by Liz Kessler
“Leave it, Gordon.” Elaine grabs his hand.
Mum covers her face with her hands. Oh, God. She’s shaking her head. My legs start to give way.
Then this amazing thing happens. Mum moves her hands. She’s smiling.
“At last!” she says. Then she holds her arms out toward me. I let go of Jayce’s hand to go to her. I fall into her arms as she hugs me. Then she holds me away from her and looks into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me,” she says.
“But — but these last few weeks . . .” I stammer.
“I know. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I wanted it to happen when you were ready. And then it just seemed to get in the way.”
“But you’ve been so —”
“I’ve been wanting you to tell me. I think I forgot how to talk about anything else. I’m sorry, Ash.” She hugs me again. “You could have told me a long time ago, you know.”
“I didn’t even know a long time ago.”
“Well, I did,” she says and kisses me on the cheek. “And I’m proud of you, whatever you are.”
It’s official, then. Everyone knew I was gay before I did.
Or maybe not quite everyone.
I turn around just in time to see Dad leaving the kitchen. Elaine goes out after him. I follow them into the hall. Dad’s putting on his coat.
“Dad . . .”
He doesn’t reply.
“Dad, where are you going? Elaine, what’s going on?”
Elaine turns to me. “He’s got a bit of a stomachache coming on and thought he’d better leave you to it. Didn’t want to ruin the meal.”
“Dad.” I go to touch his arm, and he pulls it away from me as though I’m infected.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I — I just don’t want to talk about it, Ash.”
“Dad, give me some respect. You could at least tell me the truth, not make up stupid lies about a stomachache.”
“Respect?” he says, his voice gravelly. His eyes have moisture in the corners. “Lies? Really, Ashleigh?”
“Gordon.” Elaine’s voice is tight. “A lot of teenagers go through phases like this. It won’t help if you make it into more than it —”
“It’s not a phase.”
Elaine stops and looks at me. “What, dear?”
“I said it’s not a phase.” Anger is starting to burn into my cheeks and around the sides of my neck. “I’m gay. It’s what I am. You don’t have to like it, but it’s true, Dad, and ignoring me won’t make it any different.”
Dad looks into my face for a moment, his eyelids low over his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Ash. I just need a bit of time. It’s not just you, it’s . . .” He holds his arms out as if to encompass the whole house in them. “It’s all of it,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” Then he opens the door.
“Dad, you can’t leave.” I follow him out onto the drive. “Not like this.” Tears are burning in the corners of my eyes. “I’ve coped with a lot from you and Mum over the last year. I didn’t exactly like what happened. But you’re my dad, aren’t you? I didn’t disown you when you left me.”
“I didn’t leave you, Ash.”
I brush my sleeve across my eyes. “I didn’t want you and Mum to split up, but it’s what you needed to do.” I look at Elaine. “And maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you’re happier now.”
Dad drops his head. His arms hang limply by his sides.
“But I’m happier now too,” I say. “So if you don’t like it, then OK. But it’s not going to change. And if you don’t want me to be happy, well, tough. You’re not going to stop me, and nor is anyone else.” Then I run down the drive, away from them all. I sit on the wall by the front gate and cry into my hands.
I used to play hopscotch out here with Micky Evans from next door. Looking at the pavement, I can still picture the grid, scratched out with stones. I stare at the invisible squares on the pavement and wonder where all those years went.
Then someone’s sitting next to me.
“Ash, I . . .” Dad’s looking at the road in front of us. “I want you to be happy, of course I do.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t get it,” he says softly. “I don’t understand what we did wrong.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Dad. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. And it’s not wrong. Nothing has ever felt so right.”
“But, why?” He looks so pained, so hurt. Why does everything always have to be so personal? Why does this have to be about him? “Dad, it’s just me. It’s just what I am, who I am. And it’s who I want to be. Just accept it. Just accept me.”
He looks at me for a long time. “Of course I accept you, love,” he says. “I just don’t understand it. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but I can’t say I like it either.”
“Well, I suppose that’ll have to do for the time being.” I stand up as Elaine appears, her face pale. She looks like those water paints we used to have at school when someone had mixed too much white with the pink. Jayce is behind her.
“What is it?” Dad stands up. “What’s happened?”
“Jason wants to talk to us,” Elaine says flatly.
“What is it?” Dad repeats, looking at Jayce.
Jayce looks at me, and I try to smile encouragingly. I probably look demented. Elaine and Dad sit back down on the wall, holding hands. They look like a couple in a hospital waiting room, waiting for news of their desperately ill son. A pang of anger stabs at my chest. We’re not bloody dying. We’re just gay. It’s not the end of the world.
“Mum, I want to tell you something too.” Jayce is in front of them, and I get up to stand next to him.
“Look, it’s not easy, this. And I don’t know what you’ll think. We made a kind of agreement, me and Ash.” Dad and Elaine glance at me. Jayce’s face is open and pleading; theirs are shut tight. “We were going to do it together,” Jayce continues. “A joint thing. But now it seems a bit —”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, child, what is it?” Elaine bursts in, pulling her hand away from Dad and folding her arms.
Jayce takes a deep breath. He looks like a kid playing soldiers, filling his chest with air. Be a man, son. Then he lets his breath out again and looks up at the house.
I follow his eyes to my bedroom window. I remember standing on that windowsill with Micky Evans. We took turns to stand on the ledge with nothing on, facing the road. We used to time each other, see how long we could brave it out, flashing our growing bodies at the world. I lasted nearly five minutes once. But the truth that neither of us said out loud was that we wanted to stare at each other’s bodies — see what the other half looked like.
Jayce nods as though he’s made a pact with himself. “It’s not just Ash who had something to tell you today. I have too. It’s Adam. We . . . he, he’s not just my friend, Mum. He’s my . . . he’s my . . .”
Elaine covers her face with her hands.
“We’re lovers. We’re in love.”
Elaine’s shoulders sag.
Dad stands up. “Is this some kind of a joke, son?” he asks, his eyes narrowed. “Because if it is, it’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke. It’s true,” Jayce replies, his voice rising with the color in his cheeks. “It’s always been true.” He looks back at Elaine. “And if you’re honest with yourself, Mum, you must have known.”
“How must she have known?” Dad asks.
“When did you last see me with a girlfriend, Mum? Why do you think I didn’t want to go away to university? You must have suspected.”
“Of course she didn’t suspect,” Dad says limply. He turns to Elaine. “You didn’t suspect anything, did you?”
“Gordon, can I handle this?” Elaine’s voice bites into the air between them. She looks up at Jayce. “Yes, you’re right. You’re right. Happy now? I did suspect. I wondered a few years ago if you might be a . . . homosexual.”
“Mum.”
“It’s the classic story, isn’t it? I w
as cleaning your room, and I saw a magazine. But I didn’t want to believe it. I suppose I thought it might pass if I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want to encourage you into it by telling you it was wrong.”
“It’s not wrong!” Jayce and I exclaim in unison, but Elaine ignores us. She must have been rehearsing this speech for years.
“We all like to break the rules at times. The first thing we want to do when we see a notice saying DO NOT ENTER is get in there, find out what’s so great that someone wants to keep us away from it.” She pauses to look at Jayce, as though she’s just remembered he’s there. “And I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want to make you more likely to be like that . . .” She gets up and stands in front of him. Lifts his chin up with her finger and puts her other hand on his shoulder. “Maybe I should have tried something. I don’t know.”
Jayce shakes Elaine’s hand away. “Mum, there’s nothing you could have —”
“But you’re my son, Jason, my only son, and I love you.” She smiles a pinched smile at him. “Nothing will ever change that.”
“Right.”
“Do one thing for me, though.”
“What?” Jayce’s voice is raw.
“Just don’t convince yourself it has to be forever. You could have any girl you wanted, you know, a handsome young man like you.”
“Mum, I don’t want any girl. I want Adam.”
“I know, darling.” Elaine puts her fingers up to his mouth. Then she turns to Dad, who’s now sitting on the wall, staring at the sky. “Come on. Shall we go? Leave the youngsters to have some fun without us clogging up the space.”
Dad gets up.
“Aren’t you coming back inside, Dad?” I ask him.
“It might be best if we don’t, all things considered. I’ll ring you during the week,” he says as he stands up. “Happy birthday, love.”
I’m shuffling from foot to foot as Dad jangles his keys in his hand. Hug me, Dad. I stand in front of him awkwardly.
He looks at me for a split second. “Come here, sweet pea,” he says almost roughly. He hasn’t called me that in years.
And then he folds me into his arms. I hold him as tightly as I can for a minute, and when he breaks away, my face is wet. His eyes are bright and he clears his throat. “It’ll be all right, love. Just give me a bit of time,” he says.
Jayce and I watch them get into Dad’s car and drive away. “You OK?” He turns to me. My lips are trembling, and I swallow hard.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go back in.”
“Go back in? It’s a bit late for that now!”
I smile.
“That’s better.” Jayce tilts my chin up, just like his mum did with him. “Ready?”
I nod, and we go into the house.
Robyn sways over to me, spilling her wine a little on the way. “I’m so proud of you.” She hugs me.
“Thanks, Robyn.”
“Yeah, me too,” Luke adds. He gives me a big hug, then suddenly pulls away. “I’m still allowed to do that, aren’t I?” he asks awkwardly.
“Course you are, you big buffoon,” I tell him. “I don’t think it’s infectious!”
Mum comes out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry, darling,” she says, smiling gently at me and lifting a strand of hair from my cheek. “Dad’ll come round. You’ve done the right thing.”
“Yeah.”
Cat and Adam are behind Mum. They rush over to hug me and Jayce.
“This calls for a celebration,” Adam says, his arm still around Jayce’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get this birthday meal eaten and go out clubbing.”
“Can we come?” Robyn grabs Luke’s arm.
Adam grins. “Course you can. Cat, are you joining us?”
“Try and stop me.”
Adam looks at Mum. “Julia?”
“That’s all right.” Mum laughs. “I’ve got a date with George Clooney.”
“Mum, are you sure?” I ask.
“Of course I am, darling. Come on, let’s eat first. I’ve got a feeling you’ll need to line your stomachs.”
We eat dinner quickly, on a high from everything that’s happened. On the way out, I hug Mum, holding her close. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For dinner — and for everything.”
Mum smiles and strokes my cheek. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Now, get out there and have some fun; you deserve it.” She pauses and smiles softly at me. “And say hi to Taylor for me,” she adds.
I text Taylor on the way out, and she replies straightaway, saying she’s finished work and she’ll meet us at the club. As we go in, I look around for her and spot her at the bar. I get one of those back-flipping butterfly routines in my stomach as she looks up and sees me.
I wonder if maybe she’ll come home with me tonight. If it’ll last. If she’ll visit me in Manchester. I wonder if my dad will ever get used to having a lesbian for a daughter. If my mum will ever fall in love again. If I’ll ever get the chance to thank Miss Murray for showing me the door that led me here.
And I wonder how many times in one lifetime you get to start again as someone else.
Who knows? Who cares?
The music swirls around me. I look at my friends — dancing in a circle, laughing and falling over one another’s feet — and I realize I’m ready to turn the page on all those questions — and on everything that’s brought me to this point.
And as Taylor grabs my hand and pulls me close, I can’t help having a sneaky feeling that the next chapter is going to be a good one.
When I write acknowledgments, I usually have to think back over the past year. As I started writing this book fifteen years ago, a lot more people have been involved this time. Which means I barely know where to start. So I’m kind of going to duck out of even trying. But there are a few that I really must include.
The first is to Michael Schmidt and the Manchester Metropolitan University where this book’s journey began with my Novel Writing MA. This course gave me invaluable tools and experiences. I still associate many of the scenes with those passionate workshop sessions — and the equally passionate discussions in the pub afterward over a few pints and multiple packets of crisps. For this, I am also grateful to my fellow MA students. Hey, Julie Brown, the “lesbian teen angst saga” is finally out there!
The second thank-you goes to my amazing agent, Catherine Clarke, who always knew this book would be published one day and whose loyalty, determination, hard work and friendship are among the things I am most grateful for.
The third thank-you goes to my publishers, Orion and Candlewick, for their decision to publish, support and champion this book. In particular, Amber Caravéo for her brilliant editing and Fiona Kennedy for her “Times have changed and we are ready to move with them” text, which I still treasure.
Before anyone asks — and I’m sure they will — this book is not about me. Yes, I came out; yes, there are a few anecdotes dotted throughout that were inspired by real events (at which point, a big shout out to Fiz Kyffin, who has not only been a wonderful friend for almost four decades, but without whom I would never have had the “she got a boyfriend, I got a hamster” story). But that’s it. This is a work of fiction. The characters, events and story are all Ashleigh’s.
One thing Ashleigh and I have in common is that we both had a brilliant English teacher. Jenny Richardson — as the hundreds of students she taught over her long career will testify — is an incredibly special person and amazing teacher. She made me stop being a “work-shy tearaway” and instead become someone who wanted to succeed, and she helped me to fall in love with literature. As well as anything else, this book is a salute to Jenny and teachers like her, who change the lives of their pupils — often without even knowing they have done so.
Finally I want to thank Laura Tonge, for more than I can fit on this page. Laura, you are the other half of everything, your love gives me the courage and the desire to get this book out there, and you make all of this possible, wonderful and perfect.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2015 by Liz Kessler
Cover photograph copyright © 2016 by Getty Images/PhotoAlto/Alix Minde
Excerpt from “This Be The Verse” from The Complete Poems of Philip Larkin by Philip Larkin, edited by Archie Burnett. Copyright © 2012 by The Estate of Philip Larkin. Reprinted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
Published by an arrangement with Orion Children’s Books
First U.S. electronic edition 2016
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2015937226
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