‘How come you’re so clever?’ Jordan asked, taking another long drag of his More Menthol.
‘I’m not.’ She stared at the diagram, a cutaway of the earth’s crust. ‘I just like to read and I have a good memory. But I’m not clever. My grammar is terrible and my spelling could be better.’
‘Well, I think you’re clever.’ He smiled.
‘Maybe I’m just clever compared to you.’ She snickered.
‘Oh, without a doubt! I start to read and then spot something shiny and my mind takes me wandering. I’m like a magpie, a magpie with the concentration span of a goldfish. I’m a magfish.’
‘Or a goldpie.’
‘Oh. My. God.’ He gasped. ‘You might just have come up with my Broadway stage name! I’m picturing it right now, in lights!’ He ran his palm in an arc above his head.
They both chuckled.
‘Only me!’ Aunt Lizzie called loudly from the back door, as she always did.
‘Fuck!’ Jordan hurriedly wiped his mouth with his fingers and stubbed out his cigarette on the grass, throwing the butt into the neat flowerbed behind him and fanning his face as he exhaled a wisp of blue smoke. He tossed the foil contraption to his cousin.
‘There you both are!’ This was another of Aunt Lizzie’s irritating sayings. She always made it sound as if she’d been searching for them for hours and that this was the last place she’d looked – even when they’d just walked in the door after school – implying it was a massive inconvenience to her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Revising.’ Jordan held up his cousin’s textbook as proof. Anna noted that he’d dropped his voice to a lower register.
‘Good boy!’ Aunt Lizzie clapped, as if Jordan were six and not sixteen. ‘Do you want me to test you?’ She started down the steps to the back patio, clearly uncomfortable in the heat.
‘No need, Mum, I’m just learning about Teutonic platters and how they have shifted over the last two hundred years to form mountains and rivers – it makes me feel that we are all so insignificant.’ He sighed.
‘Oh, Jordan, you are a little thinker, that’s for sure. Take after your Grandad Cole.’
Jordan nodded at his mum with his lips tucked in.
‘And what about you, miss? Think it might be an idea to hit the books? Getting a tan is all well and good, but I think you need all the qualifications you can get, don’t you?’
Anna nodded, unsure of what to do with the homemade tanning aid in her hand. There was so much about her aunt’s comment that bothered her, but it felt easier to say nothing. It seemed not to occur to her aunt that Jordan’s grandad was her grandad too. There was also the implication that Anna needed qualifications because she had little else to recommend her. True, she wasn’t one of the great beauties – she pictured bouncy, blonde Tracy Fitchett, who hadn’t entered her thoughts in quite a while – and nor did she have the support network of a loving family that others enjoyed, but even so.
‘Well, I’ll go and get the tea on.’ Her aunt bustled back inside, then poked her head out through the door again. ‘Ooh, I meant to say that I bumped into Mr Dickinson earlier, taking the bins down. He had his niece with him – she’s staying for a week. Do you remember Ulla? She was quite sweet on you, Jordan, if I remember rightly! You could do a lot worse. Her uncle has a very responsible job, party to all sorts in those council meetings.’
Jordan smiled and nodded at his mother before she retreated into the kitchen.
Anna sat up and untucked her shirt from her bra. ‘I take it back, Jord. I think you will do very well on Broadway – you’re a good actor.’
‘I know.’ He winked at her.
*
‘Phew it’s hot.’ If her aunt said it once, pumping the front of her purple crimplene blouse as she set the table then pulled the chicken pie from the oven, she said it a thousand times.
Anna watched as droplets of sweat ran down her aunt’s neck and disappeared into her voluminous cleavage. She looked down at her own flat chest, inherited from her mother, and wondered how two sisters could look so different. True, she and Joe hadn’t looked anything like each other, but they’d had different dads. She curled her tongue inside her mouth – Joe hadn’t been able to do that either, of course.
‘Jordan has been studying most of the day, haven’t you, my lovely?’ Aunt Lizzie said.
‘I have indeed.’
Anna caught his eye and smiled into her lap.
‘I told him he takes after his Grandad Cole, a little thinker.’
Uncle Alan made a harrumphing noise and Anna imagined his irritation at the implication that none of his genes had made their way into his son. Aunt Lizzie often claimed Jordan as her own – ‘my boy’, ‘my Jordan’. She felt sorry for her uncle and wanted to tell the kindly man that he made her stay there a little better than it otherwise would have been. She hoped he knew this.
‘What do you mean by a thinker?’ Jordan asked as he rested his arms on the tabletop.
‘Elbows off the table!’ his mother shouted.
Anna, Jordan and Uncle Alan all immediately pulled their hands into their laps. Jordan waited for his mother to turn her back and made another face at Anna.
‘Well...’ Her aunt ladled the new potatoes into a tureen and used her thumb and a sharp knife to slice a knob from the corner of the butter pack, plopping it on the top of the spuds. ‘He had a very good job in the sorting office.’
Uncle Alan coughed, but they all pretended not to notice.
‘Everyone knew him,’ she continued, undeterred. ‘He was well respected, loved in our street and the neighbourhood. And the reason he was so respected was that he read books. Lots of books.’
‘Books, you say?’ Jordan asked with fake interest, intended purely to make his cousin laugh.
A giggle rippled from Anna’s lips and Aunt Lizzie shot her a look before continuing.
‘Yes! Great thick books on all kinds of subjects, from the railways to the war. He loved to read and because he read, he knew things other people didn’t.’ She placed the steaming tureen on a raffia mat in the centre of the table.
‘What things?’ Jordan’s interest seemed a little more genuine this time.
Anna was also enjoying hearing about her grandad. It was good to know where her bookish nature came from.
‘He knew how to repair every sort of engine, didn’t matter what it was – lawnmower, boat, car, you name it.’
‘My... My brother was good with anything mechanical too. He must have got that from Grandad Cole.’ Her voice was small, too quiet for the words to be easily deciphered, but for Anna it felt like a stepping stone towards speaking up. She felt it was important to remind her aunt that they were all from the same bloodline, and it was lovely to be talking about Joe.
Her aunt gave a single shake of her head as she took up her seat at the top of the table. ‘My dad also knew enough to say that your mother shouldn’t go gallivanting off to London. He knew that all right.’
‘Lizzie!’ Uncle Alan admonished, his tone more forceful than usual.
‘Well, it’s true and there’s no harm in saying so.’
Anna watched as her aunt dipped her chin to her chest. She remembered her cousin’s words from earlier. She didn’t like the thought of never having her own voice. Ignoring the quake of nerves in her gut, and after a second or two to summon the courage, she spoke. ‘I think... I think my mum was very brave, actually. She must have felt like I do now – she didn’t know anyone and didn’t know what was going to happen next, but she did it anyway. That must have taken courage.’
Jordan looked at her with something akin to pride.
‘Brave?’ Her aunt did her usual laughing/tutting thing. ‘Nothing brave about leaving two ageing parents to worry themselves sick about your welfare without so much as a goodbye. Nothing brave about that. Selfish is what it is! Who do you think it was had to clean up after her when everything went tits up?’
Anna noted her aunt’s embarrassed glance at Jordan afte
r the unusual slip-up in her language.
‘I’m guessing you.’ This came out a lot more sarcastic than she’d intended.
‘Yes! You guess right! And I’ll thank you not to be so clever in my house. It was me all right. Me that carried on as though nothing was amiss, ignoring my mother crying into the early hours. And my dad...’ Aunt Lizzie paused and swallowed. ‘My dad lost his sparkle and I wanted to shout at him, “I’m still here! I’m still here, Dad! I didn’t go!”’ She patted her matronly chest. ‘But that would have been pointless. Karen, the baby, had gone and that was that. I don’t think my mother ever really recovered. She died young.’
‘Like my mum,’ Anna reminded her, feeling a jolt in her chest at hearing her mum’s name, which was almost never spoken.
‘Yes, just like your mum.’ Aunt Lizzie gathered up the napkin from under her dessert fork and wiped her eyes. ‘They looked alike, were alike.’ Her aunt eyed her across the table. ‘You’re like them too.’
Anna couldn’t decide whether her aunt thought this was a good thing. She knew she had the same physical shape as her mum, but her face was different; she was pointier than her mum, in nose and chin. She bit her lip. ‘I don’t want any tea. Thanks.’ She thought it best to retreat to the safety of the bedroom, fearing her presence would only inflame things. The tense atmosphere and look of discomfort on Uncle Alan’s face was more than she could bear.
‘Of course you don’t.’ Lizzie sniffed. ‘As I say, just like your mother. Nothing was good enough for her either. Couldn’t wait to leave home. Desperate, she was, and if it hadn’t been to follow Billy What’s-His-Name, that awful boy, there would have been another. She’d have hitched her wagon to anything just to get away, just to spite my poor mum and dad, who worked so hard, and they bloody idolised her! They deserved better!’ Her voice cracked. ‘She was selfish. I mean... London! That’s no place for people like us.’
Anna’s mind reeled. She stood from the table, glancing at her aunt to see if she’d finished or whether there was more to come, unsure if it would be ruder to stay or to go. So many questions bubbled inside her, but she knew that fanning the flames might only make things worse for everyone.
‘Can I ask you something?’ She held onto the back of the chair while her aunt again sniffed into her napkin. There was no answer, so Anna asked anyway. ‘Why did you bring me here?’
‘Why did I bring you here? What a thing to ask! How can you be so ungrateful!’
‘Liz!’
‘No, I’m sorry, but she is, Alan! I cook for her, I do her laundry—’
‘And I am grateful, but I don’t understand why you do it when it feels like you don’t want to. You are so...’ She tried to find the phrase that best summed up how she felt. ‘Off with me.’ Now that Anna had started speaking up, it was hard to stop.
Aunt Lizzie’s mouth fell open. ‘Off with you? What exactly do you mean by that, young lady?’
‘You... You always make me feel like I’m a guest that should have gone home a long time ago and it’s a horrible feeling because I can’t go home. I’m stuck here.’
‘That’s not the case, lovey. Not at all.’ Uncle Alan’s face flamed with embarrassment. This sort of exchange was very rare in their house.
‘It is the case, Uncle Alan. I heard the two of you talking in the kitchen the other day. Aunt Lizzie sees me as a nuisance. It’s as if I’m a bad smell that everyone wants rid of.’
‘Well, will you listen to that? Stuck here, you say? Do I need to remind you that you are in a rather lovely link-detached home with your own bedroom, not a prison! And to think I spoke out, said I’d have you because she...’ Her aunt’s voice cracked. ‘Because she was my sister. What would people have thought if I hadn’t stepped up?’
Anna stared at her. It still didn’t make sense to her. If her aunt had never liked her mum and clearly didn’t like her, then why make them all suffer? She glanced over at her cousin, who looked close to tears. This she found upsetting. Lovely Jordan. ‘If it wasn’t for Jordan...’ she began, smiling at him.
‘Oh, here we go. “If it wasn’t for Jordan...”’ Her aunt sniffed up her tears and mimicked her niece’s London accent. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve muscled in on him. Good Lord, if you weren’t related... Well, I hate to think what you might try. You are more like your mother than you think!’
This was too far below the belt, even for her aunt. Anna was livid. Her breath stuttered in her throat as she searched for a reply.
‘That’s ridiculous, Mum!’ Jordan shot back. ‘And, actually, for your information—’ He drew breath.
‘For your information, he’s going to New York!’ Anna cut in sharply, knowing this was not the time for any big announcements about Jordan’s sexuality, not with emotions already running so high. She kept her eyes locked on her cousin’s. ‘He’s going to finish his O levels and go to New York. He’s a brilliant actor.’ She smiled at him.
‘New York?’ her aunt screeched, throwing her napkin onto the table. ‘What a bloody ridiculous thing to say! Why would you want to leave us? Has she put you up to this?’ She stretched out her arm across the chicken pie and buttery potatoes, pointing at Anna lest there be any doubt who she was referring to.
Anna and Jordan exchanged a look. Jordan sighed and shook his head. ‘No, Mum, she hasn’t. I thought of it all by myself.’
Anna slowly turned and made her exit, treading softly on the stairs. She perched on the edge of the bed, listening to the back and forth between the three still sitting at the table. She was now quite adept at making out the subtle rhythm of words through the floorboards, made easier when those words were exchanged at volume.
It had been quite an evening. No matter what came next, the damage had been done. Her eyes were drawn to the suitcase nestling under a fine mat of dust on top of the wardrobe.
I do think you were brave, Mum. You didn’t know anyone and you didn’t know what was going to happen next, but you did it anyway, you ran away...
And it was in that second that she knew the answer.
‘Twelve months, three weeks and four days.’ She spoke aloud. That was how long she had lived in that house before something cracked.
5
Anna hoped that Jordan would understand when he opened his tin and found her note, a hastily written IOU to cover the four £5 notes she’d taken. She also hoped that the line of kisses she’d placed under her name might show him how much she loved him.
‘Single or return, love?’ the driver asked as he peered at her through the bottle lenses of his glasses.
‘Single.’ She smiled and handed over three of the notes, certain that she would not be coming back.
Having placed her case in the rack at the front, she took a seat at the back of the coach and waited impatiently for it to leave Digbeth bus station. The royal blue velour upholstery was thick with the residue of cigarette smoke, which she knew would cling to her clothes and hair. She flicked shut the little silver ashtray in the back of the seat in front, hiding the squashed brown dog-ends that lurked there.
Ducking down with her knees raised, she looked up sharply at every shout, every yell, in case it was the police, charged by her aunt to locate her and drag her back to the neat, link-detached box where she had to leave her shoes by the front door. It was unlikely, however. She’d thought this first bit through carefully, building on the plan that had started to germinate on the night of the big row in the kitchen. Her aunt and uncle would be out at work the whole day, and Jordan would be at college until late afternoon. No one would know she’d gone missing for at least seven hours. Time enough to make her way to London and to Waterloo, where she could put the next bit of her plan into action.
Anna felt a whoosh of joy in her gut as the half-full coach pulled out of the station. She was glad of her anonymity and happy to be travelling. She curled her legs beneath her on the seat, reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook.
Fifi and Fox
This i
s very important.
I want you to know that there are some people who will treat you badly and it is not because you have done anything wrong. It is because of something that you don’t understand going on inside them. It could be anything. They might be sad or angry and you will never know if it is you or something else that has made them that way and so you must try not to think about it too much.
Overthinking never helps. Trust me, I should know.
Even when people are mean, there is always someone who isn’t, so you need to stay with that person. Find the kind ones, the smiley ones and talk to them and they will make everything feel better, I promise.
I have a lovely cousin, his name is Jordan and he makes me laugh. He’s funny. You will meet him one day and he can be your uncle. Actually, I’m not sure what he’ll be to you if he’s my cousin. He might be your cousin too. I’ll have to check.
I want you both to be able to tell me anything, anything at all. I want you to talk to me about anything that’s bothering you or anything you’re thinking about. Like I used to be able to with my mum. You will never have to lie to me or be afraid. Because I will be your mum and that is what mums should do, I think.
I’m trying to be brave like my mum. I’m going home, back to London, where people talk like me and where I’m not such a freak. My mum went to London on her own when she was young and now so am I. And even though I might be alone when I’m there, I actually won’t be because my dad lives in London – my dad! I’ve decided to go to the taxi rank at Waterloo and wait there for him. I have this feeling that if I see him and he sees me, we’ll immediately know that we’re related. I’ll get into his taxi and he’ll take me to his house and he’ll make me toast and we’ll sit on his sofa and watch Wogan together. We can have a proper chat and catch up on all the things we need to know. We’ve got a lot to tell each other. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. I want to know what his favourite things are and I want to know what he looks like. And I want to see if he can roll his tongue like me.
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