‘Not sure,’ I replied as we followed Tasmin inside. Changing school was not part of how I’d seen my year unfolding back on December the thirty-first when Allegra and I had made our new year’s resolutions and talked over our plans, but there was no going back. It felt like someone had a very firm hand in the small of my back and was propelling me into this new and unfamiliar chapter.
I also felt that I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it, and that was difficult too. I definitely couldn’t open up to Mum and Dad. They were struggling with their own adjustment and I didn’t want to add to their worry. Tasmin and Clover had been kind and sympathetic and, because of that, I didn’t feel I could open up to them either. They might think I thought I was too good for their school or that I was always miserable, and so not want to spend any time with me. I didn’t want to blow the beginning of the only friendships I had so far. The only person I’d confided in was Allegra and she’d sent me a text early in the morning with three kisses. It was sweet of her but hearing from her only reminded me that she was on her own way into school, the school back in London where I belonged and knew my way around.
‘It will be fine,’ said Tasmin, as if picking up on my thoughts. ‘Most people are OK here. Come on, we’ll do a quick tour and show you where everything is before lessons.’
We pushed our way through corridors busy with pupils bustling and hustling to get past each other, greeting friends, getting to the hall or a classroom. A cacophony of adolescent voices made the noise level almost unbearable and I struggled to hear anything Tasmin or Clover said to me as they pointed out various landmarks – the library, the loos, the main hall, the canteen. Tasmin had told me that there were one and a half thousand pupils at this school. There had been four hundred at my old one.
We finally got to the common room for Year Ten and Eleven where the mania ceased. It was quiet at last when Clover shut a door behind us. My first impression was that the room smelt of Pot Noodles. A number of pupils were already in there, some seated. A group of girls were making tea at a kettle by a sink in the left corner, others were catching up with gossip from the holidays, judging by the shrieks of laughter. ‘And then what did he do?’ I heard one of them ask. A dark-haired boy was absorbed in his laptop near the window, another couple were sitting in the corner chatting. All of them looked up when we walked in, curious glances checking me out. I wanted to slope away and observe from a corner but Tasmin pointed to me and said in a loud voice, ‘New girl alert. Name of Paige Lord. My cousin. Be nice or else.’
The girls at the kettle gave me a weary wave then turned back to their drinks and chat. The boys went back to what they were doing. Clearly, I wasn’t worthy of any more interest.
Tasmin and Clover were soon busy catching up with the girls at the kettle and I grabbed a seat to take in the new environment – tall windows in need of a good clean to the left, noticeboard with various posters to the right, lockers at the far end, and rows of well-worn brown fabric chairs arranged to make benches along the middle and back of the room. Inside me a battle was taking place.
One part of me felt about five years old, overwhelmed, bewildered and finding it hard to breathe when I thought about how so much had changed so fast. If I gave in to that side of me, I knew I would curl up and cry. Another stronger part of me was telling me that I must be brave, remind myself of what was good in my life, everything Mr Nash, my old headmaster, used to lecture us about in past school assemblies and we used to laugh about later. Now I needed all the positivity he preached and I mentally ran the checklist of things to be grateful for that he used to read out to us. I have my health, I have my intellect, I have potential friends, I have a roof over my head even if it’s not my own. I have food to eat. I have clothes to wear.
It didn’t wash. A third part of me wanted to tell Mr Nash to go and stuff himself because what had happened to me and Mum and Dad felt grossly, horribly unfair and I didn’t want to be there in this strange school with one and a half thousand unfamiliar faces.
‘Paige,’ said a voice next to me.
I looked up to see a blond boy standing in front of me. He looked familiar. He was one of the musicians I’d seen in the café when I’d gone to find Mum on Saturday.
‘Oh hi, yes, I’m Paige. How do you know my name?’ I asked.
He pointed to the other side of the common room, which was now filling up with more and more people. ‘Tasmin. She’s telling everyone to come and say hello.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘How embarrassing.’
The boy nodded. ‘She means well. I’m Liam. You’ve just moved here from London?’
‘Is there anything she didn’t tell you?’ I asked.
Liam smiled. ‘A lot. So, first day. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine. No. That’s a lie. I feel slightly insane, like there are all these different parts of me inside doing battle. Voices all saying something different.’ I don’t normally blurt out my inner feelings to strangers but I was feeling so nervous and out of place, I couldn’t stop myself. I was hoping Liam would nod and tell me that he felt like that some days too. But he didn’t. He looked slightly alarmed and stared at me as if he didn’t get what I was saying at all. ‘You hear voices?’
‘No! Not exactly voices, that sounds mad, just I . . . ’ I blustered. ‘I was just feeling . . . oh never mind.’
Liam glanced at his watch then heaved his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘OK. Better get going. Um. Guess I’ll see you around, Paige. Welcome to Bath and er . . . good luck with the voices.’
Well that went well for a first encounter, not, I thought as Tasmin beckoned me to get up and go and join her. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Lesson time. We’ll deliver you to your classroom then see you back here at lunch, OK?’
I gave her a quick hug. ‘I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, Tasmin. It’s very generous of you, especially after I’ve taken up half your room and everything.’ I felt like I was about to cry. Tasmin saw it too.
She returned my hug. ‘Hey, stupid. Don’t go all wussy on me. I don’t do soppy.’
I sniffed back the tears. ‘Sorry. I won’t.’
Tasmin looked at me with a serious expression. ‘I mean it. You’ve got to tough this out.’
I nodded and Tasmin gave my arm a squeeze. She has a good heart, I thought, then felt myself getting tearful again when I considered how I’d disrupted her life and yet she’d come round so quickly. I wasn’t sure I could have been that generous. I took a deep breath. A day at a time, I told myself. Just get through a day at a time.
I did get through the day. And the next. And the week. And the next. Uncle Mike took Dad, Mum and I out in the car a few times after school and at the weekends. He drove us through the city, showed us the famous crescents and the five-storey Georgian houses there, up the steep hills to the outer areas around the rim, then out to picturesque villages and pubs only ten minutes away in the country. We glimpsed some beautiful old manor houses on the edge of the city, nestling amongst trees in private grounds. I think they were hard for Mum and Dad to see because they were so like our old home back in Richmond. To begin with, I couldn’t remember which part was where, but slowly, over the weeks, parts of it began to be familiar, particularly the area where we lived and the centre of town.
At school, Tasmin and Clover did their best to look out for me but, despite their good intentions, I was still the new girl and I was often on my own. Starting a new school after Year Seven is difficult at any time because all the friendships and cliques get established in the first terms when everyone arrives together from junior school, and then they carry on through the following years. By Year Ten the bonds are fixed and any newbie stands out like a sore thumb. People were friendly enough to me but no one went out of their way to ask me to hang out or join their group. They asked a few questions – Where was I from? Why had I moved to Bath? – but they soon left me to myself. They had their own friends to talk to.
I tried to join the drama group, thinking that woul
d be a good way to meet new people, but they were midway through a production so I’d missed the boat there. My one refuge was the art room, where I spent at much time as I could. I’d started a project on portraits at my last school and took photos of Tasmin and Clover to paint, but it was a solitary activity because the art teacher insisted on no talking when working, even if after school.
I sorely missed having Allegra to go home with and to gossip about the day over tea and toast, to have those conversations that were so easy with her and that went from the sublime to the ridiculous and back again in the space of five minutes. We Skyped most evenings and did our best to maintain the closeness we’d always had, but although what was happening at my old school was of interest to me, my new school wasn’t of the same interest to her, apart from whether there were any decent boys or not. Not that she didn’t ask about my new life – she did, but it wasn’t the same as talking about people we both knew.
My life felt uneventful. I went to school in the morning, kept my head down and soon slotted into the syllabus. I was happy to work hard because it gave me something to do. I particularly liked my art teacher, so that was at least something. I did my homework, I ate my packed lunch, then went to the library or art room. I did all the study that was needed, then I went home, often on my own because I couldn’t follow Tasmin around like a lap dog, although she always invited me to go and hang out with her and Clover. She had her life and I was already taking up enough of it by living in her bedroom. I wanted to give her space.
I knew I wasn’t being totally honest with Allegra when she asked how things were, but I didn’t want to alienate her either by letting her know that I was sad, lonely, angry and frustrated. What could she do to change things? Nothing. So I put on my cheery Paige face, making the best of it. Bath is great. School is fine. I’m OK. I’m tough, a survivor. But it was all an act. Inside, I longed for someone to see beyond my mask, to understand how I really felt and to reach out and rescue me.
One evening after I’d Skyped Allegra, I put on the Songs for Sarah CD. I stood and looked out of the window as a soundtrack filled the room.
Put a frame around my face,
Hang it in a gallery,
So perfectly proportioned,
Don’t you wish you looked like me?
But when I look in the mirror,
Who is it that I see?
Someone who’s sad and lonely,
Could this be the real me?
Spooky. That’s just how I’ve been feeling today, I thought, when I heard Aunt Karen call that supper was ready. The more I listened to the CD, the more the songs spoke to me. I’d got into the habit of playing a track every evening when I got home from school if Tasmin wasn’t in. I even copied the CD onto my iPod so that I could listen during the day. It was weird, like every track I put on seemed to echo my life. I thought of it as a playlist for my broken heart because it always made me feel better and less alone. I wonder who made it and where he is? I asked myself as I switched off the player, then went down the stairs to join the mayhem that was supper time with my cousins. An idea suddenly hit me. Maybe I could look for him?
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked Mum after we’d eaten and were alone in the kitchen filling the dishwasher. He wasn’t around most days for mealtimes and I was beginning to miss him.
‘Out looking to get our lives back,’ said Mum as she cleared uneaten food into the bin. I’d pressed her a few times about when we might get a place of our own but she was always vague and said that Dad was doing what he could, checking out possibilities. She seemed a bit down whenever we spoke about the future because Dad had been for a few interviews for jobs but was told each time that he was overqualified. Mum was luckier and had got a job working in the office at the school on the other side of town where Aunt Karen worked as an art teacher. Someone was on maternity leave so everyone at the school was super grateful to Mum and she seemed to be happy to have something to do and somewhere to go in the mornings.
‘And are you OK working at the school?’ I asked.
‘It will do for now,’ she replied. She always said that. For now, but how long would that be?
‘What about your degree?’ I asked. ‘Couldn’t you use that to do something you might really enjoy?’ Mum had been to the London College of Fashion when she’d left school and done a course in costume design. She’d wanted to work in theatre but then she met Dad and her life became looking after him, the house and then me.
‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘But I have no CV. ‘‘Housewife’’ doesn’t count for much.’
‘But what about all the charity events you worked on? You have amazing organisational skills.’
Mum sighed. ‘Maybe one day I’ll use those skills again. In the meantime, the job I have is a godsend. It’s giving me a chance to catch my breath while your dad and I rethink the plan.’
I gave her a hug. She was putting on her cheery Mum face just as I was putting on my cheery Paige one. I sometimes wondered if the whole world wasn’t going around hiding behind masks.
As we put dishes away, out of the window I noticed that someone had gone into next-door’s garden. It was Niall. On seeing him, I felt a pang of regret that our last encounter had gone so badly. I hated there to be bad feeling with anyone, even if he was a love rat. Despite my early vow to avoid him, I decided to go and try to make amends, so when Mum made a cup of coffee and went through to the living room, I took a deep breath, opened the back door and went out.
There was a fence with lattice on the top to the right of the garden but I could see him clearly through it. I went over and called, ‘Hi.’
He almost jumped out of his skin, which made me laugh.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘What are you doing? Lurking in the bushes?’
‘No. Not lurking. I . . . I saw you and wanted to apologise for the other day. I guess I wasn’t very friendly.’
A glimmer of a smile crossed Niall’s face. ‘No. I guess not. But maybe I’m like Marmite. You either love me or hate me.’
‘I like Marmite,’ I said.
Niall grinned. ‘Me too, so at least we have something in common.’
I felt myself blush and cursed in case he’d noticed. I didn’t want him to think that meant that I liked him.
‘At least sometimes I do . . . I . . . no, I’m probably more in the middle when it comes to Marmite, I don’t love it or hate it. I’m . . . indifferent.’ I realised that I was rambling. Shut up, I told myself when I noticed the amused look in Niall’s eye. He’ll think you’re an idiot.
‘So, you’re going to Queensmead?’ he asked.
‘Yes. How do you know?’
‘Seen you leave the house with Tasmin.’
‘Oh, been watching me out the window have you?’ I asked, echoing what he had asked me when I met him in town, then I worried that I might have sounded hostile again.
‘Not watching, but I’ve seen you a few times. Can’t help but notice people on the street, can you?’
‘Exactly,’ I said and even I could tell I sounded prissy.
Niall’s mobile rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. ‘Got to take this,’ he said.
‘Probably one of your girlfriends,’ I blurted before I could stop myself.
Niall shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what I’d said. He turned away to take his call and I darted back into the house.
Stupid, stupid, I told myself as I went upstairs. I am so hopeless at talking to boys. Why can’t I be cool like Clover or confident like Tasmin? Instead I come across as someone with a permanent case of PMT. It’s like there’s a part of me that’s been held back and is fighting to get out, but when she does get out, what she says is wrong, wrong, wrong.
Chapter Ten
One evening in my fourth week at Queensmead, I got back to Aunt Karen’s and went up to Tasmin’s room as usual. Tasmin had gone into town to watch a new romcom so I had the bedroom to myself.
I’d deci
ded I was going to take the series of portraits I’d been working on in London a stage further and develop the faces into masks. I did some research online about different masks and got completely immersed for an hour or so as images from around the world filled the screen. I found ancient masks as old as nine thousand years, masks from different countries, some grotesque, some beautiful. I loved the ones from Venice that I’d seen when I was there for the carnival with Mum and Dad a few years ago. I made some sketches and was about to Skype Allegra when I got a text from her saying that she was going to see the same movie as Tasmin and Clover and that she’d call later.
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while but all the angst I was feeling inside immediately came to the fore. Why has this all happened to us? When will we get our own place? Will I ever fit in at the new school? Will Mum and Dad be OK? I couldn’t relax. Luckily Mum called that supper was ready.
I went downstairs to find the usual pandemonium that was Aunt Karen’s house at mealtime. It was a far cry from the quiet suppers I used to have with Mum back in Richmond when Dad came home late most weekday evenings. She’d always have something light. She didn’t do carbs after midday so it was grilled chicken or fish and salad or steamed vegetables. I’d sometimes have the same, or pasta.
At Aunt Karen’s, there was always a big pot of something like chicken casserole and vegetables or chilli, or a pasta bake from the oven, that was put in the centre of the table and ladled out into bowls, then eaten with baked potatoes or rice with grated cheese and huge chunks of wholemeal bread. I noticed that as the days went on that Mum was letting go of the no carbs rule and helped herself to rice or potatoes along with everyone else. Jo, Jake and Simon all talked over each other to get their mother’s attention, particularly Jake, who raised the volume of any sentence towards the end of what he was saying in order to drown out which ever other brother was attempting to get a word in.
Playlist for a Broken Heart Page 6