by B P Walter
I avoided putting any pressure on my bruises with the towel as I dried myself. I would need to get some more long-sleeved tops. That shouldn’t be a problem. There were enough bargain-basement stores in Wickford high street and it was still chilly outside. By the time the sun arrived and spring blossomed, the bruises would have gone. The thought of time passing like that made me dizzy and I sat on the toilet seat while I pulled on my jeans, t-shirt and jumper, then went back downstairs.
‘Here she is,’ my mum said as I arrived back in the lounge. She was sitting on the sofa, the Radio Times on her lap, right where I’d had sex with George two months previously. The stain was still there. Right near where her left leg rested on the edge of the cushion.
‘Do you want to tell us what’s upset you?’ she said. She had her reading glasses on and they’d fallen to the end of her nose. Like a librarian, I thought, then felt a stab of pain in my head as I was reminded of Oxford and the libraries I would never visit again.
‘I had sex with a boy who has a girlfriend.’ I said the words bluntly, standing in the middle of the lounge while both my parents stared at me. Dad made a small coughing sound and Mum looked down at the magazine in her hands.
‘Right. Well, I suppose that kind of thing goes on at university.’
Dad went to get up, then let himself slump back down again into the sofa. He kept looking over at my mum on the other side of the room, then at me, then at the floor. A triangle of embarrassment separated us.
‘I was upset because I loved him. But I don’t any more.’
I was taking care not to say anything that wasn’t true. I didn’t really know why that mattered so much to me in that moment – it could have been my fear of one day being called a liar – but regardless, I chose my words sparingly and made sure they could realistically be considered the truth, even if I was technically lying by omission.
‘I’m not going back to Oxford.’
Neither made a sound straight away. Then a small crunch came from my left. It was Dad. He’d bitten into a HobNob. Mum set the Radio Times down next to her on the sofa and took off her glasses. ‘Wouldn’t that be a bit of a waste?’ She looked concerned, but also faintly frustrated, as if I were a foreigner who didn’t speak good English. ‘I thought you liked it there?’ She made it sound like a restaurant we were thinking of visiting for dinner, not the place where I’d spent nearly four months in total trying to carve out something of a new life for myself.
‘I did, but I was wrong. I’m sorry to be a pain, but I need one of you to go and get my things. They’re in my room there.’
Dad spoke then, probably grateful the conversation had touched on a subject he felt confident in contributing to. ‘Well, I suppose we could go up there in the car next weekend?’
‘I’m not going. It will be just you. Or both of you if Mum wants to help. But I’ll be staying here.’
They exchanged a look at this. ‘Why?’ Mum was looking thoroughly baffled. ‘Has this boy upset you that badly? Did he lie to you about his girlfriend? I know that’s not a very nice thing, love, but I think you could risk bumping into him in the corridor while you get your things. If you ask me, I think throwing in a whole degree for the sake of some lad is preposterous enough …’
‘There won’t be any risk of me bumping into him in the corridor because I won’t be going back.’ I said the words with force now. Not shouting, but I didn’t stop the anger coming through.
‘Well, I don’t see why your father and I should have to go lugging back boxes of your stuff – no doubt most of it books I bought you – just because you’ve been a bit free with your favours where the boys are concerned.’
That was the final straw for me. I was done. ‘Okay, don’t do it then. If it’s that much trouble, we’ll let it all stay there. Don’t trouble yourself. Go on another fucking cruise or something.’
I walked out after that. I didn’t know what else I might say if I stayed. I went up to my bedroom, got into bed, ignoring the fact that one of the pillows didn’t have a cover, and lay there until I fell asleep. I had no more energy left to fight with.
Chapter 21
Julianne
Knightsbridge, 2019
‘I can’t stand her,’ Ally says after swallowing a large mouthful of apple pie. ‘I think she’s atrocious.’
Ernest grins at his sister from the other end of the table and rolls his eyes. ‘You’re just saying that because she’s a woman and you think it makes you sound interesting, being dead set against a fellow female.’
‘A fellow female!’ Ally lets out a laugh of contempt, but her expression is playful. She and her brother do this often. I sometimes join in, but not today. ‘I don’t remember ever accusing you of being deliberately critical of our previous PM simply because he was a man.’ She hiccups loudly and then helps herself to another spoonful of pie. I wonder how many glasses of wine have passed her lips since I was last sitting here.
‘I simply disagreed with him on certain social stances in the manifesto. His gender had nothing to do with it.’
‘My dislike of the Ice Queen has nothing to do with her gender …’
‘And I certainly didn’t resort to using names like that,’ Ernest cuts in. ‘A tad tacky, don’t you think?’ He rounds on Ally’s boyfriend now. ‘What would your website make of our prime minister?’
‘Oh, don’t give me that,’ she says before the embarrassed-looking young man next to her can utter a word. ‘Julianne, do you have any thoughts?’
For the second time this evening, Ally seems to expect me to rally to her defence. I just want her to go. I want them all to go. I am regretting my decision to come back downstairs with Louise. Couldn’t my migraine have just exempted me for the rest of the night? Why on earth had I felt compelled to put up with this? I try my best to focus my gaze on Ally.
‘I think I might be out of my depth here. I’m not British.’ It’s rare for me to use my nationality to back out of a debate, but it’s the best I can come up with.
‘You’d be the perfect commentator for that very reason!’ Ally takes another sip of wine, swallows, then turns to Stephen. He’s been sitting looking morose and haunted the whole time I’ve been there. He must be in quiet anguish about what I’ve been doing upstairs, all the while trapped with a drunken Ally and the rest for company. I want to tell him everything’s going to be okay – that I’m on his side. That I haven’t let him down. I take a look at my husband’s face, staring at me across the table, full of concern and kindness. A kindness I can no longer accept.
‘Stephen, tell me,’ Ally slurs, ‘what do you think of our current PM? And before you answer, bear in mind she voted against an equal age of consent and gay adoption.’
I feel a jolt of surprise pulse through me. Although I’ve never regarded my son’s sexuality as taboo or even much of a talking point, this sudden reference disconcerts me. I tell myself she doesn’t mean anything bad by it. She’s just a bit tipsy and keen to get a heated debate going. But Stephen’s face doesn’t make me relax. He looks like a rabbit in the headlights.
‘That’s unfair,’ Ernest says. ‘You’re just quoting bite-size snippets you’ve read from some left-wing broadsheet.’
‘Oh, shut up, Ernest. It’s not you I’m talking to.’ She hits the table with her palm. ‘Come on, Stephen, fight for your people!’
Stephen looks hopelessly bewildered by her behaviour and then I see his eyes, glistening, threatening to overspill.
‘Stephen, honey?’ I say quietly, and go to reach out a hand to him, but he gets up and walks quickly out of the room.
‘Look what you’ve done now,’ Ernest says, looking smugly at his sister. ‘You’ve upset the delicate little flower.’
His words snag on me like barbed wire. I feel my eyelids fly open as I turn to stare at him.
‘What did you say?’ My voice is slightly raspy and I need to clear my throat, but I stay very still and quiet and stare at Ernest’s belligerent, smirking face. Slowly, his expre
ssion changes to surprise mingled with irritation.
‘Sorry?’ he says, as if he had simply misheard me.
‘I asked you to repeat what you just said about my son.’ I say the words firmly and clearly. There is an ear-ringing silence. Then James says quietly, ‘Julianne …’
‘I want him to explain what he said.’
‘I don’t think I have to explain it,’ Ernest says. The flicker of a smile is twitching his lips.
‘Ern,’ Louise says now, putting a hand on his arm.
‘Get off me,’ he snaps, pulling his arm away. ‘You’re always pawing at me.’
‘Delicate little flower.’ I almost spit the words at him. I don’t want them to get lost in whatever marital spat he might be about to have. ‘Could you explain your choice of words to me, Ernest?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Julianne. You’re not thick. Your boy’s got no backbone. I know it. James knows it. You know it. Just a weak-willed little queer boy with no drive, no focus, no direction.’
Louise gasps at her husband’s words and Ally knocks over her wineglass. I hear its stem snap as it catches her plate and see the flash of red staining the cream tablecloth. I ignore it. Instead, I look over at James. He has his eyes lowered to the table in front of him.
‘Wow, some friend you have here,’ I say to him. ‘Are you going to let him talk about your son that way?’
Everyone watches as James raises his head and looks me in the eye. ‘I think we should all calm down,’ he says slowly.
‘I don’t feel very calm,’ I say, staring resolutely back. ‘I’m fucking furious.’
‘I think we better go,’ Louise now says, moving to get up.
‘Stay where you are.’ Ernest puts a hand out to hold her still.
Even though everything is motionless, it feels to me as if the whole room is starting to tremble, like there’s some unstoppable force awakening within the walls. It’s been caged for far too long.
Louise sits down, rubbing her arm. She looks a little dazed, as if her mind is trying to protect her from what’s happening. I look over at her, watching her trying not to cry as she stares down at her half-eaten apple pie.
‘Is that how a guy with backbone acts?’ I say with venom. ‘Manhandling women? Treating them like they’re his property? If that’s your idea of having “drive”, I thank God my son’s nothing like you.’
James stirs again. ‘Julianne, please stop.’
I feel something crack within me, a space between him and me getting wider. I slam my fist on the table and it makes everyone jump. ‘Stop? Did you not hear what he called your son? A “weak-willed little queer boy”. Is that the kind of language you’re going to tolerate? Are you really that pathetic? Does that fucking asshole mean so much to you that you won’t even defend your own kid?’
James doesn’t speak and for a moment I think I’m going to have to endure another bout of silence. Then, to my surprise, Ally turns to her brother and says: ‘You’re a cunt, Ernest.’
That word always shocks me a little and apparently I’m not the only one, as both Louise and Cameron look aghast.
‘It’s true. That’s not the first time he’s said stuff like that about Stephen. You should hear what he’s like behind closed doors. It would be sickening if it weren’t all so fucking hypocritical.’
Ernest stands up and for a second I think he’s going to fly at his sister. Then he stops jerkily and sits back down. In a quiet, dangerous voice he says, ‘I think you’ve had too much wine, Aphrodite.’
‘Don’t call me that. You’re afraid, big bro. Aren’t you? You’re scared the secrets of Ernest Kelman MP will be leaked to the Daily Mail.’ Her eyes turn back to me. ‘I’m sure this has crossed my brother’s mind quite a bit.’ She reaches for her wineglass then, realising it’s broken, grabs her boyfriend’s and drinks the last drops from that.
Ernest is now grinding his nails into the tablecloth, looking at Ally as if he’d like nothing better than to murder her. ‘You really don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t I? Shall I start by recalling a few choice occasions with you and Rupert Ashton when we were teenagers? Or how about someone a bit closer to home?’ She smirks and looks over obviously at James and then back to Ernest. ‘Maybe I should ask James about that?’
The trembling I’m feeling underneath me is now rising in turbulence. I feel my hands shaking so I scrunch them up tight and force myself to speak without shouting. ‘What on earth are you both talking about?’
Ally gives a fake laugh. ‘Oh, come on, Julianne, you must know. Granted, I’ve left off making quite so many digs at Ernest about it over the years, but it’s surely pretty obvious. Ernest used to fuck your husband. I don’t think he still does, don’t worry. No affair has been had. He wouldn’t dare in case the press got wind of it. No, they were just bed-buddies at Eton and I suspect at Oxford, too.’ She’s looking at Ernest instead of me as she says all this, but now turns to James. His face has gone extremely red and he’s still looking at the table. He couldn’t look more guilty. ‘Come on, James. Don’t play dumb. We all knew you guys liked to screw around. There’s nothing wrong with it. At least, there wasn’t until he –’ she jabs a finger at her brother ‘– starts spouting his anti-gay bullshit about a boy who’s worth ten of him. And you, his father, just sit there and let him. Stephen is your son, for fuck’s sake. Have you really not got the courage to stand up for him, or is precious Ernest worth more to you than your own flesh and blood?’
I hold on to the table to keep myself steady. For a second I think I might faint, but manage to keep upright. ‘Is this true, James?’ Everyone is looking at him now, but he won’t move. I have half a mind to throw a plate at him, anything to get a reaction. I am furious. The anger I thought had subsided earlier is coursing through me with such strength I want to scream. ‘James! Answer me. Is it true? What Ally’s saying?’
He doesn’t say anything and Ernest starts speaking. ‘This is all ancient history …’
‘Shut up!’ I scream at him, then turn back to my husband. ‘So what does it mean? Are you gay? Bisexual? Are there any other secrets I’m going to find out today? Because, please, we’re on a fucking roll here.’
That gets a reaction. He looks at me now and in his face is a combination of panic and anger. ‘Stop talking, Julianne.’
I stare right back at him. ‘Don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do. Is this where you tell me everything’s fine and it’s all a mistake? Is this where you try to comfort me and pull the wool over my eyes?’ I’m going somewhere I’m terrified of, but it’s within me and I know it needs to come out. I can’t hide it any longer. It’s not good enough. All my demons are here right next to me – all the insecurities and doubts and fears of the past few hours are rushing to the surface like bile and I can’t stop. I have to keep going. ‘Because men wouldn’t be the only thing you’re into, would it?’ I see his eyes dart around him, like a trapped animal.
‘Julianne, for God’s sake, calm down,’ Ernest says. I’m in the process of standing up, jolting the table as I do so.
‘Calm down? I don’t know what weird shit is going on between you, but I’m sick of it. You’re all the same. You just care about yourselves. You close in and protect the pack. All of you, you’ve always been like that. I’ve always been the outsider, never part of the little club. You act like you’re all goddamn invincible.’
Ernest just looks at me and shakes his head, as if he’s mildly repulsed at what he’s seeing. ‘This kind of hysteria might work in America, Julianne, but here it’s rather tedious. I think it would be better if my wife and I went on our way.’
Louise nods enthusiastically. ‘Yes, I think that’s best.’
‘Sit the fuck down.’ I say it with such emphasis they both obey instantly. ‘You think you’re all so special? Think James here is the best thing since sliced fucking bread? You just wait.’
I run from the room, leaving them gaping at me, and take the stairs two at
a time. Stephen comes out of his room on the landing and I’m surprised to find Cassie following behind him. ‘Mum, what’s going on?’
Cassie looks shocked and concerned. ‘I found him crying on the stairs, then I heard shouting. Are you okay, Julianne? Is there anything I can do?’
‘No. I mean yes. Help Stephen pack a bag and get some clothes together. We’re going away for a bit.’
She looks taken aback, and I can’t blame her, but I don’t want to pause to explain.
‘Oh, okay, and James …’
‘Is staying here,’ I say as I walk past them. I stop and look back at Cassie. ‘I’m so sorry to ask, but is there any chance you could take Stephen to my mother’s?’ She’s taken aback, I can see it in her eyes, but I don’t wait for her to respond. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. You can call for a car from the place my mother often uses and put it on her account. Please. I just don’t want Stephen here for … for a bit.’ I half-expect him to start talking now, to say he doesn’t need to be sheltered, but he doesn’t. He just stands there.
‘Of course,’ Cassie says. ‘Anything I can do, I’m here.’ She turns to Stephen. ‘Come on, let’s get some overnight things sorted.’ It’s like he’s a child and she’s getting ready for him to go on holiday. For a second I think about going over to hug him, but instead I continue towards my room, flinging the door open so it bangs against the wall. I want to show them. I want to fucking show them and watch them implode – their circle of trust will disintegrate when they realise what their precious James is really like. I can’t believe I ever swallowed his preposterous lies. I almost laugh to myself at how easy I am to win over. Grabbing my tablet, I run past Stephen and Cassie, who are still standing and staring. ‘Don’t come down,’ I say. ‘I’ll come up and get you in a sec.’