by Patrick Gale
While she gave Sophie a lesson in how to make apple charlotte, she subtly ascertained that Sophie knew what contraception was and knew she only had to ask Margaret as and when she felt the need of it. If the conversation made Sophie feel grown-up, the realization that she was shielding this older woman by not telling her about Lucas and Mortimer made her feel older still.
Sophie had become one of the oldest in the house without noticing it. Nikki and Gill, who had both been there for years, had left during the term, now that they were both seventeen, and found jobs with Marks and Spencer and a flat to share. Wilf was sixteen, still around but barely. Elaine the Pain had been driven away to the care of a foster family. There was one other older boy, Randall, who was fifteen, and a girl, Paula, also fifteen, so a year older than Sophie, but so disturbed and unsociable still that Sophie hardly knew her and was wary of befriending her. Before she started at Tatham’s, Sophie would have been fascinated by each new arrival and found out all about them – largely indirectly, through Wilf or one of the girls – but several children had arrived since she went away who still felt like strangers to her. This and the respect they showed her made her feel old and responsible, which left her torn. On the one hand she felt an old, familiar jealousy, wanting to regress to needily occupying a principal space in Margaret and Kieran’s preoccupations, on the other she felt flattered.
One of the new arrivals, an eight-year-old boy called Zacky, had latched on to her when she last took a group of them swimming because she helped him blow up his water wings and let him change in the ladies’ with her because the bigger boys were bullying him. Now he followed her like a dog with a runny nose. In the spirit of aspiring to be good, she fought down the impulse to drive him off with a harsh word or two and took him on so as to lighten the burden on Margaret. ‘He misses his mum,’ was all Margaret had said about him. ‘And he’s got a bladder like a sieve, so if he says he needs to go for God’s sake let him and fast.’
That afternoon Sophie had been going to the city library anyway so when Zacky started trailing after her, asking what could he do now, she took him with her. He had never been to the library before and was touchingly awed by it, not least by the fact that it was free.
‘I can take any books I want?’ he asked repeatedly.
‘Borrow, not take. From the children’s library, yeah,’ Sophie said. ‘Any six. But you have to bring them back in time or there’s a fine. Money to pay. And Margaret won’t lend it to you …’
She enrolled him in the children’s library and for a while he was quite happy poring over the books he had chosen at one side of a table while she took notes from a reference-only history encyclopaedia at the other. After a while he grew restless in a way that couldn’t be solved by a trip to the ladies’. He kept staring at her instead of reading – from the childishness of the books he had picked, she suspected his reading was not very advanced – and he asked her questions about her history project so loudly that people stared and shushed.
So she packed up their things and took him for a stroll by the river, then to the swings and slides. Unfortunately this made him want to piss again, urgently, so they had to hurry back along the river to a grubby little park near the bus station where she knew there were conveniences. He flatly refused to go into the ladies’ with her, as he had been happy to do at the library, and made so much noise about it that a policeman asked them what was wrong.
‘He needs to go to the loo,’ she told him, ‘but he won’t go in the ladies’ with me.’
‘Best take him home, then,’ he said. ‘You don’t want him going in there on his own.’
‘I’ll wet myself,’ Zacky shouted. ‘I will, you know.’
‘I don’t suppose …’ she started
‘Come on, then,’ the policeman said. ‘Don’t keep your mum waiting.’ He winked at her so she knew he didn’t really think she was a teenage mother. Rather sweetly, she thought, Zacky took his hand as they headed into the dingy gents’. Almost immediately she saw Lucas.
He emerged, tucking in the skinny, purple-striped cheesecloth shirt he had on. His hair seemed to have grown a lot since term-time but perhaps he was merely brushing it differently. He saw her and blushed so deeply and was in such obvious discomfort that every shred of animosity or awkwardness she had been feeling about him evaporated and she smiled.
‘Surprise!’ she said.
‘Hi. Er … what are you doing down here?’
‘A little friend needed a leak.’ She nodded towards the gents’ where the policeman was already coming out again, Zacky in tow. ‘Thanks,’ she called out as Zacky dropped his hand and ran over to her.
‘Who’s this?’ Lucas asked. ‘Your brother?’
‘I’m Zacky,’ said Zacky.
‘Not exactly,’ Sophie began.
‘She’s my mum,’ Zacky said and laughed when Sophie hotly denied it.
‘Zacky’s just come to live with us,’ she said. ‘Still settling in.’ And the three of them walked back up to the High Street. Her instinct was to send Zacky down the lane to the home on his own then walk on somewhere else with Lucas but Zacky and his chatter and tugging inexorably drew them both back there.
Pride made her resist explaining anything.
Let him ask, she thought.
She could see him working to piece evidence together. It must have been obvious to him the moment they arrived back and were on the short path that cut across the scrappy garden that surrounded the house. This was obviously neither a normal family house nor the house of a normal family. There were far too many clothes on the washing lines. There was an industrial bin on wheels instead of a small domestic dustbin. Had it been a winter afternoon, he’d have seen too, at a glance, the expanses of fluorescent lighting glaring from all the downstairs rooms that shrieked institution.
There were rules about bringing outsiders back so most people didn’t bother. If they made friends at school, they rarely wanted to risk sharing them in any case so visited them rather than bringing them back. You were only allowed one visitor at a time. They had to be signed into a book, introduced to either Margaret or Kieran and they weren’t allowed to penetrate further into the house than the communal areas, kitchen, dayroom and hall. (It wasn’t so different from the Daughters’ Staircase.)
As it was sunny and miraculously there wasn’t a gang of children messing about out there for once, Sophie kept Lucas in the garden and brought them both a big mug of tea and a handful of Jammy Dodgers. Margaret came out, tailed by Zacky, to take in the washing and came over to meet Lucas briefly. Sophie watched him taking her in, her tired, unmadeup face, her scrappily cut, home-dyed hair, and watched his automatic charm soften her expression as he admired her Chinese blouse.
‘Okay,’ Sophie sighed as Margaret left them alone. ‘So I know your dark secret and now you know mine. We’re quits. It’s not exactly Tinker’s Hill, is it?’
‘It’s okay. Which is your room?’
‘You can’t see my window from here. It’s round the back, over the kitchen.’
‘So is this an orphanage?’ he asked and she laughed.
‘Children’s home is the correct term. We’re a mixture. Kids in temporary care, while their parents are being sorted out or getting out of custody or whatever, kids waiting for adoption or fostering and several like me.’
‘Orphans.’
‘I lied about that. My parents are alive, I think. I just don’t know who they are. Bastard, not orphan.’
‘Wow.’
‘Sort of.’
They laughed but she could tell he was a bit nervous. He had never been in a situation like this before. Life with Heidi and Simon had given him no training in it. Apart from whatever glimpses his wicked sister had granted him of counterculture, this was probably a thrilling first glimpse into the dark underbelly for him. It was lucky for him Nikki and Gill had moved out or they’d have been over there by now asking him questions and putting the bad-girl frighteners on him.
‘Have you been he
re all your life?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I was four or five, I think. I don’t remember my dad at all, so he probably didn’t stick around. I don’t remember my mum either. Not really. Just her voice and being on my own a lot with lots of books. I think she was quite old. Not a teenager or anything like that. Or maybe she wasn’t my mum at all but my granny and then she couldn’t cope.’
‘Weird.’
‘Yeah. But Margaret’s nice and Kieran’s okay too. He’s taken all the others out somewhere. It’s not normally this quiet.’
‘Do you mind me asking questions?’ He looked at her, pushed his new, longer hair off his eyes.
‘Nope,’ she said, grinned. ‘My turn next.’
He pulled a Jammy Dodger in two, scraped at the filling with his front teeth. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘bad habit,’ and he munched the rest of the biscuit. ‘Why weren’t you adopted?’
‘People adopting want babies, I suppose. I must have been too old. And I stopped wanting to be. I mean a social worker comes once a year to check we’re all happy and so on and one of the things they always ask is do we want to be considered for adoption or fostering into a family. As long as I can remember I’ve been saying no thanks, I like it here. It’s a kind of family and I know where I stand. And the things you hear from some of the kids they bring in – stuff about unhinged foster parents and nightmare step-brothers – it’s enough to put you off. I’d show you my room but it’s not allowed.’
‘Why not?’
‘Perverts. Weirdoes. Whatever. Some of the little ones especially are really messed up about strangers, the ones who’ve been taken away from their parents, and they need to feel safe here. So. No strangers upstairs. Ever … Lucas?’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry. You know. About last term.’
‘No, I am. I should have said something. I was a coward and then I just thought …’ He pushed at his hair again then looked away at Zacky who was sitting on the doorstep with a half-deflated spacehopper and aching to join them. Sophie glared at the child and firmly shook her head. He dragged the spacehopper off to the yard at the back.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘I thought you were disgusted.’
‘How do you know I wasn’t?’
‘Well … We’re talking so …’
‘Were you in love with him?’ she asked.
He shook his head then sighed and said maybe.
‘You were kissing as if you were,’ she said.
‘Did you watch for long?’ he asked, beginning a mischievous smile.
‘Long enough,’ she said. ‘Can you see him again?’
‘Hardly. He’s doing VSO in the Sudan for a year then he’ll be up in Durham and … He didn’t give me an address or anything. We never discussed anything. I think it was just a 3D wank for him.’
‘Have there been others?’
‘Said the jealous wife.’
‘Sorry. But have there?’
He shrugged.
‘I mean,’ she asked, ‘do you think it’s just a sort of phase or is that who you are?’
‘Oh, it’s who I am.’ He flicked his hair out of his eyes and looked at her levelly.
‘No question?’
‘Never the slightest.’
‘What’s your mum say?’
‘Christ! Heidi’ll never know. Not till I leave home at least. Thanks to Carmel, I’ve got to be the good one. It’d kill her.’
‘Lucas, I think she knows already.’
‘She thought you were my girlfriend.’
‘So did I!’
‘You didn’t! Not really?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not really. But it was fun kidding myself.’
‘We could carry on, if you like.’ His offer was half-suggestion. ‘Pretending to people.’
‘I’m not being your fucking disguise.’
‘Sophia Cullen, you swore!’
‘What? I’ve sworn at you before. I swear all the fucking time.’
‘You don’t.’
‘I do when I’m home. They think I’m turning all poncy at the poncy school.’
‘Well you probably are, darling.’
She rolled over on her back on the grass. ‘So were it good?’ She dropped her voice a tone or two and mimicked Jonty’s accent. ‘Sex wi’ Mortimer.’
‘It were fucking fabulous, pet. He carried me up those steps once. And we did it on that roof of his, under the stars.’ He sighed. ‘The only reason you caught us that night was he was too horny to wait to get upstairs.’ He laughed shortly.
‘You miss him,’ she said. ‘You must do.’
Lucas shrugged, nodded glumly then pushed his melancholy aside like an old curtain. ‘So are we friends again? Will you come round to play?’
‘Of course! Aren’t you going away?’
‘Last two weeks of August, while the new kitchen’s put in finally. Till then Simon’s in chambers all the time and Heidi’s stuck in there with the skellies and slashers so we can’t even go on daytrips. I’m bored to death, splishing around the pool to keep cool. And if I don’t distract you you’ll only work. What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Oh. Hundreds of things. What d’you think?’
‘Come for lunch. Bring your swimmies and we can loll by the pool and pretend Tinker’s Hill is Bel Air.’
‘You’re on.’
‘Heidi’ll be happy. You’re not going to tell her, are you?’
‘I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend.’
‘No, no but –’
‘But I won’t tell her you’re a poof.’
‘Thanks.’
‘If you don’t go telling people about this place.’
‘You’re not ashamed or anything, are you?’ He frowned.
‘No but … Oh. I dunno.’ She sat up and picked at her feet with a twig. She remembered the eczema that was still showing behind her knees and tweaked her skirt to cover them. ‘I don’t like people jumping to conclusions, that’s all. If they know, I want it to be because I chose to tell them. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
The minibus pulled up outside and brought with it the noise of shouting children, slamming doors, music and Kieran’s growly requests for good sense.
‘I’d better go.’ Lucas stood, looming over her for a second and she remembered that now that it was established he could never be hers, she was at liberty to find him beautiful again.
‘Why don’t you ever get spots?’ she asked.
‘I do.’
‘Hardly. Not like Wilf. You get them so rarely it’s like a siren going off.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘My blemishes are all internal,’ he said. ‘Actually I scald my face with TCP most nights. I’ll probably erupt in weeping sores in my twenties. See you tomorrow.’
She enjoyed watching his awkwardness as he crossed the grass, eyeballed by the others as they came shambling in.
There was a noisy party in the house next door that night which normally would have infuriated her but she enjoyed lying on her bed – it was too warm for covers – happily contemplating the summer ahead, listening to the music and laughter through the open window and indulging in fantasy.
One day, after they had each independently enjoyed a profound but ultimately too scorching love affair, they would live together. Or not together but pleasantly side by side in some glamorous city, like Paris or New York, where there was street life, music on the night air like this and where they had strings of interesting lovers but were always there for one another. As she finally fell asleep, she was mapping in her mind the small, perfect house where they could have a floor each, with a kitchen in the middle perhaps, where they might meet by the fridge for gossip after a night of delicious parties. She could wear the top halves of his pyjamas and they would cut one another’s hair sitting in the bath and share a brace of Abyssinian cats with wittily paired names and people would be excited to know them.
She apprehended with a jolt of rebellious joy tha
t, however virtuously she studied, her life was not after all to be conformist and continent and polite. It would follow an uncharted route somewhere between the life paths of Kimiko’s Christian Union friends and the Wakefield House bad-girls. It would be interesting and vivid in ways that would earn her both disapproval and envy. As she fell asleep her future seemed briefly offered to her as something she could seize unapologetically like a greedy child and taste till its juice ran down her chin.
MICHAELMAS TERM
(fourteen years, nine months)
For four glorious weeks of the Michaelmas term, everything was perfect. The weather was golden, her set texts were good (Learning to Philosophize, The Doors of Perception & Heaven and Hell, L’Etranger, Aeneid Book One, Thucydides Book Six) and she had only one frightening teacher. (This was Mr Headbourne, for maths, whose dulcet sarcasm gave way without warning to losses of temper so violent that neighbouring classes would fall silent out of respect.) With Jonty Mortimer gone and writing no letters, Lucas’s friendship with Sophie was reestablished on a far stronger footing. There was new knowledge and honesty between them. He shared his passing crushes with her, reducing them to unthreatening entertainment, and opened her eyes to the network of unofficial romances around the school, including a notorious one carrying on between two Scholars of which she had been entirely unaware. He sought her out for snatched, hilarious bulletins, between lessons. He began to play with her name and tried out Sophie, Soph, So and Phi. Phi was her preferred one, as he pronounced it like the Greek letter, but no one else seemed to take it up and she suspected it wouldn’t stick. She called him Lou, which he seemed to like, but his failure to find a nickname that fitted her was like a small warning that something between them remained unsettled.
She let Kimiko believe that she had arrived at some mysterious, adult rapprochement with him but, with the memory of last term still raw, she did not repeat the mistake of exclusivity. She maintained her quieter relationship with Kimiko on a lesser footing but in a separate part of her life: along with Jesus, Tampax and the occasional ache in the breasts she was, at long last, acquiring.
She continued to slip down from the ringing-chamber to receive communion but it began to feel too routine to work much magic on her. She decided not to go home with Lucas for lunch every Sunday and not to go to Christian Union every Sunday but to keep them both appreciative of her feminine right to withhold herself. Stung by something Kieran had said as he and the youngest ones waved her off at the start of term, she made an effort to stay in touch with Wakefield House, writing the occasional letter to Wilf and sometimes breaking the rules on a half-holiday by using a licensed trip to the shops as cover for straying beyond bounds to surprise Margaret and Kieran with a quick visit home.
