by Lucy Dillon
‘Did you want to go?’
‘Oh, definitely. I always wanted to be surrounded by books. If I’d been a bit cleverer, I’d have liked to have stayed at uni forever, doing research.’ Anna sighed. ‘But I think the job I’ve got now is almost as good. Better, maybe. I don’t think they’d have let me do a doctorate in children’s stories. Unless that’s what you call a Mickey Mouse degree?’
Becca half laughed, half groaned. ‘Anna, that’s the kind of crap joke Dad would make. You’re catching it off him.’
‘Am I?’ Anna pretended to look horrified.
This is really nice, she thought, slipping her heavy book bag onto the opposite shoulder. This was a proper, sharing conversation, the kind she’d always hoped they’d eventually have. Maybe that confession about Owen meant they had crossed a bridge.
‘Where did you go to university?’ Becca asked her.
‘Manchester. I’d have loved to go to Cambridge,’ said Anna. ‘No one at my school was really encouraged to apply, so I never bothered. If I had my time again, I would. Definitely. Just to warn you, I will be coming to visit.’
Becca chewed her lip, then said in a rush, ‘I know everyone thinks I’m going to walk in but what if I get there and everyone’s way cleverer than me? I mean, it’s not hard to look clever at Longhampton, not when half the sixth form’s hungover on Monday morning – don’t tell Dad that, by the way – but Cambridge . . . everyone’s going to be a genius. What if I get the grades, but I can’t do it? What if I get there and I don’t want to do it?’
Anna had never heard Becca say anything remotely negative about her plans for law school, and it surprised her. She wondered how long she’d been worrying about it without letting on.
Becca had stepped up her pace, as if walking was the only way of getting the words out. ‘Dad thinks it’s easy for me. Just a matter of reading the books and turning up for the exams. What do you think he’d do if I don’t get in?’
‘He’d still love you,’ said Anna. ‘Whatever you do.’
Becca didn’t reply, and Anna grabbed her arm to stop her walking on.
‘Becca?’ she said, leaning forward to meet her downcast eye. ‘I mean it. Whatever you do, we’ll all love you and support you. Your dad’s proud of you, but don’t let that feel like extra pressure, because it’s not. He just wants you to do everything you can. University’s not like school. It’s about growing up and learning how to set yourself challenges, finding out who you are. You’ll meet so many different people, and yes, some will be cleverer than you, some won’t be. But you’ll be the one there, having the time of your life. Doing amazing things and stupid things and things you’ll never do again.’
They were at the top end of the high street now, nearly at the bookshop.
‘And we’ll always be here,’ Anna added. ‘Being proud of you. I know you’ve got your mum and your dad, but you’ve got me too. As a spare. If you need a different shoulder.’ She could only just get the words out past the lump in her throat. ‘I’m proud of you too.’
Becca gave Anna a watery smile. ‘I know,’ she said. Her lip wobbled. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, come here,’ said Anna and wrapped her arms around Becca, feeling her slim frame lean into hers, and they hugged in the street, oblivious to passers-by.
When they pushed open the door to the bookshop, Michelle and Owen were leaning on the counter, staring intently at Owen’s laptop.
‘Hey!’ he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw Becca. He stood up, towering over his sister, and Becca straightened her spine too, instead of hunching over as she had tended to when she was with Josh, who barely came up to her ear.
The crackle in the air between them was so obvious, thought Anna. If she knew Owen a bit better she might be happier about it. As it was, she only had one or two of Michelle’s indulgent stories about his shenanigans in Ireland to go on, and they weren’t inspiring.
She tried to balance that with her own experience of Owen – charming, helpful, friendly, not that punctual. But Becca was a smart girl, she argued. She wouldn’t put up with a wrong ’un, surely?
‘I’ve finished the website,’ Owen said. ‘Come and have a look.’
‘It’s not bad,’ said Michelle, over the top of the laptop. ‘Obviously there’s some work still to be done . . .’
‘Never satisfied,’ said Owen. ‘That’s your problem.’
Anna went over to look, and was suitably impressed. Owen had somehow managed to capture the friendly atmosphere in the bookshop, with the same soft colours, background music and virtual bookshelves decorated with ‘We Love . . .’ cards in Becca’s artistic handwriting. Becca – not Chloe – featured in the background, leading shoppers around the store, and Tavish popped up now and again if you moved the cursor into certain spots.
‘I love it,’ said Anna. ‘That’s gorgeous!’
‘Apart from me,’ said Becca, twisting in adolescent mortification. ‘I look terrible. Why didn’t you tell me you were using those photos? My nose looks enormous.’
‘You look beautiful,’ said Owen with a touch too much enthusiasm, then covered his reaction by turning to Anna. ‘Doesn’t she?’
Anna gave him a square look that she hoped told him that she knew what was going on. ‘She does.’
His confident grin wavered. ‘I can, er, put you on there too, if you want?’
‘No, it’s OK.’
‘Right, well, now the cavalry’s here, I can get back to next door,’ said Michelle. ‘Owen, can you get on with that upstairs? I’d like it to go live by the end of today.’
He started to argue but then saw Michelle’s expression and closed his laptop. ‘No problem. I’ll be . . . next door. Upstairs.’
Becca followed him out with her eyes, watching his slender hips in the faded jeans, then seemed to spring back to life when she realised Anna and Michelle were both looking at her. ‘Oh. Er, coffee? Shall I put the machine on?’
‘Good idea,’ said Michelle and sat down at the counter, scribbling some notes in Anna’s day book.
Anna waited until Becca had taken the coffee jug into the back kitchen to clean it, then leaned over to murmur in her ear. ‘Michelle, I don’t know if you know––’ she started, but Michelle looked up before she could finish.
‘What? That Owen and Becca are seeing each other?’
‘Yes.’ Anna was surprised. ‘How come you didn’t tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’ Michelle glanced back down at the list and crossed out a couple of to-dos. ‘I’m his sister, Anna. Not his mum.’
Something about Michelle’s nonchalance riled Anna. ‘Well, I’m effectively her mum. I don’t generally go in for spying on the kids but given that he’s so much older than her, and you know she’s got her exams coming up, I’m surprised you didn’t mention it.’
Anna’s surging hormones made it come out more dramatically than she had meant it to, and Michelle’s head bounced up. She looked defensive.
‘I was going to say something. I don’t think it’s been going on long – and before you ask, yes, I’ve made it really clear to him how important her exams are, and how I’ll personally have his balls for tableware if he’s anything less than a perfect gentleman. But if I’d come round to you and said, “Ooh, Becca’s dating Owen,” what would you have done? Stopped her seeing him? Because that always goes over really well with teenagers.’
Anna had to concede, rather unwillingly, that Michelle was right. It still didn’t make her any less annoyed that she hadn’t said anything, though. Whose loyalty was more important here?
‘You know Phil will go absolutely nuclear if this gets . . . messy?’ she said. She didn’t want to think too hard about what she meant by ‘messy’.
‘How messy can it get? Look, it’s not that hard to keep an eye on them if Becca’s in school and Gillian’s in the shop under the flat from nine till six every day,’ said Michelle reasonably. ‘And it’s easier to do that if they’re not sneaking around.’ She tried a wan smile
. ‘I bet you didn’t do much sneaking around when you were a teenager, did you?’
‘No,’ admitted Anna.
‘Well, I’ve had a lot of practice at keeping an eye on Owen and believe me, it’s much easier when he thinks he’s not being watched.’
Anna looked horrified and sank into a chair. ‘Is that supposed to fill me with confidence?’
Michelle let out a groany laugh. ‘Sorry. But it’s true. Any teenage boy would be the same. You’re just lucky you haven’t had to deal with it yet. Think of it as practice for Chloe.’
‘Becca isn’t a sneaking around type,’ she said. ‘But she was pretty quick to remind me that I’m not in a position to lecture her about older boyfriends.’ Anna put her head in her hands. ‘Why do I get a bad feeling about this?’
‘Are you saying my brother gives you a bad feeling?’ Michelle’s tone was jokey, but the words weren’t.
‘Not exactly.’
She did have a bad feeling. Already she could feel a thin layer of complication settling over the desk between them. Michelle was usually bracingly honest about Owen’s charm but now she was being defensive. Anna knew she’d be saying very different things if Owen had started dating Kelsey.
‘I have to tell Phil,’ she said, realising that she’d made a mistake in promising Becca she wouldn’t. ‘Oh God. He’s only just come to terms with his princess going out with that spotty oboe boy.’
‘Owen’s not exactly a cradle-snatcher. He’s got a job,’ Michelle pointed out. ‘And a degree.’
‘True. And he doesn’t have a motorbike. Or a tattoo.’
‘Actually, he’s got a tattoo. A small one. Maybe two.’
‘What? No . . .’
Michelle checked Becca wasn’t on her way back and dropped her voice. ‘Listen, Anna, I’ve been thinking about this too and the worst case scenario is that they have some kind of summer fling, then she goes off to university in October and it fizzles out. Becca’s a sensible girl. She knows how important her exams are.’
‘And Owen? You think he can be sensible?’ Anna looked quizzically at Michelle. ‘Before you answer, don’t forget you’ve told me certain things about him and his less-than-reliable habits with ladies.’
Michelle paused. ‘Owen seems pretty smitten, to be honest.’
‘You sound surprised.’
Michelle was choosing her words carefully. ‘Normally by now he’s practically moved in with them, or he’s disappeared altogether, but he’s been here. On his own. Rory says he’s seen him staying in – he went round to borrow some milk the other night.’ They both boggled at that domestic detail.
‘So when did Becca tell you?’ Michelle asked.
It was Anna’s turn to hesitate. ‘A couple of days ago.’
‘Really? And when were you going to tell me?’ Michelle lifted an eyebrow. ‘If you think it’s such an issue?
‘Just now. I told you just now!’ Anna realised that – again – her moral high ground was a bit slippier than she’d thought it was. She didn’t really enjoy Michelle’s answering expression. It made her uncomfortable.
They looked at each other in silence.
Fortunately Becca reappeared before either of them had to think of what they could say next without escalating things.
‘Who wants coffee?’ Becca waved the jug at them, her face fresh and young and excited. ‘I’ve got biscuits too!’
‘Me, please,’ said Anna. ‘A strong one.’
18
‘Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret answered all the questions I was too shy to ask. Judy Blume makes growing up seem exciting and intriguing, without ever patronising.’
Becca McQueen
Once the girls had been safely packed off on the night flight, armed with fruit and water – and in Lily’s case, an actual book – Anna turned to her holiday list.
The first thing on it was to have lunch the following day with her mum and dad, whom she hadn’t seen since her fleeting visit to them before Christmas to pick up and collect presents like a demented courier elf.
Anna missed the companionable walks with her dad and his wheezy old Labrador, and her easy chats with her mother in her small kitchen. Though she spoke to her mum on the phone a few times a week, it wasn’t the same as seeing them, and the familiar house they’d lived in all her life, full of books and memories. She knew they missed her too, their only child, and worried about her place in Phil’s complicated family, although they were far too polite to say so.
Anna glanced across the car. Phil was resting his elbow on the open window and singing along to Blondie on the radio and not getting the lyrics right, and butterflies fluttered in her chest. They’d managed to talk more, and although he still wasn’t exactly joyful about the possibility of a baby, he definitely wasn’t as panicky as he had been that first night. She reckoned his mood was now at ‘tentatively hopeful’.
Her period was now officially four days late. Though she hadn’t had a clear positive test, her obsessive internet searching suggested that this wasn’t unusual. She hadn’t told anyone else, preferring to hug it to herself until it was definite. Her and Phil’s secret. It was like the month before Christmas, or the last few days of term. A delicious certainty was bubbling inside her that something new was happening. They were taking a step forward – everyone together, properly, for the first time.
For once Anna wasn’t dreading her mother’s veiled, anxious questions about her own grandchildren, usually posed while the two of them made sandwiches in the kitchen well out of earshot of Phil and her dad, because now she could smile enigmatically and say, ‘Mum, it’s in hand.’
Somewhere in the car a phone beeped with a text message. They were meeting Anna’s parents in a hotel just outside Ledbury for lunch, and her dad’s new mastery of his mobile meant any rendezvous required multiple progress updates.
‘Is that mine?’ Anna looked round; her bag was on the back seat. ‘Might be my dad, wanting an ETA. You know what he’s like, probably wants to get the menu on standby.’
‘No, I think it’s mine,’ Phil said, turning to find his jacket. ‘You keep your eyes on the road, please. I hope you won’t be teaching Becca to drive like that.’
‘I won’t be teaching her at all unless you promise to take out a massive life insurance policy for me,’ replied Anna happily. ‘And get me a better car.’
‘Oh God,’ said Phil. ‘The car. Do you know what six-seaters look like? Minibuses. We’ll look like we’re running a youth club.’
‘Shut up,’ said Anna. ‘Becca won’t be in it, she’ll be away. Five seats will be fine.’
When Phil didn’t rise to that, she glanced across and saw he was frowning at his phone. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘Please don’t tell me it’s work. Don’t they understand what weekends are?’
‘It’s Becca,’ said Phil. ‘She wants us to turn on Skype.’
‘Now?’ The Skype request wasn’t unusual – they Skyped daily with whichever parent they weren’t with –– or rather Lily did; the other two often just waved in passing while Lily recounted her day in bum-numbing detail. ‘I thought they’d be Skype-ing around seven. Weren’t we getting back for that?’
‘That was the plan, yes. I’ll tell her we’re out,’ said Phil. ‘Sarah probably just wants me to tell Chloe she can’t do something ridiculous like get her nose pierced. You know what she’s like, always asking for something totally outrageous so we’ll give in and let her do something plain daft instead. Expectation management. Bet Sarah taught her that too.’
He fiddled with his mobile and Anna carried on driving, pleased that for once she’d taken priority.
But the phone beeped again almost immediately.
‘If that’s Lily worried about the soft toys in the heatwave, tell her we’ll arrange them in the shade,’ she said.
Phil muttered under his breath. ‘Apparently we have to go home now and Skype Becca. Right now, in capitals.’
Capitals. That didn’t sound like Becca to Anna, and th
e first ripples of worry began to disturb the surface of her good mood. ‘Are you sure it’s not Chloe texting on Becca’s phone?’
‘There are exclamation marks, too. Lots of them.’
Anna flicked on the indicator, her eyes searching the side of the road for a parking space. Deal with it before you have time to be annoyed by it was one of her fail-safe step-parenting tactics. Parents wouldn’t think, they’d just act. She’d had to learn to do that, or else she knew she’d have dissolved in a ball of fury months ago.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Phil.
‘I’m parking. Call her. If it’s so important, ring her straight back.’ Anna pulled into a space, put on the handbrake and looked at him. She tried not to give in to her crossness. ‘Go on. Then you can sort it out, whatever it is, and we can get on with lunch.’
Phil’s brow creased. Indecision often paralysed him when it came to parenting decisions. That was how Chloe managed to run rings around him so easily. ‘Should I? I mean, what if it’s just some silly row that she’s having with Sarah? You know what they used to be like when they lived with her – winding each other up, then phoning me to referee. I don’t want them to start doing that again. I mean, I don’t want you to . . .’ He paused. ‘It’s not fair on you. This was meant to be our time.’
‘Isn’t that the whole point about having kids, according to you?’ said Anna. ‘You never have your own time again?’
‘Don’t start that,’ he said. ‘We’re having a nice day, so far.’
She took a deep breath. ‘If you don’t call Becca back, you’ll only drive me mad worrying that she was ringing from the bottom of a well or something. Then she’ll phone us at my mum’s, and she’ll get that face of hers on again. Do it.’ She turned off the engine and folded her arms. ‘Or I will.’
Phil looked as if he was thinking about arguing, but then sighed and dialled the number.
Anna stared at her hands clamped round the steering wheel and focused on the diamond rings on her wedding finger. Two beautiful diamond rings – one exquisite engagement ring, the other an eternity band Phil had given her shortly after the girls moved in, as a silent thank you for dealing with everything. Better that they sorted this out now than at her parents’, where her mum’s eagle eyes would be on her and her dad would be pretending not to notice Phil’s hushed phone conversation in the other room.