Blue Moon

by Julia Green

  ‘You can’t do that, Lainey. Not on your own.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’re not old enough. It’s not your baby anyway.’

  Lainey wouldn’t speak after that. She didn’t drink her hot chocolate or eat her bacon sandwich. In the end, Mia had both. She was starving. She watched Lainey slide off the stool and go and stand at the jewellery stall where a woman was choosing earrings. She called out to her.

  ‘Lainey? I need the loo. Wait here. I won’t be long.’

  But Lainey had disappeared by the time she got back. Mia wandered around the town for a while, looking for her. She went over the bridge and along the river path, then back to the precinct and the high street, but there was no sign of Lainey. It began to rain, cold, slanting arrows of wet that pierced her thin jacket and turned her hair into rat’s tails. She still had the shopping to get.

  Until this September it had always been Kate’s job. She liked cooking; Mia didn’t. This morning, before he left for work, Dad had opened the fridge and the kitchen cupboards and issued instructions to Mia, sitting at the kitchen table with the list. ‘Pasta, baked beans, eggs, bacon, wholemeal bread, digestive biscuits, cheese, potatoes –’ and Mia had added her own things: oranges, grapefruit, plums, grapes, chocolate. In the end they decided the list was too long and Dad said he’d go to the supermarket after work with the car, but he still gave Mia twenty pounds, just for a bit of fruit and vegetables and bread. He’d gone soft about money the last few days. And softer with her too. Treating her like she was made of glass or something. At supper he’d tried to tell her about when Mum was pregnant with Mia. ‘Sick as a parrot. Not just in the mornings either. Exhausted. Couldn’t manage the girls. Or cooking, shopping. Nothing.’

  ‘Shut up, Dad.’

  He’d looked hurt. Stupid man. Didn’t he understand anything?

  He ate the rest of his dinner without talking, except to ask her to pass things. Pepper. Tomato ketchup.

  Mia didn’t want to hear him talk like that about Mum. He made her feel worse. Like Mum hadn’t wanted her even then, before she was born. Or maybe it was Dad? Or both? Maybe she’d just been an accident? And it was the last straw, and six years later Mum had finally had enough.

  Mia stopped on the wet pavement for a moment. Instinctively, her hands clutched protectively over her own belly. I’m sorry. Not out loud, but inside her head she spoke her first words to the little blob growing inside. Sorry, little bean. That was how she imagined it. A small bean nestled in a silk-lined pod. Like the broad beans Dad used to grow when she was little. Fat green pods sprouting off a straight stem. The flowers like black and white moths. You slit the pod to find the row of bright green beans snug in the white furred lining. Plucked them out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mia walked aimlessly along the high street. It was still pouring with rain. She stopped for a moment to shelter under the blue awning at Brenda’s Hair Salon. Through the big glass windows she watched two women cutting hair. A girl with spiky bright orange hair swept up the curling strands from under the chairs. Mia watched her. Next she brought a cup of coffee to the woman sitting nearest the door. Mia noticed the squashy-looking sofa, and a pile of magazines on a low table, like someone’s sitting room. It looked comfortable and inviting. Why shouldn’t she go in and have her hair cut? Becky had been going on at her about it for weeks. It would be warm and dry, somewhere to be for the next hour. Mia pushed open the door.

  Self-consciously she removed her wet jacket and tucked her dripping hair back behind her ears.

  The orange-haired girl looked up. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’d like my hair cut. Please.’

  The girl flipped open the large appointment diary on the table. ‘When d’you want to come in?’

  ‘Can someone do it now? Straightaway?’

  ‘Sam? Can you do this girl next?’

  Mia found herself being led upstairs to have her hair washed. She closed her eyes. The water was warm. The girl’s hands scooped her hair into the basin, smoothed and lathered it. She chattered all the time. Mia didn’t bother to answer or even to listen. She let her head rest, kept her eyes shut, let herself drift in the babble of sound. She felt safe and cosy. Someone else was washing her hair, taking care of her. She didn’t have to do anything. She didn’t have to think.

  Back downstairs, Sam and Mia looked together in the mirror at Mia’s hair.

  Sam combed the lank strands over her shoulders. The comb bit and tugged at the knots and made Mia’s eyes water. Sam laughed. ‘You haven’t done this for a while, have you?’

  Mia frowned.

  ‘Well, what shall we do?’

  Mia stared at her pale face, dark shadowed eyes. She looked terrible.

  ‘I want it all cut off. Really short.’

  ‘You sure?’ Sam held the hair back tight behind Mia’s head, trying it out. ‘It would suit you. Show your face more. You’ve got lovely eyes.’

  Sam worked quickly, quietly. She didn’t ask many questions and Mia was grateful. She watched in the mirror as the scissors snipped round her head, and swathes of dark, wet hair cascaded to the floor. The orange-haired girl brought her a cup of weak coffee and she drank it even though she didn’t really like the taste. Perhaps it would be like this in hospital. She could lie in a clean bed and nurses would bring her drinks and stroke her head and whisper that everything would be all right. She could give herself up to it. There would be an anaesthetic and she could drift into sleep and not have to think any more.

  ‘There. What do you think?’ Sam held the small mirror behind Mia’s head.

  Mia peered at the strange sight of her own neck, the edge of her shoulder bone, the neat spikes of hair. No one would recognize her.

  She smiled at herself in the mirror.

  There was no money left for the shopping. She walked slowly back towards the bus stop, glancing at herself in the shop windows she went past. If she’d had more money she’d have bought something new to wear too. It was a long wait for the next bus. She might as well go back down to the river. The rain had stopped. Lainey might be there by now. She could show off her new hair.

  But the river path was deserted. Lainey must have gone home. The rain, probably, had forced her back. To wherever it was. Probably one of the estate houses at the edge of the town. Mia imagined a shabby semidetached house with pebble-dashed walls and a scruffy front garden. And the sick and crying baby. Lainey’s wrung-out mother, pale and desperate with rings round her eyes from no sleep and too many fags. That’s what she imagined. But maybe not. Maybe Lainey’s mum was at work and that’s why she didn’t know Lainey was running wild round the town, never in school. Lainey didn’t ever talk about her mum. Or her dad. But then neither did Mia, did she?

  She sat down on the wet bench. Her neck was freezing. Two overweight men in tight suits walked by along the path. They stared at her. One said something she couldn’t hear, and they both laughed. No hair to hide behind. She glowered back. It was starting to rain again. The church clock struck. There were another fifty minutes to kill before the afternoon bus was due. Becky and Will and everyone were cosy in school, getting on with their lives. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. She was all alone. Tears mingled with the rain on her face. There was just her, and little bean. And soon there wouldn’t even be little bean.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Will was standing at the bus stop. Her heart pounded when she first caught sight of him, leaning against the shelter, his white school shirt unbuttoned at the neck and his tie half mast. And she felt a weird mixture of things – pleasure, fear, something else she couldn’t name. She saw the shock of recognition on his face as she stood up to get off. And then he grinned.

  She stepped off the bus on to the pavement in front of him.

  ‘What’re you doing here, Will?’

  He shrugged. ‘Got a lift back with Mum. She dropped me off. What’s all this about you being ill then?’

  Mia flushed.

  ‘You d
on’t look ill. You look fantastic. Your hair –’

  Mia’s hand reached up self-consciously to smooth down the spikes.

  ‘So how come you’re off school officially? As opposed to your usual skive?’

  She started to walk away from the bus stop. ‘Not here. We can’t talk here.’

  ‘Why not?’ He caught her sleeve.

  She ignored his question. ‘How come you knew I’d been to Ashton?’

  Will shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just a guess. What’ve you been doing?’

  ‘Hanging out. Getting my hair cut. Talking to this girl.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘She’s just a little kid. But I keep seeing her – hanging around town, or by the river – there’s something wrong – something odd about her.’ All the way home from Ashton Mia had been thinking about Lainey. It wasn’t right, a child her age on her own like that all day; anything might happen to her. And that time she’d seen her on the bridge. It was dangerous. She could’ve fallen in really easily and only Mia would have seen.

  Will wasn’t interested in her talking about Lainey. ‘Do you want to stay here or shall we go back together?’ He put his hand on her arm and the touch made her shiver.

  ‘Mia? Are you OK?’

  It was hopeless, carrying on like this, Mia thought. She had to tell him. Becky thought her ridiculous, that she hadn’t already. She’d gone on about it over the phone to Mia. ‘… Why shouldn’t he take some responsibility? It’s his fault too. He ought to have to think about it too. It’s not fair…’ Mia had found it too difficult to explain. That there wasn’t any point. He couldn’t help her.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mia?’ He was persistent. Perhaps he knew already. Perhaps Becky had finally said something. And it was all round Year Eleven. Guess what? You know Mia’s away… well…

  ‘Can’t you guess?’ Mia spat out the words.

  ‘Becky said something about a virus, and Ali – why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re so – so – thick about some things.’ Mia started walking, fast, down the main road.

  ‘Wait!’ Will ran after her. She kept walking, but he caught up with her and together they watched in silence for a break in the traffic so they could cross. A white van screeched to a halt as Mia dashed out into the road. Will grabbed her arm and ran with her. The van driver wound down his window and swore at them.

  ‘Mia! Do you want to get us killed or what!’

  Mia half ran, Will tagging after her. Couldn’t he see how upset she was? Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Go back to Ali or whoever he fancied now she wasn’t around at school? Without thinking, they both turned off the main road down the lane that went to the sea.

  The beach was deserted; not even dog walkers had ventured out along the wet pebbles that afternoon. The tide was still high, just going down. The line of flotsam and jetsam stank with its new deposits.

  ‘I’m pregnant, Will. Did you really not guess?’ Mia turned her damp face towards his. She saw at once that he hadn’t. Ashen-faced, he turned abruptly away from her, picked up a grey pebble and hurled it into the sea. She watched him find another and then another, each time bigger stones, hurling them at the sea and swearing into the wind. Tears trickled down her face. That was it then. She started walking along the beach in the direction of home.

  Eventually he caught her up. He had his hands in his pockets, coat collar turned up. ‘What are you going to do?’

  He was afraid. She saw it in his eyes.

  ‘Dad’s made an appointment. At the hospital. For a termination.’ The word was loathsome, she thought. Like the other word. Abortion.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Thursday.’

  ‘So you’ll be all right then?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mia.’

  ‘Yeah. Well.’

  ‘What did your dad say?’

  ‘What do you think? He went mad. He’d like to kill you.’

  Will kept his distance the rest of the way. Didn’t touch her once. She’d known he’d be like this. Shouldn’t have told him. Should’ve kept her secret.

  ‘Don’t say anything, will you?’ Mia’s voice was cold. ‘Don’t tell anyone. Ever.’

  ‘Don’t they know already? Becky and Ali?’

  ‘Just Becky. But she won’t say anything. I can trust her.’

  They walked further along the beach in silence.

  Finally Will spoke again. ‘It’s not so terrible. Is it?’

  Mia gritted her teeth. She mustn’t cry. Not now. Not with him.

  They’d reached the footpath and the turning to Mia’s lane. Mia stopped. ‘You can’t come near the house. My dad really will kill you.’

  She saw that look on his face again: fear, horror, a sort of blankness. Like Dad had looked when she’d told him.

  ‘I’ll be off then.’ His words sounded strangled.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘See you around.’

  ‘Yeah. Whatever.’ Mia felt the ice freeze harder in her voice.

  She watched his back as he trudged up the lane and took the turning to his house. He didn’t look round. Was that it then? They would be like strangers to each other? She’d see him at school, larking about with Liam and Matt and people. Hanging around with Ali, no doubt. And they’d both know this horrible secret and neither would say anything about it?

  She tried to imagine him going into his house, his mum calling out hello, him going upstairs to that room where she’d stayed the whole night in the bed with him without anyone knowing. He’d lie down on the bed, put on the headphones, let the music drown out his feelings until he had blanked it all out. So he could go downstairs into the kitchen and no one would guess what had happened. Life carried on.

  Mia cried all the way up the road to her house. Then she made herself stop. As she turned the corner a car manoeuvred out of the drive. It looked vaguely familiar. Metallic grey, a Citroen or something.

  Dad was standing at the sink rinsing out two mugs. Bags of shopping were stacked against the kitchen table. Mia pulled out a chair and slumped over the table. Dad stared at her. Her hand stroked her cropped head defensively.

  ‘What on earth?’ He stopped himself in his tracks. ‘So that’s where you’ve been. Hairdressers. That’s a new one.’ He paused, looking at her. ‘Too short. But it suits you,’ he added grudgingly. ‘We had a visitor.’

  Mia looked up. ‘Who?’

  ‘Your tutor.’

  ‘What?! What does she want now?’ Mia’s voice was a knife blade.

  ‘OK, calm down, it’s no big deal. She called to see how things are. You weren’t here. She had a cup of tea. That’s all.’

  Dad concentrated on wiping down the draining board. The back of his neck had gone red.

  Who did he think she was? Naive or what? Scheming bitch. Trying to get her hands on her dad now. Using her as the excuse. That’s all she needed. Dad going out with Miss Blackman. Imagine. Well she wasn’t staying around for that. She’d find somewhere else to go.

  ‘Oh, and Becky called by on her way home. To see how you are. Said she’ll phone tonight. Sit down a minute, Mia. I want to talk to you about, you know, Thursday. I phoned your mother. Wait.’

  Mia was halfway up the stairs.

  ‘But she wasn’t in. We’ll try again later tonight.’

  ‘I don’t want her. I don’t want to see her or anyone. Leave me alone, can’t you?’ Mia yelled down the stairs.

  She slammed the bedroom door. The cat had been asleep on her bed. He raised his head, yawned so she could see his needle-sharp teeth and leathery tongue. For a moment he stared at her with big yellow eyes. Then he jumped off the bed and stalked towards the open window. She watched him. The tip of his ginger tail flicked as he watched the sparrows on the grass below, but it was too high to jump. He stretched out his legs and spread out his claws, then settled back for a nap on the window sill. He kept one ear alert, listening out for the birds, one eye half open, watching her.


  Mia lay on the bed, hands over her belly.

  ‘The baby is moving about gently to exercise its muscles, although you cannot feel these movements. At this point the baby weighs only about as much as a grape.’

  Mia leaned over and slid the book back into the drawer under her bed.

  A grape. A broad bean. Little bean. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  October 13th

  ‘You’ll be all right then? I’ll come back at lunchtime, and stay with you then. So I’ll be here when you’re having the anaesthetic, and everything – afterwards. Please let me phone your mum again.’

  ‘No, Dad. I don’t want her.’

  Dad sighed heavily. ‘Becky can come over, if you want. After school? Yes? I’m really sorry I can’t wait with you all morning. But the nurse is lovely, isn’t she? Noreen. You’ve got your book to read?’

  ‘Yes, Dad. It’s OK. Just go.’

  He leaned over to give her a kiss, but she turned her head away and he just touched her hair instead.

  She bit hard on her lip. No tears. She had the whole morning to get through now. They’d said she had to be here in Day Surgery at eight thirty, but then the ward nurse had come round and said she wasn’t on the list till the afternoon. But she still had to get undressed and was supposed to lie on the bed, because the doctor would be round and he mustn’t be kept waiting. So there was a whole morning to get through, and Dad had decided to go into work so he could take the afternoon off instead, and be there for her.

  Mum had tried to talk to her on the phone Wednesday evening. Mia had listened to Dad’s low tones, his quiet explanations. She could imagine Mum’s shocked reaction on the other end. By the time she spoke to Mia, she sounded calm. ‘Would you like me to come now?… Before?… You are sure about this, Mia?… I know I’ve no right to say anything about it. It’s your decision… You poor, poor thing.’ But Mia hadn’t wanted to talk. Said she didn’t want her to come anyway. Dad was here, and Becky. She was all right.

  For a brief second Mia wished she’d said, Yes, please come. I need you. I’m scared and all by myself.