Playing with the Grown-ups (11 page)

She was sitting on the sofa in Nora's sitting room watching 21 Jump Street when her mother called. Violet wouldn't go to bed
and clung on to Kitty's ankle like a koala bear.

Nora picked up the phone.

'Och,' she said. 'Oh Jaysus, Marina.' She looked sorry for Kitty. 'It's your mummy.' She passed her the phone.

'Kitty, I have some bad news.' Her mother sounded high and oceans away. 'Your daddy Fitzgerald died this afternoon.'

'Oh,' Kitty said, picking at her pink nail polish.

'I think you should fly over for the funeral.'

Her mother talked a little bit more, told her she loved her, and that she must be strong, and then she asked to speak to Sam.
Sam, who was still confused by telephone etiquette, repeated everything she said to Violet, his captive audience.

'Mummy has good news and bad news, Violet.' He let the phone dangle as he told her.

'Pick up the phone, Sam,' Nora said. 'Mummy's still talking.'

'Oh,' he said. 'What? Mr Fitzgerald has died. Mummy, what's the good news? Violet, Mr Fitzgerald has died but we're going
to get a tortoise!' He hung up.

Violet began to cry, fierce, fat tears running down her cheeks.

'Can I sleep in your bed?' she wobbled to Nora. 'And can I have hot chocolate?'

Nora went upstairs, clucking.

'I'm going to call the tortoise Torty,' Sam said.

'Neither did you know him. And besides, I didn't want to sleep in my bed. And I got hot chocolate. I'd rather have a lizard
than a tortoise, though.'

Violet was so triumphant it made Kitty laugh, hard, out loud.

'You are a very funny girl,' she said.

Kitty climbed the stairs to her room and shut the door. The wind continued like wolves' song and the tree outside her bedroom
slapped the window furiously. She told her picture of Swami-ji, 'My father died today,' because saying it out loud made it
true. She heard the comforting slip of Nora's shoes outside.

Nora sat next to her as she howled like a small animal, patting her back rhythmically like an old nursery rhyme.

'My poor Kitty. I'm so sorry.'

'It's all right; I didn't know him any better than Violet,' she cried.

'You'll need a hat,' Nora said softly. 'We can go to Bloomingdale's tomorrow and buy you a hat.'

Outside the terminal her head throbbed. Everything was magnified and raw. Kitty felt unprepared. The fields looked too green,
and everyone that walked by seemed to be shouting not talking.

'Hello, darling,' she mouthed.

Kitty sat in the corner and flipped through Vogue. After dusty hours her mother hung up the phone.

'We're going to have lunch with Peter,' she said.

Peter had taken her to Battersea Park on Sunday afternoons and when the cottage had an infestation of wasps, he killed them.
Her mother was allergic to wasps. Peter also wrote her the sort of letters she thought a father should write when she was
at school, even after he split up with her mother. He came to see her on sports day and she came third in the high jump competition.
Even though Kitty knew this wasn't really very good, he kept saying, 'That was brilliant. Legs like your mummy.' Afterwards
they went for lunch in Wheaton and he took her to W.H. Smith to buy her mother a Mother's Day card. The tiniest things made
him cheerful.

'Look at this glorious day,' he'd said. And it was, she remembered. Except that she had to go back to school and he could
drive back to London in his Mercedes listening to the Beatles singing their happy songs.

'Hello, Kit-kat,' he said when she and her mother walked into Da Mario's. Peter gave her mother a huge bear-like hug. She
shook away like a dragonfly.

They all sat down and her mother began to talk as though they weren't really there. Kitty studied her. She smoked and talked
simultaneously, taking great, gasping breaths, shooing away the waiter who removed her untouched food with a mournful sigh.
She asked Kitty to go and sit at the bar so she could have a 'grown-up talk with Peter'.

Kitty rolled her eyes and Peter winked at her. She pretended to be deeply involved in Nancy Spungen but cast surreptitious
glances their way. After a time they came over. She was drinking a cappuccino and pretending to be a beat poet. Peter kissed
her goodbye. He smelled like cigarettes and Eau Sauvage. Kitty didn't want him to let go.

'She'll be all right, Kit-kat,' he whispered in her ear.

'I know,' she said. But she knew that this was a half-truth.

'Are we definitely invited?' she asked her mother anxiously.

'People don't get invited to funerals. You can just go,' her mother said.

Marina wore a black Chanel suit and her curly hair was fighting to get out of its ponytail. Kitty was wearing a navy-blue
suit from Benetton and woolly tights that made her knees itch. Her hat had caused a fight. It was bottle-green felt and she
thought elegant and befitting her own father's funeral.

'No,' her mother said.

'Why not?'

'It's too sophisticated.' Her mother stubbed her cigarette out in her untouched porridge. 'Oh wear it. I don't care any more.'

Mr Fitzgerald had a lot of friends. Perhaps they were business associates, colleagues. Kitty didn't know anyone who had the
sort of job where you had colleagues. The word made her mother laugh, like 'partner'. They sat at the back.

Her mother was composed until they took the coffin away. Then she made a noise like a kitten being strangled and gripped Kitty's
arm so tightly with her nails that she thought she would be branded.

Mrs Fitzgerald came out after the coffin. She was blonde and fat and if she was an animal she would have been Splendour the
cat. Her hair looked hard, like it would crackle if you touched it.

They waited for everyone to walk out. Kitty wondered who she was related to. Nobody really looked like her.

Kitty felt a soft, doughy hand on her arm.

'You look so familiar,' said Mrs Fitzgerald.

'I don't think so. I don't think we've ever met,' Kitty stuttered.

She looked for her mother on the other side of the street. She was not paying attention. It was like a scene from a film,
Kitty thought. In the world there is just Mrs Fitzgerald and me.

Mrs Fitzgerald was very tall. Bestepapa would have called her an AMAZON. Kitty could see up her nostrils. They were hairy.
Kitty felt her lips curling upwards, and willed them down, into a comic twisted frown.

'You have his smile,' Mrs Fitzgerald said.

Kitty realised she knew, and her heart beat fast, with adrenalin and something like excitement.

'Thank you,' Kitty said in a small voice.

She wanted Mrs Fitzgerald to like her. She looked at her mother puffing across the street; she looked little and defenceless
and Kitty felt disloyal. Mrs Fitzgerald and she observed each other for about forty-five seconds.

'Actually I have my mother's smile,' Kitty said coldly and ran across the street. She took her mother by the arm. 'Mum, we'll
find a taxi on the King's Road,' she said, and dragged her down Justice Walk.

She and Kitty were sitting at the Garage on the King's Road, sharing a hot chocolate. Marina had a headache and was lying
in the darkened hotel room, napping.

'I don't know, hard and untouchable, somehow,' Kitty said. 'Not like I imagined.'

'Your father clearly had very diverse taste in women. Do you want to come and stay this weekend? Mummy said she'll call your
mother. My brothers saw a picture of you from the yearbook you sent me, and suddenly they fancy you. It's really repulsive.'

'I can't,' Kitty said. 'I've had a week off school. We have to fly back tomorrow; I'm going to have so much work. But I'll
see you at Christmas.'

Rosaria touched her arm and her eyes filled with tears.

'I'm so sorry, Kit,' she said. 'It's not fair.'

'Life's not fair,' Kitty said, and she laughed. 'Come on, let's go and buy something, my mother's given me fifty pounds. Do
you want anything?'

'We could share those silver hot pants,' Rosaria said thoughtfully. 'They could be transatlantic.'

She asked Nora to get the door when it rang and Nora said, 'Why can't you get it yourself like a normal person?'

'Because it's a DATE. Please? I'll give you anything you want.'

'I don't want anything.'

'But will you do it?'

'Oh, all right, I suppose so. But you're not to go up to your bedroom, OK?'

'I don't want to be in my bedroom, we'll be in the sitting room.'

She put Carly Simon on the CD player, and decided 'Let the River Run', would be playing as he walked in the door. She reclined
on the sofa, but decided that this was too casual, so she stood against the window with her back to the door, so that when
he walked in she would look as though she was deep in thought.

As she heard them coming up the stairs Kitty hit play. The music resounded throughout the sitting room. She concentrated on
looking lost in thought.

Kitty turned slowly and smiled beatifically at her.

'Thank you so much, Nora. Hello, Noah.'

She walked slowly over and kissed him on both cheeks.

'What's up?' He looked uncomfortable.

'Could you turn that music down and leave the door OPEN.' Nora gave her a look of warning.

'Certainly.' Kitty smiled again.

'Can I have a Coke?'

'Oh yes. Of course.'

She ran into the kitchen.

'How's it going?' Precious smiled.

'Really well, I think.'

'Who was that weird woman?' Noah said.

'She's not weird, that's Nora, my brother and sister's nanny. What do you want to do?' They were sitting on the squashy sofa,
two feet apart.

'I don't know, what do you want to do?'

'I don't know. We could play Scrabble?' Kitty put the cushions on her lap, like a barricade.

He was silent.

'Why don't we go up to your room and listen to some music?' He moved closer. 'I'd like to see your room.'

She inched away.

'No, let's stay here. It's better. I can change the music if you like.'

'Yeah, this sucks. Do you have Guns N' Roses?'

'No. I've got Stevie Wonder.'

'That's really funny. Why don't you shut the door?'

'I've got to go and get something from the kitchen. I'll be back in a minute.'

'Precious, help! He keeps telling me to shut the door. . . don't tell Nora, what should I do?'

'You want me to t'row him out?' Precious looked excited.

'No! Just tell me what to do!'

'All right, I'm going back in, wish me luck.'

'Sorry about that. Noah, do you want to go for a walk? We could go and get coffee, I know a really good place on Lex.' She
perched far away from him, on the edge of the sofa.

'I'm kind of tired.' Noah Redner yawned expansively, and stretched out like a lion, till his fingers were resting on her thigh.

She jumped up.

'Come on, I really think you should see this place, it's really cool.' Her mother had taken her there one Saturday morning
for breakfast, but she couldn't remember where it was.

'Fine. Then can we go to your room?'

'Yes.' By the time they came back her mother would be home and Kitty was sure she would know what to do.

'Noah darling,' her mother said. 'I'm so sorry to drag you away, but Kitty's godmother Katie has flown in from London for
a surprise and we have to go and meet her for a drink. I do hope you come again.'

'But Mum, I'm busy!' Kitty said. 'That is so unfair. God!'

Her mother was perfect. 'I'm sorry to put a spanner in the works, darling, but I promised we'd be there at five.'

'Can I see your room next time?' Noah breathed in her ear on the way out.

'That was so awful,' Kitty said to her mother. 'When we were on our own I realised I didn't like him at all.'

'Sometimes it's much better in your head. You're very mature; maybe you'd like someone slightly older. Do you want to go and
see a movie? My head hurts; I'd like the quiet of a cinema.'

'I completely agree, though without the unrequited bit,' her mother said, tears still pouring down her face.

'Why? What's wrong?'

'We have to sell the house. Daddy wants a last Christmas here, all of us together. He's lost all of his money, because of
Lloyd's.'

Kitty imagined a smart-suited banker throwing a safe stuffed with Mr Nivolla's money into the Thames.

'Lloyds Bank?' she said.

'No, Lloyd's of London. Please can we do it again though, maybe next year? I wanted to come and see everything you describe
in your letters.'

'The door is always open.' Kitty thought this sounded appropriately sober.

'Luke Perry and Johnny Depp will just have to wait for us for one more year. The transatlantic hot pants send their love.'

'No, I didn't! He came over and we went for a walk and then he went home. I don't even like him.'

'Well, he said you did. And he said your house is really weird, and you were wearing weird clothes, and listening to weird
music.'

'I promise you that's not true. Do you believe me?' Kitty thought she might laugh, or cry, she couldn't tell which.

'No, I don't. You can tell me, I won't tell anyone.' Charlotte looked bored. 'I won't think you're a slut or anything. I know
you like him.'

'I didn't. I swear. What shall I do?' Kitty took her hand.

'I think we both know that you're lying.' Charlotte snatched away her hand. 'I have to go, Natalie's waiting for me. And by
the way, you know that Monica's having a pool party? Well, we decided at Gwen's sleepover that you're so skinny you'd look
like Nancy Reagan in a bathing suit. No offence.'

'No,' she croaked. 'I'm very busy. I have plans.'

When she walked into homeroom everyone stopped talking, and stared through her, like she was made of paper.

She went to see the school nurse.

'Could I please call my mother? I feel like I'm going to faint.'

The nurse was so kind it made Kitty cry.

'Hush, hush,' she said, stroking her forehead. 'Didn't you just have a death in your family?'

'My father died,' Kitty said.

She couldn't be bothered to explain that she didn't know him. Mr Fitzgerald would have to be her excuse. Kitty was sure that,
under the circumstances, he wouldn't mind, unless he was heartless.

'Well, sweetie, you must be under a lot of stress. I'll call your mom now.'

Kitty lay on the thin cot, with her eyes closed tightly, pretending to be a baby till her mother mercifully walked in the
door, clucking concern, swaddling Kitty in her pale-pink shawl that smelled of love and home.

Kitty knelt down at the altar she had made for Swami-j i.

'I'll try not to think about boys,' she whispered. 'Because it just seems to get me in trouble, but if you could help me I
would be very grateful.'

His eyes shined from the photograph, full of compassion.

'I'll be good from now on, and please bless everyone in this house, Mummy, Nora, Sam and Violet, OM, Amen.' She bowed her
head.

Her mother was drinking a banana milkshake outside. Since Mr Fitzgerald's funeral she had existed upon cigarettes and the
occasional sweet thing, like treacle sponge or milkshakes.

'Everything tastes bitter,' she explained. 'I just need sweet.'

Kitty walked outside like she had a secret. They sat and drank their milkshakes, paid the bill and left.

'I need to go to Clyde's,' Kitty said conversationally.

'OK,' her mother said. 'How happy are you that you never need to see those dreadful people again?' It was the last day of
school, before the summer began.

'Happy,' Kitty said. 'I need to go to Clyde's though.'

'You said that.'

'I know but I really need to go to Clyde's, now, because I need to buy some sanitary towels.'

'Oh my God! My baby! My baby's become a woman!'

Her mother's eyes filled with tears.

'Shhh. You're embarrassing me! You can't tell anyone, OK?'

'No, I won't. I promise. Oh my Lord! This is a red-letter day - a literal red-letter day. We shall have to go out and celebrate.
Tonight, where do you want to go?' She looked at Kitty as though she were different somehow.

'Mum. Stop it. It's a perfectly normal occurrence.'

'Now who do you want for your celebratory dinner? Anyone from school? Sorry, silly question. What about George? He'll be fun.
He loves women, it comes from having so many sisters.'

'Only if you do NOT tell him.'

'I won't, I won't.'

'Not really,' she said, blushing, and decided to kill her mother later. 'You know . . .'

'I don't really,' he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 'You look different. Grown-up.'

She was wearing a dress from Betsey Johnson, which her mother had bought her specially, a dress that was pale yellow and filled
with grace. It was the best dress she'd ever had.

'No, I don't.' Kitty looked down at her feet.

'You do, I swear it. The most beautiful you've ever looked. I'm a lucky man taking you and your momma out tonight.'

Her mother had met another man, a man who lived in Canada, and she knew she was going to marry him. She told him, the night
they met, an Indian fable about a pearl that held the world's light, and the next day she took Kitty around every antique
shop in Manhattan to find a box, the sort of box that could house a pearl that belonged in an epic.

'I don't understand what you're doing,' Kitty said. She felt churlish and hot, and disloyal to George.

'Stop whining. We're on a romantic quest. I'm going to send him a pearl. In a box. But I'm not just going to send it; no,
that would be far too pedestrian. I'm going to dispatch Precious on a plane to Canada, and while he's out at lunch have her
slip the box into his office, on to his desk, so when he comes back from his boring business lunch there will be the pearl,
just sitting there, as though an enchantress stole through the window.' She looked distracted.

'Hardly. Precious will be scuttling down his driveway. How do you know the timing will be right?'

'Kitty, you're being really mean. Don't spoil my fun. Life has been so very un-fun since the love of my life died. Thank God
I have God. Anyway, I thought you were Miss Romantic. You should find this exciting. Now do you have something like this but
a bit smaller?' Marina asked the harassed-looking salesman.

Precious and the pearl were dispatched to Canada, but the businessman did not respond as he was meant to. Kitty found her
mother crying on the floor of the armoire in her bedroom.

'What's the matter?' she said, climbing in next to her.

'He didn't get it. He thought it was odd. That's what he said, that it was the oddest thing anyone's ever done, and then he
got off the phone, and it's just so unfair because I thought I was going to marry him, and we could all live in Canada and
eat maple syrup.' Her mother threw a shoe against the wall.

'Well,' Kitty said. 'If he thought it was odd then clearly he's not the man for you. It was the most romantic thing in the
world, and if he can't appreciate that then he's a boring old sod and he's not fit to lick your boots. Not that you wear boots.'

'Do you really think that?'

'Yes, I do. I can tell you that we most certainly don't want to live in Canada either. It would be really boring. Lose his
number.' Kitty put her arm around her mother's thin shoulders in the dark.

After about five minutes Marina said in a small voice, 'You're absolutely right. I'd hate Canada. All those trees and lakes.
I don't know what I was thinking. I wish I'd never sent him that pearl. I want it back.'

'Send Precious to reclaim it, like an enchantress.'

Her mother started giggling.

'I wish I'd been there.' she said.

'You have to get him a present,' Sam said in the taxi. Sam was keen on birthdays, and all they entailed, even if they belonged
to another.

'Yeah, Mum, he spent so much money on you for your birthday.' Violet was adamant.

'It's fine,' her mother said. 'We'll just go to the hardware store. That's open on Sunday.'

'You can't buy him a present from the hardware store, and we're already an hour late for lunch,' Kitty said.