Hurry Up and Wait

by Isabel Ashdown

  Sarah and Tina nod in agreement. Sarah notices Simon Dobbs across the room, who Kate’s always had a big thing for. When she was new to the school in the fourth year she used to loiter around the entrance gates, hoping to bump into him. She even tried hanging about the playing field on weekends when she knew he had a rugby match on, but he was never interested; never even looked in her direction. It used to drive her insane.

  She crushes her empty can and throws it into a plastic bin. ‘Right, I’m off for a nosey. See you back at the dance floor in half an hour?’

  They watch her parade across the room, squeezing past groups of boys, meeting their eyes intimately as they turn to let her through. Her laughter travels back across the floor.

  ‘Simon Dobbs,’ says Tina, cramming her mouth with crisps as she bops her head in Kate’s direction.

  Sarah laughs, watching Kate’s effortlessness as she meanders through the rippling crowd. She draws in the attention of every boy in the room. She’s not what you’d call beautiful; there’s just something about her.

  ‘Back in a minute,’ Tina says, and she jogs over to the makeshift refreshments bar. Mrs Whiff is on duty, serving fizzy drinks and snacks to the pupils. They’ve placed it near the entrance to the loos, probably so that she can keep an eye on the comings and goings of girls and boys as the evening goes on. Tina seems to be buying up the shop, and when she’s paid she vanishes through the corridor and into the loos.

  The gym is crammed with kids now, and the heat in the room is rising rapidly. They’ve all been told that they can congregate around the netball courts and on the first stretch of field, but that’s their limit. They don’t want pupils wandering around the grounds unsupervised at night time. Sarah edges along the side of the gym, trying to locate Kate or anyone else from her form. It’s still light outside, and she steps out through the wide doors and stands against the wall sipping her Coke. A small group, two boys and two girls, clusters a little way from her. The girls are laughing at everything the boys say, and the boys exchange pleased glances every time the girls laugh.

  ‘You look much older than fifteen,’ says one boy.

  Giggle. ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yeah, you really do. You both do.’

  Boy Two: ‘Eighteen, I’d reckon.’

  Both girls: ‘Really?’ They both laugh, leaning into each other as if they’re attached.

  ‘We’re both getting motorbikes at the start of the summer, aren’t we?’ says the second boy.

  ‘Yeah. 50cc. Don’t know what kind yet. Maybe Suzuki or Yamaha.’

  ‘Depends how much we can save up between now and then.’

  ‘Have you got a job, then?’ asks one girl.

  ‘Yeah. Down at Shoreside Packaging. We can get all sorts of perfumes and stuff, really cheap.’

  Both girls: ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. We’ll get you some if you want. What d’you like? Poison? Obsession? They do loads.’

  ‘Oh, my God! I love Poison! It’s lush!’

  ‘Yeah,’ says one of the boys, his eyes flickering towards his friend mischievously, ‘it’s really sexy.’

  The girls fall about, covering their mouths and shrieking, their plastic handbags swinging and swaying with every movement.

  Sarah looks away. Everyone must think she’s got no mates, standing out here alone. She’s started to walk back towards the entrance when she spots Marianne sitting on one of the wooden benches further along the wall towards the field. She’s on her own, staring at her soft yellow shoes.

  ‘Hi, Marianne,’ Sarah calls out, strolling over.

  Marianne looks up and smiles. ‘Hiya. What are you doing?’

  ‘I’ve lost the others, and it was getting a bit hot inside.’ She sits down on the bench beside Marianne. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I can’t find any of my friends in there, and I felt a bit faint so I came out here for a bit. There are too many people.’ She sits stiffly with her elbows at her side.

  Sarah notices the dark sweat rings spreading from beneath the armpits of Marianne’s pale blue jumpsuit.

  ‘That’s a nice colour,’ says Sarah, pointing to the jumpsuit.

  Marianne flushes. ‘Wish I’d never worn it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, you know. People always take the mickey. If I stick to my normal clothes, they say I’m square. If I make an effort, they laugh.’

  ‘Who laughs?’

  Marianne gives a small meaningful smile. ‘People like Kate. I hate her.’

  There’s a pause between them, as both stare out across the field without speaking.

  ‘She doesn’t mean to be like that,’ Sarah says.

  Marianne laughs, a little hard cough. ‘How can you not mean to be like that? You’re not like that. Loads of people aren’t like that. She never stops. Every day, it’s something. My hair. My shoes. My height. My big hands.’ She turns her hands over on her lap.

  ‘Maybe I could have a word with her?’ suggests Sarah. She puts her empty can under the bench behind her feet.

  ‘No,’ sighs Marianne. ‘It’ll only make it worse. Honestly, I’m fine. I’ll be back inside in a minute. Honestly.’

  Sarah stands to go. ‘I could – you know. Have a word with her?’

  Marianne shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. Really!’ She smiles and turns away, and Sarah returns to the gym.

  Tina meets her at the entrance, looking irritable. ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Kate! I’ve looked everywhere, and she’s completely disappeared.’ Tina scratches away at her fingers, frowning hard.

  ‘She’ll turn up,’ says Sarah. ‘Wanna dance?’

  ‘No. The music’s shit. I was gonna get Kate to get them to put on some better music. They always do it for Kate – ’ Her face clouds over momentarily. ‘Hey! I bet she’s with Simon Dobbs!’

  ‘No!’ exclaims Sarah, her eyes wide. ‘She’s still going out with Dante. She wouldn’t!’

  ‘She would! Come on, let’s find her. I bet she’s in the main building. She’s definitely not in the gym or the loos.’

  They dash around the edges of the crowded gym, testing the door handles to the rest of the school. They’re all locked. They slip out through the fire escape at the end of the corridor and roam about the exterior walls, looking for a way in. The light is dimming now, and they whisper and snigger as they run along the side of the building like cat burglars.

  ‘Here!’ Sarah calls.

  There’s a low window to the library, open just enough for them to squeeze through. They can reach up easily by standing on the flower trough below, dropping on to the parquet floor on the other side.

  Sarah puts a hand on Tina’s arm and they pause for a moment, listening into the silence. ‘Do you think they’re here?’ she asks.

  Tina shrugs and they tiptoe around the place, peering through the inner window to the librarian’s tiny office, sprinting up the dark wooden staircase and checking in all the classrooms above the gallery. There’s no one there.

  ‘What now?’ asks Sarah.

  Tina stands at the balustrade, looking out over the library below. She sits, cross-legged, and presses her face up against the bars.

  Sarah joins her. ‘She’s a funny one, Kate,’ she says, gazing down at the shadows cast by the heavy bookcases as the sun goes down.

  ‘How?’

  ‘She can be such a good laugh one minute, then – well, quite nasty the next. I was just outside with Marianne. I don’t know what Kate said to her, but she was a bit upset.’

  ‘But Marianne is a right saddo. It’s really funny, when we’re in French together, Kate hums the theme tune to The Addams Family every time Marianne walks in or says anything. It cracks me up.’

  ‘That’s what I mean. She is funny, but it’s not all that nice, is it?’

  Tina shifts position. Her thin white arms protrude sharply over her crossed knees. ‘I know what you mean. She took the piss out of my Frankie T-shirt earlier. Said I was always miles
behind the trends. She’s always saying that, but I still like this T-shirt, so why shouldn’t I wear it?’

  ‘Maybe things aren’t that good at home. Her parents seem to argue quite a lot.’

  Tina snorts. ‘Well, Patty’s on those nut-nut pills, isn’t she? Then there’s Jen and all her problems.’

  ‘Her sister? Oh, yeah, Kate says her boyfriend’s a dope-head.’

  ‘And the abortion.’

  Sarah leans back to take a better look at Tina. ‘Who? Jen?’

  Tina looks astonished. ‘Yeah. Oh, my God, don’t you know? She was only fifteen, that’s why it was such a big deal. Nearly split the family up, it did. That’s one of the reasons they moved here, to get away from it all. Apparently, Patty wanted Jen to keep the baby, and Jason wanted her to get rid of it. Can you imagine?’

  The hush of the library crushes in on Sarah. She can just make out Tina’s breaths, which come in short, audible bursts.

  ‘Let’s go back to the gym,’ she says, rising.

  In the gym ‘Agadoo’ is playing, and hordes of pupils are dancing around the DJ desk. One of the really square girls from Sarah’s French group dances madly at the edge of the crowd; she seems to know all the moves.

  ‘Push pineapple – grind coffee!’ Tina sings as she leads Sarah over towards the gym cupboard in the corner. ‘What d’you reckon?’ she smirks.

  She pulls open the cupboard door, and there, on top of a high pile of sweaty gym mats, are Kate and Simon Dobbs, looking as if they’re in the middle of a championship wrestling match. Kate’s white vest top is pushed high above her lacy black bra, and Simon’s got his hand stuck down the back of her leggings.

  Sarah gasps.

  ‘Piss off!’ Kate hisses as she turns to see them in the doorway.

  Simon blinks blindly. ‘Uh?’ he says. He seems half-asleep.

  Tina pushes the door shut, and they sprint over to the dance floor, screaming.

  Half an hour later, Kate finds them dancing to ‘Uptown Girl’ by the speakers.

  ‘I’m not a tart,’ she insists, shouting over the music to be heard.

  The love bite on her neck is the size of a plum.

  On the first Saturday of half-term, Sarah cooks her dad a full English breakfast.

  ‘Good God!’ he cries out as he trots down the stairs. ‘I do believe I’ve actually died and gone to heaven.’

  He stands in the kitchen doorway, puffing his chest out as he breathes in the warm bacon aroma that wafts into the hallway and up the stairs. He buttons up his tatty grey cardigan and pats his stomach. ‘Of course, it could finish me off altogether.’

  Sarah tuts. ‘None of it’s fried, Dad.’ She scoops the poached eggs on to their plates and pulls out the grill pan to serve up the bacon and sausages. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll bring it in.’

  ‘Lord! And a newspaper too! You’re spoiling me, Sarah-Lou.’

  She opens the back door to let out the cooking smells and joins her dad in the dining room.

  ‘So, what’s the special occasion?’ he asks as she sits down opposite.

  ‘Nothing, really. Mrs Gilroy’s given me the next few Saturdays off, because of exams. So I thought I’d cook you breakfast, seeing as I don’t have to be at work.’

  ‘Well, it’s greatly appreciated, whatever the reason.’ He cuts into his sausages, carefully dabbing a slice with mustard and popping it into his mouth. ‘Mmm. Divine!’

  The breeze from the back garden drifts through, sending a whisper of roses and sea spray into the dining room. She wonders about Deborah. She hasn’t been round since Sarah told Dad about their conversation. ‘She said Mum was one of your students,’ Sarah had told him, hoping it would encourage him to tell her more. ‘Did she now?’ he’d replied.

  Dad spreads the Saturday paper across the centre of the table so that he can read and eat at the same time. Every now and then he chuckles or grumbles, giving Sarah edited highlights of the world news.

  ‘Good God. They’re still going on about building a tunnel to France. It was madness when Napoleon suggested it, and it’s madness still! Whatever next? A bridge to Switzerland? Waste of bloody money, if you ask me. They’ll end up tunnelling halfway there and giving up after they’ve spent millions in the process. Just you watch.’

  Sarah nods and agrees.

  Dad scrapes his plate with the side of his fork, and pushes it to one side. ‘Are you alright, Sarah-Lou?’ he asks, suddenly looking at her with intensity. ‘You’re terribly dark under your eyes.’

  ‘I’m fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all. You know, all these exams.’

  ‘Well, don’t overdo it. You saw what happened to me when I pushed myself too far.’

  She eats quietly, gazing out of the window on to the gravel drive at the front. It’s true she’s been tired. Yesterday afternoon she fell asleep in front of Neighbours. One minute she was eating a bowl of Frosties and kicking off her school shoes, and the next she was waking up with a crick in her neck and the remote control still in her hand.

  She feels the calm warmth of the day blowing in, and looks forward to walking Ted on the beach after she’s washed up. She gathers up the condiments and takes them back into the kitchen while Dad continues to read his paper.

  As she returns for the plates and mugs, Dad puts his arm around her waist.

  ‘I know I don’t tell you enough, but I love you, Sarah-Lou.’

  She gently tries to pull away, but he holds on for a few seconds longer, before releasing her and pushing out his chair. ‘Wait here a moment. I’ve got something for you. Just stay there.’ He removes his reading glasses and drops them beside his mug.

  Sarah hears him in the hallway, opening the door to his study. She perches on the seat next to his, resting the dirty plates on the edge of table. When he returns, his face is earnest, almost nervous. He’s clutching a small item in his fist.

  ‘What is it?’ Sarah asks, her eyes fixed on his hand.

  He sits beside her, replacing his glasses. ‘I’ve been having a bit of a clearout. And, well, I came across something that I think you ought to have.’

  He opens his hand to reveal a gold ring, delicately studded with three little pearls.

  ‘It was your mother’s engagement ring,’ he says. ‘She told me she preferred the pearls, which was just as well, as I couldn’t afford a diamond on an academic’s salary.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Sarah says, slipping it on to her wedding finger for size. It’s just a little too loose.

  He steeples his fingers over his stomach and smiles gently. ‘You have hands just like hers.’

  Sarah lays her hands flat against the table and studies the ridges and dips of her fingers. She removes the ring and closes her hand around it. ‘I’ll wear it on my silver chain,’ she says.

  ‘She would have been so proud of you,’ he says, his eyes moistening.

  Sarah wraps her arms around his shoulders.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Sarah-Lou.’ His voice cracks with emotion.

  ‘For what?’ she says, pulling back to look at his face.

  ‘For all this.’ He sweeps his hand through the air, gesturing at everything and nothing.

  She embraces him again, to conceal his weakened face.

  ‘And I’m sorry I haven’t been a better father,’ he whispers into her sleeve. ‘I know things have got to change. I’ve got to change. I promise I’ll try harder, Sarah-Lou.’

  ‘Idiot,’ she says softly, rubbing her hand over his bobbly grey back.

  The sea is calm and flat, and Sarah has to shield her eyes against the bright strip of horizon that runs from east to west. The tide is way out, and the top pebbles are dry underfoot. When she digs the toe of her shoe deep into the shingle, she reaches the small wet stones below, where polished glass and yellow periwinkles can be found. She squats down and widens the hole with a short length of weatherbeaten wood, scooting the larger pebbles to one side and stirring around to explore further down. She finds a smooth piece of brown glass, the size of pea
ch stone, and rubs away the sand between her finger and thumb. Brown glass is rarer than green or clear. She slips it into her jacket pocket to add to her jar when she gets home.

  Down at the water’s edge, Ted has met another terrier. Sarah blinks into the sunlight, cupping her hands to whistle him back. The younger dog is leaping and frisking about, and Ted just wags his tail and trots on the spot, letting the other dog sniff and circle him. She whistles again, and Ted turns, cocking his head. He starts to run back, a little silhouette against the silver sunlight. The other dog continues to frolic at his side, until his own master calls him and he bolts across the wet sand to fall in step.

  ‘Good boy,’ Sarah says, bending to scratch Ted behind his ears. She pulls her white cotton jacket around her torso, and walks into the sun, across the sand towards West Selton.

  As the coast gradually curves round, the breeze picks up. Turning to look back the way they’ve come, Sarah sees how she and Ted cast two distinct shadows across the sand. She wishes she had her disc camera with her. Ted is keeping up, but he looks tired, narrowing his eyes against the spray, his silky little ears waving in the wind.

  ‘Want a rest?’ Sarah asks, picking him up to climb over the high wooden barrier. She tucks him under her arm and jogs to the next breakwater where they sit, nestled into the side, sheltered from the wind. She closes her eyes and rests her head against the smooth grey wood, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. Ted is draped over her lap, his head nuzzled under the crook of her elbow. Overhead, the seagulls squawk and crow, their volume moving in and out of focus as they drift and return from the water. Summer’s coming. Sarah drops inside herself, her hands relaxing around Ted’s salty coat, her breathing growing heavy. The heat of the sunlight permeates her clothes, thawing out her inner chill. Summer’s finally coming.

  The crunch of boots on the pebbles rouses Ted, and he kicks Sarah in the side as he tumbles from her lap. Sarah sits up, twisting round, holding her arm over her forehead to focus on the man walking down the shelf of stones.

  ‘Hello, you.’ It’s John.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ asks Sarah as he sits down on the pebbles beside her.