by David Belbin
Without looking at Becky, Rachel nodded.
“How long have you been together?”
“Two weeks,” Rachel said. She could hardly say two days. Two weeks seemed a short time to wait before you started having sex with someone. But the nurse didn’t seem surprised. She took Rachel’s blood pressure.
“You’ll probably be prescribed the combined pill,” she said, “but you should be aware that it can take three to six months to get used to it. Some girls get side effects. It can take a little while to find which is the right pill for you.”
“Does it work straight away?”
“You need to wait seven days, unless you start taking it on the first day of your period. Then you must take it regularly. If you delay for more than twelve hours at any time, your system’s not protected. It wakes up, and you can become pregnant.”
On her way out, the nurse gave Rachel a green card, like a credit card, with a number on it. The two girls walked up to the Teenage Clinic.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Becky said.
Rachel shook her head. She felt shell-shocked.
The family planning doctor repeated the things the nurse had told her about the morning-after pill. She should take two lots of two, twelve hours apart. Rachel was likely to feel queasy, or worse, and shouldn’t make plans to do anything tonight. Tomorrow, she should be sick. The pills could delay her period or bring it on early. It was important that she went back for a check up after six weeks.
Rachel took her pills after dinner that night and felt lousy for the rest of the evening. Mum was out, visiting Tina Scott, but Rachel wasn’t tempted to call Mike. She woke up early the next morning, still feeling queasy, and took her other two pills. Then she told her mum that she felt too ill to go to school and went back to bed. Two or three hours later Rachel rushed to the bathroom and was sick. The pills had worked. She didn’t need to go back to the doctor for more. Only as she got back into bed did Rachel remember that it was Valentine’s day.
Eight
“Are you sure you’re well enough to babysit?” Mum asked that evening.
“I’m fine,” Rachel insisted, though she wasn’t a hundred per cent.
“You’re very dressed up for an evening at your father’s.”
Rachel had on a black, woollen dress which had once been Mum’s. She felt sexy in it. “It’s what I feel like wearing,” she said.
Mum gave her a glance which was almost suspicious. “And you’re sure you’re over whatever it was?”
“Yes. I must have eaten something which didn’t agree with me.”
“I’ll run you to your father’s, to be on the safe side.”
It was unusual for Mum to drive Rachel to Dad’s. She didn’t like driving at the best of times, especially in the dark. Nor did she like going anywhere near Dad’s expensive house. From what Rachel knew, their divorce had been very acrimonious. Mum got their tiny terraced house, but never had enough money. She still resented not having finished university and blamed it on Dad. At least, that was what Rachel thought. Mum rarely talked about Dad.
“Is it this one or the next one?”
“This one.”
They turned up Tavistock Drive.
“You’re sure you’ve got everything for school tomorrow? You’re not taking another day off if you’re out babysitting tonight.”
“Yes. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride.”
Dad and Clarissa were waiting to go out.
“They’re both in bed. I said you’d go up and read them a story,” Clarissa said. “Phoebe’s quite upset that she hasn’t seen you since Christmas.”
“OK,” Rachel told her.
Dad wore the new overcoat Clarissa had bought him for Christmas, beneath which Rachel could see a fancy silk tie. Clarissa, as far as Rachel could see, had made less effort. She was wearing, Rachel noted with amusement, the skirt she had borrowed on Saturday afternoon. Dad gave her the number of the restaurant they’d be at.
“I expect you’ll be in bed by the time we’re back,” he said.
I expect I’ll be in bed long before then, Rachel thought, seeing them out.
Phoebe and Rowan were happy to see her. They both seemed a little clingy and Rachel had trouble getting away. After twenty minutes, she managed to escape and ring Mike.
It was half-past eight. She’d told him to come at nine, but he might assume that it was off because Rachel had missed school today. There was a coal fire burning in the grate. As his phone rang, Rachel imagined herself making love to Mike on the rug in front of it. They would probably be safer, though, in her bedroom, in case one of the kids came down.
The phone was answered. Rachel prayed it would be Mike, not Phil.
“It’s me,” she said. “Can you talk?”
“Yes. Phil’s taken Tracey out to dinner.”
“I’m at Dad’s. The kids should be asleep by now. Come round as soon as you can. Tap on the window like we said.”
“Great. Are you all right? When you weren’t in school today …”
“It was nothing,” Rachel said. “A twenty-four hour thing. I’m over it.”
Should she tell Mike what really happened? Rachel didn’t think so. She wanted him to think of her as a grown up, not as a young virgin too embarrassed to ask him to take precautions. Tonight, though, Rachel would be more assertive. She had a handbag full of free condoms from the Safe Sex Centre. She would say that she was on the pill, but ask him to wear one anyway. Like the nurse said: belt and braces. After the powerful drugs she’d taken, which still left her feeling a bit nauseous, Rachel was probably safe. But she was taking no chances.
Mike put down the phone, barely able to contain his excitement. He bounded upstairs to the bathroom, ran an electric razor over his face and patted on some aftershave. Saturday still seemed like a dream. He’d been reconciled to not seeing Rachel that weekend. One minute he was putting up a shelf in the living room to hold his CD collection, the next he was driving to her father’s house. Fifteen minutes after her phone call they were making love. Tonight, he reminded himself, he must talk about contraception. He’d thought Rachel was on the pill, but then he’d found she was a virgin and realized that she might have been lying. The last thing he wanted to do was get a sixteen-year-old girl pregnant. He put some condoms in his pocket along with a tape and a Valentine’s day card.
Rachel slipped the door open seconds after he tapped on the window. She looked at least nineteen, he thought. They went into the living room and kissed.
“What was wrong with you today?” he asked.
“A tummy bug. Did I miss much?”
He shook his head. They exchanged Valentine’s cards. Mike gave Rachel a tape of the latest REM album. They embraced fiercely in front of the fire. Mike wanted her there and then, but Rachel pulled away.
“We’d better go upstairs. Sometimes one of the children comes down because they want a drink, or they’ve had a bad dream.”
“All right,” Mike said, then added, “Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“What?”
“I’ve got a spare ticket to see Oasis at the Sheffield Arena, end of the Easter holidays. I got one for Emma but ... would you like to go with me?”
“Would I?” Rachel said, a smile spreading across her whole face.
“Can you square it with your mum?”
“I’ll think of something,” Rachel said, then hugged him. “You’re brilliant.”
They went upstairs and undressed each other. On Saturday, they’d both been nervous, and awkward. Mike had been worried about hurting her. Tonight, he was very gentle, and careful. When they were ready, Rachel said, “I’ve got the pill, but …”
“It’s all right,” Mike told her. “I’ll wear something, until we’re both sure it’s safe.”
This time, when he was inside her, Rachel seemed to relax, and became more passionate. Her innocence and inexperience excited Mike. Again, it was over far too quickly. Mike checked his watch.
It was only twenty-past nine.
“We’ll have time to do this again,” Mike told Rachel, stroking her back.
“Yes, please,” she said.
Naked on the narrow bed, they told each other everything: their parents’ divorces, what their childhood was like, the things they meant to do with their lives. Rachel wasn’t sure if she wanted to go to university, but she was going to become an actress, she knew that. Mike admired her certainty.
At ten, they made love again, but had to stop.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked.
“I’ve got a pain,” she told him. “It’s my tummy again. I’ll be all right, but ...”
Her voice trailed away.
“What?”
She put a finger to her lips and they both heard it. People coming in.
“Oh, God,” Rachel said, pulling away from him.
“I thought you said ...”
“I know. I know!”
Rachel was frantically getting dressed. Mike did the same.
“I thought you were staying the night,” he said.
“I was,” Rachel told him. “Maybe I still am. It depends how much Dad’s had to drink. He might want to drive me home.”
Mike suggested a plan. “I could stay in here. You could tell them you’d gone to bed and I could sneak out when they’re asleep.”
“It wouldn’t work,” Rachel told him. “You’d set off the burglar alarm.”
Mike sighed. From the landing outside, he heard a man’s voice hiss, “Rachel?”
“Wait here,” Rachel whispered to Mike. “I’ll be back.”
She switched off the light before opening the door. Mike heard her tell her father, “I was just getting ready for bed.”
Mike sat in the dark, sweating. Suppose he was discovered? Rachel’s father would recognize him. What then? Violence, probably. Mike would be out of a job, most likely, and would lose Rachel, too. He didn’t know which scared him the most.
Suddenly the door burst open and the light flashed on. Mike jumped.
“Only me,” Rachel said, throwing his leather jacket on to the bed. “We’re lucky. Dad didn’t notice this. You’d left it in the lounge.”
Mike put it on. “What’s happening?”
“I think Dad and Clarissa had a row. They’re not talking. He insists he wants to take me home. I think he just wants to get out of the house.”
As she talked, Rachel was shoving things into her overnight bag.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“You’ll have to sneak out when Dad’s driving me home. Clarissa’s bound to either stay in the lounge or go to bed. The alarm won’t be on till Dad gets back. If I can, I’ll leave the front door on the latch so you don’t make much noise. All right?”
“It doesn’t sound like I have much choice,”
Mike said. “I’m sorry about all this,” Rachel said, kissing him. “Night.”
“Night.”
They hadn’t arranged to meet again, Mike realized, with a pang of regret. But he had more immediate problems to face.
Mike heard the front door close. The idea of walking down the stairs and through the hallway didn’t appeal to him, but there was little choice. Even if he were able to climb out of the window and jump into the garden without hurting himself, there was a big fence all around it. He might be trapped.
Mike opened the door a little and listened. The landing was dark. The last thing Mike wanted was to bump into Rachel’s stepmother as she was coming up to bed. But it was early. She was probably in the lounge, having a drink in front of the fire.
Mike tiptoed across the landing. There was no sound from downstairs. He would have to risk the stairs. What if someone disturbed him? He would pull his jacket over his face and run out, pretending to be a burglar. It might work.
Mike was halfway down the stairs when the lounge door opened. He ducked, hoping he couldn’t be seen from the hall. If she came upstairs now, he was done for. Footsteps crossed the hall. Mike stopped breathing for a few seconds. Then he heard the sound of a phone being dialled.
“Hi, Mum. It’s me.”
“An unmitigated disaster,” Clarissa said, in reply to something. “He said he would, but he won’t.”
Mike didn’t listen closely to the call. He looked at his watch. At this time of night, Stonywood was a five or, at most, a ten-minute drive. Unless Mr Webster stopped off somewhere, he would be back in five minutes.
Clarissa Webster seemed to realize this too. He heard her winding up the call. “Look, I’d better go to bed. I don’t want to be up when he comes back. No, I’ll sleep in Rachel’s room tonight. I made up a fresh bed for her.” Mike began to panic. What state had they left the room in? He crept up the stairs, as quietly as he could, while Clarissa was still talking, and straightened the sheets. Then he went back out on to the landing.
She’d hung up. Where could Mike hide? The house had four bedrooms. Clarissa was bound to go into her own bedroom and into Rachel’s room and the bathroom. She’d probably check the kids before getting into bed, too. Nowhere was safe.
Mike crept back down the stairs. Rachel’s father would be home any moment. He could hear Clarissa moving about in the kitchen. The microwave pinged. She was probably making herself a hot drink to take to bed. As he got to the bottom of the stairs, Mike saw that the kitchen door was open. He saw Clarissa’s back, then her profile. She was a slender, pretty woman the right side of thirty. For a moment, he thought that she was going to turn and see him. Instead, she turned the other way, reached over to pick up something, and was out of sight.
Mike dashed across the hall, into the porch. If Rachel’s father came back this minute, he would bump into him. Rachel had left the door on the latch, as she’d promised. Gently, Mike tugged it open, then let the latch go. He pushed the door closed behind him as quietly as he could. Then he ran up the path and out on to the street. He got into his car just as a black Shogun swept past him and turned into the Webster’s drive.
Never again, he told himself, as he drove home. This has to stop.
Nine
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”
Rachel made her exit, then waited while Nick did the scene’s final lines with his usual studied casualness. They joined Ms Howard in the corner of the drama room, where she went through several points about their performances. The half-term holiday started tomorrow. There would be no more rehearsals for ten days.
“Anything to add, Mr Steadman?” Ms Howard asked when she was done.
“I don’t think so,” Mike said. “It’s coming along well.”
“Walk you home?” Nick offered as the two teachers conferred.
Rachel glanced hopefully over at Mike, but it was clear he wouldn’t get away. “Thanks,” she said, absentmindedly.
The streets of Stonywood were safe, compared to parts of the inner city, but Rachel still felt uneasy walking home alone when it was turning dark. A girl from school had been pulled into an alley and raped the year before. At the time, Mum made Rachel carry an alarm in her handbag, though she’d since lost it.
“You seem different somehow,” Nick said, as they left the school site. “More confident.”
“Maybe it’s the hair,” Rachel said, then regretted her flippancy. Nick knew her well enough to know that she’d changed. But she couldn’t tell him why.
“Have you got a new boyfriend?” Nick asked, zeroing in on the truth.
Rachel shook her head. “No boys until after the exams,” she lied. “The play’s a big enough distraction.”
“You could see me,” Nick suggested, gently. “You’ve got to see me anyway.”
Rachel was silent. When would he give up?
“You never really explained why you finished with me,” Nick added.
“I did,” Rachel insisted, though, now she thought about it, she couldn’t remember what reasons she’d given him, couldn’t quite recall what reasons she’d give
n herself, except that he wasn’t old enough. Nick didn’t press the point.
“It must be the play that’s changed you,” Nick said. “You really can act. I’m impressed. I guess that’s what’s making you more ...” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. When Rachel looked at him, desire was written all across his face.
“I nearly sent you a Valentine,” Nick said, as they got to the end of her street. “But I didn’t know if ...”
Rachel stopped and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t,” she said. “Let’s enjoy acting together. OK?”
He gave her his sad-eyed smile. “OK. See you after half- term.”
He turned back and, with the smallest of waves, walked away.
Mum wasn’t back from work. Rachel put her REM tape on the stereo downstairs, cranking up the volume until it made the shelves shake. Heavy metal chords ran through her body as she threw herself around the living room. All the songs seemed to be about sex. Her favourite was called “Crush with Eyeliner”. The singer said he was smitten, infatuated. It was the way Rachel felt about Mike.
That night, Mum had to go out for some kind of extra school governors’ meeting. Rachel rang Mike, but Phil Hansen answered the phone. She wished her lover lived alone. There was nothing to do but spend the evening watching TV. BBC1 had a new series about moral dilemmas, Do the Right Thing: tonight, should teachers be allowed to have love affairs with their pupils? It looked really tacky, but Rachel couldn’t stop herself watching. At the beginning, the studio audience voted a unanimous “no” to the question. By the end, however, after a silly dramatization which ended with the teacher being sacked, two thirds of the audience had changed their minds, because the couple were in love.
