Unbecoming

by Jenny Downham

  Mary nodded. Her own feet were cold, but there was nothing she could do about it. She settled herself in a chair and the boy turned back to the television. ‘There’s a woman in the kitchen,’ Mary told him. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘That’s Mum.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘My mum, not yours.’

  ‘Oh, well, there’s something wrong with her, whoever she is.’

  The boy turned to look at her again. ‘What kind of wrong?’

  ‘She’s upset.’

  ‘That’s Katie’s fault.’ He sat up, glanced furtively at the door. ‘They had a big row. You do know who Katie is, don’t you? My sister.’

  Of course Mary knew her – all that hair, like a waterfall tumbling. She’d met her plenty of times. She was the one who’d sung her to sleep, who’d held her hand in the dark. Or was it the other way round? Had Mary done those things for her?

  ‘Well,’ the boy said, ‘she’s gone.’

  Gone? Mary felt her body clench.

  A woman came in with a tea tray and set it down. Mary clutched at her. ‘Where’s the girl?’

  ‘Katie? Out for breakfast apparently.’

  ‘Is she coming back?’

  ‘I certainly hope so.’

  The boy drummed his heels on the floor. ‘It’s pretty unfair that she gets to go out and have breakfast when she’s the one who yelled at you and made you go to a hotel.’

  The woman gave him a watery smile. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘She should be in trouble, shouldn’t she? She’s the bad one.’ He flopped back down on the carpet. ‘If it was me, I’d be grounded for years.’

  The woman sighed as she sat in the chair next to Mary. She had the sad book with her and she put it on her lap. ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Do you know someone called Simona? She works at the café Katie takes you to.’

  ‘Café? Does she?’

  ‘Every morning until very recently Katie’s taken you there.’

  Mary closed her eyes to imagine it. She followed the banister all the way down the stairs and out the main door. It was desolate outside. It was raining and bits of rubbish whipped across the courtyard. There was no girl. Mary opened her eyes and reached for a comforting biscuit. ‘I don’t know anything about anything,’ she said, taking a bite.

  The woman poured the tea. The boy was asked to turn the television off. It got very awkward and quiet. Mary could hear herself swallow. Every crunch of her biscuit sounded like shoes on gravel.

  The woman said, ‘What about you, Chris? You’ve been to that café, haven’t you?’

  ‘Only once and it was horrible.’

  ‘Did you meet Simona? She’s a waitress.’

  He shrugged. ‘There were lots of waitresses. They didn’t tell us their names.’

  The woman thought about that. She reached down for her handbag and rummaged around in it. She pulled out her purse. She said, ‘Why don’t you go to the shop and buy yourself something?’

  The boy looked surprised and also a little afraid. ‘You don’t like me going to the shop on my own.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. You’re fourteen.’

  He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’

  ‘I’m trying not to cross-examine you.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later.’ She pulled a note from the purse and handed it to him. ‘Get yourself sweets or crisps. Share them with the kids outside. It’s sunny out there now.’

  ‘Why would I do that? I don’t even know them.’ He looked at the money in his hand as if that would explain the situation.

  Mary laughed at his puzzled face. ‘I’ll introduce you if you like,’ she said, wanting to help. ‘I know plenty of people. You want me to come?’

  He shook his head. ‘How long should I be?’

  ‘As long as you like,’ the woman said. ‘Take your phone and answer if I call you. Make sure it’s turned on.’

  After he’d gone the woman picked up the book again. She hadn’t been reading for long when she began to dab her face with her sleeve. Mary wanted to comfort her, put an arm around her, stroke her hair, wipe her tears away, but she felt very far from the action. It was like watching television. She felt curious to know what the matter was, but she didn’t seem able to move.

  She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face as it filtered through the curtains. Her thoughts dismantled one by one.

  Thirty-seven

  Katie stood over the road from the café and stared at Simona. She appeared to be sleeping, just sitting at one of the outside tables with her eyes shut. Usually if she was on a break, she’d read a book or go for a walk, or chat to the other staff, so it was weird she was sitting there on her own. She didn’t look anything like herself.

  Katie crossed the street. Her heart was hammering, but she was determined to do this. Task number three. She pulled out a chair and sat opposite Simona. ‘I sent you a text.’

  Simona opened her eyes and for a moment it was as if she forgot to be furious. It was like watching something lovely skim the surface of a river.

  Keep looking at me like that, Katie wanted to say. I can keep being brave if you just keep looking at me like that.

  But Simona’s face closed down as quickly as it had opened. ‘I deleted it.’

  ‘I was hoping we could talk.’

  ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘You don’t look busy.’

  Simona narrowed her eyes. ‘Can you go away? You want me to get sacked?’

  ‘I thought your boss liked you talking to customers.’

  ‘That depends on the customer.’

  Angie opened the door and stepped out. She folded her arms and glared at Katie. ‘You causing trouble?’

  ‘No, of course not!’

  ‘Because if Simona doesn’t want to talk to you I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

  She sounded like a bouncer. She sounded like she’d be more than happy to escort Katie off the premises. Simona must’ve told her about the library, about all the ignored texts. Katie could barely meet the older woman’s eyes. ‘I only just got here. I don’t know if she wants to talk to me.’

  Angie turned to Simona. ‘Do you?’

  Simona gave her a smile. ‘No, but I can handle it.’

  ‘You sure?’ Angie looked Katie up and down as if checking for weapons. ‘Where’s Mary?’

  ‘At home. She’s not well.’

  Angie looked sceptical. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘She had a vascular incident.’ Katie tried not to let the words affect her voice, but they did anyway.

  Angie’s face softened, ‘Ah, poor lamb. Is she going to be all right?’

  Katie shook her head, aware Simona was staring at her from across the table.

  ‘What’s a vascular incident?’ Simona said.

  Katie knew the concern in Simona’s eyes was for Mary, but still – it was as if they were on the same side for a moment. ‘It’s like a mini stroke. She’s a lot more confused now.’

  ‘And she won’t recover?’

  ‘She’ll plateau out, but it’ll happen again.’ Strange how using the same words as the doctor made it sound so certain.

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Angie said, ‘I’m going inside now, so give her my regards, won’t you. And you two be nice to each other, you hear me?’ She gave Katie a final glare. ‘Especially you.’

  Katie felt more exposed once she’d gone because at least her anger had warmth in it. Anything was better than watching Simona’s face freeze over.

  ‘Five minutes to talk,’ Katie said. ‘That’s all I need. There aren’t even any customers.’ She waved a hand at all the empty tables to prove it.

  Simona scowled. ‘What’s so urgent? If it’s anything to do with libraries, gardens or your stupid mates, you can forget it.’

  ‘They’re not my mates and I came to apologize.’

  ‘Apologize?’ Simona’s
eyes glittered. ‘Do you ever do anything else?’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Life’s not fair.’ Simona picked up her phone. ‘I’m setting a timer. You’ve got exactly two minutes and then you’re leaving.’

  Katie leaned forward, put both hands on the table, palms down. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I was a complete coward at the library. I totally messed up.’

  ‘You pushed me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t reply to a single text or call.’

  ‘I know. I was scared. It won’t ever happen again.’

  ‘Damn right, cause I’m never texting you again.’

  They looked at each other. Katie hated how cold Simona looked.

  Katie said, ‘Something massive happened last night. Me and my mum had this row and she stayed out all night and left me in charge.’

  ‘You’re always in charge, so if you want sympathy – forget it.’

  ‘I’m not after sympathy.’

  Simona shrugged. ‘Your mum relies on you too much, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Katie stalled. Kind words affected her strangely this morning. She wanted to take notice of each one, like rare flowers, but Simona was looking at the timer.

  ‘Last night was different because Mary’s different,’ Katie said. ‘She’s much harder work, and I guess I saw things from my mum’s side a bit – you know, the stress of being responsible and having to make difficult decisions. I actually began to see why Mary might need to be in a nursing home.’

  Simona sighed, like that was obvious, and if it meant they never came to the café and she never saw Katie again it wouldn’t bother her in the slightest.

  ‘Anyway, when Mary went to bed, she showed me a photo …’ Katie leaned closer, hoped Simona would lean in too, but she didn’t, she looked at her phone instead. ‘Simona, please, stop checking the time.’

  ‘Fifty-five seconds.’

  ‘I know you’re pissed off, but I’m trying to explain something.’

  ‘You said you wanted to apologize. This is all about you.’

  ‘It’s back story.’

  Simona tapped her fingers on the table. ‘Go on then, but you better be quick.’

  ‘So, basically the photo shows me and Mary from years ago, which means I’ve met her before, even though my mum said I hadn’t. And I realized, for the first time ever, that truth doesn’t exist.’

  Simona laughed, a bitter sound. ‘Truth doesn’t exist?’

  ‘I don’t mean because my mum lied, I mean because everyone’s got their own side of a story. So, there’s this photo and I’m too young to remember anything about it and Mary starts talking and I think, yeah, actually I do remember – she stayed with us for a while and every night she wrapped me in her shawl and we sat in the garden. But was I really remembering or just adopting the bits I liked? And I absolutely guarantee my mum’ll have a completely different take on it. If there’s no real truth, then all we can do is offer up our own stories and listen to other people’s and try and make sense of it all.’

  Simona said, ‘I know a really good story about a waitress who met a coward at a library. You want to hear that?’

  Katie looked at her hands, still flat upon the table. She hated her hands. A coward? Yes, she deserved that. There was another account, where a girl bravely asked a waitress some questions and they kissed and then the world crashed in and the girl got scared. But the end result was the same – Katie let Simona down.

  Simona made a great show of checking the time again. ‘Eleven seconds. Nearly done. Hurrah!’

  Katie took a breath. ‘So, what I came to tell you is that I gave my mum a book I’ve been writing in for weeks. I finally gave her my version of my story.’

  Simona slightly, ever so slightly, frowned. ‘What story?’

  ‘The one where I like girls.’

  The alarm went. Simona snatched it and turned it off. ‘What happened? What did she do?’

  ‘Nothing yet. I only just gave it to her. But whatever she does, I don’t care.’

  ‘You should care. You just unleashed a storm.’

  Katie shrugged, feigned indifference. If she really thought about the fact that Mum might be reading the book right now, she’d probably cry. There must be a word for being certain you’d done the right thing, but simultaneously terrified. But if there was, Katie didn’t know it.

  ‘Your mum’s going to go mental, isn’t she?’ Simona said. ‘What if she kicks you out?’

  ‘Then I’ll come and live at yours.’

  Simona shook her head as if Katie was a complete fool. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I’m going back to work.’

  ‘No, set the timer again.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’

  ‘There’s always something to say.’

  Simona smiled. A tiny shadow of a smile, creeping along her lips from the edge of her mouth. ‘You’ve got a good memory for crappy one-liners.’

  ‘When do you finish? We could go for a walk later.’

  ‘No we couldn’t.’ Simona swept a hand across her face, rubbing the smile out. She looked past Katie to the street.

  ‘Or we could get a bus somewhere. See where we end up?’

  Simona shook her head again, wouldn’t look.

  ‘You don’t have to accept my apology, Simona. I just wanted to let you know I’m an idiot and you’re not. You said no one puts their hand up, that you feel alone. Well, I came here to tell you that I’m putting my hand up.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘Seriously, I promise. I’m not going to hide any more, however hard it is.’

  Simona sighed. The window of the café was glazed with fragile sunlight. She leaned back on her chair and was bathed in it. ‘Careful what you promise.’

  ‘I mean it. Why should I be careful?’

  ‘Because something happened.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It was the day of the library. After that.’

  ‘What was? What are you talking about?’

  She looked steadily at Katie. ‘It’s why I kept texting you. When I finished work, that girl, Amy, and a couple of her mates were hanging around outside the café. I guess they must’ve heard I took the piss out of your friend in front of her bloke, because they decided to have a go. Usually I can handle things like that, no problem, but they started following me and saying stuff, and maybe I was tired but for some reason I just took it. I kept walking, kept my mouth shut and let them talk shit. They were saying there was something wrong with me, that I should stay away from people, go to a doctor, whatever. Then Amy said I’d infected you and that you’d tried to infect Esme.’

  ‘Amy’s such a bitch.’

  ‘Yeah, and you know what? I actually let them get to me. I went home and sat in my room for hours thinking about what they’d said. Then my mum got in from work and we talked it over. She insisted on reporting them, which hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d convinced myself they had the right to say that stuff – it was their opinion, you know, and maybe it was true, I had infected you.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. I asked you to teach me, didn’t I? I want this.’

  ‘What – this life?’ Simona leaned forward into shadow again. ‘I don’t think you do. I think you’re a tourist. I think you’re someone who imagines they can come on to me whenever they like and then back off when things get tough. I think you’re someone who turns up with their, “I’m sorry, it’ll never happen again” crap and thinks I’m going to take it. But I’m not. I’m sick of it. It was bad enough with Anna. I’m not doing it again.’ She looked at Katie and it was strange, because even though she was angry she looked more weary than Katie had ever seen her. ‘If you ever get followed by Amy, if you ever have to listen to that shit, you’ll definitely backtrack again. So, don’t make promises you can’t keep, OK? You want my advice? Go back to your boyfriend.’

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘You ended it?’

  ‘About an hour ago.
Told him why too.’

  Simona shook her head. ‘Text him. Tell him you were joking.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Well, you should.’ Simona stood up. ‘Beg him to take you back, then go home and tell your mum you never meant anything you wrote in that book.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Back to work.’ She yanked open the café door and shut it behind her, like it was all decided and Katie would just go away and do as she suggested.

  Tears tightened Katie’s throat. She swallowed hard, looked down the length of the street and blinked a few times. There was the newsagent’s, the butcher’s, the card shop. Outside the DIY shop, a man stopped to adjust his shoe. A woman came out of the newsagent’s and stood counting her change. She put the money in her purse and clicked it shut. Normal things. Ordinary people. So why did Katie have a physical pain in her chest? It surged through her and hurt when she breathed.

  She tried to distract herself by staring at a seagull pecking at a takeaway box by the bus stop. Another gull swooped down to join it, then a third, and they flapped and shoved, stabbing at the paper with their curved yellow beaks.

  Behind the bus stop was the block of flats where Mary had knocked on the door, where Mum’s old house used to stand. On one of the balconies, a man was hanging out washing and a little girl hung her arms over the wall and looked at the birds.

  Katie stood up and slowly pushed her chair back under the table. Through the window she could see Simona behind the counter. She was at the chalkboard, rubbing out one of the items from the menu with a duster. Katie wanted to bang on the window. She wanted Simona to come rushing out and say that everything was going to be all right.

  As she crossed the road and walked away, Katie thought of all those fairy-tale heroines storming up hills and hacking through forests and putting their lives in danger, and she wondered how they got to be so courageous. They didn’t expect anyone else to save them. They just got on with it. All Katie had done was hand over a book, dump a boy and say sorry. Of course that was never going to be enough.

  She had to do something new. Some brave and wonderful task that would prove she was worthy of being the heroine of her own story.

  The trouble was, she had no idea what it should be.