Hurry Up and Wait

by Isabel Ashdown

  ‘Mrs Jensen,’ adds Tina.

  ‘I saw Mr Settle,’ says Sarah. ‘What about pupils? Are there many here from our year?’

  ‘Loads! Come and sit with us – we’ve bagged a couple of seats over by the food.’

  Kate goes to link arms with Sarah, who stiffens again at the prospect. She turns to look at John, who’s still standing close by, gesturing towards him so that he steps forward.

  ‘This is John Gilroy. You might remember him from school? He was a few years older than us, though, weren’t you, John?’

  John gives a little smile. ‘Still am,’ he says.

  Kate and Tina stare at him blankly.

  ‘Sorry, can’t say I do,’ says Kate. She moves towards Sarah again.

  ‘His mum owned the chemist’s shop, you know, where I used to work on Saturdays?’ Her voice is strained, and she feels nauseatingly self-conscious as the strobe light catches her eyes again.

  Kate and Tina smile politely at John.

  ‘I remember the greasy one with the ponytail, but not you,’ says Kate. ‘What was his name?’

  ‘John,’ says Sarah, trying not to laugh.

  ‘That must have been confusing – ’ says Kate.

  Sarah looks at John and raises an eyebrow. ‘No,’ she says to Kate. ‘It’s him. Without the ponytail. He’s the same John.’

  Kate looks him up and down, unembarrassed. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says John, scowling. ‘Unless I’m suffering from false memory syndrome, I’m pretty sure it was me. I remember having a ponytail, but I don’t recall being particularly greasy.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ Kate replies sarcastically. ‘Are you two – ?’

  The high-pitched squeal of feedback pierces through the room and the music comes to a sudden stop. They all turn to face the music decks, where Mrs Smith is standing on the edge of the platform with a large microphone in her hand.

  ‘Mrs Whiff!’ says Sarah.

  ‘Testing, testing,’ Mrs Smith says, tapping the microphone briskly. Her solid, squat body hasn’t changed a bit, but her hair is now completely white.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ says Kate. ‘Whiffer.’

  The teacher speaks into the microphone. ‘Thank you, everyone!’

  The room falls silent.

  ‘Good evening, old girls and boys of Selton High Schools!’

  There’s a murmur and a ripple of cheers across the hall.

  ‘We are delighted that so many of you were able to join us tonight. I can confirm that we have just over five hundred ex-pupils here tonight, all of whom attended the schools during the 1980s. This is the biggest reunion we have ever staged, and I am over the moon to be able to welcome you all.’

  Tina leans across and pokes Kate. ‘Remember when you squeezed an ink cartridge into her handbag? It leaked right through on to the floor.’

  Kate laughs.

  ‘Now, we know how much you all want to meet up with friends from your own year groups, so to make it easier we have stationed around the room ten meeting points, starting with 1980 over in the far corner and working round to 1989 here on my left. So, when the music starts again, simply make your way over to the meeting point which matches your fifth year at the school. There are drinks and snacks over at the bar – and I’d just like to ask you all to refrain from smoking in the school building and grounds at all. If you must smoke, please make your way out through the entrance gates on to School Lane, where we’ve stationed an ashbin in which you can dispose of your cigarette waste. Needless to say, there will be NO smoking in the school toilets.’ She breaks into a coy little smile and laughter travels around the room. ‘I’ll be here all evening, so please, do come and say hello if you see me! Enjoy your evening, and with no further ado – music, DJ, please!’

  ‘I Need a Hero’ blasts from the speakers, as Kate spins Sarah towards her, firmly hooking arms.

  ‘1986 – that’s our year. It’s over by those seats we’ve bagsied.’ Kate pulls Tina in too, so that she’s flanked by each woman, their arms intimately linked.

  Sarah turns back towards John, panic rising in her chest. ‘I’ll find you,’ she mouths over her shoulder. She doesn’t want him to go.

  He puts up his hand and walks away in search of his own year group. Heart lurching, she’s chaperoned towards the 1986 area, which bustles with activity as the group increases in number. There are lots of men in the group, boys from her year, but she never had much to do with them back then, so there’s no hope of recognising them now. Kate and Tina say hello to a few lads as they pass through, giggling like little girls when the greeting is returned. They haven’t changed a bit. Women from their year group shriek and embrace each other, falling into easy conversation, comparing notes on marriages, children, divorces, jobs. They all make it look so easy, as if they’ve never lost touch, as if they never left Selton High School at all. The strobe light brushes through the 1986 group, illuminating the face of each pupil, briefly painting them naked for all to see. Sarah isn’t interested in any of them; she wishes she could excuse herself and find John again. The Potter twins push past in matching devil’s horn headbands and red dresses. ‘Hi,’ they say in unison when Sarah smiles.

  Kate tugs her arm. ‘Uh-oh,’ she whispers, inhaling air through the ‘O’ of her pursed lips. ‘Unfinished business.’

  Sarah recognises Simon Dobbs instantly, standing at the edge of the group holding on to two plastic pint glasses of lager. He’s wearing three-quarter-length jeans and a white New Romantics shirt which moves like silk as he raises his glass to his mouth. He hasn’t seen them yet. The men he’s with all possess the over-pumped, beer-rounded physiques of ageing rugby players, and Sarah recalls now that he was a player in the school’s top team. In particular, they were renowned for their eternal capacity for drinking and shagging. She never could work out what Kate saw in him, and he causes her to shudder even now. Despite his carefully groomed exterior, he still manages to look grubby. He’s broader now, and he’s cultivated a strange little goatee beard, but his cocky expression remains unchanged. He makes Sarah think of earwax, which causes her to shudder again. Kate edges them closer, so that they can overhear the conversation.

  ‘What are you up to these days, Si?’ asks one of the group.

  He takes a large swallow of beer before answering. ‘Got my own metal fencing business.’

  ‘Doing alright?’

  ‘Mate, I’m run off my feet. Our problem is keeping up with the orders, not getting them in. Mind you, I’d be mad to complain. It’s a good living.’

  ‘Nice one. So what are you driving, then?’

  ‘Silver BMW M3 convertible.’

  The other man whistles through his teeth.

  ‘Very nice,’ says Kate, just loud enough for Simon to hear.

  He smiles out of the side of his mouth as he locks eyes with her across the group, finishing his first pint in a single open-throated gulp. He slips the empty plastic tumbler over the base of the second pint.

  ‘Kate Robson,’ he says in his deep rugger voice, tugging on his earlobe.

  The other men in the group turn to see who he’s talking to.

  ‘Simon Dobbs,’ she returns with a confident wiggle of her shoulders. She steers Sarah and Tina away from him, passing through the group with a flirtatious smirk.

  Bev Greene and Jo Allen stand beside the 1986 sign on the wall, still sipping their drinks and talking conspiratorially. Jo’s wearing a short pink skirt, and her muscular shins are the colour of uncooked chicken.

  ‘Oh, my God, look over there,’ Kate mutters under her breath as she halts sharply. ‘It’s bloody Lilo Lil.’ She turns to Tina, looking to her for encouragement. ‘I can’t believe she came, can you? She’s got a bloody nerve.’

  ‘Jo Allen?’ says Sarah, glancing over discreetly. ‘I saw her earlier. She was up at the bar.’

  Kate’s grip tightens around Sarah’s arm, and she keeps turning her head to look over in Jo’s direction. ‘What a fucking nerve.’

&
nbsp; ‘I don’t think we even knew Jo all that well at school, did we? She was in different sets for most things, I seem to remember.’ Sarah tries to manoeuvre Kate in a different direction.

  Kate resists, widening her eyes and letting out a small harsh laugh. ‘Did you see the way she just looked at me? Cheeky cow. Who’s she think she is, giving me dirty looks like that? Remember what they used to call her? Jo “Bury-me-in-a-Y-shaped-coffin” Allen. Everyone knows what she was like.’

  ‘Shhh,’ says Sarah, feeling the heat rising into her cheeks. She wishes Kate would let go of her arm. ‘She’ll hear you.’

  ‘Good.’ Kate shrugs. ‘What’s she gonna do? Lump me one?’

  ‘Probably best to leave it, Kate,’ says Tina, who’s barely spoken a word since they all met up. ‘You don’t want to get into an argument here. Not with everyone watching.’

  Kate narrows her eyes and glares at Jo, who challenges her, staring back with her head cocked to one side. Jo’s mouth moves aggressively, but Sarah can’t make out the words.

  ‘How about a drink?’ she suggests, nudging Kate. ‘Are those your seats over by the wall?’

  Kate drops their arms, marching over to the seats to ensure that no one else gets them. ‘Good thinking. I want to have a good time tonight, and I’m not gonna let some old slapper wind me up! I’ll get the first round in – what’s it to be?’

  Tina insists on accompanying Kate to help with the drinks, while Sarah sits and saves the seats. She sees Jo Allen and Bev heading away from the 1986 group, breaking into dance as they near the DJ desk. Sarah’s relieved to see them go; she’s seen Kate in this kind of mood many times before, and it never ends well.

  Kate and Tina return with the drinks, howling with laughter.

  ‘We just bumped into Darren Clifford – he’s got a face full of Botox, I swear!’ says Kate. ‘And I reckon he’s had his lips filled ’n’ all!’

  ‘He couldn’t even smile!’ Tina screeches. ‘Honest to God, he looked like a waxwork.’

  Kate hands Sarah her drink and pulls up a chair in a quick possessive motion. ‘Well, what about you and that John bloke? Are you and him together? I’m sure he’s not the same fella who used to work in the chemist’s, you know. The other one was really thin and he used to wear heavy metal T-shirts. This one seems nice.’

  Sarah laughs. She recalls how Kate had described John as a saddo head-banging greaser after she’d been in to collect her mum’s prescription one Saturday when he was serving. ‘What, do you fancy him or something?’ Kate had said when Sarah had tried to defend him. ‘No!’ she’d protested. ‘He’s just a nice bloke, that’s all. Not everyone’s as trendy as you, Kate.’ That had pleased Kate no end. ‘True,’ she’d said, running her hands down her hips.

  Sarah drinks her wine too quickly and scoops up a handful of Hula Hoops from a bowl that Tina has found. The table beside them is laid out with a long stretch of white paper tablecloth and bowls of peanuts and crisps. Already there are red rings and soggy rips in the paper. On the floor, a green plastic bowl of onion rings has been upturned and left where it fell. Some of them have scattered into the walkway where they lie crushed underfoot. Sarah imagines bundling the whole lot up into a bin bag in one swift movement.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ says Kate again, patting Sarah on the knee. ‘I just can’t believe it! So what’ve you been doing all this time? Married? Kids?’

  Sarah shakes her head. ‘I’ve been busy working. And I looked after my dad when he got ill, so that took a lot of my time.’

  ‘Is he in a home now?’ asks Tina, her face creasing. She’s aged badly.

  ‘No, he passed away last year.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Tina looks down at her knees and scratches her hand. The eczema is red-raw between her fingers.

  ‘No, it’s fine. It’s been a year since his funeral. What about you two?’

  Kate slaps her hands against her own thighs. She’s wearing bright purple leggings and a voluminous black T-shirt. ‘Well, believe it or not, I did quite well after school. Retail management. I started in the ladies’ department at M&S. Then, after having the kids I ended up at Woolies and I was doing really well – department manager – but of course that all went tits-up when they went bust. So now I’m on the lookout for something new. There’s a management job going at the new restaurant on the Parade. Might go for that.’

  ‘Don’t you have to have catering experience for that?’ asks Tina, stirring her drink with a straw.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Kate replies, looking annoyed. ‘It’s all management, isn’t it?’

  A tall woman raises her hand over the crowd and starts to walk in their direction. She’s statuesque and elegant, with funky cropped hair, and she’s at least as tall as most of the men in the room. She moves across the room with confidence, her smile growing as she approaches.

  ‘Who’s that?’ whispers Kate, watching her intently.

  ‘Marianne?’ asks Sarah uncertainly, as she recognises the broad shoulders and heavy jaw of her old schoolfriend.

  Marianne breaks into easy laughter. ‘Sarah?’

  Kate and Tina remain seated, as Sarah rises to hug Marianne. ‘You look fantastic,’ she says, turning to the others for agreement. ‘You remember Kate and Tina?’

  Marianne nods without warmth. ‘Who could forget? Kate Robson. And Tina Smith-not-Smythe.’

  Tina looks as though she can’t decide if Marianne’s being funny or just taking the piss. ‘I can’t believe you remember that,’ she mumbles.

  Marianne throws her a cursory glance. ‘I remember all sorts of things.’ She taps Sarah lightly on the arm. ‘Really good to see you, Sarah. Listen, I’m not staying for long, but I wanted to come over and say hello.’

  ‘I’m really glad you did,’ Sarah replies.

  Marianne turns her back on Tina and Kate, lightly resting her hand on Sarah’s wrist with affection. ‘I just wanted to say, I never forgot how kind you were to me back then, when everyone else was – well, you know, don’t you? Anyway,’ she says, pushing her white-blonde hair up over her forehead, ‘thanks.’ She kisses Sarah on the cheek and slips smoothly into the crowd, her silvery blouse shimmering like fluid over her large, graceful frame.

  Sarah stares at the space she leaves, remembering with clarity the self-conscious Marianne of their school days.

  Kate pokes Sarah, who spins round, startled.

  ‘Bloody hell. Well, she really reckoned herself, didn’t she?’ Kate’s mouth is gaping.

  Sarah frowns. ‘Who? Marianne?’

  ‘Yeah! She goes and gets herself a new haircut and reckons she’s the bee’s knees!’

  ‘I thought she looked amazing,’ says Sarah. ‘I can’t believe how much she’s changed. Remember how embarrassed and awkward she always seemed? She hated PE, because of the changing rooms. She used to make out she was sick just about every gymnastics lesson we ever had.’

  Tina grins at Kate.

  Sarah scowls at them. ‘I always quite liked Marianne. She got a rough deal of it, from what I remember. You two were pretty mean to her.’

  Kate snorts and starts humming the Addams Family theme tune.

  ‘Yes!’ yells Tina. ‘That was it!’

  Sarah rolls her eyes. ‘She was always close to tears after French with you two. You were merciless, now I come to think of it.’

  Kate looks confused and drains her white wine. ‘We weren’t that bad! God, you always were a bit of a goody-goody, Sar!’ She laughs and squeezes Sarah’s knee. ‘Teen, fancy getting another round in while I catch up with Sar?’

  Tina stands and picks up the empty tumblers, holding Sarah’s in the air. ‘Red wine?’

  ‘Thanks,’ replies Sarah, watching Tina as she makes her way along the table towards the bar. Her tight snow-washed jeans hang loosely over her skeletal legs, bunching up over black faux-suede pixie boots. ‘I’d have come in eighties gear if I’d realised everyone else was going to,’ Sarah says.

  ‘Oh, Tina’s not in fancy dress,’ Kate says
. ‘She dresses like that anyway. Swear to God! She’s had those jeans for years.’

  Sarah smiles.

  ‘Anyway, you’ve gotta make an effort.’ Kate smoothes out her top.

  It’s only when she unfolds it from her generous bosom that Sarah realises it has a Blondie image printed across the front. Until now, Debbie Harry’s face had been gobbled up in Kate’s cleavage, so all you got to see was the yellow edges of her choppy hair.

  ‘But you look lovely anyway,’ Kate says quickly, waving a flippant hand in Sarah’s direction.

  Sarah’s pleased to be sitting at the dark edges of the room. It’s only a couple of hours since the start of the party, and already lots of the guests seem well on their way to a hangover. She recognises a few more faces from this distance. Many of them just have a familiar something or other, but nothing she can really relate to. She helps herself to another handful of crisps.

  ‘Tina looks very slim,’ she says, searching for something to say. ‘You wouldn’t guess she’d had two kids.’

  Kate makes a puking action with her two fingers and raises her eyebrows.

  ‘Really?’ says Sarah.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Kate tips her head to one side and lowers her voice. ‘Ever since school. Mind you, I didn’t know for sure till recently, when I caught her chucking up in my en-suite. She denied it, of course, but, well, you’ve just got to look at her to know. It’s a wonder she ever managed to have kids at all. It can make you infertile, can’t it?’

  Tina’s now at the front of the queue for drinks. She’s digging around in her big slouchy handbag, which looks enormous against her tiny frame.

  ‘I had no idea,’ Sarah says.

  ‘You know, her mum was just the same. D’you remember her? She always looked like she’d snap if you bumped into her, and she seemed knackered all the time. She’s just about bedridden with osteoporosis now. And the worst thing is, Tina’s daughter Britta is only nine, and I swear she’s going the same way.’

  ‘What, she’s got an eating disorder? Surely not at that age?’

  Kate pulls her chin in. She looks like Les Dawson. ‘Mm-hmm. Won’t eat in front of anyone, and she’s cut out whole food groups. She won’t touch any dairy and she checks everything for sugar. She’s got huge bags under her eyes. It’s not right for a nine-year-old.’