by Dawn French
Minnie started to make some decent money. She spent it on notebooks, pens, make-up, takeaways and, for a while, on cigarettes, which she was trying desperately hard to like, partly because she’d met a canny boy called Callum who worked full-time on the market with his dad on their fruit and veg stall, and he smoked. He tasted of tobacco when he stole kisses from her in the café on their breaks. She didn’t like it, so she decided to smoke too, to see if that negated the stale taste. It didn’t. She told Callum they’d be better as mates. Minnie knew what she liked.
When Minnie was SIXTEEN, she asked Hope to dye the top two-thirds of her hair bright blondey orange. Hope thought it was a great idea and they did it in the kitchen after looking at lots of ‘bleaching afro hair’ videos on YouTube. Hope wrote a jokey disclaimer for Minnie to sign, which stated, ‘My mum has no idea what she’s doing. I have agreed to let her bleach my hair. If it all falls out, it’s my fault.’ It didn’t fall out, it stank of bleach for a while, but it looked amazing. The first time Cat sauntered into the bedroom unaware, and saw the crazy hair, she arched her back, hissed at Minnie, and pelted back out.
Hope and Minnie were a team, and like all teams who love each other, when they fell out, it was brutal, personal and bruising. On one occasion, after a flaming set-to which started off about emptying the washing machine when it was finished, rather than leaving her clothes in there, sodden and forgotten for two days until they were so stinky the entire cycle had to start again, the row escalated quickly into a fiery mess which culminated in Minnie shouting, ‘God! You are so controlling. No wonder my bloody father, whoever he is, decided that running off to another continent would be preferable to being anywhere near you!’
This floored Hope, who sat down quietly to let it sink in. The sting of it hung in the silent air for a horrible few moments. Eventually Minnie plodded back into the room, eyes wide as she scanned her mother’s face, afraid to gauge the damage.
‘Sorry, Mum. Didn’t mean that. Seriously, I was just, like, fewmin’ … sorry,’ and she rushed to Hope and hugged her hard.
‘It’s OK, Min, it’s OK. You didn’t mean it.’
When Minnie was SEVENTEEN, everything in her life changed. On her way to school one morning she went into the café and met Twat and came out with four cinnamon swirls, a hot chocolate and his number on a fiver. She was nervous to call it in the beginning – what if she’d misjudged him and he genuinely was a twat? She looked at the number on and off for three days and then Princess dared her to call it, so she did.
‘Hi, um, Twat? It’s me, Curls …’
‘Hey, the Cinnamon Swirl Queen. I’m so glad you called. I didn’t think you would.’
‘Yeah. You’re lucky. I felt like scraping the barrel today, so you were the first person who came to mind.’
The relationship started with banter and terrible jokes, and the banter never stopped, the jokes got worse, and Minnie loved it. He said things like: ‘What’s the difference between mashed potatoes and pea soup? Anyone can mash potatoes … haha.’ He was relentless, and she always laughed. The two of them understood each other very well and very quickly. She felt sheltered by him, and free to be the confident, nervous, loud, quiet, happy, morose, baffling mixture of a real person she was. He was similar in that he was not quite what he seemed. Cheeky, yes, but like Minnie, he was an interior person, who just happened to present with a bit of flash.
Lee’s mum and dad were loud, over-confident people who enjoyed showing off on their ‘fully loaded’, ‘more than just a motorcycle’ Honda GL1800 Goldwing, on which they toured around Bristol and the South-West seeking out fairs and county shows where they could display the bike and meet up with other owners. For reasons beyond Lee’s ken, both his mum and his dad chose to play the part of hardened bikers when they indulged in this hobby, so they had a full wardrobe of bikers’ leathers, vests, boots, neckerchiefs and sunglasses, which they would wear when attending. They LOVED being in character, pretending to be hard as hell, which Lee felt was in total contrast to the transport, basically a sofa on wheels, the most comfy and expansive motorbike imaginable. Not a throbbing hog, more a giant marshmallow in a trolley.
Lee had very quickly realized that their passion for the bike and the dressing-up wasn’t to be mocked. In fact, they were singularly humourless about it, so he left them to it, and they left him and his younger sister to it on most weekends when they blat-blatted off on their far-too-regular thrill-seeking jaunts. Relieved to see them rattle off down the road, the siblings were left to their own devices, and formed a strong bond because of it, with Lee always keeping an eye out for his sis, and constantly making her laugh with his silly jokes, ‘Sometimes, y’know, I just tuck my knees up to my chest and sort of tip forward – it’s just how I roll. Haha.’
This was the loving Lee that Minnie fell for, and because she completely opened her seventeen-year-old heart to him and knew she could trust him, she decided after six months or so that she really wanted to sleep with him. She told Hope that she loved Lee, and Hope wasted no time in getting her to the nurse for advice about contraception. Minnie was offered an implant or birth-control pills. She made the wrong choice. For her. Minnie totally forgot who she was and somehow believed that she would remember to take a pill every day. She didn’t and in September, she missed her period. She didn’t worry too much, the whole contraception lark was new to her body and she suspected that it might take a while to settle in, probably agitating her normal rhythms. When she missed her second period, she told Lee and he went and bought a pregnancy test.
She peed.
They sat together on the floor of her bedroom with their backs against the bed. Lee said, ‘Look, whatever happens, right, we’re together with this, OK? Curls? OK?’
Minnie had tears rolling down her face. She was very quiet. She knew before she even looked, she knew. She whispered, ‘What have we done? Seriously, what have we done?’
‘We’ve fallen in love, that’s all, and that ain’t gonna change, whatever this says. Trust me.’
‘This is the bit where my dad legged it – when there was me.’
‘Min, look at me. I ain’t going nowhere.’
And they sat transfixed, long after the second line bled through, confirming their suspicions.
‘What’s the percentage it’s right …?’ Lee piped up eventually.
Minnie reached for the packet and read the side. ‘Ninety-nine per cent.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Wanna do it again to check for that cheeky one per cent?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s right. I know it’s right. God!’
‘C’mere, baby-mummy.’ He took her in his arms and held her very tight. She was trembling. ‘Honestly, Curls, you’re going to have to accept that I’m here forever, OK? It’s happening, and I’m here … I’ve got a job, we can do this,’ he reassured her.
‘What about school? I’m doing my A levels next year.’
‘Do ’em the year after. It’s OK, really, you’ll only miss a year … You DO want to have it, don’t you? You’re not thinking …?’ Lee sat back, suddenly letting this awful thought dawn on him.
She instantly bounced it back: ‘No! No! God, really? No.’
‘Oh, good.’ He blew out a long breath. ‘I wouldn’t cope with that. Not … y’know, something we’ve done together like this. Not something – I mean – someone. Christ …’ He was starting to process the hugeness of it.
‘I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl?’ Minnie said.
‘So long as it’s a baby, I don’t care.’
‘Shut up, Lee. What else could it bloody be?’
‘Well, y’know, an alien. Have you been cheating on me with an extra-terrestrial? Or, y’know, a leprechaun, or a hobbit or an orc …?’
‘Stop it, Twat, you twat, honestly …’
‘Do you even want to KNOW if it’s a boy or girl?’
‘No. Maybe not. Just if it’s OK, I s’pose.’
‘So give it a name that goes for either fo
r now,’ he suggested.
‘Yeah. How about BEAN?’
‘Yes! That’s good. YES. Bean.’ They both laughed.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ she said. They went quiet together.
‘You’d better tell your mum …’
‘Yeah. Shit. Yeah. Wait ’til eight o’clock.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s watching Easties. She loves that.’
‘OK.’
Lee leant over and kissed her belly through her top. ‘Hello, Bean. I’m … er … yer dad.’
Hope Decides
Hope was curled up on the sofa, Cat was curled up next to her and Mouse was curled up next to Cat. It was a cosy scene of Beatrix Potter proportions and strangeness. Hope liked evenings like this, when everyone was gathered in. She couldn’t ever settle happily until she knew her beloveds were safe. She rattled through all of them in her Rolodex mind: Doris at bingo with friends, not drinking, lovely. Glory and Ky househunting and fretting about Princess’s exams, which Princess wasn’t fretting about. Minnie in her room with Lee, probably on the PlayStation. Yep, all accounted for, so thoughtful Hope could eat a bowl of pasta and put her feet up in front of her favourite soap on the telly.
This was Hope’s regular MO. Putting absolutely everyone else first. To anyone else, Hope was a benevolent soul, a loving mother and a generous relative. Hope harboured a different opinion of herself, of course.
Only she carried the truth, and it was present in her very bones. It was a hefty weight. She longed to unburden herself of it all, especially as the heaviness seemed to increase incrementally rather than fade. She was carrying an internal deposit box of a lie which kept being added to, not with feathers but with bricks. It was a cruel parasite that chomped away at her conscience, and gored her with its ugly horns. She hurt a lot. She was a walking bruise that no one else could see.
Hope had never considered a new relationship. How could she? She would have been bound to embark on that journey with secret, lethal luggage, as she could never tell the truth about Minnie. And she genuinely didn’t want to risk bringing any other child into the world, in case the same unthinkable horror happened again. She thanked God for the blessing that was Minnie every day; she didn’t want to push it, be greedy.
And she loved someone else.
Every single night, she thought of Isaac as she tried to sleep. He was the one person she could share it all with, and probably the one person who would understand and even possibly forgive her. Yet she had made a promise never to contact him, to let him go and have his lighter life, free of all this bulky guilt. In her abundantly true heart, she hoped he’d found all the happiness he deserved. She didn’t want to interrupt that but, boy, did she long for him as the other half of her, as her confidant and her love.
The one thing Hope never did was watch television on 1 January. She didn’t want to see any appeals about Florence. All of that uncomfortable history was kept at arm’s length. Or in a cupboard.
In a box, in a box, in a box at the back of her wardrobe were seventeen letters from Africa. From Isaac. Hope collected them from the PO box in early January each year, and diligently stored them all together, unopened, for one day …
It was the only contact from him. His birthday letters to his daughter. Hope wondered every year whether or not he would’ve remembered or even wanted to continue. She longed to read them so much. She thought about what he might be saying to Minnie. Would he be telling her about his life? Would he be asking about hers? Would he be telling her how much he still loved her? Would he be taking a huge risk and telling her all about what happened? The letters sat in the nest of boxes and they waited, one of them for each of Hope’s seventeen years, until one day … this day.
Hope’s soap opera finished, and she was having a much-enjoyed stretch when Minnie and Lee walked in from the bedroom. She could see that Minnie had been crying. ‘Hey. What’s up, Min?’
‘Umm, Mum, can I talk to you? Can we talk to you …?’
‘Always.’ Hope lifted the remote, turned the TV off and patted the sofa next to her.
‘Right,’ started Minnie, trying not to cry again, ‘well, God, I can’t believe this, it’s actually happening …’
‘You’re worrying me now …’ Hope put her hand to her mouth. Minnie grabbed her hand and held it firmly in hers.
‘I’m not completely sure how this has happened, to be honest—’
‘Aren’t you?’ Lee chipped in. ‘You’d better go back to school then!’
‘Shut up, Twat! No, I mean, of course I know how it happened, it’s just I thought we were being dead careful.’
‘Oh God.’ Hope felt her stomach lurch.
‘Mum, listen, it’ll be OK, won’t it? It’s just, me ’n’ Lee are … God … we’re having a baby.’
Hope’s mouth was agape, and it remained so for far too long. Her wide-open eyes were locked on her daughter. A kaleidoscope of memories flashed through Hope’s mind.
The dead baby in her arms.
The taken baby in her bag.
Isaac’s beautiful sad face.
Her birthdays.
Standing in front of the mirror together.
Braiding her hair.
In her uniform on her first day of school.
Her face, her music, her big wide laugh.
Her hand in Lee’s hand when she first brought him home.
And, now, her hand in his as she told her mum this huge news. Hope wanted to say something memorable and important, but instead uttered, ‘Umm. OK. That’s … big.’
‘You OK with it?’ Minnie enquired, worried.
‘You are … so young, but I suppose that if you’re planning to stick together through thick and thin, then it’ll be all right …’
‘Other than the fact that you’ve just said the most blatantly hypocritical thing I’ve ever heard, yes, we’re planning to do this together. Well, I say plan, we only just found out. The only plan is to do the right thing, that’s all I know,’ Minnie said.
‘I know it sounds hypocritical, hon, but the fact is, it’s no picnic to raise a kid on your own. Even though you ’n’ me have done it – together, just us – done it so well, I would wish for you to have an easier time, have tons of support. That’s all, darlin’.’
‘Enter the faithful boyfriend with a job and a big bag of commitment,’ Lee interjected.
‘Lee, you don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that, you sound like …’ Hope was tempted to say Minnie’s dad, but she stopped herself in the nick of time. ‘… such a decent dude. You ARE a lovely guy – I’m so glad she has you, glad THEY have you. Glad you all have each other, for God’s sake! C’mere.’ She reached out and hugged them both, whispering in Lee’s ear, ‘If you let her down, boy, you won’t be makin’ any more babies, trust me, you won’t have the gear …’ which made Lee holler laughing.
‘What? What!’ asked Minnie.
‘Nothing. It’s your mum, she cracks me up,’ said Lee.
Hope sat back, but still held on to Minnie’s hand. ‘I will always regret not giving you a father, li’l one, because you deserved that, and … a father missed out on someone truly amazing.’ Hope was telling her truth as best she could.
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m going to need your help with this. Y’know, what about A levels ’n’ stuff …?’
‘Min, you can delay that, what’s it called … defer it, that won’t be a problem. But, hon, y’know there’s something you are forgetting about …’
‘Oh? What?’ Minnie looked concerned.
‘To do a little dance of joy! Come on! And you, Lee, it’s all your bloody fault after all …’ And with that, Hope dragged them both up and they hollered and whooped and jumped about and laughed.
Minnie was puffing. ‘God, I’d better be careful, hadn’t I? Can a baby fall out?’ she gasped when she sat down, shattered.
Hope joined her on the sofa. ‘This is going to change your lives, you know, you two, and you’ve
hardly got started, but the great thing is that you’ll have tons of energy for that little—’
‘Bean,’ Minnie interjected.
‘You’re calling the baby Bean? Who are you – Gwyneth Paltrow?’
‘For now, ’til we find out exactly who she or he is. Yep, Bean.’
‘You bonkers kids. Oh Min, this is going to be amazing. You realize that I will NEVER be called “Granny”, don’t you? I’m only thirty-seven.’
‘What, then?’
‘Umm, something like Queenie or Momma or Grammy or just – Your Highness would do!’ Hope announced.
‘So it’s gonna be all right?’ said Minnie the mum.
‘It’s gonna be all right,’ said Hope the mum’s mum, ‘and the reason I know that is because us guys can get through anything if we stick together. I don’t know much, but I know that. We’re the living evidence, right?’
‘Yeah, ’s right, true dat,’ said Minnie as she walked to the kitchen. ‘Wanna cuppa?’
‘Yep. Always. Hey, Lee, you’d better tell your mum and dad too, eh? Make sure they know I’m gonna be the favourite grammy.’
Lee shuffled off to the bedroom to make the call. He wasn’t sure how the news was going to be received, and he didn’t want Minnie to overhear anything that might upset her. He knew his parents could be brusque, and they weren’t particularly baby-loving; they weren’t anything-loving really, apart from the beloved motorbike.
