by Ali Cronin
later. Much later …
I bit my lip. Was he talking about phone sex? I didn’t even really know what phone sex involved, although I could make a pretty good guess. Making a mental note to Google it later, and a further mental note to erase my Internet history afterwards, I put my phone away. I wriggled in my chair. I was going to be thinking about sex with Joe for the rest of the day. Not ideal when I was about to go to English, although I bet Jane Eyre felt the same about Mr Rochester. And I’d take the horn over abject misery any day. (Yeah, high five, Jane. We’re totally on the same page.)
I sat next to Rich in English, as usual. Mr Roberts liked to spend the first half of every lesson telling us exactly what was written in black and white on the handouts we all had in front of us. A massive waste of thirty minutes, which we usually spent earnestly looking like we were making notes while actually writing notes to each other. Rich was brilliant at nodding enthusiastically at just the right moment then apparently scribbling screeds of inspired stuff. Of course, the other thing with writing notes to each other is that you can say stuff you wouldn’t necessarily say out loud. Which I guess is why straight off Rich came out with: So what gives with u and Joe, hmmmm?
I raised an eyebrow and scribbled: No holding back with u is there?
Rich sniggered and wrote: You know it.
Me: What do u want to know?
Rich: Is he your BOYFRIEND????
Me: We’re seeing each other.
Rich: Riiiiiiight.
Me: What’s that mean??
Rich: Sarah & Joe, sitting in a tree …
Me: Sigh. So mature.
Rich: Seriously. U really like him?
Me: I do.
Rich: And he really likes u?
I paused. Now that was more difficult. I sighed and scrawled: Who knows?
Rich looked at me, but I pretended to be concentrating on what Mr Roberts was saying. He scribbled something else, but I didn’t look down. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell him. I knew that whatever I told him would get back to the others, and, even if Rich didn’t judge me, the others would. And I hated the thought of being talked about, even if it was good stuff.
I saw Rich write something and underline it three times. I swivelled my eyes so I could read it without him noticing. HAHA MADE U LOOK!!
I stifled a laugh and scrawled, Do u mind, am transfixed by Mr R’s beauty. Rich squeaked and Mr Roberts frowned across at us, but we both instantly adopted the bored-but-listening stance, and he looked away.
I quickly wrote: I’m taking it as it comes. He’s busy at uni etc. But we have gr8 time together & i think it’s worth working at. OK????
Immediately Rich replied with: Whatever you want, girlfriend. We just don’t want u to get hurt.
We? So the boys had been talking about me too. I sighed and turned my attention back to the front of the classroom. I didn’t want any drama, I just wanted Joe to like me as much as I liked him. Was it such a big thing to ask?
At the end of the lesson there was the usual synchronized turning on of phones. Mr Roberts was a notorious phone confiscator – if he so much as caught sight of one, it was his for the rest of the day. You always knew if someone was about to go into a lesson with him, cos they’d be turning their phone to Silent and burying it in the bottom of their bag to muffle any vibration.
I didn’t have any messages, but Rich had a voicemail. ‘Gimme a sec?’ I nodded and he put his phone to his ear. I knew straight away that something was badly wrong. The colour drained from his face and his mouth set into a thin line, turned down at the corners.
I put my hand on his arm. ‘Are you OK?’ Stupid question. He blinked and cleared his throat.
‘Uh. No, actually.’ He did a strange, confused smile, as if what he was about to say was so freaky that it was almost funny. ‘My nan died.’
‘Oh, Rich. Oh no. Not Nanny Blue?’ They were really close, him and his nan. She’d looked after him until he was old enough to walk home from school by himself, and he still visited her all the time. He nodded and his chin wobbled, so I lightly pushed him forward. ‘C’mon, let’s get out of here.’ We walked out of school and across the field in silence. He’d talk when he’d got it together.
‘She died in the night,’ he said, after a minute. ‘They think she had a stroke. My granddad woke up next to her, and she was dead.’
I rubbed his back, not knowing what to say.
‘Like, I know she was really old, but she wasn’t ill. She was healthy …’ His voice trailed off.
‘I’m so sorry, Rich.’
He turned to me. ‘The funeral’s probably going to be on Friday. Will you …?’
I interrupted him. ‘Course I’ll come. We’ll all be there. No question.’
Rich stopped walking and half turned in the direction of school. ‘Actually, I’m OK. I just want to get on with it. D’you know what I mean?’
‘I think I do,’ I said. ‘Do you want to be on your own?’
He shot me a quick, sad smile. ‘Nah, you’re OK.’ He hooked his arm through mine. ‘Come and be with me when I tell the others.’
He was really brave. There was a shaky moment when Jack wrapped him in a hug, but he held it together. On the way to find the others he’d called his mum – Nanny Blue was her mum – and had a short but heartbreaking conversation. His mum was obviously devastated, which was really hard for Rich. Poor him. I felt so sorry for him. I still had all my grandparents and had never lost anyone I loved, and the very thought scared the shit out of me. The more so cos I knew it’d have to happen one day.
Nanny Blue’s funeral was definitely going to be on Friday. It would mean we’d have to miss school, but I was pretty sure my parents would be OK with it. Frankly, it was tough if they weren’t. Anyway, Friday was the last day before half term, so it’s not like we’d miss much.
I walked home with Cass, and of course we talked about Rich, but the closer I got to our house the more my thoughts turned to Joe, and phone sex. By the time I got in I was itching to get on the computer. I ran upstairs to my room then screeched to a comedy halt when I saw the empty space on my desk and remembered that my computer had broken. Mum had taken it to work to get one of the IT bods to fix it. I groaned out loud at the thought of having to use the family one. I could already hear tapping coming from the spare room: Daniel. Excellent.
I plastered on a smile as I popped my head round the door. ‘All right, Dan? You going to be long?’
‘Ages,’ he said, without looking round. ‘I’m doing my homework.’
God, he was SO irritating. And that so wasn’t homework he was doing. ‘Really? Does Mum know you’re doing World of Warcraft at school?’
‘Piss off, this is a history site.’ I could see his cheekbones rise as he smirked to himself.
I swallowed the urge to shove his face into the screen. ‘No, it isn’t, dickhead. I’m not stupid.’
He sucked his teeth. ‘See, if you’re going to be rude I’m just going to have to stay on here all night.’
Screeching with frustration, I slammed the door and went back to my room. I could have dragged him off the chair – I was still stronger than him – but then he’d have pulled my hair, I’d have had to wrench his arm behind his back, he’d have gone crying to Mum … It just wasn’t worth it. But that still left the phone-sex dilemma.
As it got later and later, I started to panic. What if Joe called me and I said completely the wrong thing? The humiliation would just about finish me off. In the end I barricaded myself in my room and called Ashley. She acted like she was asked that kind of thing all the time. I was so grateful I pretty much forgave her toilet tattling there and then.
‘You say sexy stuff to each other while you both wank,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Why? Has Joe suggested it?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I read out his text.
‘Sounds like it,’ said Ashley. ‘I take it you’re up for it?’
‘Um. Not sure,’ I said again. ‘We’ve never don
e … that when we’re together.’
‘Well, just ignore the call if you don’t want to do it … Anyway, it might not be a bad idea to be, like, slightly less available.’
I fell back on my bed and looked at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. ‘God, Ash, how come everything’s so simple for you?’
She was quiet for a moment. ‘Dunno, babes. Maybe I just pick my battles.’
I remembered what she’d said on the night of the party, about pretending. ‘Anyway. Thanks for the info. You’re like my own personal sex dictionary.’
She laughed. ‘You knows it. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
She was still sniggering when I hung up.
In the end my problem was solved for me, because Joe didn’t call anyway. Or, at least, not intentionally. I had finally fallen asleep at close to midnight only to suffer about a million dreams about phone sex. So to be woken by my phone ringing was disorientating, like waking up and discovering you really are naked in the exam room. My heart beating loudly, I squinted at the neon display: Joe.
‘Hello?’
Nothing. I heard sporadic muffled sounds of talking, then a laugh. A female laugh. Properly awake now, I ended the call then immediately called him back. He answered on the fifth ring.
‘Sarah?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Oh, hi. Just returning your call.’
‘Um, I didn’t call you?’ I heard giggling in the background.
‘Um, yes you did? Check your phone. You called me just now.’ I heard fumbling sounds.
‘Oh. Right. So I did. Sorry, babe, I must have sat on it or something.’ Further offstage hilarity.
‘Who’s that with you?’ I asked, keeping my tone even.
‘Oh. No one in particular.’ His voice became less distinct. ‘Say hi to Sarah.’ Someone laughed and said something I couldn’t catch. I thought I heard Joe shush them. Her. Whoever. I rested my cheek against the headboard. Oh well, while I had him on the phone …
‘So. I was waiting for your call earlier,’ I said, lightly. ‘I’d put on my best PJs and everything.’
Joe cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, sorry about that. We’ll do it soon, yeah?’
Why couldn’t his friends piss off and leave him to talk to me in peace? I hated the stilted way he spoke when they were around.
‘I’m free tomorrow night,’ I purred. I caught sight of myself in the mirrored wardrobe door and pulled a face. When did I become the kind of girl who phones a boy at two o’clock in the morning and makes cat noises at them?
He phoned me first, I reminded myself, even if it was by accident.
‘Yes, that sounds goo–’ he stopped. ‘Ah no, I’m working …’ He lowered his voice. ‘Listen, I’ll call you soon. I promise.’ I started to respond, but he said, louder now, ‘Look, I’d better go.’ I only just had time to say a quick ‘bye’ before he ended the call.
I stared at my phone for a few seconds, its blank face suddenly all annoying and metaphorical. Was he with Mimi? It had sounded like her voice. Even though he’d told her about me, I hated that they were friends. HATED it. She was a vicious, evil bitch, and he was my gorgeous, sexy Joe. I was terrified that she’d get her claws into him, bewitch him with her stupid flicky hair and annoying laugh. I could hear Donna telling me to chill out – he’d chosen me, hadn’t he? But the fact remained. Mimi was there with him. I was not.
10
People always talk about the weather when it comes to funerals, like if it’s raining it’s apt, if it’s sunny it’s ironic. But the weather on Friday was totally schizo, raining one minute, sunny the next. Which, actually, does kind of sum up the mood of the day. The funeral itself was horrible. Rich cried, his mum cried, his dad cried, various relatives both young and old cried. His granddad was a little wizened figure in the front row, stooped and shaking with grief. And me, Cass, Donna, Ashley and even Jack and Ollie all cried because it was horrible seeing Rich so upset.
Like, there was a good turn-out and the vicar did a nice eulogy. He’d known Nanny Blue pretty well cos she’d gone to his church (although Rich told us she only went for the social side and was ninety-eight per cent certain she didn’t believe). Rich said a few words about her, which was so moving I thought my head would explode with the effort of crying quietly. He’d obviously loved her so much. My heart ached for him that she was gone.
So, yeah, it went well. But in the end it was still our friend saying goodbye to his nan, whose decomposing body was in a wooden box at the end of the church.
But, strangely, the wake afterwards was completely different. It was quiet to begin with, but there was soon almost a party atmosphere, with people drinking to Nanny Blue and talking about their happy memories of her. It was a celebration of her life, I guess. Even Rich seemed to enjoy it, although every now and then he’d have to disappear to some quiet corner to compose himself.
But that was a bit later. We’d arrived at the pub, or ‘sixteenth-century coaching inn’ as the sign on our table said, before Rich and his family, cos they’d gone to the family-only cremation ceremony/service/whatever you call it. We recognized a few of Rich’s extended family, but we didn’t really know anyone else. It felt wrong to be there without him, like we were gate-crashing, and I don’t know about the others but I wanted to hang on to their clothes like a kid hangs on to his mum the first day of big school.
As we sat down I got a text from Joe:
Sorry bout the other night
babe. I’m free next Thurs
& Fri – come & see me?
Will give u undivided
attention … x
I smiled to myself, suppressing a little squeal of glee. That was half term sorted, then. A few days in Devon, then two days with Joe. Perfect. Without saying anything to the others, I put my phone away to reply later. Even I knew that now wasn’t the time or place to be texting.
‘Poor Rich,’ said Ash, voicing what we were all thinking. ‘What he must be going through.’
‘And his mum,’ added Jack, who was carefully tearing the order of service into strips.
I sighed. ‘It’ll happen to us all.’ And then: ‘What?’ as Donna started smirking into her Diet Coke. But I was already biting my cheeks trying not to smile.
Ash shook her head. ‘You’re sick, the pair of you.’
‘Uh-huh, so why are you smiling then?’ asked Cass, whose own mouth was turning up at the edges.
And then we were all silently vibrating with laughter, looking down at the table so we wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye.
‘Oh God, we’re so going to hell,’ squeaked Cass.
‘I know,’ I said, rushing to get the words out before another wave of hysteria hit me. ‘What kind of freak laughs at a wake?’
‘It’s just the tension,’ came a voice from beside us. Rich. That shut us up. We hadn’t seen him come in.
‘Oh, mate … Look, we didn’t mean …’ Jack was distraught, but Rich stopped him.
‘Don’t worry about it. Honestly.’ He sat down and put a bottle of Champagne, or fizzy wine anyway, on the table. ‘So …’ He twisted the cork. ‘I want to drink to Nanny Blue.’ He ceremonially popped the cork and poured seven small glasses. ‘To my nan,’ he said, holding his glass high then downing it in one. It was a bit weird, to be honest. Like something someone our parents’ age would do. The rest of us exchanged worried looks. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’m not going to get pissed. Or high.’ He shrugged. ‘She used to propose a toast every time she had a drink. It didn’t have to be anything big. She’d drink to, like, a sunny day, or more Fawlty Towers repeats on G.O.L.D., or whatever … It was just one of her things.’
Cass held her glass up – ‘To Nanny Blue!’ – and we all did the same.
‘How’s your granddad doing?’ asked Ollie, after we’d all been up to the buffet to get our plates of quiche and pasta salad.
Rich shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
‘D’you think you’ll become closer and stuff, now y
our nan’s gone?’ asked Donna.
Rich shook his head. ‘No way. I don’t see why I should start being nice to him now, when he’s barely said a civil word to me. And he was always horrible to Nan.’ We followed his gaze as he looked over at his granddad, who cut a pretty pathetic figure, sitting on his own and crying into his Guinness.
‘Don’t feel sorry for him,’ said Rich, seeing the expression on my face. ‘Why do you think no one’s sitting with him, even at his wife’s funeral?’
Cass’s brow creased with the effort of not sympathizing with the old man. ‘How did he and your nan meet?’
‘She was his secretary. He’s a few years older than her … than she was,’ he corrected himself. ‘She says … said he was charming and wealthy and swept her off her feet and shit … The charm certainly didn’t last long, though. God knows why she stayed with the bastard.’
As if he could hear us, his granddad got to his feet and started tottering over to us, swaying and stumbling and obviously hammered. ‘Great,’ muttered Rich.
‘All right, poof?’ said his granddad, slapping a gnarly hand on Rich’s shoulder. ‘Bit of a nerve, bringing your boyfriend.’ He fixed rheumy eyes on Ollie, who was sitting next to Rich.
‘He’s not my boyfriend, Granddad,’ said Rich, through gritted teeth, his eyes down.
‘Yeah yeah, I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.’ And with that he tottered off in the direction of the toilets.
Rich looked at Ollie. ‘Sorry, mate.’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ But you could tell he was a bit shaken. We all were.
Rich tried to laugh it off. ‘Look, just ignore him. He’s a disgusting old bigot, and he’s drunk. My mum told me about this one time …’ And he started telling us stories about what his granddad used to get up to when he was drunk, most of which ended up with the proverbial custard pie in his granddad’s face and were so outrageous we couldn’t help laughing. I caught Cass’s eye and she gave me a sideways smile. Rich somehow always managed to avoid getting into conversations about his sexuality. He’d once told Donna that he wasn’t into confessionals. He is what he is, and he doesn’t feel the need to label it. Which, as Donna said at the time, was just a typically Rich way of saying it’s none of your business. And, actually, if I’m honest, lovely as Rich is, I think he likes being a bit of a man of mystery.