This Is All (9 page)

‘Not exactly. Not about bracken. No.’

‘Well, it’s your turn. To tell me what you really wanted to tell me. I mean, if you still want to.’

Another silence. You did have to be patient with Will. All I wanted to do was rip his pants off.

The dampness began to seep through my jeans.

Finally,
at last
, he turned on his side, facing me, propped his head on his hand, and I knew it would be best if I didn’t move or look at him. I was sure he was easy to spook when being so serious, which he was, I just knew,
very
serious. And I wasn’t at all expecting what came out.

‘I love trees.’

I mean, what are you supposed to say when a boy says such a thing? What I heard myself say was: ‘You love
trees
?’ With too much emphasis on
trees
, which made it sound like I was sneering, which I wasn’t. I was just surprised.

‘You can laugh if you like,’ he said.

I said, ‘No no. Is that what girls usually do when you tell them?’

He said, ‘I haven’t told any girls.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘boys then?’

He said, ‘I haven’t told any boys either.’

So I said, ‘Anyone?’

He said, ‘No one.’

‘No one?
Not anyone at all?
’

‘Not no one no when.’

I took a deep breath before saying, ‘But you’re telling me.’

‘Yes.’

‘And I’m the first person you’ve ever ever
ever
told in the whole wide world that you love trees?’

‘Correct.’

Now it was me who had a spell of silence while I took this in. Then turned on my side, my head propped on my hand just like him, and for the same reason – because I needed to look into his eyes to be sure of his reaction when I said, ‘You’re telling me and you expected me to laugh?’

‘Yes.’

‘At you?’

‘Yes.’

‘For liking trees?’

‘
Loving
trees.’

‘For
loving
trees.’

‘For loving trees.’

‘Why?’

‘Just thought you would. But hoped you wouldn’t.’

‘And I didn’t.’

‘But most people would, wouldn’t they?’

I waited to see if he would tell me what he
really
wanted to tell me without being asked. But no. I was beginning to understand that, when it came to his emotions, Will was the question-and-answer kind of person. He couldn’t tell you anything, not anything important, unless you asked the right questions. The
exactly
right questions.

I looked him in the eyes and asked, ‘Why me?’

‘You know how you wanted to tell me about choosing me? Well, the fact is, I fancy you. Have for ages. Well, I mean, not just
fancy
you, which I do, but more than that.’

‘What does
more than that
mean?’

‘Not sure. No, that’s wrong. I
am
sure. But I mean I’m not sure I want to go into it here. It wasn’t what I was going to tell you. I was only going to tell you about the trees. To see how you reacted. I only told you about … the other matter … because of what you told me.’

‘You know what I think, William Blacklin? I think you’re a deep dyed bolloxing, what-you-call-it? Is pedant the right word?’

‘I do like things to be right, that’s true. If that’s what you mean.’

‘So you
more than
fancy me, which you were
not
going to tell me, and you brought me here to tell me you love trees, which you
were
going to tell me and which is something you
haven’t
told anyone else in the whole wide world?’

‘Correct.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

And because I couldn’t stand it any longer, I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. And he didn’t resist and he didn’t pull away and he did kiss me back and we went on and on kissing for ages, starting feather gentle and slow-motion slow and our lips hardly touching and then his tongue lightly tracing my lips like it was a pencil drawing my mouth and then my tongue drawing his lips and then his tongue lifting my top lip and feeling all under it before both his lips took my top lip and kissed me that way, then my tongue exploring his bottom lip and when this wasn’t enough any more, we kissed with our mouths open wide and our lips covering each other’s and our tongues playing tag and flicking and circling and our breaths in one and out the other until I felt I would explode, the star burst starting in my vag and spreading down my thighs to my feet and up my body like a wave
breaking till I thought I would disappear altogether for ever into Will and there would be nothing in the whole wide world but him in me and me in him.

Realisations: Sayings to Myself

(
selections from being 15 till now
)

One good friend in a lifetime (e.g. Izumi) is worth celebrating.

Learn to say no.

If you can’t get to sleep, get up and do something very boring.

Use moisturiser daily, Doris says, from the age of fifteen.

Don’t assume Doris is always happy.

Don’t assume Dad is as daft as he sometimes seems.

Unhappy people are often aggressive.

Men usually don’t always mean it when they say they love you.

Never try and rescue a man in trouble unless he asks.

Pushy people push everybody around, not just you. Don’t take it personally.

People are like flowers. They need different amounts of watering.

Water improves your complexion.

Respect is at the heart of poetry.

When buying clothes, don’t look at yourself in the mirror from the back. It makes your nose look big and your bum look even bigger than it is.

Don’t buy clothes when you’re unhappy or they’ll never feel right.

Eye liner makes you look tarty.

There’s good gossip and bad gossip. Good gossip is funny and helpful and is not meant to hurt other people. Bad gossip hurts other people and is meant to.

The reason old Shakes is god is that he can be all people
and at the same time is beyond them. Also, he is the best of anybody at using the English language.

When sad, read one of Shakes’s sonnets (nos 18, 27, 29, 30, 36, 60, 66, 71, 73, 80, 91, 94, 116, 129, 130, 138, 144, and 145 are my favourites).

I write bad mopes when I’m unhappy. I write good mopes about being sad when I’m happy.

I know I really will write poetry one day, so long as I keep trying, no matter how many failures, and how many mopes it takes.

Real writers don’t make mistakes. They make changes.

When I’m tired I become intolerant.

Nice knickers are very important.

Accept the fact that you don’t always snap out of things fast. That’s just how you are.

When upset, be systematic.

Ariel

‘Better stop,’ Will said, pulling away. ‘Sorry. Not ready.’

I knew he was right, though I wanted to go on. How dangerous the body is when left to its own devices.

And I also assumed he meant he hadn’t any protection. Neither had I. In my wobbly state before leaving the house I hadn’t even remembered to pack a tampon, and was anxious in case my period had started early, which it did sometimes. Luckily, Izumi had made me wear black jeans. (‘Never know where boys take you. And this one might take you to a graveyard.’)

On our way back to the car park a rope dropped from a tall tree in front of us and a bean-pole of a boy came down it like a spindly spider – a young man really, but boy-face and chestnut hair like a tangled mop, which I didn’t see till he took off the helmet he was wearing, and strong man’s hands, and all geared up like a mountaineer, ropes and boots and belt
dripping with tools. ‘Arry!’ said Will. ‘Will!’ said Arry. Long lost mates.

They stopped and talked, laughing, shifting on their feet the way boys do as displacement for hugging and kissing. Or at least Will did. This Arry person, who wasn’t a man and wasn’t a boy, stood stock still on his hefty boots and held his rope in his workman’s mitts, and smiled with pleasure at Will’s attention but didn’t give me more than a glancing nod. So, feeling left out, I thought, Let them get on with it, and wandered away. ‘I’ll only be a sec,’ Will called, as boys/men do when they’re palling around. I waved a ‘Carry on’ backhand at him.

Feeling miffed already after just one session of kissing! One bout, one explosion, a first that can never be a first again. An only time. I wanted him with me, to prefer me, to choose me before everyone else. I wanted us to celebrate our first kissing time. I wanted us – wanted
him
– to mark the occasion. But there he was, dancing attendance on this tree boy who I didn’t know and didn’t want to know. I wanted only to know Will and wanted Will to want only to know me. And because this wasn’t happening I wanted to cry. And between my legs I was sticky wet and didn’t know whether from my period or from kissing or both. And I wanted to pee.

As I arrived at the car park I saw a sign saying
CAFÉ GIFT SHOP TOILETS
and followed its wooden finger. All the time on my way and in the loo my two voices argued in my head. Big C and Little C. Big C is my stronger, wiser, more sensible self. Little C is my weaker, sillier, ungrownup and unforgiving self. The yak went something like this:

LC: How could he!
How could he!

BC: He met a friend, that’s all.

LC: He should’ve just said hello and walked on
with me!

BC: You wouldn’t treat a friend like that. You’d have stopped and talked.

LC: No I wouldn’t. Not after
first kissing
. He doesn’t
really
like me.

BC: Yes, he does.

LC: He was just
getting what he wanted
.

BC: Don’t be silly.

LC: I am
not
being silly, I’m being
realistic
.

BC: It’s just your period starting. You’re feeling wobbly.

LC: This has
nothing
to do with my period. It’s boys. They’re
sludgeofferous
.

BC: Not all of them. Will’s not like that.

LC: He was just having a bit of fun. That’s all boys ever want.

BC: It’s what you wanted as well. You wanted a snog with him and that’s what you got.

LC: But I
meant
it.

BC: So did he. You could tell. He wasn’t faking, that’s for sure.

LC: How would you know? You don’t know any more than me.

Et cetera. So tedious, so tiring, goes on and on till something switches the mood. This time, it was finding my period hadn’t started that did the trick, and something I bought in the gift shop.

When I came out of the loo Little C said, Let
him
wait for
me
now, and I wandered into the shop. The usual knickknacks. Such a silly nice word, Middle English in origin, meaning toy, trinket, or ‘ingenious contrivance’. Plenty of trinkets but no ingenious contrivances that I could see. But on a twirly rack were some little bookmarks with first names on them, everything from Adam to Zoë, but none for Cordelia. There never is, I’m glad to say. One for common-or-garden William, of course. On each side were pictures of fruit and trees and seeds and flowers, and a pen and paper. And round the edges the caption:

WILLIAM: Derivation: ancient name meaning ‘desiring protection’. Origin: Old German. Strengths: Makes an excellent employee. Physical: Does not allow his aggression to show. Character: Organised. Emotion: Artistic with a calm nature.

Cue for laughter.

Yes, said Little C, he certainly needs protection. And you see, said Big C, he doesn’t let his emotions show. Well, said Little C, he certainly did while kissing. There you are, said Big C, that shows how much he really fancies you. I don’t want him just to
fancy
me, said Little C. Don’t start that again, said Big C.

I couldn’t help buying it for him. My first gift.

Will was sitting on his scooter, patience on a monument, smiling at me as I approached.
Does not allow his aggression to show … a calm nature
. So how could I tell if he was pissed off with waiting the way I wanted him to be?

‘For you,’ I said cheerily as I gave him the bookmark.

He looked and laughed and said, ‘What’s yours say?’

‘There wasn’t one. I’m too rare, you see.’

‘Then I’d better put a conservation order on you.’

‘Like I’m a rare old tree?’

‘I love rare trees, young or old.’

This induced a glottal stop and a swallow to clear it before I could reply, ‘You’re the one who needs protection.’

‘That’s what Arry said.’

‘The boy?’

‘Ariel McLaren. And he’s not a boy. He’s twenty.’

‘Well, he looks like a boy. A friend, is he?’

‘Said you were dangerous.’

‘Did he, the cheek! Hardly even glanced at me, so what does he know!’

‘Only what I told him.’

‘Which was?’

‘We’d been snoggin’ in the bracken.’

‘You horror!’ I tried to hit him, but he caught my hand and held on.

‘No, I didn’t. He guessed.’

‘How?’

‘There’s bits of bracken stuck all over your back.’

‘No!’ I tried to get at it.

He turned me and brushed it off.

‘How could you let me go like that!’

‘Didn’t notice till you were walking away. Couldn’t do much about it then.’

‘O, bollox! In the loo and the shop. Everybody must have seen.’

‘Who cares?’

‘I do.’

He turned me to face him again, kissed me quick and said, ‘I don’t.’

I blushed. O lordy!

‘And him – that Arry person – he knows.’

‘He’s okay. Just joking. Said we looked good together.’

I was probably red as a cooked lobster by now. ‘Well, I hope he keeps it to himself. Don’t want it getting around. You know what they’re like at school.’

‘Arry won’t tell. He works here. I help out as a volunteer. Pruning, path clearing, that sort of thing. He’s been teaching me tree climbing.’

‘You have to be
taught
tree climbing?’

‘To do it right, yes, and professionally.’