by Karen Osman
‘You don’t help matters, Maureen, spoiling him the way you do. He has to learn,’ stormed Bill and Paul held his breath already anticipating his father climbing the staircase towards him; but to his relief, he saw him follow his mother into the kitchen and he knew Maureen would make him a hot chocolate later when his dad had calmed down by way of an apology.
He was free.
For now.
He didn’t hesitate. Opening his bedroom door, he closed it behind him and lay on his bed letting his mind take him to the night before, but try as he might, his father’s face twisted in anger kept inserting itself, his mind like a faulty slide projector.
18
‘Will you stop going on, woman! You never, ever stop!’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this trip last week – what else are you hiding, James?’
Claire heard her father let out a sigh of frustration.
‘For God’s sake! Will you just—’
Claire put her Walkman headphones over her ears and turned up the volume to maximum. Like Paul, Claire was also lying on her bed, but she wasn’t thinking about him. She was just wishing her parents would shut the hell up. She remembered the first time she’d heard her parents arguing. She must have been about four years old. Her dad had put her to bed, read her a story, and then he’d gone downstairs. She was just about to fall asleep when she heard the shouting. She lay there listening, too terrified to sleep.
Over the years, it had followed a similar pattern. She didn’t really understand what her dad did for a living, just that he worked in retail and travelled a lot for business – at least once a month. She looked forward to when he was away, not because she wanted him out of the house but because during that time, there was no arguing. It was a trade-off though because in the lead-up to her father’s trips, the tension intensified. While Claire missed him, he usually came back with a present for her, especially when she was younger. They were small things, no doubt picked up hastily from the airport – a thimble with a dolphin on it, a cuddly toy, a puppet, a pen with a sparkly pom-pom on the end.
As she got older, she started asking questions about the places he’d been to and from then on, he usually bought her a travel guide. She had loads of them lined up alphabetically on her bookshelf and she knew she could open any one of them and see the mark her father had made on the map showing exactly where he’d been on that particular trip. She remembered him telling her that one day she could travel wherever she wanted to. What started off as an easy gift idea had turned into her dad’s way of encouraging her to explore the world.
But over time, it became clear to both of them that she was a home bird and very content to stay in the welcoming confines of Manchester and its suburbs. She’d been on many holidays abroad with her parents – Spain, Greece and even Florida one time – and she enjoyed them, mainly because her parents didn’t seem to argue as much, but she was always happy to come home.
She wondered idly if Paul had been abroad. Shame seeped through her at the thought of him. Would he find out he’d been part of a Queen Bee challenge? Probably. What a shit thing to do to someone. Claire let the blast of the Guns N’ Roses lyrics obliterate her guilt. The worst part of it all was that he was actually really nice. Most boys her age were complete idiots, but Paul seemed different – and that kiss! She hadn’t expected it to feel so…
Intense.
Urgent.
After John Griffith, Claire had kissed other boys at various parties. There was Cameron with his braces and saliva, Rich who had licked her teeth, and Tony – probably the best of a bad bunch, with his eager tongue. But Paul – kissing him reminded her of diving into a swimming pool – that blissful, almost euphoric moment when her body penetrated the water and became something else. And while Claire had been absolutely petrified of making the first move, she recalled how powerful she had felt afterwards.
But she knew she never would have done it had it not been for the Queen Bee club. Claire held up her wrist, imagining the little charms of the bracelet, the glint of silver against the cuff of her school shirt. All the girls who wore the bracelet kept their sleeves slightly higher above the wrist to make sure it could be seen. And you could bet your life on it, Claire would be doing the same.
*
‘Your father is travelling tomorrow, Claire,’ informed her mother at the dining table later that day when they were sitting down for lunch. ‘Why he’s travelling on a Sunday, I have no idea – maybe you can get it out of him.’
Claire looked at her dad. He looked fed up.
‘I already told you, Pat, the conference starts Monday, eight o’clock.’
‘It doesn’t take a whole day to get to London, James.’
‘It does on a Sunday. Look, we’ve been over this. Why don’t we just enjoy our lunch?’ replied James picking up his spoon. He indicated to their daughter, but the gesture was lost on his wife.
‘Well,’ continued Patricia, ‘I had planned to cook a nice Sunday roast followed by a family walk around the park, but there doesn’t seem much point now.’
Her mum had always been big on family outings. Growing up there’d rarely been a weekend when they hadn’t done something. Parks, museums, picnics if the weather was fine. As Claire had got older, she’d been less inclined to go on them, but her mother insisted at least once or twice a month. Claire used to love them but these days they felt forced and she wondered why her mum still clung to the ritual. She suspected it was because it was something to talk about with her friends and neighbours.
‘What will I do with the chicken? It’s such as waste,’ continued her mother.
No wonder Dad travels so much.
‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ interrupted Claire, easily slipping into her role as peacemaker. ‘Tomorrow, cook the chicken – we can still enjoy the roast and go for a walk just the two of us? Or…’ said Claire, hoping to break the tension, ‘we can watch Bullseye. You wouldn’t be able to do that if Dad was here.’
To her relief, both her parents chuckled. It was a long-standing joke about Patricia Sharpe’s secret addiction to the dart game show.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of cutlery and Claire felt her shoulders relax. Just today and tomorrow to get through and then it would be Monday and her new school life would begin! When Anne had joined the Queen Bees, there had been occasions when Claire had stayed at home while Anne went out to secret meetings and parties. They had always done everything together and Claire had felt excluded and hurt. Anne had always called her straight after and while she was secretive about what happened there, her excitement was palpable down the phone and Claire burned with jealousy. She understood why Anne had to be so cagey though – there was only one thing worse than not being in the Queen Bees and that was being thrown out of the Queen Bees.
Everyone knew that’s what had happened to Jennifer O’Reilly, although she told everyone that she got fed up with all the stupid rules and being told what to do. Either way, it was social suicide and she now hung around with some random girls from the year below. Claire had always been in the popular group. Not a leader as such but definitely an important member – there’d been about ten to fifteen of them and they did so much together. It was only when Charlotte had set up the Queen Bees that the group had become fragmented.
And now Charlotte was very much the leader. Claire thought of her; yes, she was pretty, but it was something more than that. She had a confidence about her that made her stand out and she always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else.
Claire remembered Rachel coming into school one morning proudly showing off her brand-new Walkman. But it wasn’t the normal black or grey one like most people had. It was yellow! Apparently, Rachel’s dad had gone to America on business and had picked it up there. And then Charlotte had seen it, had flicked her bag open, and taken out her own – a stunning red Walkman, with its own strap that went over the shoulder. You could wear it cross-body, like a bag. Everyone had gasped and crowed over it, desperate
to try it on and, just like that, Rachel had been forgotten.
And then there was the time Charlotte had organised and starred in the school uniform fashion show to model the trousers that girls were now allowed to wear. From then on, all the girls had worn trousers instead of skirts and Charlotte had shown everyone different ways to wear them. To Claire, they were just simple, navy-blue trousers but Charlotte had somehow managed to make them look like they deserved to be on the cover of Vogue. You could wear them turned up with cute ankle socks; you could wear them with the waistband turned down to create a low-rise jean effect or you could sew on tiny little sequins down the seam of the pocket. Never had a pair of trousers caused so much of a stir and it was then that Charlotte seemed to rise from the gaggle to someone just slightly superior.
A few weeks after the fashion show, Charlotte ran for head girl and won the number of votes by a large margin, despite being under a C average. Somehow the lack of grades only made the feat even more impressive. And then Charlotte had come up with the idea of the Queen Bees. She’d announced it one morning break time to the cluster of girls around her and when it was clear something exciting was going on, Anne and Claire had joined the fringe, curious.
‘…and it’s going to be called the Queen Bees. But not just anyone can get in. First, they have to be invited and then go through a secret initiation.’
Squeals of delight had erupted, and the girls had turned to each other clamouring with questions. What kind of secret initiation? What happens when you get into the Queen Bees? The bell had rung then, signalling the start of the next class and Charlotte had breezed off down the corridor, her troop following behind.
‘Could be fun,’ Anne had said as they walked to their classroom.
Claire had shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. ‘Could be.’
But privately, she felt a flicker of doubt, a hint of hesitation about the whole thing. It was the fact that some people would get in and some people wouldn’t. She hated competing because she hated not winning. Take the school cross-country run, for example, where it was easy to see who came first and who came last. It was ironic because she actually enjoyed running, just not in a race. This Queen Bee club had a similar feel – it was all in public and everyone knew who would be in and who would be out.
As she sat down next to Anne in class and began taking her books out of her bag, she felt the panic of wanting to get into the Queen Bees just so she wasn’t publicly humiliated about being excluded. At that moment, she’d hated Charlotte for setting up the stupid club. But now that she had passed the challenge and was about to be inducted, she forgot all those feelings. Like all the other girls who had passed the test, she couldn’t wait to show off her new membership. As she finished her soup, she wondered what would happen on Monday. The initiation process had always been a carefully guarded secret and Anne hadn’t even hinted about what she could expect.
Claire’s thoughts were interrupted by her mother clearing the dishes and automatically Claire got up to help. Her mother, who had been mostly silent for the remainder of lunch, had obviously gone into martyr mode, but it was better than the alternative. After clearing the table, Claire asked to be excused. She was due to meet Anne in town at two o’clock. Her mother simply nodded, while her father offered her a lift.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said. The weather looked pretty miserable. While it wasn’t raining the cloudy sky looked threatening.
‘Do you need anything from town, Mum?’ she asked, before heading to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
‘No, thank you,’ replied her mother primly. ‘Will you be back for tea?’
‘Yes, I’ll be back no later than six.’
Her mother nodded.
‘Leave in ten?’ she asked her dad now who was settling down the newspaper.
‘Ready when you are.’
After hurrying upstairs, she sat down at her vanity and applied some lip gloss. She also put on some clear mascara, the only type her mother would allow, and squirted Charlie Red perfume on her wrists. She went to her money box and took out some change, slipping it into her jeans pocket. When she went back downstairs, her dad saw her and stood up, picking up the car keys from the table.
‘See you later, Mum,’ she called from the hallway.
‘Bye,’ came the reply. Her mother must be in the small front room. She noticed her dad didn’t say anything but opened the front door and walked to the car. Claire hoped while she was out her parents would sort it out otherwise her mum would be difficult while her father was away. It was only a ten-minute drive from their house into Castlefield.
‘Where do you want me to drop you?’
‘At the library, please.’
Her dad nodded approvingly. If only he knew that she and Anne would spend several hours gossiping rather than reading.
‘I’ll miss you tomorrow, Claire Bear. Sorry about having to leave so early.’
‘That’s okay, Dad.’ She felt like she should tell him she was too old for such a babyish nickname, but she secretly loved it so she didn’t. ‘What’s the conference?’
‘Emerging Destinations for Retailers,’ he said grandly with a wink. ‘Four days of networking, events and information sessions.’
‘Sounds fun,’ replied Claire.
Her dad laughed, a nice sound that filled the car. ‘Well, let’s see. I’d rather be home with you but that’s life. What’s your plan this week?’
Claire thought about telling him about her initiation ceremony on Monday into the Queen Bees. Even though it was one of the most exhilarating things she’d ever done in high school – even more exciting than winning the Young Writers award or being selected as the President for the debate team – she had a sudden premonition that he might not understand. She knew he certainly wouldn’t approve of the challenge she’d just completed. Her mother, on the other hand, would certainly approve of the Queen Bees.
‘Not much – you know – schoolwork, homework.’
‘Well, you have your GCSE exams coming up in June.’
‘Yep.’ Claire felt dread at the mere mention of her exams. Her teachers had predicted mainly straight As on the basis of the mock exams and she worked hard enough but there was always the anxiety that she might fail. Her father must have sensed her worry because he leaned over and patted her on the knee.
‘You’ll be fine. You work hard and your mock results were fantastic.’
She looked over at him gratefully. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘You need me to help you with anything? Test you?’
The offer made Claire feel guilty about letting her dad assume she was going to the library to study. She decided on the spot to check out a few textbooks and bring them home and do some reading that evening.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks, maybe closer to the time though.’
‘Anytime.’
The library came into sight and her dad slowed down the car. She could already see Anne waiting inside the foyer.
‘Thanks!’ she said jumping out of the car.
‘Hey, Claire Bear!’ he called. She turned around, one hand already on the door handle ready to slam it shut. ‘You need a lift home?’
‘I don’t think so, but I’ll call you. I think Anne mentioned her mum coming to pick us up.’
‘Okay, well, call me from the payphone if you need picking up. Have you got some change for the phone box?’ Claire watched him scrabble in his pocket.
‘I do, Dad,’ she replied eager to get into the library.
‘Well, here’s another ten pence just in case.’
She took it, shut the door, waved to him and ran up the steps. At the top, she saw her dad drive off and she opened the door to join Anne.
‘Monday!’ said Anne triumphantly, bouncing on her feet with excitement. Claire could tell she was relieved that Claire was finally in the Queen Bees. Now that they would both be members, they could talk about everything to their heart’s content. She knew Anne didn’t like keeping secrets and there were times when bot
h girls were uncomfortably aware of the divide in their friendship over the summer. At the back of her mind, she wondered if Charlotte had deliberately done it that way but she quickly dismissed the thought. It was an exclusive club only for those who truly deserved to be in it. It was for winners. And finally, Claire was a winner.
19
Paul had ridden his bike to school on Monday morning. He knew it was a risk, but today, he was too happy to care. He’d spent most of his weekend daydreaming about Claire and in his mind, he pictured them together, boyfriend and girlfriend. What would Gavin make of that, he wondered gleefully. Paul going out with one of the popular girls. And not just popular but beautiful as well. He was obsessed with her hair, the long, golden waves making her look angelic and it got him hard just thinking about it. Gavin might even stop giving him a tough time – they could go back to being mates, just like before. They’d grown up in the same street for the first eleven years of their lives – it was only when Gavin’s dad had lost his job and they’d had to move to a rougher estate that things had gone sour between them. That and the streaming of the classes by ability.
As Paul double-locked his bike up and hoped no one would damage or steal it, he envisioned his new life. He and Claire would do everything together – study, do their A-level exams, apply to the same university, and graduate with honours, he as a doctor, and she… well, he didn’t know what her plans were, but she was intelligent and he would ask her what she wanted to be next time he saw her.
Gavin and he would be good friends again and Gavin would actually come to him and ask for advice on how to get a girlfriend. Brian would joke about being his best man at his wedding and Paul would shrug it off as if it was the last thing on his mind but really, he knew Brian would be his best man for sure.
Claire would call him every day after school and at weekends they would meet and study in the library together and kiss and hold each other and then she would say to him, Paul, you’re the one. You’re the one I want to be with. And he would look deep into her eyes and hold her and although she hadn’t said specifically, he would know exactly what she had meant, that he wanted him to take her and he would whisper back to her, Soon, I promise you, very soon.
