A Very Big House in the Country

by Claire Sandy

  ‘Crossed wires.’ Evie smacked her forehead with her hand.

  Mike asked, ‘So, Tillie, have you always been . . .’

  ‘A lesbian? Yeah, pretty much. I mean, I’m only eighteen, it’s not like I have loads of relationships behind me. But I’ve always known, yeah.’

  Scarlett held up her fingers to count. ‘Let’s tot up your relationships, eh? Ooh, zero, that’s right.’ The girls laughed, utterly in harmony.

  This was first love. That’s why, thought Evie, they fit so snugly together. It’s why they shone. It’s why she envied them. This fortnight, no matter what might happen to them later as a – gulp! – couple, would never fade in the girls’ memories. It would retain its sunshine colours, jewel-bright forever, because it was the first time.

  Mike coughed. ‘Your mum and I,’ he began, triggering a shot of alarm through his wife. Oh gawd, what’s he going to say? ‘We wish you’d told us, love. To find out about . . .’ evidently unable to use any of the proper words, Mike opted for no word whatsoever, ‘halfway through a life-or-death situation isn’t the best way to break this type of thing to your parents.’

  This type of thing. The lame expression hung in the air between the four of them, with all the charm of a dead fish.

  ‘Learning about this type of thing during a life-or-death situation,’ said Tillie, ‘does put this type of thing into perspective, though.’

  Evie said, ‘She’s got a point.’

  ‘She has,’ agreed Mike.

  Tillie carried on. ‘Life-or-death situations are nothing new to me.’

  Scarlett squeezed her hand; the compassion on her face made her look mature. Evie saw traces of the woman Scarlett would become, and she liked that woman. ‘I want,’ said Scarlett gently, ‘to make it all right for Tillie.’

  Tillie barely opened her lips. ‘You do.’

  Mike stood, as if bitten suddenly. ‘Well, yes, great, lovely – glad we cleared the air, girls . . . um . . . ladies, I mean, women.’

  ‘Wait, Dad!’ Scarlett fell into step with Mike as he marched through the French windows, boxing with the gauzy curtains, knocking petals from the drowsy roses climbing on either side.

  Alone with Tillie, Evie contemplated how to approach this girl, who seemed to be made of elbows. ‘You don’t need my blessing, Tillie,’ she said eventually, when both of them had looked out at the garden for some time. ‘But you have it. I can see you and my daughter are bonkers about each other.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Tillie. ‘We do need it. Thank you.’

  Evie smiled. Slapped her knees. The tricky bit was done. ‘Hot chocolate?’

  ‘Great,’ said Tillie. ‘They say hot drinks are good after a shock. But even though I almost drowned today,’ she bit her lip, ‘you might need it more than I do.’

  As the milk warmed, Evie snooped by the open drawing-room door. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t clever, but it was irresistible.

  Please, she prayed to whichever god was on duty, help Mike speak from the heart!

  Scarlett was talking, in that intense gabble she used when something was important. Important to her, that is; Scarlett didn’t always fall into step with what the world considered to be important. ‘Thing is, Daddy,’ she was saying, making Evie nod admiringly: Nice move. Call him ‘Daddy’ and he’s putty in your hands.

  ‘Thing is, Daddy, what is gay, anyway? I don’t know if I’m gay. I just really, really like Tillie. Well, actually, I love her. Aaargh!’ Scarlett let loose the scream she and her friends reserved for the highest grade of embarrassment/ excitement/new trousers. ‘That feels so weird. But I do!’ She was a pendulum, swinging from juvenile to adult. ‘I don’t feel right when she’s not with me. And she can’t bore me. Even when she goes on and on about politics. If I make her laugh, I swear I grow a full inch.’

  Mike’s voice was rumbling ballast to his daughter’s hot-air balloon. ‘You’re young, Scarlett. You’ll meet other people who make you feel that way.’

  ‘Oh my God, Dad, are you homophobic? After all that shit you say about—’

  ‘Scarlett!’

  ‘Newsflash! I say “Shit” all the time. Shit,’ said Scarlett. ‘Shit shitty-shitto.’

  ‘Very clever. Glad the education isn’t going to waste. And of course I’m not homophobic, you brat. I’m just saying—’

  ‘You’re just saying,’ Scarlett cut in, her voice full of the tears that were always hot on the heels of her anger, ‘you’re disappointed in me.’

  Mike sounded tired. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘See! I know that voice. This is another disappointment.’

  ‘Another one? What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, that Scarlett,’ said Scarlett, ‘she’s always late. She’s the last out of bed. Does her homework at the last minute. She argues. She swears. She cries. She screws up. She’s an idiot, and she’s always been an idiot.’

  That’s your cue! Evie implored her husband, through the door.

  ‘Where’s all this coming from? You are a disappointment, if you believe that.’ As the crying went up a notch, Mike said, ‘Joke, Scarlett. Joke!’

  ‘It’s not funny. Get off me.’

  So a cuddle had been attempted. Bad timing, sir, thought Evie.

  ‘Hang on. Don’t go. Love, listen. Are you listening? It’s hard to know, cos you’re biting that thumbnail so viciously and staring at it as if you hate it.’

  ‘Just get on with it, Dad.’

  ‘I don’t know how to put this. I was the first person to clap eyes on you. Mum was zonked by the effort of pushing you out, and I cut your umbilical cord – it’s much thicker than you’d think, by the way – and then you were handed to me. I took a good long, hard look at you. You were covered in goo, and one of your eyes was sealed shut with gunk, and your forehead had a dent in it from the forceps. The midwife said, “She’s perfect.” She meant you had all your fingers and toes, but I said, “Yes, she is” and I meant much more than that.’

  Evie stayed very still.

  ‘And I still think that when I look at you. I think: She’s perfect. Nothing has changed that, and nothing ever will.’

  There was a pause for some snuffling.

  ‘Scarlett, you don’t disappoint me, because you can’t. If I nag you, it’s only cos it’s my job to prepare my daughter for the big bad world, where she’s just another person – not my precious, incomparable Scarlett. Being your dad is the most satisfying job I’ve ever had. I love you, Scarlett, just the way you are. And, for the record, I think Tillie’s amazing.’

  Major snuffling.

  ‘I’ve disappointed you, I see that. But when I was growing up it was harder to live as a gay person, and my gut reaction is to make everything easy for you. I don’t care if you fancy boys, girls or pot plants.’

  More snuffling, plus a snotty giggle.

  ‘Are we clear on this matter now? Because I don’t know if I can say it all again. I’m just your stupid dad, you know. This’ll have to last you for the next ten years or so.’

  There was a lot of talk from Scarlett after that. Most of it Evie couldn’t decipher, through the tears and the nose-bubbles and the laughing, but she heard her call Mike ‘Daddy’ just as the milk boiled over.

  ‘I want one of these,’ murmured Evie, watching the moon from the gurgling hot tub. She might as well want a unicorn. ‘I’d live in it, if I had one.’ She held out her glass and Shen refilled it. They were alone. Shen had set up the tub, then beckoned Evie out to it, without alerting anybody else.

  ‘I’m glad you and I seem to be . . . us again,’ said Evie.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘What the hell happened? Why did we fall out? We—’

  ‘Evie, with the greatest respect in the world, shut up.’ Shen’s maquillage was once again perfect, despite the damp. ‘We didn’t do anything. I lost the plot for a while.’

  ‘It’s Wellcome Manor. It’s all this perfection.’ Evie looked around at the spotlit, impeccable grounds. ‘It feels ungrateful and
petty to be unhappy here, but the truth is we packed all our problems in our suitcases.’

  ‘It’s not the house’s fault, it’s mine.’

  ‘OMG,’ mouthed Evie. ‘Is this an apology?’

  Shen blew out her cheeks. Exhaled heavily. ‘I. Am. Sorry.’

  ‘I should have caught that on-camera. But I don’t need a sorry, Shen. We lost our way a bit, that’s all. No inquests, eh?’

  Off the hook, Shen nodded. She’d envied her friend, instead of crying on her shoulder. Now that Shen had come down from the ceiling she could accept they were different people with different strengths. Her recovery – her return to being ‘her’, as Evie put it – had begun when Clive’s jibes petered out. There was no rivalry over Fang now; in fact, Clive was possessive and wouldn’t let Shen do the little practical chores that had flummoxed her.

  The pivot had been that romp in the greenhouse. It had reignited something between man and wife, turning them back into lovers after years of stage-managed sex. She fancied the ruffled bear of a man who looked after his family, who was tired, but not too tired to have his missus among the lawnmowers and the compost.

  ‘So,’ Evie looked over the rim of her glass with mock-horror, ‘you ravished him in the greenhouse with your gym kit on?’

  ‘Put like that, it sounds like pervy Cluedo, but it was hot.’

  ‘Got it. No need to say any more. Sounds like you and Clive have found your rhythm, just as Mike and I have lost ours. Ships that pass in the night, and all that.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Shen was airy. ‘You always are.’

  Her confidence was reassuring; but, thought Evie, it’s easy to be confident from afar.

  ‘So,’ said Shen. ‘We finally have a lesbian in the family.’

  ‘You sound as if you’ve been looking out for one for months. Like when you go on the Louboutin waiting list.’

  ‘I love lesbians.’

  ‘Oh God, Shen, listen to yourself!’

  ‘Well, I do.’

  ‘No, you don’t. That’s patronizing. You’re saying you love lesbians because Scarlett’s in love with Tillie.’

  ‘No, I’ve always loved lesbians.’ Shen was affronted by Evie’s doubt. ‘They’re so chic. They’re so now. It’s very trendy to be gay. I’d do it myself, if I wasn’t so fond of willies.’

  ‘Don’t look at me. I’m spoken for.’

  ‘As if I’d go out with you,’ scoffed Shen. ‘I’d want a younger girlfriend. A model or an actress. No offence.’

  ‘Lots taken.’

  ‘Give it a decade and we’ll have a queer Queen.’

  There was no point picking apart that assertion. ‘Do you think Scarlett and Tillie are a bit young to make such a big decision about their sexuality?’

  ‘I knew from the age of six I wanted to marry a millionaire.’

  ‘I suppose, come to think of it, I did define myself at a young age. As straight.’ Evie rubbed her streaming eyes; she’d gone off the hot tub. It was like sharing a hot bath with someone who was constantly, vigorously breaking wind. ‘Scarlett’s a wise kid, once you delve past the whatevs and the duhs. But you know how it is, Shen. We worry about them.’

  ‘You’re thinking about her going back to school, yeah?’ With a ghetto-princess snap of her fingers, Shen dismissed the shadowy playground bigots. ‘Fuck ’em!’ she declared. ‘Scarlett is who she is, and besides, she’s ours. And so is Tillie. Nobody messes with our girls.’

  ‘Amen to that.’ Evie raised her glass. Shen’s forcefield was up and humming again, wrapped around them all. She would put iron in Scarlett and Tillie’s blood, protect them from the trolls. It would be up to Evie, however, to protect them from Shen’s newfound enthusiasm for all things lesboid.

  ‘We said no inquests,’ said Shen, ‘and I agree. But can we promise never to lose our way again?’

  ‘Please.’ Evie couldn’t do without Shen; Shen couldn’t do without Evie. Their shaky ecosystem worked. ‘Oh, look at the dogs,’ she said, soppily. ‘They want to get in with— Oh, Jesus!’

  Prunella and Patch took her smile as an invitation. Leaving them to it and retreating to the terrace, Evie looked back at the two faces, one bug-eyed, the other barking, in the bubbling water. So it’s not just a sex-thing, she thought, approvingly. He takes her out on dates.

  ‘I know you’re awake, Mike. When you’re really asleep, you don’t make those dainty little sheep-noises; when you’re asleep, you sound like a masturbating hippo.’ Evie kissed the edge of his ear, one of the few surfaces of her husband sticking out of the duvet and available to her. She lay along the bundled-up length of him, needing the beat of his blood.

  ‘I am asleep, honest.’

  ‘Our powwow is off the agenda then.’ It had been buried beneath the avalanche of the day’s events.

  ‘It’s been a hell of a day. My daughter could have drowned. My wife could have drowned. Our family has one more lesbian in it than it did when we got up this morning.’ Mike burrowed deeper. ‘I went nuts, when you and Shen took off without me in that crappy little boat.’

  ‘Sorry. You know how Shen is. She can’t bear to waste a second.’

  ‘I felt so impotent. I thought, What if I lose them both?’

  ‘You didn’t, though. You don’t always have to be the hero, darling. I’m here to take up the slack.’

  Mike’s head and shoulders appeared. ‘Answer me truth-fully, Evie. Did you know? About Scarlett and Tillie? Did she confide in you?’

  ‘Cross my heart, I’d have told you.’ She was dismayed that he suspected otherwise. ‘I tell you everything.’ The lie slipped out so smoothly; she absolved herself, because soon it would be the truth. ‘Why would Scarlett tell me before you?’

  ‘Because I’m the ogre who’s disappointed in her.’ Mike slammed back onto the bed, as if he’d taken a knockout punch. ‘Because she thought I’d be ashamed of her. Christ!’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Evie was having none of that. ‘She spilled her heart out to you. She needed you to know all about her, about how she felt. It’s pretty cool – to use a forbidden word – that a teenager needs that connection with her daddy.’

  ‘That’s true.’ A half-smile scribbled across Mike’s face in the scant moonlight. With a sudden half-turn of his head to look at Evie, he said, ‘Hold on. How do you know what she said to me?’

  ‘How d’you think?’ Evie was busted. ‘I have an O level in Eavesdropping, to go with that degree in Armchair Psychology.’

  ‘You nosy old bag.’

  ‘I love it when you talk dirty to me.’

  ‘We were such mugs. We totally bought the idea of Scarlett and Zane, just because it was the heterosexual option.’

  Evie’s clothes felt restrictive suddenly. She needed to be naked, to be her undiluted self. ‘Poor Zane. I was mentoring him. I thought he was getting somewhere. His little heart must be breaking.’

  ‘Zane looks fine to me.’

  Men, thought Evie. ‘I’ll have a word with him tomorrow. Take his emotional temperature.’ As she stretched out, Mike shuffled his body towards her, drilling his bottom gently into her torso. They often slept like that, but tonight Evie gave a slight start and pulled away.

  No, she lectured herself. Relax. Evie let her limbs liquefy and spooned Mike, her skin against his, for the full length of their bodies. After tomorrow he would be too anxious, too careful, to bump against her like that; she remembered his hyper-awareness of her body last time. He’d thrown a cordon around it, in case he hurt her, in case he made things worse.

  Hmm. I really should get one last shag out of him, before he goes all respectful on me. Evie kissed Mike’s ear. ‘Maybe this liking-girls thing is just a phase.’

  She turned the kiss into a nibble, then added an exploratory flick of her tongue on his neck.

  ‘Oh.’ Mike turned, smiling with his whole body. ‘I see.’

  Against his mouth, Evie said, ‘My parents still think you’re a phase.’

  DAY 14

  Mo
nday, 24th August

  Dear Wellcome Manor,

  THANK YOU for this extraordinary holiday. For letting us swim in your pool and play in your treehouse and go wild on your lawn. And thank you for helping us put things into perspective.

  Love,

  Evie, Mike, Scarlett, Dan, Mabel & Patch xxx

  The noise at the end of the drive woke the whole house.

  Clive padded down the gravel in slippers and shook hands with the foreman of the small working party replacing the gates. He handed over a cheque and jogged back to the house, baying for breakfast.

  ‘The last croissant.’ Evie lay it reverentially on his plate. The house was alive with comings and goings, pitterings and patterings, just like the first exploration fourteen days ago. Now their little army was retreating.

  ‘Where’s my rucksack?’ hollered Mabel from the top floor.

  ‘Can we steal the telly?’ called Dan from the den.

  ‘Not so sunny today.’ Evie joined Shen on the terrace with the half-glass of orange juice that was left.

  ‘It knows we’re going home.’

  ‘How like you, to assume the sun is your personal celestial body.’

  ‘Oi!’ A happy squeal from a top window. Evie squinted up to see Scarlett and Tillie crammed into the frame. ‘Fry us a bacon sarnie, Muvver!’

  ‘No bacon!’ shouted Evie.

  ‘No bread!’ shouted Shen.

  It occurred to Evie that Scarlett and Tillie had shared a room since day one. She closed down that line of thought: the sex lives of other generations are a no-go area. She remembered the spine-tingling mortification of the realization that her own parents must have done it, and Scarlett’s loud gagging if she saw Evie and Mike kiss, however chastely.

  ‘This,’ said Evie, taking in the picturesque sweep of the garden with early-onset nostalgia, ‘will probably be our last family holiday. I can’t see Scarlett wanting to come away with us next year.’

  ‘She and Tillie will have broken up by then.’

  ‘Possibly.’ Evie elbowed Shen for her lack of romance. ‘But I didn’t necessarily mean she’d go away with Tillie. She’s turning into a woman. She’ll have some other love interest, or a bunch of friends. This is quite a historic occasion.’