She hands him the single.
He rubs his chin slowly. ‘Nice selection. I like it. You’re what we in the business would call a woman of eclectic tastes, Sarah. Consider it done.’
Sarah tugs at the hem of her dress, unconsciously sprinkling more glitter fabric on the carpet. ‘Thanks, Jason.’
‘That’s more like it,’ he says as she walks away. ‘No more of that “Mr Robson” stuff!’
The crowd has dispersed from the hallway. Sarah searches for Tina and Kate, eager to get them back in the living room before Jason plays her choices. She looks in the kitchen and all over the ground floor, but they’re not there so she trots up the stairs, darting into the bathroom again to check her hair. As she stands in front of the mirror, she hears giggling from behind the floral shower curtain. She pulls the curtain back and Tina falls out of the bath backwards, spilling cider all over her new blue dress. She lies on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, her fingers still gripping the half-empty can. Sarah is struck by the dark circles beneath Tina’s eyes, and absently wonders if it’s smudged mascara. Tina’s stockinged feet are still hooked up over the bath edge, giving Ed a full view of her knickers. He’s leaning out of the bath, trying to offer her his hand, but he’s pissed as a fart and swaying around looking as if he’s going to go over on top of her at any moment.
‘Teen!’ Sarah cries out, hunching down to try to help her up. ‘And I thought I’d had too much to drink!’
Tina carries on giggling. ‘This’s Ed,’ she says, still rolling around on the cork floor tiles. She points up at Ed who’s now finishing off his lager as he hangs on to the shower rail. It looks as if it’s going to break.
‘We’ve met,’ says Sarah. ‘Are you coming downstairs, Teen? Jason’s gonna put our records on in a minute?’
Tina manages to roll over on to all fours. ‘No chance! When I’ve got a lush fella to chew the face off? Not on your Nelly, smelly! You don’t want me to go, do you, Ed?’
Ed shakes his head like a dumb spaniel. Prat.
‘OK,’ says Sarah cautiously. She pauses with her fingers on the door handle, looking from Tina to Ed. ‘If you’re sure. I’ll go and find Kate.’
Outside the door, Sarah’s lips feel suddenly dry. She ambles along the hall towards Kate’s room, to see if she can find some lip balm in her overnight bag. She flips the light on, walking unsteadily around the coat-laden double bed to search for her things. It smells musty and warm in here, like the girls’ changing rooms at school. She bends to look along the side of the divan, unsteadily peering underneath. When she hears a gasp, she lifts her head and turns to look towards the bed. Her stomach twists as she finds herself face to face with Dante and Kate, who are lying on the bed among the mountain of coats and scarves. They are so close to her that she can see the shining black of their enlarged pupils. Sarah stands, taking a horrified step backwards. Kate is lying on her back with her hair splayed out across the pillow, multicoloured streamers caught up in its dishevelled strands. Dante is lying on top, firmly positioned between her naked legs. His jeans are pushed down far enough to reveal two inches of his softly downed buttocks, and Sarah can see the naked skin of their hips against each other. They both stare at Sarah in blank alarm, wet-lipped and flushed. Kate’s tights lie beside Sarah’s feet in a tangle of black nylon, rolled off in haste. She sways, backing away from the grotesque scene.
‘Sarah!’ Kate cries out, suddenly trying to extract herself from beneath Dante.
As Sarah rushes for the door, she glances back to witness Dante withdrawing from Kate’s open thighs. His penis glistens briefly before he folds it into his jeans.
She runs down the stairs, her hand brushing lightly along the banister. Tina’s at the foot of the stairs alone, sitting with her arms hugged around her knees, smiling at nothing in particular. ‘Teen,’ Sarah hisses urgently. ‘Come on!’
Sarah darts across the living room, weaving through the dancing couples, and out through the French doors into the garden. Tina staggers along behind her. They lean against the closed glass doors, shivering in the sharp night air.
‘What’s up, Sar? You look awful – have you been sick? I thought I was gonna puke earlier, but I’m alright now.’
Sarah shakes her head, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.
‘Sar? What’s happened?’ Tina appears suddenly lucid.
Sarah looks back through the glass. They’re not there.
‘I just walked in on Dante and Kate in her bedroom.’ She’s not crying. She can’t feel anything.
‘What were they doing?’
‘They were doing it,’ Sarah replies blankly. ‘He was actually lying there, on top of her. Having sex. They were actually having sex!’ She shrieks these last words, feeling her hands beginning to shake in the icy cold glare of the living room lights.
‘Are you sure?’ Tina is scratching away at the palms of her hands, looking worried. ‘Are you sure they weren’t just snogging?’
‘No! I saw it.’ Sarah’s eyes are wide and wet now. ‘Don’t you see? I saw it! I saw his poxy dick as he slid off her.’ She stares at Tina, who returns a shocked blink. ‘Teen, how could she do this to me?! She’s supposed to be my friend.’
Tina stumbles forward to hug Sarah, just as there’s a loud rap on the glass from the other side. It’s Jason, gesturing for them to come back inside.
Sarah runs her hands across her face. ‘I’m fine. Can we just forget about it? Let’s go inside and dance.’
It’s ‘Centerfold’ playing first and Tina and Sarah bop about, singing and making up silly moves to the lyrics. Sarah’s laughing now, but her stomach is tensed. Jason joins Sarah and Tina on the carpet, taking their hands and waving them in the air as they sing along. Ed lurches into the room and sweeps Tina into the corner, where they prop each other up, swaying drunkenly. Jason goes back to the record deck as the track comes to an end, na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na…
Sarah’s still laughing as he puts ‘Sunday Girl’ on. He stands behind his desk, singing along with the lyrics, pointing to Sarah as if the song is about her. She closes her eyes and tries to dance like Debbie Harry.
Opening her eyes, she stares at Jason, who stands behind his DJ desk singing hard. She’s suddenly exposed, her legs shaking, the tears flooding her eyes. Jason stops singing, his face concerned. She turns and runs, slipping out of the French doors and into the garden, taking refuge in the far shadows of the shed, alongside the tree stumps that remain piled up beside the fence. She looks up at the sky, searching for stars. She’s shaking, and her anger and humiliation merge like an explosion trapped in the core of her belly. She doesn’t want to cry, but sobs rack her body and, no matter how she tries to still her mind, the tears run and run.
She hears the soft crunch of footsteps across the crisp grass.
‘Here. Put this on. You’ll freeze.’
It’s Jason. She feels him wrap his sheepskin jacket around her shoulders as he pulls her against his chest, her body shielded by her crossed wrists.
They stand like this for some time, neither speaking nor moving apart. Sarah can feel his warm breath on the top of her head, and she wishes she could sleep now, standing here, just slip into a deep slumber and wake up with it all gone away. She knows Dad is seeing Deborah tonight, because he didn’t ask lots of questions when she said she’d be staying at Kate’s. She wonders if her father is having sex with Deborah. Could he be doing that, at his age?
Everything’s wrong.
Jason pulls back and raises Sarah’s tear-streaked face to his. She feels the light from the house cross her face. ‘God, your eyes look beautiful when you’ve been crying,’ he says. ‘You poor love. D’you want to talk about it?’
He rearranges two tree rounds so that they nestle up behind the wall of the shed, side by side. Sarah takes a heavy breath and swipes the tears from her face, feeling foolish.
‘Is it Dante?’ asks Jason, reaching for her hand.
She doesn’t answer.
He sighs.
‘These lads, Sar, they don’t know what they’re doing half the time. I should know. I was one once. Believe it or not.’ He nudges her and, when she smiles, he shifts himself to put his arm round her shoulder. He pulls her in, and she yields.
‘I’m not a kid, you know,’ she says. ‘I know what boys are like.’
‘No. You’re a young woman. And you don’t deserve to be screwed about, do you? If Dante is stupid enough to fuck it up with you, then he doesn’t deserve you, I say. He’s an idiot.’
She’s stopped shaking. ‘Yeah. He is a complete idiot, now you come to mention it.’
‘I don’t know what you were thinking, sweetie, to be honest.’ Jason leans back to take a better look at her, his arm never leaving her shoulders. ‘Some people are special, Sar, and you’re one of them. You’re not like other girls of your age. You’re really mature. I’d never think you were only fifteen if I saw you in the street. Early twenties, I’d say.’
‘Really? Well, the man in the off-licence didn’t ask my age tonight, when I bought the cider.’
‘See? But you’re mature in the way you behave, too. That’s what I like about you, Sar. You’re special.’ He kisses the top of her head, then moves his warm lips across her cheek, down towards her lips.
Sarah turns her face to his, letting him kiss her, allowing his tongue to slide between her lips, his hand to slip inside the sheepskin jacket, to search out her waist, the traceable ridges of her ribs. She feels him sigh against her, the pressure from his mouth growing firmer.
‘Dad?’ Kate’s voice calls out from the kitchen doorway. ‘Dad? Are you out there?’
Jason leaps up and out of the shadows so he can be seen by his daughter. ‘Alright, Kate?’
‘What you doing?’
‘Sneaky fag. I was just coming in.’
Sarah hears his footsteps retreat over the frosty grass.
‘I was looking for you everywhere,’ Kate says. ‘We can’t get the record player going.’ The door bangs shut, and Sarah is left alone in the shadows.
She sits a while, her body inert, her thoughts a drunken jumble. She can’t stay here tonight. Easing open the creaking shed door, Sarah clumsily wheels out Kate’s bicycle and props it against the logs. She removes the sheepskin coat and drapes it over the lawnmower, before running across the garden with the bike, slipping out through the side gate. Pausing at the front pavement, she sees lights on in all the box houses up and down the street. She hooks up her dress, mounts the bike and cycles off into the dark night, heading for home.
Spring Term
1986
By the time they’re back at school Sarah has reduced her anger to a low level. At registration her face remains immobile, her gaze never lighting on Kate. Tina flits between the two like a sparrow, apologetically censoring their conversations. Sarah tries to appear unconcerned.
In Geography Tina and Sarah can sit together and talk without worrying about Kate.
‘Kate said you sent your dad round to pick up your bag on New Year’s Day.’ Tina offers Sarah a Tic Tac.
Sarah nods. ‘He was passing her place anyway.’
‘She said you’ve still got her bike.’
‘Not any more,’ Sarah replies, lowering her voice. ‘I sneaked it back round before school this morning. I saw Kate with her back to the window as I wheeled it across the garden and my heart was hammering away! But it was still dark – I don’t think she saw me.’
‘Like a cat burglar,’ Tina says, laughing. She leans back in her chair and sighs heavily. ‘Did I tell you I’ve gone vegetarian?’
‘Really?’ It seems strange to Sarah, because she’s never seen Tina eat any fruit or veg. Ever.
‘Yeah. I decided over New Year, really. I saw this film, about how they make sausages – it was disgusting. Honestly, Sar, if you saw it, you’d go veggie too. The worst bit was how they kill the pigs, kind of electrocuting them and hanging them up. It’s not true they don’t feel anything. But you wouldn’t believe the crap that goes into the sausage. Everything! The ears, the snout, the eyeballs and – get this – the nipples! They showed them slicing the nipples off the dead pigs and adding them to the sausage mix. Disgusting.’
‘Urghh.’ Sarah shudders. ‘But not all sausages are made like that, surely?’
Tina gives her a knowing look. ‘That’s what they want you to think.’
She gets out her compass and scratches into the wooden desktop: ‘Meat is Murder.’
‘How’s it going with Ed?’ Sarah asks. She feels a pang of embarrassment that she called him a sexual deviant. It’s not the kind of thing you can easily take back.
‘Really good. He’s a brilliant laugh. And he knows everything there is to know about films. If you ask him any question about any of the Bond films or Star Wars, he’ll know the answer. It’s amazing. And he’s so thoughtful.’
‘I’m really pleased for you, Teen. What do you do when you go out together?’
‘Usually we go to Marconi’s, or the cinema. We all went to see Pee-wee’s Big Adventure on Friday night. Dante said the bloke in it looked like a right perv.’ She flushes a deep pink. ‘Oh. Sorry, Sar. You must hate it when I talk about him.’
Sarah shakes her head and scribbles on her pad. ‘It’s fine.’
Tina reaches into her pencil case and pulls out the seashell bracelet. She drops it into Sarah’s hand. ‘Dante said it wasn’t from him in the first place, so I’m to give it back to you.’
‘Was he telling the truth, or just saying it to not upset Kate?’
‘No, I think he was telling the truth. Kate wasn’t even there when he gave it back to me. Sorry, Sar.’ Tina turns her hands over and scratches the palms.
Sarah balls up the bracelet and slips it inside her school bag, an unsettled coil of tension building in her stomach. ‘Your eczema doesn’t look so bad these days, Teen,’ she says, as the teacher slams the door shut at the front of the room.
‘I know,’ says Tina, examining her palms more closely.
‘Must be lurve,’ Sarah whispers, giving her a nudge.
‘Must be,’ Tina giggles.
As the weeks pass by, Barbara’s hip is still keeping her out of action, and Sarah enjoys her work at the chemist’s all the more. On her way in one Saturday, there’s a sudden downpour, and she’s soaked through by the time she arrives. She stands at the fire exit, shaking out her jacket, wondering if there’s a radiator she can drape it over.
‘Morning, Sar,’ says John, sticking his head out from the kitchen.
‘John!’ she says, surprised to see him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back to work at all.’
‘No, I just had a few weeks off, visiting some mates in the West Country and chilling out. What about Phil Lynott, man? Tragedy. Absolute tragedy.’
Sarah frowns.
John shakes his head. ‘Phil Lynott. Thin Lizzy. You must have heard – he died of an overdose at New Year. I couldn’t believe it, man.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ says Sarah, nodding. She had heard something about it on the news. He had big afro hair and a funny little moustache, from what she can remember from Top of the Pops.
‘You know. ‘The Boys Are Back in Town’? ‘Whiskey in the Jar’?’
Sarah nods. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know who you mean. Really sad.’
John bobs his head mournfully for a moment or two, before breaking into a full smile. ‘Anyway, you look particularly glamorous this morning, if I may say so. Drowned-rat-chic. Very à la mode.’ He takes a camp stance and places his forefinger against his pursed lips.
Sarah’s bedraggled hair hangs limply around her face. ‘I rather like it myself.’ She bends, then flicks her hair back over her shoulders, throwing beads of water into the air. ‘What shall I do?’ she says, suddenly worried. ‘Mrs Gilroy won’t want me out there looking like this!’
John laughs, then puts his finger in the air as if he’s had a brilliant idea.
‘Wait here,’ he says, and he jogs through the passa
geway towards the pharmacy.
Kerry bustles in through the fire exit, turning briefly to shake her umbrella out of the door.
‘Morning,’ Sarah says cheerfully. ‘Nice weather.’
Kerry smiles awkwardly. ‘Disgusting, isn’t it?’
She’s surprisingly civil to Sarah when Barbara’s not around. She even appears to be a little shy when she’s on her own.
‘How’s Barbara?’
Kerry avoids eye contact, and looks around the stock room for somewhere to prop up her golfing umbrella. ‘Oh. Well, you know it was broken? Her hip. They take ages to mend, hips.’
When John returns, his expression visibly alters at the sight of Kerry.
‘Yes,’ he says, fixing her with a stern glare. ‘You know, Sarah was really fortunate that she didn’t break her hip when she slipped in the alleyway. You remember? When you and Barbara stepped over her and laughed?’
Kerry is wriggling out of her winter coat, fumbling as she tries to hang it up. She scurries out to the front of the shop.
Sarah puts her hands on her hips. ‘John! Just stop it, will you? She’s being alright now that Barbara’s not here. You’ll make it worse again.’
John’s face is severe. ‘You know what? I’m fed up with people thinking they can bully other people and get away with it. Barbara’s a bitch, but that one, she’s just as bad for going along with it.’ He jabs the air to accentuate the last few words. ‘I don’t know why my mother doesn’t just get rid of the pair of them. They’re useless old witches if you ask me. It’s women like that – ’ he points his finger in Kerry’s direction ‘ – that will drive this business into the ground!’
Sarah stares at John blankly. ‘Blimey.’
‘Anyway,’ John says, waving away an unseen annoyance, ‘forget all that. You’re in here with me for an hour. I told Mum you got soaked, so she said you can help unload yesterday’s delivery while you dry off. Result, eh?’ He picks up the clipboard and studies it carefully. ‘Let’s start with the top shelves. If you climb up, I’ll hand you the cartons.’
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