Just a Girl, Standing in Front of a Boy (14 page)

‘This is a great party!’ Philippa shrieks when everyone is in tears. She means it. ‘So cathartic. Right, now it’s your turn, Fan. Tell us your saddest love story.’

I glance quickly at Mum and then back at Philippa.

‘I don’t think I can,’ I say.

‘Yes, you can, Fan,’ Philippa replies, and then giggles. It must be the rhyme. Or the wine.

‘But…’

‘If you don’t tell your sad love story, I will,’ she counters.

‘But…’ My eyes flick to Mum again and I shake my head.

‘Fan, it was years ago. Your mum can hear.’

I was adamant that I wouldn’t tell this story tonight, but for some reason I nod. Then I take a deep breath. Here we go.

‘OK, well,’ I look down at the table as I speak. ‘This one happened almost exactly ten years ago. There was this boy in my class called Steve Wilmot.’

‘Oh, I remember that name,’ Mum says.

I nod but keep looking down.

‘I like, oh, God, it sounds really stupid but I really loved this bloke, Steve Wilmot. I loved him all through school.’

‘She totally did,’ Philippa chips in.

‘From literally the first minute he came into class on the first day of secondary school. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he burst into the classroom, with his cheeky little face, he was fifteen minutes late, out of breath, with this massive grin. Biggest grin I’d ever seen in my life. And I know I was young, but it was like boom. You know sometimes a tune comes on the radio that makes you smile and tap your feet, that changes your day and your mood? Well, Steve Wilmot was that tune. He was the most exciting person I had ever seen. I was only eleven then, but he remained the most exciting person I ever saw right up until I was seventeen. It was like this powerful never-ending extreme crush.’

‘Yep, it was definitely extreme,’ Philippa adds.

‘I kept his picture under my bed. All my hormonal daydreams featured Steve Wilmot. I hated maths, but they were my favourite lessons because during maths Steve Wilmot and I sat in the same room.’

I look up at them. I’m going on, they must be bored. But everyone is statue still and focused on me, I put my head back down and carry on.

‘He was the most popular boy in our year and I was the least popular girl in the year, so really this was never destined to have a happy ending. But he was kind to everyone, even me, and I had a lot of trouble at school. With, er, er…’

Oh, my goodness, I’ve never told my mum this. I kept it all bottled up.

I swallow. ‘I was bullied a lot at school.’

There. I’ve said it.

‘But if Steve Wilmot saw other kids teasing me, or hurting me, he’d say, “Leave her be, she’s all right.” Leave her be, she’s all right, you’ve no idea how hearing him say that made me feel. He was the only person who stuck up for me until Philippa started at that school.’

I smile at Philippa, we lock eyes for a moment.

‘I dread to think how many of my teenage hours were spent daydreaming about Steve Wilmot.’

‘And talking about him. She went on and on and sodding on!’

‘When we got into sixth form he started going out with this girl called Michelle Cullet, who was the most popular girl in the year.’

‘That was a bad day when we found out they were together,’ Philippa says, almost to herself.

‘But shortly before we were about to leave school they split up. And everyone was talking about it. Then the weirdest thing happened. Steve Wilmot started hanging out with Philippa and me. He just casually started waiting for us after classes or finding us in break and spending time with us. And we had a really good laugh, didn’t we?’

‘Yeah, Fan made him laugh with her Blackadder impressions and we’d do our itchy balls builders act for him. It was jokes.’

I nod and smile to remember. Making Steve Wilmot laugh was to this day one of the most exciting things that ever happened to me. He wouldn’t just laugh, he’d roll off chairs and clutch his tummy. It was exciting for both Philippa and me, because it was the first time we’d had an audience. We bounced off each other, finished each other’s sentences, never competed for attention. It was as though suddenly we were the cool ones and everyone else had been wrong all along. They were the best two weeks of my school days. Everything had changed. The bullying was over, I was about to leave school and go to performing arts college, the coolest boy in school hung out with me. Life was just beginning.

‘So,’ I say, getting back to the story. ‘Then one night, Philippa had to go and have dinner with her dad, and Steve asked me if I wanted to meet up and watch this film that we were supposed to watch for Business Studies and so I said yes. Of course. Funnily enough when I told Philippa about it, she said she had a really bad feeling about it but Philippa’s psychic feelings were pretty useless, so I thought it was probably rather positive that she had a bad feeling about Steve Wilmot and me.’

‘That’s true,’ Philippa says, with a little nod.

‘So I arrived at his house. I was wearing a denim skirt and a flowery shirt.’ It’s funny how I remember that exactly. But I can clearly visualise looking down and seeing his hand shake as he undid the buttons on that shirt.

‘And we went into his room to watch the film. And we sat on his bed because there were no other seats and we didn’t even get through the credits before we were kissing. My first kiss.’

I don’t go into details for the others. I don’t mention how tender he was. How when he held me it was as though I was precious. He cradled my head, he kissed my neck and it felt like butterflies. That’s what I remember thinking, which is strange really because you don’t get many butterflies in Tiddlesbury. I never felt violated. I felt safe. I felt loved. And I didn’t know when to stop or if I had to. So when he whispered, ‘I have a condom…’ I nodded. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. I nodded again. And when it was over. I cuddled against his chest and that’s the moment I remember the best. He kissed the top of my head, on my mousy hair and I moved my hand gently over his nipple and I’d never felt so completely close to someone. And I felt warm. I felt a warmth inside me that I don’t think I’ve ever recaptured with anyone else. Mind you, I’ve only slept with Steve Wilmot, Al and Matt. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt that since, that magic.

‘Well, I’ll leave out the ins and outs, if you’ll pardon the expression. But it was really beautiful. It was my first time. Afterwards, I didn’t want to go home. He kissed me on the front step.

‘“See you tomorrow,” he whispered.

‘“Bye,” I said.

‘I went home and I couldn’t have stopped smiling if I’d been ordered to.’

‘I think I remember you coming home that night,’ Mum murmurs. ‘You glowed.’

I don’t look at Mum, I just carry on. ‘The next day, I didn’t see him in the morning and I couldn’t find him at lunch. Then by the end of break there was a rumour that he was going out again with Michelle Cullet. But I still didn’t see him. It was the day after that. I walked through the gate and they were there together, sitting on a bench in the quad, she had her legs over his lap. It was as though they were waiting to show me. I stopped walking and Michelle Cullet smiled smugly at me. He looked away. Then at 11 o’clock, Michelle grabbed me and pushed me into the loo.

‘“Did you think that was real?” she demanded.

‘I looked blank.

‘“It was a bet. For money. Did you think he’d do it otherwise? Most of the blokes chipped in a fiver and the winner took all.”’

I remember it as though it was yesterday. The feeling of my eyes filling with tears, the sense that my head was swimming and I’d never again know what was real or who to trust, and I really wanted Philippa.

Michelle looked at me for a few seconds and then left me. And I stayed where I was, l locked the door, and I missed the next lesson. I stayed in there and I cried, but I didn’t make a noise. I kept my mouth shut and I remained silent as I cried and cried.

‘So that’s my worst man story. How the bloke I was totally in love with took my virginity for a fifty-five quid bet. Bless him!’

I look up and smile. ‘But you know, it made me stronger and all that,’ I say with a shrug and glug of wine. But I suddenly wonder whether it has made me stronger. It actually made me pretty scared of the magic that can happen between a man and a woman. I think it’s stopped me believing in happy endings.

Oh, God, everyone’s staring at me. Mum looks pale.

‘How could anyone be so cruel?’ she whispers.

‘That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,’ Philippa says, trying to perk us up. ‘Roar after three. One, two three.’

No one makes a sound.

‘Roar. Arrggghhh. After three, ladies. One, two, three.’

‘Arggghhhh,’ we relent.

‘I think that deserves a Jägerbomb,’ she slumps across the table to gather everyone’s glasses.

‘Who’s next?’ I ask. It’s important to keep them coming. ‘Marge, do you need another rant?’

‘I’ll have a quick one. But, Fanny, love, sorry you had such a hard time at school. Kids can be so cruel.’

‘It was years ago.’ I shrug and smile. ‘What’s your mini rant?’

‘Well, just some advice I need, really. I was thinking that my Timmy didn’t operate on the right side of the law. And I could always fix things so he has a little holiday care of Her Majesty.’

‘Oooh,’ Mum looks shocked.

‘Ah, but then, Marge, that’s out-and-out war and he could shop —’ I stop. What do I say? I can’t say your dad and brothers. I’m not used to talking to criminal types. I need more practice.

‘Oh, I see your point, Fanny, he could shop my dad to the police.’

‘Exactly.’

‘No, I don’t want that.’

‘Mum, do you need a rant?’ I say without looking at her.

‘No.’

‘Sure? Dad wasn’t the easiest.’

‘He certainly wasn’t.’ Philippa chokes.

‘Oh, dear,’ says Marge. ‘Because you left him quite recently, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, a few weeks now.’

‘How are you finding it?’ Marge asks.

Mum thinks for a few moments, looks at me and then back at Marge.

‘Well, I feel as though I’m where I’m supposed to be.’

My eyes widen as I regard her. She’s living with me above a kebab shop in Tiddlesbury because her husband’s been having an affair. Her daughter was foul to her last night. How can that be where she’s supposed to be?

‘Well, you can’t ask for more than that.’ Marge nods wisely.

‘Go on, have a little rant,’ Philippa encourages. ‘The floor is open.’

‘I feel…’ my mum starts and then trails off. ‘I feel as though I should rant against myself.’

‘Bloody hell, Mrs T, I wouldn’t if I’d been married to Mr Taylor.’

Mum smiles. ‘No, I should because, well, I can’t blame Jack, I can only blame myself. It was all my own doing. I allowed myself to be walked over. I lost a lot of things when I was in the relationship: friends, hobbies, my freedom. But it was my fault because I didn’t defend them. I used to have this one friend, Debbie Diamond…’

‘Debbie Diamond. Great name.’ I sigh.

‘Hmmm, we were a bit like you and Philippa, we did everything together, had so much fun, we’d go to festivals.’

‘Festivals, Mrs T!’

‘Yes. In the early eighties. Then I got married and I let that friendship slide. I let a lot of friendships slide. Worst of all by far, I let my relationship with my daughter slide. I lost myself in the marriage. And now I’ve left him, I realise how much I lost and how sad it was and it makes me cross.’

I’m not going to respond. Mum’s obviously saying all this to warn me against Matt. It won’t work.

‘Oh, don’t you get cross, my love,’ says Marge.

‘Look at you, you’re only fifty,’ Philippa gushes.

‘Fifty-four.’

‘We’ll call it fifty for a good while yet,’ Philippa counsels.

‘Mrs T. You can still wear short skirts. We could all go to a festival!’ Philippa’s up on her chair now. ‘Let’s book for Glastonbury.’

‘I read it’s already sold out,’ Marge says.

‘Reading then. There’s bound to be tickets for Reading. It’s in Reading after all,’ Philippa calls as she runs to my room.

‘Oh, I don’t know…’

Philippa’s emerged from my room holding my notebook computer.

‘Right, who’s up for the Reading Festival? Ooh! Mrs T!’ Philippa gasps. ‘Your friend you lost touch with. What’s her name again?’

‘Oh, Debbie. Debbie Diamond she was, but that was years ago, she probably got married.’

‘Let’s search for Debbie Diamond, see if she wants to come to Reading with us!’ Philippa rubs her hands together.

‘Oh, I, er… what?’ Mum asks.

‘Debbie Diamond, there’s bloody loads of them. Here, Mrs T, have a rifle through these and see if you can spot her, while I do us another Jägerbomb. Did I do the last one or just talk about it?’

‘Who’s next to…’ I was going to say, ‘regale us with woeful tales’, but the front door’s just opened. Al’s back.

‘’Ello ’ello, what’s going on here?’ he says.

‘It’s a Rage Against Men Party!’ Philippa informs him. ‘Jägerbomb?’

‘Oh, go on then. Hello all,’ he says, sitting down.

‘I have to warn you that if you sit in this circle you will have to divulge the worst thing that ever happened to you in the name of love.’ I find it best to lay down the rules first.

‘This isn’t really fair. Have I missed all yours?’

‘Yep.’

‘Did you tell your virginity one?’

‘Yep.’

‘Glad I missed that one. It always makes me cry.’

‘You’re a nice boy, who are you?’ Marge asks, squinting across the table.

‘This is Al, my flatmate. AL, THIS IS MARGE,’ I say very loudly whilst eyeballing him. It’s important he doesn’t let on about his involvement with her break up.

‘OH, RIGHT, THANKS,’ he shouts back.

‘Come on, Al, just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you get away without having to divulge your sad love tales. We’ve all done it.’ I fold my arms waiting for him to start.

‘OK,’ He exhales. ‘Well, it was a while back now. And I was going out with this girl and she, oh, how do I put it?’

‘Slept with your friend!’ Marge volunteers enthusiastically.

‘No, no, he wasn’t my friend. He wasn’t my friend at all but she evidently preferred him to me and that was that. But, yeah, it hurt, that. Yeah, that one hurt a lot. When someone doesn’t choose you. And you really like them. You know, it hurts. It has to really.’