by Mia Dolan
Woolworths weren’t hiring but Marcie found a job working in a local record shop on the high street. It wasn’t long after starting there that she began to be sick in the morning. She’d become friendly with Jennifer Page. Jennifer worked in the chemists nearby and was hoping to go a lot further than serving people rheumatic remedies and haemorrhoid cream.
One Tuesday lunchtime they met on a seat over-looking the beach. Unlike Rita who never ate anything unless it was with chips, Jennifer, like Marcie, preferred sandwiches.
Marcie took only one bite of hers. Just the weight of the bread on her tongue was enough to make her feel sick. She spat it out.
‘Sorry,’ she said to Jennifer. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
She felt Jennifer’s eyes on her. ‘You’re looking very pale. Is everything alright, Marcie … you know … is everything as it normally is?’
‘Of course it is!’
She regretted snapping. She valued Jennifer’s friendship. Rita would have stormed off to nurse her injured feelings. Jennifer was more steadfast and there was genuine concern in her eyes.
Marcie apologised.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap your head off.’
‘It told me everything.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you sick most mornings?’
Of course she was. And her period was late. But she’d been tired lately and upset because of her family troubles. That was all it was.
She shook her head vehemently when she realised what Jennifer was suggesting. ‘I can’t be in the club. I’m on the pill. I can’t be.’
Jennifer frowned. ‘Did you follow the instructions? You didn’t miss one, did you? Or, have you been ill? I know if you’re ill, they sometimes don’t work.’
Marcie’s eyes followed a young woman pushing a pram. Two toddlers with barely a year between them scurried along beside her. The young woman looked worn out. She could have been any age between eighteen and forty. It was hard to tell.
Marcie thought of Annie. She wondered how she was and hoped Babs was looking after her. Sometimes she’d resented having to look after her baby half-sister. Now she found herself missing her.
But to have a baby of her own?
‘I’m not seventeen yet,’ she said, her eyes still following the young family.
Jennifer sighed. ‘You’re going to have to get it checked.’
Marcie swung her gaze back from the sea front.
‘I don’t want to do that yet. The doctor would have to tell my father and he’ll go mad.’
‘Have you got your pills with you? Show them to me. It’s easy to check if you forgot to take one,’ said Jenny.
Marcie couldn’t understand how it could be easy to check, not unless you counted each and every pill from the very start. She opened her bag and passed them over.
Jennifer frowned. ‘Where did you get them? Why are they in an aspirin jar? They should be in a pre formed pack with each day of the week imprinted underneath them.’
Marcie explained what Rita had done in order to disguise the pills.
Jenny frowned. ‘They look a bit ropey,’ she’d said. ‘And they’re white. I don’t know for sure that there are any white ones. Most of them are pink. Are you sure they’re real birth control pills?’ she asked sceptically. ‘I think I should get them checked out.’
They met the next day after Jennifer had shown the pills to her pharmacist.
‘These aren’t genuine,’ she said gravely. ‘These are aspirins that someone has filed down to look like a different kind of pill. Someone has deliberately sold you something that might cure a headache but it wouldn’t stop you getting pregnant! It must have been your friend Rita.’
Marcie shook her head. ‘No. She wouldn’t do that.’
It was hard to believe that her old friend might have tampered with the pills, but Marcie knew it might well be the truth. The other option was Rita herself had been sold dodgy pills, but in Jennifer’s opinion, that seemed less likely.
‘It was done deliberately,’ said Jennifer.
Marcie didn’t meet her eyes. They were thinking the same thoughts, but it was so hard to face.
Would she have gone on being free and easy with Johnnie if she hadn’t had the birth pill? The question was a difficult one to answer. The responsible side of her would not, but the surging of teenage hormones was difficult to control.
The worse thing of all would be facing her family, especially her grandmother. Jennifer offered to help her have a pregnancy test. ‘All I need is a water sample and we can tell you for sure whether you’re in the family way or not.’
By the end of the week, Marcie had her answer. There was no doubt about it – she was nearly three months pregnant.
The weekend loomed bright and clear, one of those autumn days when the sky is blue and the air is crisp.
As usual Johnnie turned up on Friday night and picked her up from the corner of the street. They drove to Leysdown. The night was warm, and the atmosphere buzzed with laughter and the Mersey Sound bubbling from half a dozen transistor radios.
There were teenagers on motorbikes wearing leather jackets and jeans, and teenagers on scooters wearing cool-coloured trousers and double-breasted blazers – all drawn by the smell of fried onions simmering on the mobile hot-dog cart.
The cart was a Saturday night regular in Leysdown, occupying one corner of the car park. The leather boys were parked in the second corner to the right of the cart, the mods to the left. The little man dishing out burgers and hot dogs was nervously aware that his cart formed a kind of demarcation zone. In order to keep the peace he maintained non-ending cheeriness and he had very good reason to.
The queues alternated between mods and rockers so that there was never a mix, though the girls in mini skirts and summer dresses looked as though they might belong to either camp.
She saw Rita. Neither girl acknowledged the other – it was as though they’d never been friends at all. After what Jennifer had told her, all she wanted to do was walk over there and give her face a good slapping.
Pete turned up with a new girlfriend who introduced herself as Diane, the introduction dissected with the blowing and popping of pink bubblegum.
Pete said hello. ‘Saw your mate,’ he added, jerking his head to where the scooter crowd were gathered. ‘Glad to see you haven’t joined the opposition.’
‘Course she hasn’t,’ said Johnnie, wrapping an arm around her. ‘She’s my girl. Always will be.’
She liked the way he hugged her. She was going to need a lot of reassuring hugs before the night was over – once she told him that she had a problem. What would be his response?
Johnnie offered to buy her a burger but she shook her head. ‘Not for me.’ Her stomach was rolling in response to the smell coming from the hot-dog cart. The candyfloss stall didn’t open at night, but the sticky sweet smell lingered and mixed with that of deep fat fryers containing everything from chips to doughnuts.
‘Won’t be a minute.’
He went off to the burger cart and came back with two. ‘I thought you might change your mind,’ he said. ‘It’s a well-known fact that women change their minds as regularly as they change their underwear.’
The comment was meant to be humorous. Marcie turned away. At the same time she hit the burger from his hand.
‘No! I don’t want it.’
Diane, the girl blowing bubblegum, asked if she was alright.
Marcie might have been fine if Diane hadn’t blown another bubble. The sight of the shiny pink ball emerging from Diane’s mouth was too much to bear. She threw up.
Pete gave Johnnie a knowing look and a sharp nudge from his elbow. ‘I think you might have a problem, mate.’
Johnnie looked stunned. Then he put his arm around her. ‘We’d better talk.’ He led her to a quiet spot between two shops selling beach stuff and cheap mementos of Leysdown, made in Hong Kong.
She looked up at him. The look in his eyes and the sl
ight frown said it all.
‘I’m not stupid, Marcie. Have you got a bun in the oven?’
She nodded. ‘I’m late.’
He frowned. ‘You said it was safe. You said you bought the birth control pills from your mate Rita.’
She heard the suspicion in his voice. ‘I did,’ she said bitterly and looked down at the ground. She thought she’d been safe but she hadn’t. She explained what she’d discovered, what Jennifer had told her.
‘Shit!’ Johnnie braced his legs, his back against the wall, his head hanging. Slowly, he raised his eyes and looked deeply into hers. ‘Are you telling me the truth? You’re not pulling a fast one like your mate Rita tried with Pete?’
‘I bloody well am not!’
Marcie folded her arms, a defensive gesture. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been responsible. The pills were the sign of that. None of it mattered now – the deed was done. And what was it they said? No good crying over spilt milk. All the same, the fault lay with the person who’d swapped the real pills with aspirin. Would Rita do that? She still didn’t want to believe it.
‘Let’s walk,’ he said.
They headed for the dunes.
‘Seems like your mate Rita’s not the good friend you thought she was.’
Johnnie’s comment hit her hard. All these years and she’d found Rita funny and opinionated and from the right side of the tracks. Was it possible that she’d been more influenced by Rita’s lifestyle and that in itself had blinded her to the person Rita really was?
It seemed that Johnnie thought so.
He said something else that made her blood run cold. ‘We’re too young for this.’
She took a deep breath before voicing an obvious option. ‘I suppose I can make enquiries about getting rid of it.’
‘No!’
The suddenness of his response surprised her. She’d been bearing this burden by herself for some weeks. His rejection of the idea was all very well, but she was the one who was most physically involved. She had the right to be awkward about it.
‘It’s none of your business!’
‘Of course it is! It’s my kid, isn’t it?’ He paused before hurling the fatal barb. ‘Or is it?’
She felt as though she were blushing from top to toe – even in the areas unseen beneath her clothes.
‘What do you take me for? There’s only ever been you.’
Her throat felt so dry that speaking actually hurt. How crazy was that.
‘I’m going to have to tell my grandmother. I can’t tell my father – at least not to his face.’
‘We’ll get married.’
He said it so suddenly that it didn’t sink in at first. When it did she raised her eyes and looked up at him.
‘You don’t have to.’
‘For Christ’s sake!’ He slammed the palm of his hand against his forehead. ‘I don’t have to! I don’t need to! Has it occurred to you that I might actually want to marry you? Let’s face it, we clicked from the word go. A few years down the line and we would have married anyway.’
To hear him say that was like a breath of fresh air.
‘We’ll have to live somewhere,’ she said.
‘Of course we will. We’ve got plenty of room at our place. We can live there and I can get a job instead of going to university.’
‘University?’
He nodded. She joined him sitting on a low wall to stare at the sea.
‘So that’s what you meant by shoving bits of paper around.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I can either go full time in Sid Norton’s motorbike shop or I can use my qualifications to get something in an office. I got offered a job in an insurance office; not something I’d choose, but if there’s an extra mouth to feed …’
Marcie could hardly believe her ears. Johnnie had amazed her. He was reeling off future plans that he’d only thought up within the last minutes – even seconds! She found herself swept along with a strange kind of enthusiasm. They had some mighty hurdles to jump, the biggest of them being telling their respective families.
‘When will you tell them?’ she asked him.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Not yet perhaps. Not till you’ve told your family. Mine are going to be disappointed. They had their hearts set on me going to university.’
The type of parents Johnnie had were a world away from hers. For the first time she had some inkling of his background. It frightened her that she might not fit in.
‘You don’t have to marry me.’
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Then don’t.’
The air seemed to bristle between them. Marcie turned her gaze back to the sea. It wasn’t even grey any more. The nights were drawing in. The sea was turning darker along with the evenings.
The wet shingle crunched beneath his boots as he came up behind her, standing so close she could feel the heat of his body.
‘Let’s wait and see what happens. Things can happen, can’t they?’
He meant a miscarriage. It was early days but it was possible she could lose the baby she was carrying. She nodded in answer to his question but deep inside she knew she didn’t want anything to happen. This baby was unborn but already she felt a great love for it.
He sighed deeply. ‘OK. Leave it until the bump starts to show, and then we’ll sort it all out.’
They’d been gone barely five minutes when Rita Taylor sauntered over to the hot-dog stand. Pete was standing in the queue with a girl who was chewing gum and in Rita’s estimation wasn’t very well dressed. Her jeans were faded, her leather jacket was scuffed and her dirty blonde hair was a mass of tangled tresses.
Rita sniffed her disdain and addressed Pete.
‘I really fancy another hot dog. I’ll let you buy me one if you’re a good boy.’
Pete barely glanced at her. ‘Buy your own.’ He looked pointedly at her stomach. It was obvious to anyone that she wasn’t pregnant and never had been. Lucky for him that he had a mate like Johnnie who had told him what she’d been planning.
Rita followed his gaze and blanched. She swiftly recovered and tutted, shaking her head like a teacher she’d once known. ‘Peter, Peter, Peter! There was a time when you’d do anything for me.’ She stroked the leather sleeve of his jacket.
Pete grinned. ‘Burgers and hot dogs are cheap meat, Rita. Just like you.’
While they’d been talking the girl with him had blown a large bubble. On her bursting into laughter, the bubble popped and stuck to her face.
Rita got the meaning in Pete’s comment, but she wasn’t one to let it ride.
‘They’re not very big sausages anyway! A bit like you really! Greaser!’
He grabbed her by the hair. ‘Let’s get it straight, you slag! I wouldn’t have touched you with a barge pole if Johnnie hadn’t fallen for your mate. Get it?’
Rita lashed out and managed to get free. Her eyes blazed with anger and a sneer twitched at the corner of her mouth, making her jaw look lopsided.
‘Well, it’s her that’s going to fall now. She’s going to fall right good and proper!’
The bubblegum girl had taken an instant dislike to the plump mod with the flat shoes and the patterned smock. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Pete frowned. Rita had been a ready and willing participant on the sex front, but he hadn’t really liked her. She ran down her friends. He would never do that.
‘She’s up the spout! Or if she’s not she soon will be the way her and your mate are carrying on. But then, what do you expect from one of the Brookses! Rough lot all round and from the roughest side of the island.’
Pete was rarely roused to temper, but he was now. He raised his hand. Diane hung onto it.
‘No. She’s not worth it.’
Heeding her advice he let his hand drop. They both watched as Rita sauntered off, head in the air, backside swaying like the back of an Indian elephant.
‘What did she mean by all that?’ he murmured.
Diane shrugged. ‘Could be
something. Could be nothing. But never mind. Johnnie’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.’
Chapter Thirty-one
There was nobody at home when Johnnie dropped Marcie outside her house.
‘Next weekend,’ he said. ‘And don’t worry. We’ll get through this.’
They kissed goodnight, then kissed again. She felt apprehensive as she watched him ride away. She had never planned for this to happen. There were so many ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ attached to a situation like this. There were so many people they had to satisfy and so many considerations as to what might happen, where they would end up, and if they would end up together.
She thought all these things until the rear light of the motorcycle glowed red then disappeared.
Exclamations and a noisy interchange of conversation drew her attention to the other end of the street. A crowd was gathered outside the entrance to the back lane, but she felt no curiosity to go along and see what was going on. She presumed her grandmother was there and that’s why their own house was in darkness.
She ran into the house and up the stairs. Babs had left one last suitcase. It was small, brown and battered, and barely enough for Marcie’s things, but she made it enough. Another stupid thing, she thought to herself. Why pack a case now? It would be months before she left.
She looked round the old cottage where she’d been born and had spent her life. Leaving would be difficult; she’d never realised before how difficult. The cottage was part of her; her family was part of her. How would it be to live with Johnnie in London?
The bedroom was oddly cold without her small sister or her grandmother sleeping in there. She’d always dreamed of having a bedroom to herself like Rita, but now it had come to be she didn’t like it.
Before climbing into bed, she looked out of the window. The window overlooked the back garden, a dingy place by day but transfigured by moonlight.
A full moon escaped from a circlet of clouds. The garden was bathed in silver clear light. Even the shed where the chickens used to live looked slightly magical, as though someone had splashed it with silver paint.
Just for a moment – a very fleeting moment – she fancied she saw a figure evolve between the fence and the shed.