A Question of Us

by Mary Jayne Baker

  He rumpled her hair in a way that felt too much like one last time. ‘See you around, eh? I’ll miss you, Clar. Won’t forget you, ever. And… thanks for everything.’

  ‘Wait, Si, please, stay and talk. Please!’

  Dropping a last kiss on the top of her head, Simon strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  29

  ‘Jesus, Clarissa! What the hell happened to you? You look like you live in a bus shelter,’ Kath said when she answered a knock at her front door the next day.

  ‘Spare me the blasphemy, Mum. Doesn’t suit you.’

  Clarrie stood hugging her arms on Kath’s doorstep, looking very nearly as bad as she felt. She was dressed in her scruffiest trackie bottoms and a gigantic hoodie of Si’s he’d lent her at camp one year that she’d never got round to returning.

  She had the hood pulled up to hide her makeup-free face from an unprepared public. If she turned her head to one side she could smell the fabric, imagine it smelt like Si. It didn’t, but she could imagine it.

  ‘What’s up? God, you’re white as a ghost. Your eyes are all bloodshot…’ Kath narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re hungover, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Bloody hell, how much did you have?’

  ‘Some.’ Clarrie gave way and burst into tears. ‘Mum, I’ve made a massive mistake.’

  ‘Oh, now, come on. I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’ Kath came forward to embrace her. ‘Here, let’s get you inside.’

  ‘Can I stay over?’

  ‘Of course you can, sweety pie. I’ll make up your old bed.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. Love you.’

  Clarrie pulled her hood down and followed her mother into the living room. Greg was in there watching TV, wearing a white polo shirt with a jumper knotted around his neck like he was Bertie Wooster just back from a round of tennis. Clarrie managed to summon a tear-soaked smile for him.

  ‘Hiya, Greg. All right?’

  ‘Bloody hell, Clarrie,’ he said, looking concerned. ‘You okay, pet? You look…’

  ‘Dog rough?’ she said with an attempt at a grin.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that, but… er, yeah.’

  Kath guided her to the settee and turned to face him. ‘Sorry, Greg, but do you mind leaving us to it? I’ve got a Code Clarrie to deal with here.’

  Clarrie sniffed. ‘What, am I a code now?’

  ‘You’ve always been a code, love.’

  ‘No problem.’ Greg squeezed Kath’s hand as he passed her to leave the room. ‘Hope you feel better soon, Clarrie.’

  ‘Si was right. He is bloody nice, isn’t he?’ Clarrie said, watching the door as it swung shut behind him.

  ‘He really is.’ Kath sank down next to her daughter on the settee. ‘I’m going to ask him to move in.’

  ‘Oh, what? Already?’

  Kath shrugged. ‘I like having him around. And after all this with Yvonne… well, it made me think we should grab these chances at happiness while we can.’

  Clarrie sighed. ‘If that’s really what you want.’ She pulled Kath to her for a hug. ‘Congratulations, old lady. Hope you’ll be happy.’

  ‘Thanks, Clarrie,’ Kath said, returning the hug. ‘So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Simon.’

  ‘How did I know you were going to say that?’

  Clarrie gave a wet snort. ‘You must be psychic.’

  ‘What’ve you done now then?’

  ‘What makes you think it’s me and not him? I’m the one who’s upset, aren’t I?’

  ‘My psychic powers. Well?’

  ‘God, Mum, you’re right. I’ve really fu— messed up this time.’ Her voice cracked. ‘He won’t see me. Won’t even take my calls. I went round his before I came here… wouldn’t come to the door. This is it, the end.’

  ‘Oh my God! What did you do to upset him so much?’

  Clarrie sobbed into her mum’s shoulder for a full minute before she managed to get out an answer. ‘Went out for dinner with Darren Constantin. Just to wind Si up after we’d had a row.’

  ‘Okay, that was pretty childish. Still, he’ll forgive you in the end, won’t he? He’s no angel himself.’

  Clarrie shook her head. ‘That’s not the worst of it. I was upset, after the date, so I rang Si and he came back to spend the night at mine. You know, with me. And then… when I said I… said I needed more time—’ She broke off into sobs again.

  ‘Oh, no, Clarrie.’ Kath held her back to look into her face. ‘You didn’t, did you? When was this, yesterday?’

  ‘No, yesterday he left me forever and I spent the day crying and getting smashed. Night before.’

  Kath glared at her for what seemed like an hour. ‘You bloody idiot.’

  ‘You’re going to tell me you’re not angry, just disappointed now, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, you’re old enough to make your own mistakes. I’m just going to point out that was a stupid, immature thing to do and leave it there for you to think about.’

  ‘I know. You really think I don’t know?’

  She shook with sobs and Kath pulled her back into the hug. She stroked the frazzled hair yanked into a hasty, hangover-friendly ponytail and made comforting sounds while Clarrie cried out all her tears.

  ‘It was… horrible, Mum,’ she managed after a few minutes.

  ‘Really?’

  Clarrie managed a damp tut at her mum’s surprised tone. ‘Not the sex, Mother. I mean… watching him… go. When I said… said I… still wasn’t ready. To be with him.’

  ‘Well, what the hell did you go and say it for then?’

  ‘I just wanted more time to think it through.’

  ‘And it only occurred to you to have that conversation after you’d gone to bed with him, did it? You bloody idiot.’

  ‘You called me that already.’ Clarrie rubbed some of the brine out of her eyes. ‘Oh God, Mum, I’ve been a total, total pillock. What’ll I do?’

  Kath sighed. ‘Honestly? I’ve got no idea. Just you work on figuring out what it is you want then talk it through with him.’

  ‘How? He won’t take my calls.’

  ‘For now. He’ll come round when he starts to miss you.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t though? He can be a stubborn bugger. And it’d more than serve me right if he didn’t.’ She sniffed. ‘You should’ve heard him yesterday morning, Mum. He really sounded like he never wanted to see me again. And he was right, everything he said.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘That he couldn’t wait for me any more, that it was too painful, spending time together as mates…’ Her throat worked convulsively as she remembered Si’s words, his broken expression. ‘Said he wanted a… wanted a future,’ she sobbed. ‘And if I didn’t then that was it, he had to move on. Something about his self-respect.’

  ‘Well, if he doesn’t come round then you’ll have to move on too, sweety pie. But I don’t think it’ll come to that.’ She examined Clarrie with concern. ‘Look, I hate to ask, but you kids did use protection, didn’t you?’

  ‘Bloody hell, what kind of question is that? Course we did.’

  ‘Just checking. I think a daughter who’s simultaneously dumped, hungover and pregnant is more drama than I can deal with in one go.’

  ‘Ugh. Give over, Mother, we’d never be that stupid.’ She thought of Gemma and Sonny, and Jeff and Polly a generation up: the poster children for how unsafe sex can send whole lives reeling off course.

  ‘Sweety…’ Kath took Clarrie’s face in both hands and looked into her eyes. ‘I don’t want to speak out of turn, but there’s more to this, isn’t there? Something you’re hiding from.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Clarrie mumbled. But she could guess what was coming.

  ‘I know you won’t want to talk about it, but do you ever think about what’ll be in it, this future Simon wants with you?’

  ‘Hoverboards?’

  ‘Come on, th
is is serious. No time to hide behind silly jokes.’

  ‘I… no. Well, I try not to.’ She screwed her eyes shut. ‘Please don’t make me do this, Mum.’

  ‘Sorry, Clarrie. Someone has to, and it really ought to be me. Open your eyes and look at me.’

  Clarrie forced her eyes open and met her mum’s searching gaze.

  ‘You don’t need to be frightened of that,’ Kath said gently. ‘Everyone worries about whether they’ll be a good parent.’

  ‘Mum, please don’t.’

  Kath ignored her. ‘God, I was scared to death half the time I was pregnant with you, that I’d make a mess of it and ruin your life. And I didn’t have someone like Simon at my side to talk me down either. Still, even after everything, I don’t think I did such a bad job, did I?’

  ‘No.’ Clarrie managed a watery smile. ‘Best mum ever.’

  Kath smiled too. ‘You’re a good liar, Clarrie. But I like to think that until your dad left, you never worked out I was making it up as I went along.’

  ‘You think Si thinks about that stuff?’

  ‘No, I think all he sees when he pictures a future is you. Love does that to people. But he will, one day; you both will.’ She clasped Clarrie’s head to her shoulder and stroked her hair. ‘And you know it’d give this old lady the thrill of her life if you made up your minds to do it together.’

  ‘God, Mum. Going to have to apologise in advance for the language, but you’re right, it scares the shit out of me.’

  ‘That’s right, it’s supposed to. If it didn’t you wouldn’t be taking it seriously enough,’ Kath said. ‘Look, we won’t talk about it any more now, eh? You’ve got enough on your plate. Think about it, that’s all. One day soon it’ll be time to stop running away.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ She gave Kath a squeeze. ‘You’re pretty cool, you know.’

  ‘Aww, give over,’ Kath said, flicking Clarrie’s ponytail fondly. ‘So did you tell your other friends what happened? Maybe Simon’ll talk to them if he won’t talk to you.’

  ‘Yeah, think I did.’

  ‘What do you mean, you think you did?’

  ‘Think I did some instant messaging with Gem when I was drunk last night. Or it might’ve been Sonny. Anyway, one of them knows; that means the others do too by now.’

  ‘What, you don’t even know which one? God, you really were in a state.’ Kath sighed. ‘Wish I knew what to do for you, Clarrie.’

  ‘There is something actually. Can you do me a favour?’

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Will you look after Si for me? Maybe invite him round for tea sometimes? Just make sure he’s doing okay, that’s all.’

  ‘You’d be better doing it yourself. He’d always rather have you looking after him than me.’

  ‘No, I don’t think he would. Not any more.’ She turned tear-filled eyes to Kath. ‘Mum, I promised Yvonne something. After the Mr & Mrs thing, when she took me outside.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I promised… promised I’d be there for Si. Not just now, but if anything happens, you know? If she’s ever… not around.’ Her tone was pleading. ‘If he’s really had enough of me for good, will you? Don’t let him be alone. Please.’

  Kath planted a kiss on the top of her daughter’s hair. ‘You know I will, daft little girl. Wouldn’t abandon our Simon, would I? Even if he is going around violating my only child in his leisure time.’

  ‘Nice choice of word, Mum.’ She burst into another round of sobs. ‘God, I’ve really ruined everything this time. Serves me right too.’ She snuffled into Kath’s shoulder. ‘I dunno, maybe I should leave him to it. What poor bastard wants to be lumbered with me, eh?’

  ‘Oi.’ Kath cuffed her lightly. ‘No one gets to say that but Simon, and you know he never would. Come on, where’s the old Clarrie?’

  ‘I think she’s under the hangover, screaming.’

  ‘Well, you won’t talk him round feeling sorry for yourself. He likes you when you’re stroppy.’

  ‘He does, doesn’t he? Weirdo.’ She smiled, picturing Si’s amused grin whenever she’d told him off for being too cocky or making bad jokes. ‘Good thing really, Mother, since as you’re so keen on telling me, I’m a right little madam.’

  ‘But you’re my little madam.’ Kath gave her hair an affectionate pat. ‘Come on then, we’ll pity party tonight, if that’s what you need. There’s some PJs in the airing cupboard, go get them on. Then I’m thinking cup of tea, takeaway curry, romcom?’

  ‘Not romcom.’

  ‘All right, I’ll let you choose, since you’re upset.’

  ‘Top Gun?’

  Kath groaned. ‘If we must.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Clarrie gave her a grateful hug. ‘Always look after me, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s the mum’s job, sweety pie. I’ll go run you a bath.’

  30

  Clarrie came into the bookshop with a cup of coffee late Monday afternoon to find Sonny, Dave and Gemma lined up in front of the counter with folded arms.

  ‘What’s this, an intervention or something?’ she asked.

  ‘No, it’s a quiz,’ Gemma said.

  ‘Stop pissing about, you guys. I was just going to close up.’

  ‘Good. Do it and let’s go in the kitchenette.’

  ‘Um, okay.’ She flipped the shop’s Closed sign and followed the rest of the team into the other room.

  ‘Right, you, sit there,’ Gemma said, guiding her into a chair at the dining table. She and the boys pulled up chairs on the other side, folding their arms again.

  ‘You sure this isn’t an intervention?’

  ‘Okay, it is. In the form of a quiz, something you can understand,’ Gemma said. ‘Sunil, the questions please.’

  ‘You’re bloody sexy when you’re strict, Gem,’ Sonny said.

  Dave nodded. ‘Seconded.’

  ‘The questions, perverts.’

  Sonny handed her a piece of paper from his pocket. Gemma unfolded it, glaring at Clarrie over the top.

  ‘Right, Clarissa. Question one—’

  ‘Gem, what’s this all about?’

  ‘Question one,’ Gemma repeated firmly. ‘Why, in spite of getting a good degree from a good university and the world being your shellfish, did you come back here to earn sub-minimum wage in a bookshop?’

  ‘Bloody hell, start me on an easy one, eh? I don’t know, homesick I suppose. Look, is this about that messaging we did on Saturday? Because I don’t really remember it—’

  ‘Wrong answer, Midwinter. Try another.’ Gem’s eyes skimmed over the paper. ‘Question two. Why – despite him being, poshness aside, quite a nice bloke – did you chuck Ed?’

  ‘He just started getting on my nerves.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘His habits, just… something about him. Where are we going with this, guys? Am I getting sectioned?’

  ‘You bloody should be,’ Gem said. ‘Right, last. Why’d you break up with sweet young Olly?’

  Clarrie shuddered, remembering the night Olly had told her he loved her, his blue eyes big and trusting. It still felt like one of the worst things she’d ever done, answering with a panicked ‘Erm, thanks a lot’ and dashing for the door as soon as she could find an excuse.

  ‘He… it was too much. Too soon.’

  ‘Right. After six months it was “too soon”. And those are your final answers, are they?’

  ‘Er, yeah.’

  ‘Sunil. The correct answers please,’ Gemma said, holding out her hand.

  ‘You’re taking me back to yours after this, you know,’ Sonny muttered in her ear. ‘You can make me call you mistress, I won’t mind.’

  ‘Never mind that. Answers.’

  Sonny fished in his pocket and handed her another sheet.

  ‘That’s a prop, isn’t it?’ Clarrie said. ‘I bet it’s blank.’

  ‘None of your beeswax. Okay, question one: why did you, Clarissa bloody Midwinter, head back to the back of beyond when you could’ve been high
-flying it in some big city? Correct answer: Simon Dewhirst.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. Si told us all he was moving back home to do his PGCE and you were hot on his heels. Question two: why did you dump Posh Ed? Because everything about him reminded you he wasn’t Simon Dewhirst, just like every bloke you’ve turned down for a date since then. Just like Darren. And question three: why did you freak out when Olly told you he loved you? Because it wasn’t Si telling you, that’s why. It’s always been Si, Clarrie, and everyone knows it but you. So get a fucking wake-up call before we really do have you sectioned.’

  To everyone’s surprise and her own, Clarrie burst into tears.

  They were right, weren’t they? She’d realised it that morning Si walked out. All the things she’d thought were wrong with her, all the doomed relationships… but there was only one thing wrong with her. She was in love with Si – she always had been. And she’d had to wait till now, till she’d driven him away, forever maybe, to finally have her eureka moment.

  ‘Hey.’ Dave came over to her chair and crouched by her with a look of concern on his freckled face. ‘Sorry, Clar. We didn’t mean to make you cry.’

  ‘We haven’t even shown you the picture yet. That was supposed to be the clincher.’ Gemma produced a leather-bound photo album from her bag and handed it to Clarrie. ‘Here. Courtesy of your mum.’

  Clarrie opened it at a page marked with a post-it and smiled through her tears. It was a photo of her and Si, aged five, fast asleep on her mum’s settee. Their cheeks were flushed, Simon’s golden curls resting against the foil-covered cardboard box with the front cut away that little Clarissa was wearing on her head. His chubby fist gripped her wrist proprietorially as they slept.