Drowning Rose (26 page)

‘How long’s your mummy away for?’

The child shrugged. ‘I can’t remember.’ She looked around her. ‘So what shall we do now?’

The obvious answer was, ‘
I’m
going to pour myself a large glass of wine and have my supper in front of the news and
you
are going home to bed or homework or to practising being Paris Hilton or whatever little girls do these days.’

But Annie looked up at me as if it was a given that I could think of nothing better than to spend my evening in her company. The nuances of social intercourse worked fine when it was between children. As none of them ever took a hint they could be straightforward. ‘You have to go now because I’m having my supper.’ It usually worked well, too, if both parties were adults and one might say, ‘Goodness, is that the time?’ And the other replied, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, you must be wanting your supper.’ It was mixed company that didn’t really work.

Stifling a sigh, I said, ‘Well, seeing we’re here, why don’t we take a closer look at your jug?’ I moved the box across to my worktable, where I laid out the sherds.

As I studied the pieces, Annie stood by my shoulder, breathing heavily in my ear. I wondered if she was asthmatic or maybe it was just a child thing.

‘Yup, it’s early Spode, possibly even designed by the man himself, Joshua Spode.’ I turned round to look at her. ‘You’ve done brilliantly rescuing it.’

The child straightened and her tight little mouth widened in a controlled smile. She said, ‘Sheila was going to chuck it out. She said it was just old junkshop tat not worth mending.’

Sheila would think that. I knew one’s not supposed to be quick to judge but in my opinion she was typical of the kind of woman whose soul had been left to soak for so long there was nothing of any interest left.

‘Do you know the story of the Willow Pattern?’ I asked instead.

She shook her head.

‘Once upon a time . . .’ I began, the way I knew one should with stories, ‘. . . there was a very rich and very mighty Mandarin of China, Mandarin being a minister or some such thing, who lived with his beautiful daughter Knoon-se in a great palace in a garden filled with trees and flowers. One day a young man named Chang came to work for the powerful Mandarin as his secretary. Chang was poor and lowly.’

‘Like Lowly Worm?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever come across him.’

‘He’s a worm.’

‘Right. Yes, I suppose a bit like a worm, but brighter and probably more handsome.’

‘Lowly Worm’s quite nice-looking. In a wormy sort of way.’

‘I suppose then Chang was quite nice-looking in a human secretary sort of way. Anyhow, he fell hopelessly in love with the beautiful Knoon-se and Knoon-se fell right back in love with Chang. They met in great secrecy every evening beneath a willow tree by the river. But the Mandarin found out and got furious because he thought that Chang, though not a worm, was still too lowly for his daughter so he told Chang to go away and never come back, ever. Then he locked poor Knoon-se in a pavilion overlooking the river and built a crooked fence all around.’

‘Couldn’t he get it straight?’

‘Good question and the answer has to be no, he couldn’t. Silly old Mandarin. Anyway, if you look at this piece here,’ I pointed, ‘you can see a bit of the fence.’

Then the doorbell went. It was Sheila. ‘Annie really has to come home now,’ she announced, as if she expected some kind of argument from me, something along the lines of, ‘No, no, please don’t take this child who just appeared on my doorstep and wants me to do major restoration work for free while stopping me from having my supper, awaaaay from me!’

‘I’ll call her,’ I said.

The child came skipping along the passageway at the back. ‘Is that my daddy?’ When she saw that it was Sheila her little face took on a sullen look and her skips became a shuffle. But Sheila didn’t seem to notice. She patted her hip the way you do to get a dog or a small child to follow. ‘Come along now, dear.’

From the way Annie was skipping along at her side I deduced that things were not quite as bad between them as all that. I was about to close the door behind them when the monster car drove into the square and parked on the far side. As he got out and locked up I thought Jacob Bauer had had a tough day. I recognised the signs from Gabriel: the tense, hunched shoulders, the downturned gaze, the hand raking through the hair. Then he spotted his daughter, who had pulled away from Sheila and was running towards him, and he straightened up the way Gabriel used to do when he realised I was watching him, and gave her a big smile. She hugged his waist and he ruffled her hair and then they walked, hand in hand, up to the gate of Number 12.

I don’t know whom I envied the most, him for having a daughter or her for having a father or both for having someone to take by the hand.

Twenty-eight

Sandra/Cassandra

I made myself sick enough to be sent home. When I returned to school a week later I knew they had all been talking about me. Gillian and the others tiptoed around me as if someone had died. Rose and Portia were nice in that exaggerated, self-satisfied way everyone was nice to the smelly old people the school made us all visit once a term. Eliza was all right, though. She didn’t say anything much and she didn’t give me pretend sorry looks, she just gave me a drawing of Näcken that she knew I really liked. ‘You don’t need to put it up or anything.’ I blu-tacked it on the wall above my bed. Quite apart from anything else, it was generally believed around the school that Eliza would make it big as an artist one day so who knows how valuable something like that might become.

I wanted to tell Eliza everything. I wanted her to know that I wasn’t having some silly unrequited crush on Julian. The others could believe what they liked but Eliza was different. I wish she’d see how alike we really were, she and I. Much more so than Rose and she. We had the same interests. We were both musical, both artistic. She was nowhere near as good on the violin as I was on the piano but I wouldn’t mind accompanying, even.

I had thought about all those things when I was at home lying in the gross faux-rococo bed in my room and with my mother hovering anxiously outside, listening for sounds of puking. So they’d leave me alone I told them I had a stomach bug and even just talking made me feel sick. In fact I ended up having to call for Mum to come and keep me company, they left me so alone. When I did see her she looked at me in a funny way, though, almost as if she were frightened. I shouldn’t have got so angry. I regretted it now, having smashed up my collection. Not because it was worth very much because it wasn’t, but because I’d been collecting those little animals for ever and there were some really pretty ones like the unicorn. I was sorry the unicorn was gone.

Most of all, as I lay there, I had thought of Julian. J.U.L.I.A.N. I had forgiven him. It’s what you did when you loved someone. I’m not stupid. I’d worked out that he lied when he had said he was keeping us secret because it made it more special. He was ashamed of me. I knew that now. But I saw too that it wasn’t his fault. It was his sister and Rose. They were behind it all. He was totally under Portia’s thumb, that was obvious. Their parents were always favouring her. They were all complete over-achievers and Julian was always having to think of things that would win their approval. I suppose bringing home little Miss Perfect Rose Bingham would get him that. But it was me he wanted. I just had to make him see he didn’t need to be ashamed. I had to help him.

The first night back at school, and after she’d given me the drawing, Eliza brought two cups of hot chocolate into my cubicle and asked if I felt like hanging out. She chatted about nothing much and then she said, ‘You know, boys aren’t really so important. It’s easy to think they are but there’s so much else in life. I mean, think about it; we’re young and healthy and we’re getting a brilliant education and we have dreams we’re going to fulfil. Boys are just a part of that. If I had to choose between my work and a boy my work would win every time. And you’re good enough to become a professional musician if you work hard and don’t get distracted.’ She had drawn her long legs up under her and was sitting there at the foot of my bed, her eyes all shiny. ‘I think of the future as this big room filled with wonderful things and all we need to do is open the door and walk in. So,’ she gave me a big grin and a friendly buddy-buddy punch on the shoulder, ‘who needs boys?’

I know she was trying to help. And although I was pleased that she recognised that I was talented I wished she’d understand that Julian was
my
room full of wonderful things and so I couldn’t allow him to leave me.

Two days later we were playing the girls from Skipton Ladies’ College at lacrosse and as we used the LABs playing fields for interschool matches it was obviously a possibility that I was going to see Julian. Eliza looked all worried. ‘You’re sure you’re up to it?’ she asked as we waited for the minibus.

I gave her one of my blank looks. ‘What do you mean? Why shouldn’t I be up to it? I told you it was just a tummy bug.’

She looked uncertain but she persevered. ‘I wasn’t thinking of that. You know Julian might be there?’

I kept my blank look. ‘So?’

She did a little shrug and I thought I might have gone too far. I quickly smiled. ‘It’s nice of you to care.’

She was all sunshine again. ‘That’s OK.’ She bent her long neck and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before turning away to speak to Rose, who had come up behind us.

I insisted I wanted to sit on my own at the back. When no one was looking I raised my hand to the bit of my cheek that she had kissed. Eliza confused me. Just as she was about to seriously annoy me she did something sweet, like she actually cared.

But as we drove up the driveway to LABs I felt sick. Not sick with nerves this time because I was feeling perfectly calm. I’d been feeling like that a couple of mornings since getting back and at first I thought Miss Philips was right when she warned us against faking illness, saying it was tempting fate. But then, as I sat there on the bus, the thought occurred to me that maybe it was something else. Maybe it was morning sickness and I was pregnant. Julian had definitely used a condom. But they weren’t a hundred per cent safe. Accidents happened. A grin spread across my face as I thought of telling the princesses. Especially Portia, or should I say Auntie Portia. We would be sisters. Family. She wouldn’t be able not to invite me on her holidays now, would she? Rose would learn that beauty wasn’t everything. And Eliza? My smile subsided as I tried to work out what Eliza would make of it. She might even be happy for me. Or she might hate me because of Rose. No, not hate me. Eliza didn’t hate people. But she might not be at all pleased. What about Julian? I decided not to think about that just yet.

Some of the boys were watching the match but Julian didn’t get there until the end of the first half. I was queuing up for a drink and when he saw me he raised his hand in a little wave and smiled an upside-down smile that I suppose was meant to be apologetic. I thought a moment about ignoring him just to give him a scare but before I knew it I had waved back. He nodded in the direction of the pavilion and started walking. I was really thirsty but I left the queue anyway and followed him.

‘So?’ I looked at him, my chin raised. He didn’t know it yet but now I was the one holding the cards.

‘Sorry, about the other day.’ He gave me his naughty little boy’s smile, half-sorry, half-cheeky. ‘About not saying hi and all that.’

‘It was pretty pathetic.’

Just like Eliza he didn’t seem to know what to do when I wasn’t all meek and grateful and his smile grew uncertain. ‘I bottled out, that’s all. You know, with everyone there and everything.’

‘You said we would tell people.’

He pulled that downward face again. ‘I really am sorry, all right.’ He pointed his finger like a gun at the playing field. ‘You looked good out there.’

‘I didn’t think you were watching.’

I looked around me and realised that it was a beautiful day with the sun high in the sky and birds singing. I wondered if I should tell him now, about the baby? Or wait until I was sure. He nudged me gently with his shoulder.

‘C’mon. Say you forgive me.’

I smiled. It came out bigger than I meant it to. ‘OK. I forgive you.’

‘Good. Are you around this weekend?’

‘Might be.’

‘Shall we meet up?’

‘I suppose.’

‘ “Our place”? After prep Saturday?’

‘OK.’ I sighed and that sigh opened up something inside me and let out the poison. ‘See you then,’ I said and I walked off, leaving him to watch after me.

Twenty-nine

Eliza

I got back from work to find a curt message on my home phone from Ruth. She had not called for a couple of weeks and to my surprise I had found myself minding. It was that old story about needing to be liked even by people you didn’t particularly like yourself. I poured myself a glass of Sauvignon and took it out into the front garden amongst the sweet woodbine, jessamine and briar-rose. Dusk was settling and the square was quiet. I sat down on the white wrought-iron bench and sipped my wine.

A few minutes later the door of Number 12 opened and Jacob Bauer stepped outside in his white shirtsleeves, a cigarette in his hand. I always thought it incongruous, seeing a doctor smoke. He must have felt me looking at him because he turned my way and then he raised his hand in a small wave, the glow of his cigarette rising in the air like a firefly. I waved back. Behind him the view looked like a Japanese painting; dark-shadow trees against a blush-pink sky with shades of blue darkening above. He disappeared back into the house only to reappear with three large fat black bin bags that he placed outside on the pavement. I had forgotten that the next day was bin day. There was no sign of a recycling box outside Number 12. The other week, Archie told me, he offered to give his spare box to Mr Bauer as he, Archie, seemed to have been given two. It had been Archie’s way of telling him we all knew he wasn’t recycling. But Jacob Bauer had simply thanked Archie and said he was fine.