by Beth Miller
‘Good luck, Miff,’ Danners said, and ruffled my hair. Then he straightened up as Sasha came in with her parents and rushed to hug me. She looked amazing in a blue sleeveless dress, but brushed aside all my compliments.
‘No one looks nicer than you today, Mel!’
As I made my way to the front row, Jay met me in the aisle. ‘Good luck,’ he whispered. In front of the whole congregation he kissed my cheek and his face went pink. I sat down in my seat with a thud and tried to replace the smile on my face with a properly serious expression.
Bernice sat behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. ‘Lissa, when do we pin the money on your dress? I’ve got a tenner and a pin all ready.’ She showed me.
Danners started laughing. ‘You’re thinking of Greek weddings!’
‘I thought it was batmitzvahs.’ Bernice looked disappointed. ‘Are you sure?’
Mum was laughing too. ‘Oh, Bernice, you sweet confused Catholic girl.’
We were still giggling when the organ struck up. I turned quickly but it wasn’t Mrs Morente playing; it was Rosa Spiegel. I caught Mum’s eye but she shook her head very slightly. Dad sat down on my other side, Rabbi Aron came up to the pulpit in his bright white tallis, and the service began.
There were a lot of prayers and songs to get through and it was agony waiting to be called up, but finally, through a haze, I heard Aron say, ‘… and so to celebrate her passage into adulthood, we now call Melissa Cline to read from the Torah.’
A wave of calm blew over me as I walked up to the pulpit, where the scroll was waiting, unrolled to the correct place, right at the start. Aron smiled, touched my shoulder and moved away. Then I was up there all alone. I gazed out across the dozens of faces looking expectantly at me. Laura wasn’t there but I could see everyone else, all my best people in the world, watching and smiling. My eyes filled with tears. They were all here for me. I bent my head, blinked away the tears, took a deep breath as Max had taught me, picked up the silver yad, the pointer, and began slowly to run it across the Hebrew so I wouldn’t lose my place.
‘Barayshis borah Elohim,’ I began, loud and clear, as I had practised it a thousand times. ‘Et Ha-shamayim vaetz ha-aretz. In the beginning God created the Heavens and the Earth …’
I don’t know what it was like, but I know I didn’t make any mistakes. When I’d finished I stood quietly while Rabbi Aron whispered a special blessing, just for me. You could hear a pin drop in the shul, but I was the only one who could hear what he said. ‘Melissa, it has been a privilege to get to know you. You will make a worthwhile contribution in whatever you choose to do as an adult. There will be hardships and difficulties ahead, but I’m sure you will overcome these. Melissa, you are a special young woman with a great future.’
He didn’t tell me he loved me and wanted to marry me, but hey, you can’t have everything.
He took both my hands in his and said the final blessing out loud. ‘May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.’
He let go of my hands and I turned to face the congregation, ready to go back to my seat, but everyone burst into applause. I didn’t know you were allowed to do that in shul. Uncle Kenny stood up and started cheering. I waited a moment, taking it in, then I climbed down the steps and sat down between Mum and Dad. They both put their arms round me. Mum was crying, and Danners leaned across Dad to slap my back, and Dad kissed the top of my head, and the clapping died away, and Rabbi Aron delivered his usual boring sermon, and Nat Samuels fell asleep with his mouth open, and I felt for once that I was the right person in the right place at the right time.
The Last Dance
My batmitzvah party was held in the shul hall straight after the service. There were hundreds of cards and presents. Danners said I’d got even more than him.
Sasha told me I’d looked poised and beautiful, and Shelley from the youth club said she would never live up to me when she did hers next month. Max, leaning on a stick, came up with his wife, who was quite pretty for an old lady. Max said he was very proud of me. As soon as I turned away from them, there was someone else wanting to tell me how great I’d been. It was lovely.
I was allowed three helpings of profiteroles. After the toasts – to me, my parents, my grandparents, the Chief Rabbi and the Queen – the tables were cleared away and a proper disco was set up, with flashing coloured lights. All the younger people started dancing and I was right in the middle. Sasha and Shelley grabbed my hands and we whirled round till we were dizzy. I didn’t even think about what my dancing looked like, it just felt so great. ‘Good Vibrations’ came on, which I’d put on the list weeks ago because it was one of Laura’s favourites. I felt funny for a moment, then Danners and Towse came over to dance with us girls. It was all very mature. No one flopped their Vienna sausage willies into anyone else’s hands; we all just kept dancing and laughing, swapping all the time so that one minute Sasha and I would be jiving, then Danners would be whirling me about, then I’d be swinging round with Towse. Cousin Alisa and Simon were dancing madly near us, and Auntie Leila was happily doing some kind of hippy moon-dance by herself in a corner. I caught a glimpse of Mum and Dad sitting by themselves, talking and looking very serious. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
We were all exhausted by the time the slower songs came on. Many of the older couples got up on the dance floor, even Booba and Zaida Cline. Jay asked me to dance, and as I stood up to take his hand I saw Towse sitting a few tables away, watching us. Jay and I danced as though we’d been together all our lives. It felt so comfortable and natural, and he didn’t ask me upstairs to play with his penis. We smiled at each other as we moved slowly round the room.
When the song finished, Dad came over. ‘Sorry to butt in, young man, but may I have this next dance with my daughter?’
Jay handed me over with a little bow, and Dad began to guide me round the floor. ‘Do you remember when you were little and used to dance on my feet?’
‘Oh, groan, Dad, so sentimental.’ But I did remember. ‘Shall we do it now?’
‘I think you might do me a mischief in those stilettos. Anyway, you’re too tall now to need the extra boost.’
I really must have grown. I was up to his shoulder, over which I could see Cousin Linda. She was watching Jay hopefully, but he sat drinking a glass of juice and looking across at me. Towse was hippy-dancing with Auntie Leila. I have no idea how that happened. Danners danced past with Sasha. She looked cool and in control.
Dad said, ‘You were amazing today, Lissa.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And so that makes it even harder to say this.’
I stopped dancing, my heart pounding. ‘What?’
He carried on moving me round so that we were still dancing. ‘Everyone’s having a great time. Let’s not attract any attention.’ When I started moving again he said, ‘In a few minutes, I’ll be leaving the party. I’ve arranged for taxis to take you all home later.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m moving away, darling.’
There was a rushing sound in my ears, covering up the music.
‘It’s nothing you or Danny have done, do you understand? It’s not anything Mummy’s done, either. We just don’t love each other any more.’
‘But Mummy’s got new perfume.’
‘I know she has, darling.’
I started to cry, silent tears that I hid by putting my head on Dad’s shoulder. He held me tight and hummed quietly as he whirled me round.
‘You won’t get to see my presents.’
‘You can write and tell me every single thing you get, and soon, before you know it, you’ll come to my new house and you can bring all your favourite presents.’
‘Where is your new house?’
‘As soon as I’ve found somewhere, you’ll be the first to know.’
‘Why do you have to go tonight?’
‘Darling, I’ve waited months. Staying is just making lots of people very unhappy. I promised
I’d wait till your bat-mitzvah, but I must go straight away.’
‘Does Mum know?’
‘Yes. But Danny doesn’t. I’m going to tell him after I’ve spoken to you.’
I grabbed his arm. ‘Does this mean you won’t be coming to Pontins?’
‘Oh, darling!’ He half-laughed. ‘I think maybe Mummy and Auntie Leila will take you very soon.’
I wanted to say it wouldn’t be the same without him, but the song had ended and he was already moving away.
‘Will you go and sit with Mummy?’
I nodded, and he pulled me towards him in such a tight hug I thought I’d be crushed. He kissed me on the forehead, and then he was walking away from me, towards Danners. Dad led him over to the front entrance. Before they went through the door, Dad turned and gave me a little wave. Then he was gone.
I went over to Mum. Bernice was sitting on one side of her, Auntie Leila on the other. The disco lights were flashing on and off their faces. Red, green, yellow. Bernice shifted down a chair for me and I sat next to Mum. She clutched my hand, and we all sat there, saying nothing, staring straight ahead at the happy dancing crowd.
After a few minutes, Danners reappeared alone, looking bewildered. Auntie Leila moved down a chair and he took her place. Mum in the middle, Danners and I on either side of her, we waited for my party to end.
Melissa
11 APRIL 2003
Sixteen days ago the baby was born.
Six days ago Laura came out of hospital.
Five days ago Huw moved out.
Despite living in a house where the marriage has just fallen apart, I’m happy. That’s shocking. I’m happier than I’ve been for years.
Only when I think about Evie does my mood crash. She’s a bit younger than I was when my dad left, but she seems much more mature. She knows more than I did. She knows her parents weren’t getting on, that her dad didn’t want another baby, and that her mum went a bit mad over Danners. She even knew, before Laura did, that Huw was seeing someone, because she saw messages on his phone. None of this awareness makes it any easier, of course. In fact, some of the things I didn’t know when my parents split were good things not to know. Evie looks like she’s carrying a physical burden on her slim shoulders.
There is one positive thing. ‘At least the shouting’s stopped.’
When she says that, the ground tips slightly; I am transported back to my teenage bedroom, playing loud music to cover up the sound of my parents arguing.
Olivia is taking Evie to Spain tomorrow for the Easter holiday, to the ancestral home I once visited as a child. Some cousins live there now. It’ll be good for Evie to have a change of scene, but I’ll miss her. I do the school drops and pick-ups, and I love that time with her, when she opens her heart and tells me how she feels about her parents, or her friends, or boys. She talks about Micah a lot, presses me for a level of detail about him that I don’t possess. I don’t discourage her, though I know Danners and Hella will forbid the friendship when they’re older. For now, they’re just kids, and I’m not going to tell anyone about their innocent correspondence.
Today’s the last day of term. When I pull up at the school Evie turns to me.
‘You know I’m going away tomorrow, Auntie Lissa?’
‘I do. See if you can find the well in the back garden for me!’
‘You’ll still be here when I get back.’
It’s a statement, not a question.
‘Of course I will, sweetheart. I can’t wait to hear all about it.’
She leans across and kisses me before getting out of the car. Oh, the feel of her lips against my cheek. Her face is almost the size of a grown woman’s, yet so child-like, the skin impossibly soft. Dear God, what it is to have a child. To watch them grow. She goes into school and I sit in the car with misty eyes till someone hoots. Sentimental old fart.
Back at the house I collect Laura and drive us to hospital, our daily routine. In the lift we go, along the sparkly corridor to the Special Care Baby Unit, where Laura scrubs up and goes in, feeds the baby with a tiny bottle. I watch through the window. There was a heart-stopping scare last week when they thought he’d got an infection, but he is back on track now. Laura’s face as she bends over him is something to see. She is radiant.
Later we go for lunch, often to my favourite café. Laura likes the chicken soup too. If we’re feeling adventurous, we go further afield, one time to a café near Penmon Point, and once as far as a pub on the Llyn Peninsula. I am getting to know the area, the well-known places and the secret treasures.
Back home, Laura has a rest, as she’s still rather weak, and I collect Evie from school. Then all three of us visit the baby together. This is my favourite part of the day. Evie and I stand together outside the unit and watch Laura with the baby. After that it’s home, supper, telly, bed. It’s not exciting, but it is extraordinarily fulfilling. I am needed, useful, at the centre of my own little universe.
I really ought to think about finding work soon. My savings won’t last for ever. Occasionally when I’m drifting off to sleep I wonder what I’m doing here, what happened to my own life. But mostly I’m in limbo, agreeably disconnected from the rest of the world. Some days I feel as if the baby we’re going to see is mine. Other days I feel so close to Laura I wonder if the staff think we’ve become a couple.
I’ve only left Wales once since I got here nearly a month ago; it was last week to meet Danners. He was at a conference in Chester and we met for lunch. It took me nearly the whole hour to get up the courage to ask about the abortion, but as soon as I said, ‘Laura’s been telling me some things I didn’t know about, from when we were younger,’ he knew what I meant.
I’ve seen him cry plenty – he is an emotional man – but the expression on his face was so sad, so lost, I almost cried myself. We held each other for a few minutes in that dingy town pub, with its brown walls and violently patterned carpet, the barman wiping glasses in a trance, the barmaid flirting wearily with the lunchtime punters, on a break from their sales meetings and conferences.
‘I wish you’d told me, Danners. I might have helped.’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. Except Hella when we married. She was amazing.’ He picked up his glass and drained his orange juice, though there was nothing much left but a couple of ice cubes. Then he set the glass down, carefully, in the exact same spot, back in its circular puddle of condensation. I could see that he’d had enough of the conversation. Danners would be such a great subject for psychotherapy. There’s so much locked away in there.
‘Have you seen these?’ he asked, showing me the latest photos of Ishmael on his phone. Then it was time for us to go – he back to his conference; me to my car, and the drive back to Aber. We hugged goodbye outside the pub.
He said, ‘Is it okay, being there?’
‘It’s really okay. I love it, in fact.’
‘Be careful, though?’
‘I’m a grown-up now.’
‘You’re still my little sister.’
I watched him as he walked away. He still believes in Laura’s supernatural powers to cause harm.
If he was with us today, he might feel vindicated in that belief. Laura and I are back in the chicken soup café, having a nice discussion about the baby’s name. I used to love planning names when Jay and I thought we were going to be parents. Laura still hasn’t chosen one, says it’s tempting fate to get too attached to the baby. Then she suddenly leaps headlong into a heavy conversation, deliberately rocking the boat.
‘What was it like for you, Miff, after we went?’
It’s so out of the blue, I can’t think what she means. After who went where? Then I realise with a thud that she means after she left Edgware with Olivia and Dad, twenty-odd years ago.
‘Do you really want to go over this now, Laura?’
‘I thought it might help me understand what Evie’s going through.’
I put my spoon down. ‘The two situations aren’t at all the same.’
> ‘I know. It was so much worse for you. Your dad left with someone you trusted. And you lost your best friend.’
Her eyes are full of concern. I feel my anger threatening to well up. Then I remember the last time I lost my self-control with Laura, and swallow it down.
‘Your own parents divorced, Laura. You know what it’s like.’
‘I was younger when they split, though. I only remember being relieved.’
Trying to divert the conversation, I say, ‘Did you ever hear from your dad again after he left?’
‘Birthday presents for a couple of years, but I haven’t heard anything in decades.’
‘Your mum mentioned him when you were in hospital. Wondered whether she ought to get in touch with him.’
‘God, how weird. Hope she doesn’t. Anyway. Please could we talk a little about us, back then?’
I sigh.
Laura says, ‘It’ll be good for me to hear it. You know. Cleansing.’
‘Oh well, if it’d be cleansing.’
‘Shit, Miffy. I don’t mean to piss you off. Sorry. It’s just … it’s been on my mind so much. I can’t stop thinking about it.’
‘If we’re really going to talk about this, let’s go outside. I’ll need a cigarette.’
We take our coffees to the outside table, cast iron, grey with lack of use. The sky is white and bright, with no warmth coming through. Laura looks at me expectantly, but I’ve no idea how to start. I light my cigarette, take a long healing drag, close my eyes and think, as so often, of my beloved Auntie Leila, who died twelve years ago. Lung cancer. She was a heroic smoker, kept it going till the very end. I used to model my smoking style on her: flamboyant, lots of dragon-style snorting through the nostrils, streams of smoke rings.
How do I talk about this without upsetting Laura? Or myself? A small, dark part of me feels like being very blunt, showing Laura just how much she hurt me. In every sense of the word. Childish, base feelings that all the therapy in the world hasn’t shifted. At work, whenever I see children who’ve been dumped, betrayed, abandoned, it’s more than just professional empathy I feel: it’s a potent reminder of the pain I once felt myself. That blank, emptied-out feeling. When I look at Evie, I see me, lost and bewildered. An aching hole where my life used to be. A lurch of misery every morning when she wakes, remembering her father is gone. Wondering if I – she – could have done something to prevent it. If she – if I – caused it.
