Mouths of Babes

by Stella Duffy

  Wishing she was right. Wishing the pictures coming into her head could be captured and put away, made safe in albums. Wishing they weren’t bleeding black and white back into her own life now. Molly fell asleep searching for moving pictures of her father, Saz drifted – too slowly – away from images of her past where sticks and stones didn’t always break bones, but large concrete slabs certainly did.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Sally left school early that day. As planned. As agreed. As if she wanted to. Maybe she did want to. Coming close to the end of term, classroom hot with tired sighs and the sweating thighs of adolescent potential. She checked the watch she had been given three years ago, glass face scratched with time, birthday present watch, big deal in her family, the thirteenth birthday watch. Her father had one, her sister had one, she had one. It was time. Chair scraped back on wooden floor, one leg missing its rubber stopper and the splintered rut in the floor adjusted its depth once more.

  Eyes right, Sally stood up from her seat. Eyes front, Sally walked to the teacher, backed against the blackboard by the uncomprehending faces of his yawning class. Eyes in the back row met and mouths grinned, smiling at what was to come. What was expected and what was to come. This was yet another badly designed classroom where the afternoon sun turned pale spring into tropical warmth, school bags and books exuding over-ripe banana and bruised apple odours, stained breath of a dozen bulimic girls raising an acid ozone to the fluorescent ceiling. Sally felt eager encouragement at her back as she whispered period and surprise and can I go now, please, whispered it to the young man just out of training college, just loud enough for the front row to hear and enjoy his discomfort. He blushed, Sally didn’t, she left. The room, the building, the grounds. Safe on the streets, safer on the streets by far than in the crowded corridors she was leaving behind.

  Sally walked up the road, round the corner, past the sweet shop, owner and her son gearing up for the post-school shoplifting rush and then the chemist, lazy posters peeling in the hot glass windows. She side-stepped the betting shop, its doorway cluttered with ever-hopeful old men and their littered potential. Sally took one back street and then another. Past a second parade of shops, a third row of ugly Edwardian houses, their red brick too red, imposing facades too heavy. Sally hated the suburbs, this one in particular, hated living out here in no-man’s land. No-woman’s land. It would have been much faster to walk home direct. Sally was not going home.

  She stopped at her designated resting place, against the wall, partially hidden by a London lime, waiting, and talked herself through her script. And it was a script, those words she was planning to say, the words the others had coached her in saying. She’d realised this morning that it was a script, while she listened to Will reading aloud his allotted three pages of Macbeth, reading out loud in Miss Taylor’s English class. A-level required syllabus and only Will Gallagher in the whole group who had not only read the play once at home, but was happy to read it aloud again, to the whole room. No one took the piss when Will was reading, he was good at it. Will Gallagher was many things, but he was not shy. Andrea Browne said that Miss Taylor fancied him, had seen the way the older woman looked at her boyfriend. She was probably right, everyone fancied Will Gallagher. Even when he was showing off, maybe especially then. And listening to him in Miss Taylor’s class this morning, Sally had realised, warm and sweating a little in her nylon-cotton mix school blouse, that the job she was doing this afternoon was acting as well. The words they had all encouraged her to say were her script.

  Sally wished she were as confident as Will now. Wished she were as smart and eager for attention as Daniel. Either attribute would work. Skill or aggressive self-belief. Sally knew herself well enough to understand that the agitation she was feeling here, waiting, worrying, was because she was too aware of what happened next. Daniel wouldn’t think about it as long as people noticed him and Will wouldn’t give a fuck either way, if the plan worked out in the end. She shouldn’t think about it. Should just do it. Would just do it. Heard the faint school bell four streets away. One long ring and then second short note. Pictured kids standing up, slamming desks, teachers trying to shout out homework and end-of-lesson wrap-ups, drowned out in scraping chairs and drumming, running feet. Sally checked her birthday watch. Waiting. Sun shining. Just do it.

  Five minutes more and Janine Marsden came running down the road.

  Always leaving her classes as quickly as possible, out of the room and out of the building as quickly as she could, running fast to the safety of her home. Mother and father both at work, little brother out, and a couple of hours where Janine could have time to herself, just be herself. Hide. Sally was hidden. And then revealed.

  “Hi, Janine.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  When Saz walked into the early evening pub it was already smoky and noisy, midnight colours in a seven o’clock room. It made sense that Daniel would come to a place like this with Becky. In the dim lighting the girl would easily pass for at least eighteen, and the building was too far away from the sixth form college and much too traditional for any but the most indifferent of fellow students or teachers to be there. It was a drinking pub, not a style bar.

  Daniel Carver was waiting for her. And so was Becky. A big fat I-told-you-so grin on her face, she stroked Daniel’s arm as Saz approached his table and then stood up, smiling, “I’ll just be in the Ladies. If you want me.” The first directed at Saz, the latter at Daniel.

  The two adults eyed each other, half their lives falling away between them, Saz noted that the man seated before her was still tall, lanky, even after all this time he hadn’t really filled out. He looked at her thoughtfully assembled dress, well-cut hair, understated but useful makeup, the not-quite-so-narrow hips of her woman’s body. She was too old for him.

  Daniel spoke first. “Sally?”

  “Saz. Daniel?”

  “Yeah. Some people go for Dan. I’ll answer to anything but Danny. No change. I always think name-changers must have something to hide, don’t you? Saz?”

  “Maybe.”

  “So, can I get you a drink?”

  “No. Thanks. Will’s outside. Will Gallagher. We need to talk to you.”

  “What? Our Will? Is that what this is about? Ross Gallagher off the telly?”

  Oddly, despite his surprise that Saz was not alone, she had a sense that Daniel was enjoying this. Maybe because the pub was his territory, or perhaps he was already buoyed up with Becky’s account of yesterday’s meeting, knowing Saz would arrive at some point, and knowing she’d been hoping to surprise him – either way, he certainly wasn’t as disturbed at the thought of seeing Will as Saz had been. Maybe it was a lad thing, the potential re-ignition of their bloke-bonding. Or maybe it was just good old-fashioned star-fucking. Whatever, Saz knew Becky wouldn’t leave them all that long, no matter how important her perfect lip-line was, and she needed to get in quick with her story.

  “There’s some old school reunion I haven’t been told about?”

  “Yeah, kind of. Janine Marsden has been in touch. With Will.”

  Daniel looked down at his near-empty pint, back up at Saz. His eyes were dark, he was no longer smiling.

  “Fuck. You’re kidding?”

  Saz shook her head, pleased to have shocked him out of his ease. “Wish I was. She’s been calling Will. She wants to see us. All five of us.”

  “She what?”

  “That’s what she told Will. In one of her letters, or calls, I don’t know all the details. Can’t say I wanted to know anything about it when he first told me. But we do need to do something. She wants to meet up with all of us.”

  “Can’t we just tell her to fuck off?”

  “And chance her calling the papers? Contacting our families? That’s what she’s threatening. You really want to risk having all that brought up again?”

  The door to the Ladies opened and Becky began to make her way across the smoky room, Saz spoke fast. “Will’s outside in the car, he’s booked a table,
somewhere quiet so we can talk. We do need to talk.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “And you can’t bring the girl.”

  Daniel was all compliance and forced calm, Becky close enough for Saz to smell her body-spray perfume. Aerosol musk – just as brutal as it had been back when Saz and Andrea had smothered their own bodies in it.

  “No. Right. Look, give me a minute to get rid of Becky. You’re outside?”

  “Two streets up, on the right. And it would be useful if she didn’t see Will.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” Daniel was already checking his pocket for his wallet, gathering coins from the table.

  Saz was walking away just as Becky was about to slide into the chair beside Daniel, the teenager arriving in time to realise there would be no more opportunities this evening to further emphasise her barrier-breaking relationship with the teacher, though she took his head in her hands and pulled his bald spot back between her enhanced breasts nonetheless. While Becky liked an audience, she didn’t always demand one. Daniel generally fulfilled the role perfectly adequately – mentor and acolyte, all rolled into one substantial fuck. Which meant she was very unhappy when he explained he intended to follow Saz and leave her behind. Though not before he’d bought her a double vodka. And another pack of Marlboro Lights. And promised her a bloody good party on Sunday afternoon. The barman watched as she blew Daniel’s departing back a blow-job kiss. She’d sent three text messages before the door slammed shut, twilight and fresh air left waiting on the step.

  Daniel climbed into the back seat and Will started the car.

  “Well, this is lovely, all together again. So what the fuck’s going on?”

  As he drove off, Will Gallagher eyed Daniel in the rear-view mirror, the reflection offering him Daniel’s worried face.

  “Let’s catch up a little first.”

  Daniel shrugged, “Nice to see you’re still in charge of the conversation, Will.”

  “If I can be. Been seeing the girl long?”

  Daniel nodded, “Few months officially. Since I left the school at the end of last term.”

  “Very wise. I expect she’s grateful to you, taking a special interest in her education and all.”

  The men smiled at each other, and started on a discussion of younger women, the ones they so would, until Saz interjected, “For fuck’s sake, of course Becky thinks she’s doing something exciting, he was a teacher at her school – sorry, college – she’s breaking rules, being a rebel. But bloody hell, Daniel, what on earth do you have to talk about?”

  “You, actually. Yesterday evening Becky told me all about you.”

  “All that she knew.”

  “More than I did. What do you reckon, Will? Our little Sally a lezz?”

  Will patted Saz’s knee beside him. “Molly’s little Sally now actually, Daniel.”

  “So there is a lady friend?”

  “They’ve got a daughter as well. Very happy family set-up from what I saw.”

  Daniel turned to Saz. “And my mum always said she thought the lezz thing was a phase you’d grow out of.”

  Saz laughed, “Yeah, well, your mum always was a rubbish judge of character. She thought you were perfect.”

  Will sighed. “How very like old times this is. And how very dull. Shut up now, children, and let Daddy tell you what we’re doing this evening, because you know what? There are far more pressing matters than which one of you has the smarter mouth or the higher moral ground.”

  They walked into the restaurant and Will took charge as always, ordering a shared meal for the three of them and, when the waiter had left, Daniel leaned forward, his voice lower now, lad-banter all gone. “So, what’s the story? Is she for real?”

  “Janine Marsden?” Will was quiet now too. “Unfortunately I think she is.”

  “What does she want?”

  “Like we said in the car, she wants to see us.”

  “Us?”

  “You, me, Sally, Andrea and Ewan.”

  “She actually said that? Named all of us? Ewan too?”

  Daniel looked from Will to Saz. Saz shrugged, nodded at Will. “I don’t think he’s making it up. What would be the point?”

  Daniel reached for his wine glass. “No, I guess not. Fancy that. After all this time she finally did it.”

  “What do you mean?” Saz asked, flushing hot and scared, glad of the low lighting.

  Daniel took a mouthful of wine, swallowed it without tasting, “You know, found us. Got back to us. Still, arranging a meeting’s going to be tricky.”

  “No kidding.” Will shook his head.

  Daniel smiled, “At least we know how to get hold of Andy.”

  Saz spoke first. “No?”

  “OK then, I know how to get hold of Andy. She lives over near Bristol.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Praying.”

  “On whom?” Will moved his glass so the waiter could put down another plate, and grinned at his own joke.

  Saz wasn’t laughing, “Praying?”

  “For my lost soul last I heard. My mum – source of all wisdom, as we’ve established – met her Aunty Jane a year or so back. You remember, Will, that Jane we used to really fancy, Andy’s dad’s little sister? Way younger than all the parents?”

  “Big tits, tight jeans, very fine arse?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Oh yeah, I liked her. Didn’t you too, Sally?”

  “I barely remember the woman,” Saz lied. “Can we get on with the matter in hand, please?”

  “Do go on.” Will waved his hand and Daniel smiled acceptance.

  “OK, I knew Andy had got married just after university, some bloke from her course, and they had a couple of kids, fairly young they must have been, but then according to what Aunty Jane told my mum, about five years ago both Andrea’s parents died.”

  “Together?” Saz was listening hard, her own recent grief stirring up unexpected sympathies for the woman she still thought of as a whip-tongued teenager, her company to be enjoyed, but also feared, certainly not someone to be pitied. A woman who had once been so important to her and now, she was quickly realising, about whom she knew virtually nothing.

  “Nope. Mrs Browne died first. It was all really gruesome according to her Aunty Jane. And then Andy’s dad died about six months later. Broken heart they reckon, he just didn’t want to keep going without her.”

  Will looked up from the food he’d been steadily eating. Protein only. “So grief turned our wild child into a born-again believer? How trite of her.”

  Saz shook her head, “Andrea was never really a wild child. Part of her was always gagging to settle down, play house.”

  “Yeah, and quite a lot of her was exactly the opposite.” Will said.

  “True, but it’s hard to hold Little House on the Prairie and Barbarella together for long. She was going to have to choose one or the other eventually. Maybe that’s why she’s gone for religion, to handle the contradiction?”

  “Or ignore it. So she’s really found Jesus?”

  Daniel grinned, clearly enjoying his role of informer. “Not exactly, she found Bob.”

  “The builder?”

  “The Buddha.”

  “What?”

  Will was speaking with his mouth full, Saz wasn’t hungry. Daniel was well into the story.

  “According to Aunty Jane, Andrea left her husband with their two kids, gave up a pretty good career in advertising, and followed this Bob – who just happened to work in the same city firm as her husband, same team what’s more – off to his tent or shack or farm, whatever-the-fuck-it-is, halfway up the River Severn. A year later she comes back to get the kids, heartbroken hubby hands them over without a fight. Poor bugger.”

  Will was bored, he’d never liked Daniel’s long stories when they were younger and didn’t seem any more interested now. “Daniel, get to the point? If you possibly can?”

  Daniel continued, slowly, enjoying Will’s irritation. “Well, apparen
tly Andrea and the new bloke now live in splendid isolation, all the while praying for the likes of us. Some Eastern thing my mum thought. Buddhist. Krishna maybe. Though for all I know, they could be Plymouth Brethren, my mum’s grasp of comparative theology always was very shaky.”

  “But you said you know how to get hold of her?” Saz asked.

  Daniel took a mouthful of steak from Will’s plate. “That’s right. See, the lovely Aunty Jane gave Andy my mum’s address. They’ve been exchanging Christmas cards ever since.” He looked up across the table. “Andy always signs them to say she’s praying for all of us, her little group of best mates from school. Seems to think we might need it.”

  The men were certain that Andrea would rather hear from Saz than from either of them. Daniel refused to be the bearer of bad news – both Saz and Will recognised his brave mouth and fearful actions from their past. And Will said he would call her – but that he didn’t think he could keep her on the line long enough to explain what was going on.

  “I doubt very much she’s any fonder of me now than when I last dumped her.”

  “Last dumped her?”

  Will smiled at Saz. “You know how dim some girls can be. Won’t take telling just the once, very persistent. You have to dump them from a great height to get through to them. She said she never wanted to speak to me again. Only not quite so nicely.”

  Daniel nodded. “Gallagher charm in action, how I’ve missed learning from the master. No wonder Andy ended up with two husbands when you were her perfect first. Or maybe she just can’t decide who to stay with because it’s really you she still loves, always has done, all this time?”

  “Always willing to help, Daniel. Any time you need tips, you only have to ask.”

  “Yeah. Right. Didn’t I read something about that producer you were shagging last year? That one who dumped you and then sold her story to the Sun?”

  “She wasn’t a producer, she was a runner. And she didn’t dump me, I dumped her when I realised she was too young for me. Nineteen, Daniel, too young. It didn’t look good. I can give you her number though, if you fancy trading up to an adult model any time? She’s probably nearly twenty by now?”