by Gemma Rogers
Strange. She was always more Robyn’s friend than mine, but we all hung out together. It was weird that she never kept in touch, never found a way to write or ring any of us. We didn’t know where she’d gone.
I slipped the photo of all of us, bar Hayley, into my bag. I was going to try and get in touch with everyone. Perhaps have a kind of reunion, if everyone wanted to. I wanted to find out if anyone else had received any strange messages. Plus, I had to start getting out and about. I wasn’t particularly social and had let friendships fizzle out over the years, mostly because I hadn’t made the effort. Lucy and I went for a drink every other week or so; she was the closest thing I had to a friend. It was awkward though, hanging out with the boss. Perhaps it was that kind of mentality I needed to shake off? I would invite Lucy, Beth and Hope out for a drink on Friday night. I was sure they would have much more exciting things to do, but if I didn’t put myself out there, I’d be relying on my parents for social interaction and at thirty-six that was pitiful.
Everything was quiet when I got home, no messages, no post on the mat and the office was dark and undisturbed. I changed into my pyjamas and opened a bottle of red wine I’d been saving for a special occasion. There wasn’t one, but I was desperate to sleep. I did raise a glass to Gareth as I stuck the photo on the fridge with a magnet. If we could go back, would we have done things differently? Did any of my friends have regrets like I did? I’d wanted to have a child by now, be married and settled.
My phone beeped, a notification from Facebook appeared, first one, then another. I opened the app to see Elliot had accepted my friend request and sent me a message:
Gday Stranger! How are you? Christ it’s been years. What are you up to? I’m in Oz, been here seven years now. They wanted recruitment consultants of all things, they let me in that way! How is everyone? Do you still see the old gang? I just heard about Gareth. I can’t believe it. Please pass on my condolences to his family. Speak soon. Elliot x
From his photos, it looked like Elliot was living his best life. I was pleased for him. There was no mention of a family or kids on his profile, but a twinge of jealousy struck. Everyone had got out of here except for me.
I spied another notification from earlier. Neither Becca or Robyn had responded to my message yet, but James Miller had accepted my friend request.
I clicked on his photo, which linked to his profile page; surprised to see he only lived in the next village. How odd I’d never seen him around? But would I recognise him? I scrolled through his photos; there were hardly any of him, instead a raft of funny memes he’d posted. There was one shot, an arty one, where he was standing in front of the sun, his face in shadow. I couldn’t see how he’d changed.
The information on his profile was limited, only that he lived in Burstow and was a writer. Perhaps he used Facebook as little as I did. I was sure my profile was just as vague.
I penned a message to James, a polite hi, how are you? I commented on the awful news about Gareth and asked if he thought we should all get together? I didn’t know if anybody would respond. Perhaps they didn’t want me shaking the skeletons out of the closet.
8
August 1997
Luckily on Saturday night, my parents didn’t go to Gareth’s. Sue had a cold and didn’t want to spread her germs, so they postponed for a week. I was relieved, I didn’t want to face Gareth the night before the event. It would be too weird. Instead, I convinced my mum and dad to let me have the girls over for a pamper evening. Mum drove us to Blockbusters, and we rented The Craft, so we could sit like the witches in the film with our lotions and potions. I had a television in my room with a video player built in, so I laid my duvet and pillows on the floor for us to sit on. Mum delivered us pizza and popcorn halfway through. She was always brilliant when I had friends over, getting us whatever we wanted but staying out of the way too. No one liked parents who lingered.
Our faces caked in mud masks and nails painted marshmallow pink, we watched the movie; all wishing we could look like Neve Campbell.
‘This is awesome,’ Robyn said, pushing a piece of popcorn through the tiny gap her lips would allow.
‘I know. God, I’d love to have those powers. Imagine what we could do to the blonde bitches,’ Becca agreed, her voice sounding weird because she could barely move her mouth too. The masks had dried so hard. We were all talking like ventriloquists.
‘I’d make them all ugly for a day, so they would know how it felt,’ Hayley spat.
Becca and Robyn held their faces as they laughed, trying not to split the mask.
‘Don’t be ridiculous Hay, you’re not ugly,’ I said, giving her a nudge with my shoulder.
‘I know, I know. I’m just saying. Actually, I think making them invisible would hurt them more,’ Hayley relented.
‘Definitely,’ Robyn agreed.
Zero attention would be the best punishment for them. How would they cope being ignored?
No one had mentioned the party and I wasn’t sure anyone would if I didn’t. But there was an undercurrent of tension in the room which needed dispelling.
‘Everyone still okay for tomorrow?’ I asked, looking at my friends in turn. Robyn shrugged, Becca nodded and a flush crept up Hayley’s neck. They all looked like rabbits caught in headlights. Wide-eyed and searching for an exit. I had to take control otherwise tomorrow they’d be screaming and running for the door. ‘It’ll be fine. I’ve figured out how I’m going to make sure you’re paired with Gareth and you with Mark,’ I said, looking first at Hayley, who was crimson, and then at Becca.
‘What? I never said—’ Becca began to protest, waving her hands around.
‘Oh, whatever. We’re not blind,’ Robyn countered with a roll of the eyes.
‘I’m scared,’ Hayley admitted, her voice trailing off. She was the eldest, turning sixteen in November, but by far the most anxious of us all.
‘You’ll be fine. Gareth is the nicest guy I know,’ I said, placing my hand on hers and ignoring the vice tighten around my chest. If he was, why was I letting Hayley have him? Because, the voice in the back of my head chipped in, it’s what friends do. I didn’t want him anyway, not really. Plus, it was obvious she was crazy about him; I would deal with the fallout later. I knew deep down that Hayley’s feelings weren’t reciprocated.
The room fell quiet for a few minutes, and we turned our attention back to the film. Everyone contemplating the events of the next day. I don’t know where I’d got the idea from, to me it was a logical step forward where I could be in control of how it happened. Wheels had been set in motion and it was too late to turn back now. Becca had been easy to get onside, after the day in the park with Mark. I only had to remind her of his impressive six-pack, and she was sold. Hayley, however, hadn’t been quite so comfortable with the idea. In the end, I think she went along with it to keep me happy, knowing I needed her to make up the numbers. I felt guilty using my powers of persuasion, but there were four of them and there needed to be four of us. I was sure afterwards, she’d see I did her a favour? It would never happen with Gareth any other way. This would be a one-time thing for them. For all of us.
Although wouldn’t it be funny if we walked out of Park Lane in couples? Strolling into our final year of secondary school each with a boyfriend. I’d love to see the blonde bitches’ faces. I’d convinced myself doing it together would make our friendships stronger in the future, a group experience we’d shared. Our first time, our first sexual experience, simultaneously under one roof. Something we’d remember forever and talk about for years to come.
I’d already told my parents I was going over to Becca’s and camping out in the garden whilst we were there, so I had to take a sleeping bag. Dad had dug mine out of the airing cupboard already and handed it over. I’d taken it from him, unable to meet his eye. Would he have handed it over so easily, with a smile on his face, if he knew what it was for? I’d borrowed his torch from under the sink and packed it in my bag. I had a curfew of half nine and hoped the
boys would make a swift exit once the deed was done. I knew that part wouldn’t take long, in fact I was sure of it. I was eager to exchange details with my friends and giggle over the awkwardness of it, once it was over.
Was I ready to become a woman? Did you change when you got your first period and were able to grow another human inside of you? I hadn’t felt a massive change, not in my head anyway. Or did it happen when you lost your virginity? It had to be the latter; when you’d matured enough to start having sex.
Since the day at the park, I’d been struggling to decide who I was going to be paired with. I was leaning towards Elliot. I could imagine if things went wrong or one of us got embarrassed, we’d laugh about it. It wouldn’t be a big deal. With James, I wouldn’t be surprised if he bought a biology textbook with him. We’d be doing it step by step, using picture references to ensure he got it right. It wasn’t the kind of experience I had in mind, not one I’d want to remember. I’d have more fun at home doing it on my own.
When the film finished, we scoured issues of More! Magazine, which I kept under my bed – there was always loads of sex tips in there, although not all of them we understood.
‘What if we do something wrong and look stupid?’ Hayley asked, frowning at the ‘Position of the fortnight’ drawing that resembled a wrestling move I had seen on tv.
‘We’re all clueless, Hay. We’re all in the same boat. The boys are just as inexperienced as us. That’s the beauty of it, there’s no pressure,’ Robyn replied as she wiped off her mask with her flannel. She seemed the most together out of all of us.
‘Easy for you to say,’ Hayley mumbled, wrinkling her nose and tossing the magazine onto the floor.
‘Take a chill pill! We know the basics right; we know we’ve got to be safe and use condoms. The most important thing is not to get pregnant! Remember this is just a tick-box exercise,’ I said, repeating the term I’d heard my dad say before. Feigning more confidence than I had about tomorrow. I knew when the time came, I’d be shitting myself as much as my friends. But I was the instigator, it was my idea, my plan, and I had to be the leader.
‘I don’t know that much,’ Hayley admitted, her voice low. We’d all had sex education in school, which taught us about reproduction and the importance of protection, but it felt like being given a leaflet on how to drive and then being handed the keys to a car. I’d also sat through an excruciating talk with my mother on how babies were made, but again there was nothing really useful when you were about to do it for the first time.
‘Basically, you’ll do a bit of kissing, a bit of fondling. He has to be hard and then he’ll get on top, normally anyway, and you lay back and open your legs,’ Robyn said matter-of-factly.
‘Robyn!’ Becca screeched and threw her head back, laughing.
‘What? That’s right, isn’t it?’ Robyn said.
‘Will it hurt?’ Hayley asked.
‘I don’t think so. My sister said it didn’t for her,’ Becca chimed in. She had an older sister who’d moved out last year to live with her boyfriend.
‘Mum got me this book, about getting older, periods and that. There’s a chapter in it about sex and how it’s done.’ I fished around under my bed until I found it and handed it to Hayley, watching her flick to the chapter and start to read.
‘I dunno what to wear?’ Robyn said, rubbing her forehead.
‘I don’t know, normal stuff, you know. Jeans, I guess, and nice underwear or something,’ I replied and Robyn shrugged. That had been playing on my mind too.
One by one, at around nine, when everyone had taken turns to read the chapter and scoured all the sex tips we could find in More! the girls’ parents came to collect them. As we each hugged goodbye, I whispered in their ears ‘Tomorrow night will be epic,’ but only Robyn responded.
‘As if,’ she said with a laugh.
Once I was alone and had removed all the popcorn and tidied the floor of my room, I ran a bath to shave my legs. Sitting in the hot water was when the anxiety kicked in. What was I going to wear tomorrow? Did I own any underwear that wasn’t boring white cotton? Was I supposed to wear something sexy? All the anxiety I had been withholding erupted and I knew I’d be awake late into the night stressing. Would Elliot care what colour my pants were or that my boobs weren’t symmetrical? Whether my backside had a dimple on it? Was he worrying about the size of his manhood? What if we got caught? My heart raced. I had to stop; I was overthinking it. Everything would be fine, we’d do the deed and go home. End of story.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamt Gareth and I were having sex for the first time in my room when Dad walked in. Shame burnt my face and I woke retching, the moon still high in the sky. I lay awake watching the shadows dance on the ceiling until morning. An ominous feeling spreading through my body like poison.
9
September 2018
Work was uneventful. I scheduled a catch-up meeting with Frank to see if he was happy with how Gary and Hope were doing. Gary had made two sales already and appeared to be up to speed, preferring the transparency of Whites. Although he said working within the rules would take some getting used to.
Hope also seemed to be fitting in fine, she was a hard worker and keen to learn. Her customer service skills were excellent. I’d watched her with the walk-ins, the potential clients – she was funny and warm but still professional. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be working on her own properties with ease. I’d moved her from shadowing Gary, who I discovered was fast-paced, to Lucy, who had more patience. Teaching came naturally to her and they were of a similar age so paired well.
We’d made arrangements to go out for a drink on Friday night, the three of us. Beth had plans already with her boyfriend, plus I believed she liked to keep her work separate from her personal life and I respected that.
I asked if we could postpone drinks until Saturday, when I got a call from Mum midweek to say Gareth’s funeral was going to be on Friday.
I headed to St. Albans that morning, leaving the office in Frank’s capable hands over the weekend. I wasn’t intending to come back to work until Monday. A few days off would be the tonic I needed. I booked myself into a travel inn nearby, knowing I would want a stiff drink after the funeral and perhaps even before it too.
Mum had delivered a wreath she’d ordered from all of us for me to take and, without knowing why, I’d slipped the group photo into my bag too.
The Friday-morning traffic was a headache and I sat in tailbacks on the M25 for forty-five minutes, but I’d left myself plenty of time to get there. The funeral wasn’t until two and I was looking forward to seeing Jim and Sue, although it would have been nicer under better circumstances. The wake was being held at a pub across the road from the crematorium, so not far to go.
I didn’t know if I’d know anyone other than Gareth’s parents. Had Gareth kept in touch with anyone from school?
I arrived at midday, having booked an early check-in, enabling me to freshen up and change into my black dress at the hotel, not wanting to arrive all crumpled from the car journey. I called a cab to come at half past one, my stomach churning. While I waited, I dug out the mini vodka bottle I’d packed, travel-size, knocking back the shot in one go to steady my nerves.
Gareth’s parents were standing outside the crematorium when I arrived, welcoming guests, and his father enveloped me into his arms. The familiar smell of Old Spice and talc wafted from him and I inhaled deeply, not wanting to let go. Sue hugged me tight, thanking me for coming and for the flowers. They both looked pained, eyes red and sunken, and Sue was almost frail, stricken with grief. I placed our wreath with the others, the word SON in white carnations pulled on my heartstrings. No parent should have to bury their child, never mind two.
I sat in one of the middle rows, not sure why I was surprised to see the pews packed. I had no idea what Gareth did or how he’d lived his life. A lot of people had turned out to pay their respects and I was pleased for Sue and Jim. In the front row, I could see a blonde lady cud
dling a boy, gripping his shoulder so hard her knuckles were white. Next to her, Sue and Jim took their places as music flooded into the crematorium.
Snow Patrol’s ‘Chasing Cars’ echoed around the room and I let my body release the tension I’d been holding. No one liked funerals and even though I didn’t know Gareth well as an adult, I mourned for the boy he was. The friend I’d had. My shoulders sagged as the pallbearers carried Gareth down the aisle. It was seeing him brought in which started the influx of tears. Imagining that boy, in the coffin. I knew he wasn’t a boy, of course, but that was the only real image I had of Gareth. I saw a photo on the platform at the front, of him laughing, lines around his eyes and stubble I couldn’t connect with him, but he’d grown to be so handsome.
I looked around as the priest began to speak, but I didn’t recognise any of the faces surrounding me. I lowered my eyes to the order of service on my lap. On the front, a different photo of Gareth, in this one he wore a suit, his smile resonating in his eyes. I recognised some of the hymns and the poem on the rear was the renowned ‘Funeral Blues’. We stood and sang, sat to have a moment of prayer and then stood again. I felt as though I held my breath the entire time. My limbs were weak, like Bambi on the ice. As though I was going to dissolve into a puddle and I nearly did when the curtains were drawn as the coffin began to move down the belt.
It wasn’t until we were outside in the bright sunshine, the awkward time spent milling around, waiting to speak to the family, that I breathed again. I wished I hadn’t come alone.
A hand touched my shoulder and I turned to see a face I vaguely recognised but couldn’t place.
‘Sophie White?’
I narrowed my eyes, a smile playing on my lips.