by Dyan Sheldon
To get on the bus, I had to take Shinola out of her buggy and fold it up. To get her out of her buggy, I had to remove her from the plastic bubble. Then, with one hand, I had to fold up the pushchair. Only it wouldn’t fold flat with the plastic bubble inside, and I couldn’t get it locked in place. Then I had to get Shinola and me and the buggy on to the bus. Nobody offered to help, not even when the damn thing sprang open and nearly pulled us back to the pavement.
It was one of those little single-decker buses, and because it was raining, it was packed. So once you got up the stairs there wasn’t actually anywhere to go.
“Seventy pence,” said the driver.
I didn’t have my money ready, and I couldn’t get it out because I only had two hands, and one of them was trying to hold the buggy shut and the other was trying to hold Shinola.
“Could you wait till I put the pushchair away?”
“Seventy pence,” said the driver.
As per usual, Shinola started to cry. I could feel everybody capable of even the slightest movement turn to look at us.
“For God’s sake,” I hissed at her. “Not now!”
But would she listen? Sometimes I worried that she was going to be like her grandmother.
By sort of wedging the buggy between me and the driver, I managed to fish the change from my pocket.
“Move back!” shouted the driver. “Everybody move back!”
I stuck the ticket between my teeth and tried to move back.
It was like trying to get a motorbike through a tin of sardines.
The luggage rack was full.
“Move back! Move back!”
As though she was joining in with the driver, Shinola was wailing, “Wahwah… Wahwah…”
I forced my way towards the back, saying “Excuse me,” and “Pardon me,” every time I whacked somebody with the buggy.
An old lady finally gave me her seat.
“Sounds like he might have a touch of the colic,” she said as we exchanged places.
“She,” I corrected. “But I don’t think it’s colic.”
I had no idea what colic was. It’s one of those words that everybody uses but no one ever tells you what it means. Plus, I really didn’t think it was anything like that. I was beginning to think she did it on purpose.
The old lady beamed down on us. “Isn’t he sweet? I remember when mine were that age.” She beamed again. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” she told me. “The time goes very quickly.”
Not quickly enough, if you asked me.
We were late, but Les was later. I reckoned he must’ve been held up in traffic.
Shinola and I stood in the doorway, waiting. The traffic was really noisy because it was standing still, and the rain was still falling by the bathfull, so naturally Shinola fell asleep. I pictured Les running down the street to us, trying to get through the shoppers with their umbrellas and trolleys as quickly as he could. He was worried that we’d been waiting so long. He was anxious to see us. And then, from the end of the road, he would see us. That song from the BT ad started playing in the background, “Oh, What a Perfect Day”, or something like that. His face lit up. “Lana!” he shouted. “Lana! I’m here!” He practically scooped the two of us up in his arms, buggy and all…
After a while, I thought maybe we’d be better off inside. Shinola was all right because she was under the plastic bubble, but I was getting soaked. I felt like I was wearing sponges on my feet.
Les was sitting in a corner. I spotted him straight away. He’d already started eating.
“Les!” I waved. “Les!”
He looked up and shook his burger in our direction.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said when we finally made it to his table. He nodded at the window. “Because of the weather.” He wasn’t going to stand outside waiting in the rain. That’s how you caught cold.
Shinola woke up while Les was getting me my lunch. She blinked at the lights and stuck a fist in her mouth, which pretty much amounted to Shinola’s party trick.
I took her out of the buggy and laid her on my lap. She was being really good. She was awake, but she was gurgling.
Les looked over at her as he sat back down. He reached out a finger and kind of rubbed her chin. I’m sure he didn’t say “Gicheegicheegoo”, but he said something that sounded a lot like “Gicheegicheegoo”. Shinola showed him her gums.
“She really does look like you,” said Les. He said whatever it was he was saying to her again. Shinola bubbled. At least she was bonding all right.
Les started telling me what was happening at work.
It was spite, I knew it was. She couldn’t stand not having everybody’s attention, all the time.
Shinola started to howl.
Les glanced nervously around us.
“Can’t you shut her up?” he hissed. “Everybody’s looking at us like we’re trying to murder her.”
As far as one of us was concerned, Shinola was lucky someone wasn’t trying to murder her.
I smiled, calm and controlled, a proper mother.
“She must be hungry. I’ve got a bottle in her bag.”
“Thank God for that,” breathed Les.
But I didn’t have her bag.
I looked under the table three times, but it wasn’t there.
I groaned. “I must’ve left it on the bus.”
“You should’ve left her on the bus,” joked Les.
People really were looking at us like we were sticking hot knives in her.
“Can’t you take her to the ladies and feed her?” he pleaded.
I always tried not to tell Les the same thing twice, so I didn’t bore him, but I forgot about that rule now.
“I don’t have a bottle,” I said again. “I left her bag on the bus.”
Les looked at his watch. “I’m going to have to go. I’ve got to get to work.”
“But I thought you didn’t have to be there till four.”
“Albie called in sick,” said Les. “I’ve got to be in by two.”
He already had his jacket on.
I knew it wasn’t cool, but I couldn’t help it.
“But when am I going to see you properly? I miss you, Les. It’s been so long.”
His eyes sort of shuffled. “I’ll stop by when I can, Lana, but I can’t do more than that right now.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, what about your birthday? Isn’t that coming up? See if you can get someone to look after her, and we’ll go out. See a film or something. Have a meal.” He winked. “Celebrate.”
Happiness flooded through me. He’d remembered my birthday. And he wanted to have a proper date. Everything was all right.
“That’d be great. I haven’t been to the cinema in ages. I’ll tell the Spiggs I’m going with Shanee.”
“I’ll ring you,” said Les. “You pick the day.”
You never think about it when you watch a film, but most of the time the characters in films have a lot of luck. It may seem like they’re just getting the destiny they deserve because they’re doing what they know is right or whatever, but actually it’s luck.
I knew that because I didn’t have any luck. Unless you were counting bad luck.
Something went wrong with the boiler at the doctor’s where my mother worked and everyone was sent home in case it exploded or something.
I saw her at the window as me and Shinola the Screamer came up the path. She was on the phone. I saw relief in her face for just a second, and then I saw rage.
Oh, no, I thought. Not now…
She slammed the phone down and was in the hall before I’d got the buggy inside.
“Where the hell have you been?” she screeched. “How could you take her out on a day like this?”
“For God’s sake,” I yelled back. “People live in igloos. A little rain’s not going to hurt her.”
She scooped Shinola out of the buggy and disappeared back into the living-room.
I shook out the buggy, and me, and hung my jacket on
a hook in the hall.
She was still screeching even though I wasn’t in the room with her.
I didn’t really listen. I’d heard it all before.
“Blahblahblah infection … blahblahblah death of cold … blahblahblah trauma and exhaustion … blahblahblah.”
I went straight to my room to change out of my sopping wet things.
By the time I got to the kitchen, she already had a bottle in Shinola’s mouth.
“She’s starving.” She gave me the same look Mrs Mela used to give me when I didn’t do my homework. “Didn’t you feed her this afternoon?”
Shinola wasn’t the only one who was starving. After Les left I didn’t even stay to have my lunch. There didn’t seem any point – especially with her in the state she was in. I took a packet of biscuits from the cupboard and put the kettle on.
“Of course I fed her,” I lied. “She just never gets enough.”
My mother gave me a look about as sweet as a pint of vinegar, then turned back to the baby.
“Where’s poor little Nola been?” she cooed, all mushy and gooey. “Where did Lana take you?”
“Her name’s Shinola, not Nola.” I thumped the milk carton down on the counter. “And I took her out for some fresh air.”
“In a storm,” said the caring grandmother. She kissed the top of Shinola’s head. “Did Lana take you out in the storm? Did she forget to feed you?”
I slammed the sugar down. “I didn’t forget anything!” I roared. “For the hundredth time, I told you, I fed her.”
“As soon as you finish your bottle, we’ll put you into some nice warm jammys.”
I had to stop myself from throwing the tea caddy at her.
“She isn’t wet!” I screamed. “I’m the one who got soaked to the skin.”
“Who takes a newborn baby out in a hurricane?”
If there’d been a few snow flurries it would’ve been a blizzard.
“I do, that’s who!”
“And what does that prove?” Hilary Spiggs demanded. “The only baby you’ve ever handled in your life is yourself.”
“I’m her mother, not you!” I took Shinola from her so quickly she was too surprised to stop me. “And you can just mind your own bloody business.”
She squashed her lips together and looked at me for a few seconds.
“You’d better watch yourself, young lady,” said the Mother of the Year. “Or I may just do that.”
I told her Shanee wanted to take me out for my birthday.
To my surprise she didn’t even put up a fight.
“That sounds like a good idea,” she said. “You don’t see enough of your friends. Just tell me what night and I’ll make sure I have no plans.”
Saturday was my birthday, but Les had to work on Saturday.
“Friday,” I said. “That’s the only night Shanee can do it.”
“Friday it is, then,” said my mother.
Being so nice and smarmy wasn’t like my mother at all. She had to be up to something. And I was pretty sure I knew what it was. Once I was sixteen, I was applying for my own council flat. Even though she said she couldn’t wait to get rid of me, I reckoned she didn’t want me to go. Then she’d have to admit I was an adult. And then she’d have to treat me like one. For a change. So she was going to try and make herself useful. So I’d want to stay. She had as much chance of that happening as she did of winning an Oscar.
Because the Spiggs threw in looking after Shinola while I got ready, I was not only able to have a real bath for the first time since Shinola was born, but I was standing in front of the cinema at exactly seven, cool and sophisticated in a silver slip dress and the double-breasted, three-quarter-length coat I bought in the market with my birthday money. A couple of guys gave me the eye while I was waiting, but I pretended I didn’t notice.
At exactly seven-thirty, when the programme was meant to start, I began to get worried. Maybe Les’d had an accident. These things happened all the time. Mrs Wallace, my teacher in Year Nine, had lost her husband because he’d been crossing a zebra at the same time as a car. He’d gone out for some milk and never came back. That could’ve happened to Les. Or a joy-rider could’ve ploughed into his car. That had happened in one of my favourite soaps.
He turned up at a few minutes past eight.
“You wouldn’t believe the traffic,” he told me. “It wasn’t just slow, it was parked.”
“It’s not your fault,” I assured him. “But we missed the film.”
Les must’ve heard the disappointment in my voice. He gave me a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.” He kissed my forehead. “You look great.”
This was exactly the sort of thing I wanted to hear.
Les grinned as if he’d just had the best idea since Coca-Cola.
“Tell you what. Why don’t we get a takeaway and go back to mine? They’re all away for the weekend. There’s a good film on the telly. We can watch that instead.” He rubbed his head against mine. “Be comfortable.”
I’d sort of thought we’d go to McDonald’s, you know, since it was our anniversary as well, but this was better. This was beyond my wildest dreams. Really. Les’s flatmates never seemed to go anywhere, except at Christmas. The house to ourselves! We could watch telly in bed, just like married people do.
“OK,” I said. “That sounds good to me.”
Riding back to Dollis Hill, I felt like Princess Diana must’ve felt riding in her limo to the palace. You know, before everything went so wrong between her and Prince Charles. I felt that chuffed. I looked out of the car window, watching the gangs of girls hanging out together on a Friday night, and they looked like little kids dressed up for a party.
Not me. I had a baby at home being looked after by her nan, and I was spending the night with my man. Mrs Mela could take her Romeo and Juliet and stuff it. This was almost as perfect as anything could get.
Les had my present all ready. It was wrapped and everything.
“Oh, wow,” I said. “Another charm.”
This one was a gold baby bottle. Personally, I’d still have preferred a heart.
“It seemed to suit you,” said Les.
I thanked him with a kiss.
He kissed me back.
“Come on upstairs,” he said, kissing me and pulling me at the same time.
Later, after we’d had our takeaway and officially given up on the film and discovered that one of Les’s flatmates must have taken the condoms he’d finally bought, he wrapped his arms around me with his head on my shoulder.
“Isn’t this better? Just the two of us?” he whispered.
I snuggled against him. I could see us getting up in the morning and brushing our teeth side by side at the sink.
“I wish it could always be like this,” I whispered back.
A little later he said, “So, are you going to stay the night?”
That was the first time I’d thought about going home. I was so happy, I’d lost track of everything. Including the time. But I resisted the urge to bolt out of bed and start putting on my clothes. He’d never invited me to spend the night at his place before. How could I say “No”?
“I really should get back…” I said.
“What difference does a couple more hours make?” asked Les. “It’s not as if your mum’s got somewhere to go. You can always tell her you went to what’s her name’s.”
“Shanee’s.”
“To Shanee’s.”
I couldn’t really think straight because he started kissing me again.
“Well…” I said. “I suppose I could stay just a little longer…”
She was right there in the hall, waiting for me when I finally got home. She had her arms folded in front of her. She looked like she’d been stuffed in a moment of anguish. Like the bear we saw at the museum in primary school. Only with a pink scarf tied around her head over her curlers.
“I’m sorry,” I said, before she could say anything. “Shanee and I went
for a coffee after the film.” I casually squeezed past her. “God, I’m tired.”
“You drank coffee till nearly five in the morning?” asked my mother.
I took off my jacket. “We were having such a good time that we went back to hers. Since it’s the weekend.” I hung my jacket on a hook. “It was really great. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to Shanee in ages.” I gave her a smile. “Thanks.” I turned towards my room.
“Not so fast,” said Gruppenführer Spiggs. “I rang Shanee’s at midnight. Her mother said Shanee’d been home for nearly an hour. Alone.”
I laughed. “You know Mrs Tyler. There are so many people in and out she never knows who’s there.”
Hilary Spiggs snorted like the old hog she was.
“Well, you weren’t.”
I looked her in her beady eyes. “Yes, I was.”
“No, you weren’t. Lucy went and checked. Shanee was sound asleep.”
“All right, all right … I ran into some friends I hadn’t seen in ages, and I went with them. Shanee didn’t want to come.”
She smiled. “Oh, really?”
I kept looking at her, but I got ready to make a quick retreat.
“Really.”
“And might one ask why you’ve got your dress on inside out?”
I went numb for a second. I didn’t have to look down, though, to know that she was right. I could feel the seam of my dress with my hand.
“It’s not inside out. It’s meant to be this way.” I said it like I thought she’d lost her mind.
And then she did.
She knew where I was. I was out with him. Wasn’t one baby enough for me? Did I want more? Couldn’t I see that he was only using me?
That was when I lost it. “You don’t know anything about it!” I screamed. “We happen to be in love.”
“Love?” she screamed back. “You think this is love? If he really loved you he’d do more than take you to bed when he fancies.”
“Shut up!” I wanted to shake her. “Shut up and mind your own business for a change.”
She went dead calm. “Fine,” said my mother. “I’ll mind my own business. Because I’ll tell you one thing, Miss All-grown-up: I’m not going to mind your brats while you tart yourself around town. If you want to play house, you can play house on your own. I’m moving down to Charley’s for a while. You’re sixteen now. Sort yourself out and then you’re on your own. I’ll leave you housekeeping money in the blue teapot and I’ll talk to you in a couple of days.” She looked like she wanted to shake me. “Don’t ring me; I’ll ring you,” and then she banged past me and into her room.