted.
