‘Down at the front office being patched up. They wanted her to take the stud out, but I told them it’s more likely to get infected if they do that. So they’re soaking it in surgical spirit and they said they’ll put a dressing on it for the afternoon.’
‘Didn’t they have a go at you for doing it?’
‘Don’t be stupid. We told them she got it done in a proper salon. They said it’s disgusting that places like that are allowed to operate. I don’t know how I kept a straight face. I’ll do yours if you want.’
‘No chance, you butcher.’ Sarah laughs, tugging on her own cleanly studded lobes. ‘So was it Mrs McCabe you saw?’
Kate drags out a second chair and puts her feet up. ‘No. When we got to the office, we asked for her, and they told us to wait. Then Mrs North came out instead. She said Mrs McCabe went off on maternity leave just before half-term.’
Sarah remembers how tenderly Mrs McCabe had taken care of her rounders injury, and how much she’d wanted to stay in her calm little office.
‘Shame,’ says Kate. ‘I quite liked her.’ She draws a length of hair through her mouth. ‘It’s probably for the best. She’d only have gone mental if she’d stayed, working with all those other nutters. You never know, she might even be in the funny farm right now. Poor cow.’
‘Yeah,’ Sarah replies, gazing up at the dark oak gallery above, ‘poor cow.’
After school, the girls stop off in town for ice creams. They each buy a Mr Whippy ‘99’, and wander over to the war memorial to sit in the sunshine and chat. They spread out over the top step of the stone structure, gazing across the High Street and watching as people come and go. Seagulls cry out overhead, casting passing shadows as they dip and soar. Tina’s already managed to get a big dollop of ice cream on the green nylon of her school skirt, and she licks her fingers and rubs at the stain as it spreads and smears.
‘How was the Home Ec. exam?’ asks Sarah.
‘Fine,’ replies Tina, still scrubbing with the heel of her hand.
‘What about RE?’ she asks Kate.
‘Fine.’
There are hordes of Selton High School kids wandering about the town today, many of them celebrating the end of their exams. Sarah’s just got Maths left to do next week, then that’s it. ‘It’s almost over,’ she sighs, licking her ice cream in a neat, smooth line around the top of the cone.
Kate slowly curls her tongue around her flake and smiles flirtatiously as she bites it off at the root. ‘See that sixth former over there by the newsagent’s? Look at him staring. He’s been eyeing me up for weeks. Every time he passes our hut he has a look through the window to see if I’m there.’
‘You’re outrageous!’ Sarah laughs. ‘The way you’re licking your ice cream!’
Kate smiles contentedly and scoops up a little white peak on the tip of her pink tongue. ‘I know.’
The sixth former turns away and pushes through the entrance and into the shop.
‘Ahh,’ says Kate. ‘He’s a shy boy.’ She gathers her hair up behind her head and lets it fall as she stretches her arms out in a wide theatrical arc. ‘I’m gonna finish with Dante tonight.’
Sarah raises her eyebrows in disbelief.
‘Really,’ says Kate. ‘I can’t be bothered with him any more. He’s chucked.’
Tina stands up and brushes herself off, scattering crumbles of cornet across the pavement.
‘Have you eaten your ice cream already?’ says Kate. ‘I’ve never known anyone stuff their food in quite like you, Teen.’
Tina sits and pulls her knees up, shaking out her new poodle perm. ‘Anyone see Prisoner Cell Block H last night?’
Sarah’s not sure what she’s talking about.
Kate nods. ‘Yeah, it was really funny. Have you ever seen so many ugly women together in one place?’
‘Well, the same can’t be said for you lot, that’s for sure.’ Jason’s standing at the foot of the war memorial, in a pair of massive aviator sunglasses, his suit jacket hooked on to his thumb so that it’s casually tossed over his shoulder.
‘Oh, look! It’s Top Gun,’ says Kate, laughing and pointing at his glasses.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he says, grinning broadly. ‘Except Tom Cruise doesn’t look as good in them as I do. So, what are you ladies up to?’
Kate pops the last piece of cornet into her mouth and brushes her hands together. ‘Hanging about.’
‘That looks nice,’ he says, nodding at Sarah’s ice cream.
She hasn’t even got down to the cone yet, and she can’t lick it with him standing there. The ice cream starts to glisten and slide.
‘You’d better eat that, before it melts,’ he says.
Kate and Tina turn to look at Sarah. She licks it, a quick, flat-tongued motion, to catch the drips and make them stop staring at her.
‘So, I take it you’ll all be coming to the Summer Disco at the youth club? It’s gonna be a blast.’
‘When is it?’ asks Tina, scratching at her fingers. She’s kicked her shoes off and Sarah can see she’s got eczema between her toes too.
‘It’s on a Friday, love. It’s the Friday before the World Cup final, so if England make it through we’ll have even more reason to celebrate!’
Kate rolls her eyes. ‘What is it about blokes and football? Anyway, back to the disco. I think it’s the week before Signing Out Day, so we’ll all have finished our exams by then.’
Tina and Sarah sit stiffly on either side of Kate, smiling politely at Jason.
‘So?’ he says, taking his glasses off in a cheesy smooth action. ‘Whaddya say? You coming?’
The girls exchange quick glances and nod.
‘Why not?’ says Kate, crossing her arms across her low-cut blouse.
‘Excellent,’ says Jason and he swaggers away, breaking into a jog as he crosses over to the estate agent’s office on the opposite side of the road.
He turns and raises his hand. Sarah is gripped by a sudden rush of forgotten panic.
‘You alright?’ asks Kate.
Sarah smiles and gathers up her school bags. ‘Indigestion,’ she says, patting her chest.
Tina puts her bag over her shoulder and winces. ‘Bet it doesn’t hurt as much as my ear,’ she says. She lifts her hair up to reveal a thick wad of cotton wool and white tape.
‘Surprised you didn’t need a blood transfusion, Teen,’ Kate says, smirking at Sarah as they drop down from the memorial stone and head off along the High Street.
Sarah laughs, forgetting her anxiety, and waves her friends off as they walk home in the opposite direction.
On the day of Sarah’s final exam she leaves the house early, optimistic about the freedom of summer ahead. After today, she only has to return for Signing Out Day, when the school takes the final leavers’ photograph before the girls stream out, heading into the streets and parks around town.
The morning is bright and windy, and as she nears the corner of Seafield Avenue Sarah has to shield her eyes from the sun to make out the figure perched on the street sign up ahead. It’s Dante. She’s suddenly aware of her every movement, the way she’s holding her bag, the tightness of her school jumper across her chest. She flicks her hair over her ears, and wishes she hadn’t. She read somewhere that fiddling with your hair in front of someone of the opposite sex is a sure sign of attraction; and in this case it’s not true. She can’t stand the sight of him.
He stands up and waits for her, his hands plunged deep into his pockets. ‘Alright, Sar,’ he says, falling into step as she walks past. ‘I was hoping I’d see you. Got an exam today?’
‘Yep.’ She shifts her bag on to the other shoulder.
‘Suppose you heard about me and Kate?’
‘Uh-huh.’
They don’t speak again until they turn into the road leading up to the school gates. Dante puts his hand on the crook of her elbow, forcing her to stop and look at him.
‘Look, I was a complete dickhead with you, Sar. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I was new
to the area, and I just – well, I just fucked up.’
Sarah frowns at him. ‘Was that an apology?’
He looks really pissed off. ‘Yes, actually, it was. But if you want to hear the words: I’m sorry. There, is that better?’
‘A bit,’ she replies, halting suddenly. She holds her wrist up between them, and looks at him directly. ‘Did you give this to me, or not?’ The tiny seashells rattle along the leather cord as the bracelet settles on her arm.
Dante runs his hand up through the underside of his hair, rubbing the crew-cut section beneath his floppy dark layers. ‘No.’ He glances at the school. ‘Look, I really like you, Sar. I didn’t realise just how much until I’d screwed it all up. I can’t believe I’ve been such a pillock. Really.’ He holds her shoulders to make her look at him.
A horn sounds from an approaching car, and they both turn to see a silver Cortina slowing beside them as it passes. Jason glares at Sarah through the windscreen, his face obscured by black sunglasses. Tut-tut, he mimes, waggling his finger in the air. He revs the engine twice and accelerates up the road at hazardous speed.
‘Who the fuck was that?’ asks Dante. ‘Dirty fucker. Did you see the way he was looking at you?’
Sarah looks up the road where the car had been. A cold chill runs through her body.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, and she walks in though the school gates, leaving Dante standing on the corner gazing after her.
After the exam, Sarah returns home to spend the afternoon with her father. It’s his birthday, and she finds him in the garden, sitting under the willow tree at the far end, smoking a pipe and drinking coffee.
‘What’s that?’ Sarah asks, pulling a disgusted face. She now sees it’s not even lit.
‘What? This? It’s my old pipe! I was having a bit of a tidy-up, and I came across it in my college things. I used to smoke it to make me appear more debonair. I think it works, don’t you?’
‘It makes you look like even more of an old duffer, if that’s what you mean.’
He laughs, and puffs at the stem theatrically. Sarah returns to the house to fetch his card and present, and to bring out the birthday cake she’d secretly baked last night. It’s been hidden in the drinks cabinet all day. As she passes through the dining room she spots a ripped envelope and card in the top of the wastepaper bin. She pauses, resting the cake on the table, and retrieves the card. It’s from Deborah, so she reads it swiftly and puts it back in the bin, shoving it to the bottom out of sight. Best forgotten. Ted is lying in the triangle of sunlight by the back door, and he rises and stretches, following her lazily to the end of the garden. He falls over in the half shade of the tree.
Dad is delighted with his cake, throwing his hands in the air and blowing out the candles with gusto.
‘Victoria sponge?’ he asks.
‘Naturally,’ she replies. ‘I know you’re not meant to, but it’s your birthday. After today it’s back to normal.’
They sit in the deckchairs and eat their cake, quietly chatting about the flowers and fruits which have started to show themselves in the garden. White anemones have spread throughout the lupins and buddleia on the sunny side of the lawn, and the flowers gently ripple with the light movements of painted ladies and industrious honeybees.
‘So, that’s it now,’ says Sarah, picking crumbs off her school skirt. ‘I’ve just had my last exam. So once we’ve signed out next week, I’m free.’ She holds her arms aloft in a cheer.
‘Jolly good. So what’s next?’
She sighs. ‘I’ve put in the application to do A-levels, like Kate.’
Dad stretches his legs out and clasps his hands across his belly. He closes his eyes against the sun. ‘I don’t remember signing the forms.’
Acute exhaustion washes over her. ‘No, you don’t need to these days. I think it’s a new thing, because I’ll be sixteen when term starts.’ She hates lying to him. ‘But, if I don’t do that well with my O-levels, I thought I could maybe do some shop work for a while? Like Tina – she’s got a job at Boots in Tighborn. Just until I make my mind up about something else? I mean, they always have last minute places at the Tech. I could do hairdressing or something.’
‘Over my dead body,’ he grunts, his eyes still closed. ‘That reminds me. That young chap from the chemist’s phoned, said his mother wanted to know if you’d like to work over the summer holidays.’
‘I don’t know. I think I’ve had enough of the chemist’s.’ She turns to look at him in profile. ‘You know, I’m not going to do that well in my exams. I’m not expecting to pass anything, really.’
He opens one eye, his face scrunched up. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ he says. ‘Now, I’m thinking a few weeks in Dorset might do us both some good. So, if you’re not working it makes it all a bit more straightforward.’
Sarah frowns, cupping her hands above her eyes to look at him better.
‘Remember Jim Porter? Old head of department at Tighborn. Well, he’s got a nice little cottage that he’s putting up for sale after the summer; said we can make the most of the place while he’s still got it. Right down at the seafront it is, near Lyme Regis. Beautiful piece of coastline.’ He smiles and waits for her response. ‘Actually, it’s free for the whole of July and August, so we can stay for as long as we like.’
Sarah closes her eyes and breathes deeply. ‘What about your work?’ she asks.
‘That can wait. I think a change will do us both good, don’t you?’
She wriggles down into her deckchair, stretching her toes out to rub Ted’s upturned tummy. ‘Yeah. It sounds great, Dad.’
The Health Centre gives Sarah an appointment with a female doctor at one o’clock on Monday. She’s less likely to bump into anyone she knows at that time, as most people are either at work or school, or eating lunch.
Her hands trembled as she made the phone call and they shake again now as she approaches the clinic at the back of the main parade. She feels exposed to every car which passes, and she avoids eye contact with other pedestrians, staring intently at the cracks in the pavement as she walks. She barely slept at all last night. The bright June sunlight makes a mirror of the glass-fronted clinic, and Sarah catches her own reflection as she reaches for the metal door handle. She comes to a dead halt, barely recognising herself. It’s indistinct, but she looks different. She pulls back the door to the entrance porch. Once through the next set of doors she will have to communicate with the middle-aged women behind the desk, announce her name and the name of the doctor she’s seeing. They might know her, or her father. Perhaps they’ll know why she’s here; even worse, perhaps they’ll speculate between themselves, checking her medical notes once she’s gone. She doesn’t want to go through too early, to sit in the waiting room under the scrutiny of other patients and medical staff.
She pauses in the airlock between the two sets of doors, checking her watch and scanning the health notices on the wall. Measles is Misery.
A faded poster shows an image of dark brown tar being poured into a glass bowl. It reads: No Wonder Smokers Cough. The visual provokes her gag reflex. She looks away, searching over the other posters by way of distraction. She looks at her watch again. She’s got a few minutes. The largest poster of all is a shiny new one, royal blue with a yellow bolt of lightning running through it.
TAKE CARE. AIDS is caused by the HTLV III virus. This virus is found in blood, semen and vaginal secretions. So sharing needles or having unsafe sex puts you at risk. PLAY SAFE – LEARN THE FACTS.
She stares at the poster, reading the words over and over again.
The inner door swings back and John strides out from the reception area.
‘Hello, Sarah!’ he says with a big smile across his face. ‘What are you doing here?’
She flinches, her eyes flickering towards the big blue poster. ‘Nothing,’ she says, horribly aware of her defensive tone.
‘Nothing?’ he says with a little laugh.
Sarah returns a guarded
smile.
‘So, aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here, then?’ John looks as though he’s about to burst with exhilaration.
‘OK,’ replies Sarah. She frowns at him as if he’s lost his marbles.
‘I’ve been getting my vaccination boosters. I’m going travelling again at the end of July! I’m going to start off in Turkey and take it from there. You know Sol from Shattered Records? He’s coming with me. He’s getting a mate to look after the shop for a few months so he can get away. Man, I can’t wait to get out of this dump!’
‘So you won’t be working in the chemist’s, then?’ Sarah can hardly hear her own words.
A woman in a pink velour hat passes between them, bustling through the front door and out into the street. Sarah’s eyes search the noticeboard beyond John, as she tries to make sense of the moment. Straight Facts about Sex and Birth Control.
‘’Fraid not. It just can’t compete with Turkey, I’m sorry to say.’ He grins, pushing his hands further down into the pockets of his straight black jeans.
Sarah looks at her watch. One minute to one. PLAY SAFE – LEARN THE FACTS.
‘You got an appointment?’ asks John, suddenly appearing concerned. ‘Is everything alright?’
Her insides tremble with alarm, and cold dread washes over her skin.
‘Sar? What’s wrong? Sarah?’ He reaches out to her.
She gasps, biting down on her lip as she pushes past him and on to the pavement outside the clinic. He follows her, reaching out to touch her shoulder and spin her around. She feels the blood drain from her skin, and the words in her throat constrict and choke as she tries to break free.
‘Sarah!’ he says again, this time with authority. ‘Talk to me! Something’s not right!’
She steps back, feeling an angry flash of hate rushing up through her body. ‘Just leave me alone, John! You just go off on your travels and have a fine hippy time, dossing about and smoking dope, and leave me alone to get on with my life! OK?!’
John stands with his palms upturned. He tips his head to one side, squinting as he tries to make her out. Sarah gazes into his deep amber eyes, and for a brief moment she wants to collapse against his chest and tell him everything. She turns and runs; away from John; away from the clinic; away from it all.
Hurry Up and Wait Page 22
