All About Mia

by Lisa Williamson

  ‘Dance with me, Sammy,’ I say.

  ‘Mia, no,’ he says, pushing me away. I lose my balance, tumbling backwards onto the grass. I don’t mind though. I like being on the grass. I like how it feels, how it smells. I cling on, digging my fingernails in the soil.

  ‘Going for the hat-trick, is that it?’ Grace asks. ‘Paul, Aaron and Sam?’

  What is she on about?

  ‘God, I’m stupid,’ she continues. ‘I should have known all along. All those secret meetings were nothing to do with a surprise for me or the baby, were they? You were trying to nick my boyfriend the whole time.’

  Me and speccy Sam? As bloody if. I start to laugh hysterically, the laughter fizzing through my body. I laugh so much my stomach actually hurts.

  ‘Grace? Mia?’ a voice calls.

  What now?

  It’s Audrey, peering down from the terrace. I roll over, lying my cheek against the grass. It feels nice. Cool. If only everyone would just go away and leave me in peace.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Audrey asks.

  ‘Nothing, Auds, go back inside,’ Grace says.

  ‘But I heard shouting.’

  ‘It’s fine. We’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘But Mia’s lying on the grass. What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘Nothing. She’s getting up any minute now. Right, Mia?’

  ‘Nope!’ I say. ‘I’m sleeping out here tonight. Camping! Night night.’ I curl up in a little ball and pretend to snore again.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ Grace says.

  The next thing I know, she’s looming over me. I can see right up her skirt, her massive pregnancy knickers.

  ‘Hi! My name’s Grace and I’m the most perfect person in the entire world!’ I say in a silly voice, dissolving into more giggles.

  ‘Get up,’ she orders. ‘I’m putting you to bed.’

  ‘You’ll have to catch me first,’ I say. I start to crawl away on my hands and knees.

  ‘Oh my God, can you not see yourself right now?’ she says. ‘You’re a total disgrace, Mia.’

  I don’t answer. I just continue to crawl round in circles, giggling.

  ‘Right, that’s it, I’m going to get Mum and Dad,’ Grace says.

  What? Noooooooooo. I clamber to my feet and try to follow her. It’s useless though. My limbs have gone all floppy and pathetic and I can barely put one foot in front of the other.

  ‘Mia?’ Audrey says as I make it up onto the terrace and stagger past her. ‘Mia?’

  I ignore her and push open the French doors. The disco lights make me feel dizzy. Everyone’s on the dance floor, in messy rows doing the Macarena. But where’s Grace?

  I spot a flash of lilac dress through the archway into the bar. Bingo. I stumble towards it.

  ‘Mia, come dance with me!’ It’s Poppy, one of my little cousins.

  ‘I can’t, Pops,’ I say.

  ‘Please!’ she cries, grabbing a handful of my dress with her sticky little hands.

  ‘Later,’ I say, shaking her off.

  I have something to do. But what? I can’t remember. Hang on – yes, I do. Grace. I need to stop Grace. That’s it. Stop her from telling on me.

  I keep going, trying to ignore my wobbly legs and spinny head.

  ‘Someone’s in a hurry.’

  It’s Cara. She’s carrying a tray of empty glasses and completely blocking my path. God, I hate her. She’s the reason my friends left. She’s the reason everything is a mess.

  ‘Get out of my way,’ I slur.

  ‘Now that’s not very polite. Don’t I at least get a please?’

  ‘As if, you stupid interfering cow. Now move.’

  She sets down her tray on the nearest table. ‘Make me.’

  I grab her by the shoulders with both hands and push her. It’s only meant to be a little push, just enough for me to get past and catch up with Grace, but it sends Cara slamming into the chairs behind her, sending them toppling over.

  ‘You crazy bitch,’ she says, recovering and striding towards me.

  She’s only little, short and wiry, but she pushes hard, sending me staggering backwards towards the dance floor.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ I say as I collide with the dancers on the front Macarena line.

  I get my balance back and rush at Cara, pushing her with every bit of strength I have left. She goes crashing into a table this time, the floral table arrangement on top of it tumbling over, water spilling everywhere.

  ‘Mia! What the hell are you playing at?’

  It’s Mum’s voice. I just can’t work out where it’s coming from. All I know is that it sounds angry. That everyone is angry with me. I back away from Cara and onto the dance floor, where I try to hide amongst the other dancers. There’s loads of them. Mum and Dad will never find me. I just have to keep moving.

  ‘Yay! Mia!’ Poppy yells, grabbing hold of both my hands and forcing me to jump up and down with her.

  The jumping doesn’t feel good though. At all. It’s like I’m being shaken up like a can of fizzy pop.

  ‘Stop it, Poppy,’ I say, shoving her aside.

  I’m in the centre of the dance floor now, surrounded by a vortex of dancers, lights flashing, music pounding in my ears. I think I’m standing still but my spinning head makes it feel like the entire world could tip at any second.

  The introduction to ‘New York, New York’ kicks in and the DJ announces it’s the last song of the night.

  ‘Aw!’ everyone choruses, forming a massive circle, arms round each other, leaving me all alone in the middle.

  They’re all smiling and laughing as they sing along, kicking their legs in time. Grandad Amos and Grandma Sapphire are beckoning me over, making room for me in the kick-line.

  I’m stumbling towards them when my stomach does a weird lurch, like I’m going to be sick or something.

  But I can’t be. I haven’t had that much to drink, not really.

  I clasp my hand to my mouth but it’s too late. Vomit seeps between my fingers.

  I turn. Mum and Dad are inside the circle now, coming towards me.

  I remove my hand, wiping it on my dress. Maybe that’s it. Maybe no one saw.

  Another lurch. Bigger this time.

  My vomit hits the dance floor with an angry splatter. There’s loads of it. Red then blue then green then yellow under the disco lights.

  Then Dad is grabbing me by the elbow, my heels skidding in my sick as he hauls me across the dance floor towards the exit.

  32

  The atmosphere in the car is arctic. No one has spoken a word since we left the hotel this morning. Mum, Dad and Grace won’t even look at me.

  I’m stuck in the middle seat, just like old times. I fix my gaze on the magic tree air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror and concentrate all my energy on trying not to puke, not that there can be much left to puke. I spent most of the morning with my head down the toilet, completely missing the buffet breakfast.

  ‘Mia, we’d like to see you in the living room, please,’ Dad says as we pull into the driveway.

  I nod and follow him and Mum inside, leaving Grace and Audrey to unpack the wedding presents from the boot.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, the second Dad closes the door behind us.

  Mum whips round to face me. ‘Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, Mia,’ she says, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘Too little, far too late.’

  ‘You just need to let me explain a bit,’ I say, my voice sore from all the puking.

  ‘Explain what?’ she shouts, making me flinch. ‘You completely ruined our wedding night!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat, sinking down on the sofa.

  Mum and Dad remain standing up, taking it in turns to pace up and down on the rug.

  ‘Not good enough,’ Mum roars. ‘Not only were you completely drunk, you assaulted a member of staff!’

  ‘Assaulted? It was just a push. And she pushed me first!’

  It’s not just about the pu
sh though. They know that and I know that. The push was just the icing on the cake.

  ‘Enough with the excuses!’ Dad booms. ‘We don’t want to hear them, Mia!’

  ‘I can only imagine what people must be thinking and saying today,’ Mum says. ‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.’

  I bite down on my lip so hard I can taste blood in my mouth. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘Truly.’

  ‘Stop saying that,’ Mum snaps. ‘It’s meaningless. You’ve completely shown us up, Mia, the entire family.’

  I start to cry, salty hot tears pouring down my cheeks.

  ‘Stop it,’ Mum barks. ‘I don’t have time for this. Literally. We need to pack.’

  Mum and Dad are taking the train to London tonight, staying in a hotel near Heathrow airport before their morning flight to New York City.

  ‘Part of me wonders if we need to cancel,’ she adds.

  ‘No!’ I yelp, wiping away my tears with the sleeve of my hoodie.

  If Mum and Dad cancel their dream honeymoon, they’ll never let me forget it.

  ‘Can you blame me?’ she cries. ‘How can we trust you to behave when you can’t even behave at your own parents’ wedding!’

  ‘Please don’t cancel,’ I say. ‘Please. I’ll do anything you say, I swear.’

  ‘We’re not cancelling our honeymoon,’ Dad says firmly, glancing at Mum, who just shakes her head and rakes her fingers through her hair. ‘But we are going to need some time to think about your punishment. Until then, I think it goes without saying you’re grounded until further notice.’

  ‘But what about Newquay? It’s only a week away.’

  I sit on my hands. Newquay will still happen, won’t it? Kimmie and the others can’t keep up the silent treatment for ever. Can they?

  Mum snorts. ‘Not our problem. You should have thought of that before you made a complete sham of our special day.’

  ‘We’ll be checking in every day, but until we get back you’re only to leave the house if you’re under Grace’s supervision, understood?’ Dad says.

  ‘Grace!’ I cry. ‘But it’s her fault all this happened in the first place.’

  ‘Look,’ Mum says, wagging her finger, ‘I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but there’s absolutely no way you can peg anything that happened last night on your sister, no way at all, so don’t you even try it.’

  ‘I’m not trying to peg anything on anyone,’ I cry. ‘I’m just trying to explain!’

  ‘Mia,’ Mum yells, slamming her fist down on the mantelpiece. ‘How many more times do I need to tell you? We’re not interested in your excuses. We’ll talk about this properly when we get back, but until then Grace is in charge, no arguments.’

  Mum and Dad leave for the airport two hours later. I can’t bring myself to say goodbye, huddling on the roof wrapped in my duvet instead as I listen to Grace and Audrey wave them off.

  I try calling Kimmie again. Out on the terrace last night I fired off dozens of drunken apologetic messages, but so far I haven’t heard a peep out of any of my friends in response. This time, the phone rings three times before going through to voicemail. She’s clearly screening me and wants me to know it. I have nothing to add to the previous messages I’ve left (I’ve run out of new ways to say sorry) so I hang up. I try Stella again but she doesn’t pick up either and neither does Mikey.

  It starts to drizzle, forcing me indoors. As I’m climbing through the window, I catch my foot on the sill and end up sprawled on the carpet, trapped in my duvet.

  The door opens. An upside-down Audrey peers down at me.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asks.

  ‘Fine,’ I mutter, rolling onto my front before struggling to my feet.

  ‘You look like a caterpillar.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She hovers in the doorway.

  ‘Did you want anything in particular?’ I ask, shuffling over to my bed. ‘It’s just that I kind of fancy being alone right now.’

  ‘Oh,’ she says, blinking. ‘I was just wondering if you wanted to watch TV with me? Mary Poppins is on in five minutes.’

  Audrey adores Mary Poppins and knows every word of the script.

  ‘Can’t you watch it with Grace?’

  ‘She’s having a nap.’

  ‘Sam?’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘What? Back to Cambridge?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Grace wouldn’t say.’

  ‘When’s he coming back?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh.’

  It can’t be to do with what happened on the grass last night. Can it? Does Grace honestly think something happened between me and Sam?

  ‘Is that a “no” to Mary Poppins then?’ Audrey asks.

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. Not in the mood.’ I chuck myself on the bed, landing with a thud.

  ‘I think Grace is going to make some pasta in a bit,’ Audrey adds hopefully.

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

  ‘But what will you eat?’

  ‘I’ll make something.’

  ‘But you can’t cook.’

  ‘Yes I can. I can make loads of things.’ I cross my fingers under my duvet that there’s bread and cheese in so I can make cheese on toast.

  ‘But Grace is probably making enough for all of us.’

  ‘I told you, I’m not interested.’

  Another long pause.

  ‘I hate it when you and Grace fight,’ Audrey says in a small voice.

  I shrug. ‘She started it.’

  ‘How? What happened?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Ask Grace. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to fill you in.’

  ‘I already did. She said to ask you.’

  ‘Well, sorry. No can do.’

  Audrey continues to hover in the doorway, the long sleeves of her hoodie pulled down over her balled-up fists.

  ‘Isn’t your film starting soon?’ I say.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ She turns to go, then stops. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to watch it with me?’ she asks. ‘It might cheer you up?’ She hums a couple of bars of ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’.

  ‘Positive. Shut the door behind you, yeah?’

  ‘OK,’ she says softly.

  ‘Cheers, Auds.’

  33

  Distant ringing wakes me up. In my sleepy fug, it takes me several seconds to figure out it isn’t part of the dream I was having, and then a few more to work out it’s the landline. I hear Grace’s door creak open and her footsteps cross the landing and head down the stairs.

  I roll onto my front and reach for my mobile. It’s already gone ten. I usually love the first weekday of the summer holidays, waking up and knowing I have nothing to do and nowhere to be. Not today, though. I wonder how long my friends are going to stay mad at me for. Another week? Two? A month? The whole summer?

  For ever?

  I could message someone else, I suppose. Stacey or Kat or Tamsin. I scroll through my contacts and even compose a few messages, but I can’t quite bring myself to press send. That’s the problem; me, Stella, Mikey and Kimmie come as a team of four and everyone knows it.

  It’s raining out. I can hear it splattering against the windowpane. Maybe I’ll just stay in bed today, hide from the world. I yank the duvet over my head and make a cave. It reminds me of the dens Grace and I used to make when we were little. We’d take every sheet and duvet cover we could find and drape them over the dining-room chairs and table to create a tent. We’d sit under it for hours, and if Mum was in a good mood she’d let us have a little picnic in there, and Grace and I would take it in turns to make up stories, and it would feel like the cosiest, safest place on earth.

  ‘Audrey!’ Grace hollers. ‘Phone for you!’

  I stay where I am as Grace makes her way up the stairs, her voice getting louder as she continues to call Audrey’s n
ame. A few seconds later the door bursts open.

  I peel back my duvet so my head is poking out. ‘Ever heard of knocking?’ I ask.

  Grace ignores me and walks over to Audrey’s bed. ‘Auds,’ she says. ‘Phone for you.’

  ‘God, just let her sleep for once,’ I mutter.

  Grace glares at me over her shoulder. ‘It’s hardly the crack of dawn. I’ve been up since eight.’

  ‘Well, of course you have,’ I mutter, rolling over so I’m facing the wall.

  ‘Auds,’ Grace says. ‘It’s Lara on the phone. C’mon, Audrey, wakey, wakey.’

  There’s a gasp, followed by a clunk.

  Now what?

  I roll over and sit up. The phone Grace was holding is lying in the middle of the carpet and Audrey’s duvet has been pulled back to reveal a row of cushions.

  ‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ Grace whispers, grabbing at the cushions and tossing them aside as if she’s expecting to find a pocket-sized Audrey hiding beneath them. As she’s doing this, a piece of paper flutters through the air. I jump out of bed and scoop it up just before it hits the floor. It’s folded in half, our names printed on the front in Audrey’s familiar round, fat handwriting.

  I bend down to pick up the phone. ‘Lara?’ I say. ‘We’re going to have to call you back.’

  Grace snatches the note out of my hand. I snatch it back.

  ‘Just open it, for God’s sake,’ she says.

  ‘Fine,’ I snap, unfolding the note.

  We read it in silence.

  Dear Grace and Mia,

  I’m not sure how long it will take for you to realize I’m gone, since half the time you don’t seem to notice me anyway. I’m sorry if you’re worried or anything like that but I’m just so sick of being stuck in the middle of your arguments all the time. No one tells me what’s going on. I don’t know, maybe with me out of the way you’ll sort things out finally.

  Love,

  Audrey x

  ‘Shit,’ Grace says, sinking down onto Audrey’s bed.

  I haven’t heard her swear in ages. It sounds weird, like she’s speaking lines from a play.

  ‘Didn’t you see her leave?’ she asks, looking up at me. I’m still in the centre of the room, the phone dangling from my right hand.