Love and Kisses

by Jean Ure

  “I suppose you’re phoning him,” said Katie.

  I told her that that was where she was wrong: texting is not the same as phoning. We had actually tried speaking on the phone, but it was quite frustrating. There’s not a great deal that you can talk about when you don’t properly understand each other’s language. But we could manage just fine without talking! When you are in love, you don’t need words; that is what is so wonderful about it.

  School broke up on Friday, but me and Ellie had to leave town on Thursday cos the friend she was staying with was flying off to Portugal the following day. That was what other people did: they flew off to places. Me and Ellie just got bundled on to the train at Liverpool Street to go to Clacton.

  Ellie said, “I like Clacton!”

  I looked at her with distaste. “Since when?”

  “I’ve always liked it. It’s just as nice as Portugal.”

  I said, “How do you know? You’ve never been to Portugal. You’ve practically never been anywhere. We never go anywhere!”

  “We’re going to Florida at Christmas,” said Ellie. “Dad’s promised. You’re only in a hump cos they won’t let you see your boyfriend.”

  I said, “So would you be!”

  “No, I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t care. I haven’t got a boyfriend.”

  I said, “Oh? What happened to Obi?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend any more.”

  “Why? Has he ditched you?”

  “No, I just grew out of him. Mum says you’ll grow out of yours. She says it’s just a passing phase. She told Dad not to get so steamed up cos by the end of the summer you’ll have come to your senses.”

  What did Mum know about anything? People like her and Ellie are just fickle. I’d heard about Mum and all the boyfriends she’d had when she was young. She actually laughed about it. She thought it was funny. I didn’t think it was funny. I thought it just went to show how shallow Mum’s emotions were. She had obviously never been truly genuinely in love. If she had, she wouldn’t be talking about passing phases and telling Dad that I would come to my senses.

  I was about to relay to Ellie—whose emotions, I reckoned, were every bit as shallow as Mum’s—when my phone started warbling.

  “Who’s that?” said Ellie.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “but it’s none of your business.”

  “Is it your boyfriend?”

  I turned away from her, shielding the screen with one hand. “Is it a text? You’re not supposed to be texting! What does it say?”

  Like I was going to tell her?

  “Tee queero?” She’d bounced across the seat and was peering over my shoulder. “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing to do with you. Go away! It’s private.”

  “You’re not supposed to be private! Dad s—”

  “Buzz off!” I jabbed my elbow hard into her ribs and she fell back, with a squawk.

  “That hurt!”

  “Good.”

  “You could have broken something!”

  “Serve you right if I had. Are you actually being paid to spy on me?”

  “I’m not spying, but you shouldn’t be talking to him!” She rubbed her ribs. “I could tell Mum.”

  “So tell her,” I said.

  “I could!”

  “Go ahead. Think I care?”

  “I won’t,” said Ellie, “if you tell me what tee queero means.”

  Te quiero…I love you. He’d already made a start on learning Spanish!

  “D’you want to see his photo?” I said.

  “I know what he looks like!”

  I showed her anyway. She said, “Yeah, cool.”

  “You’d know he wasn’t English,” I said, “wouldn’t you? He looks sort of…mysterious. Don’t you think?”

  It felt a bit degrading, asking Ellie, of all people! But I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  She said, “I dunno. Maybe. I never thought about it. Is that Polish he wrote you?”

  “No,” I said, “it’s Spanish.”

  “So why won’t you tell me what it means? I suppose it’s all lovey dovey. Yuck yuck!”

  I said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Just tell me what it means!”

  I felt my lips curve themselves into this big dreamy smile. I wanted to say something cold and cutting that would put her in her place, but I had these great bubbles of happiness frothing and foaming inside me.

  “It means that Mum is wrong,” I said. “We’re never going to stop loving each other!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Aunties were waiting at the station to meet us. Auntie Mo and Auntie May. They are in fact Mum’s aunties, which makes them our great aunts, but great aunt is far too much of a mouthful. They have always just been the Aunties.

  I think they’re both a bit eccentric; at least, that’s what Dad says. Auntie May is the senior Auntie, the one who makes all the decisions. She is really bossy, which is probably because she used to be head teacher at a primary school. She’s tall and skinny and likes to wear purple. Auntie Mo is smaller and softer, like a squidgy bun. She mostly does what Auntie May tells her to do. They have lived in the same house in Clacton all their lives, and Auntie Mo has hardly ever been out of it as she was the one who stayed at home to look after her dad. That is, Mum’s grandad. A strange thought! Anyway, Auntie Mo used to give piano lessons to little kids, and sometimes still does, but she has never actually had a job in the real world. She is very innocent. She’s never been married, and neither has Auntie May. I’m not even sure they’ve even had boyfriends. They’re a bit weird, if you ask me.

  Auntie Mo prattled happily like she always does as Auntie May drove us home. “So glad your mum and dad are working. So lovely for them! Must be such a worry, I always think. Such an insecure profession.”

  “They can’t help it!” cried Ellie. “They’re like me… I am born to be an actor. It’s the same for Mum and Dad!”

  “But such a high price,” sighed Auntie Mo. “Never knowing when your next job is coming along. And all those months out of work!”

  “Resting,” said Ellie. “But the big break could come at any moment! This movie Dad’s doing…this could be his chance!”

  I said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Not that anybody took any notice. Auntie May was busy driving (she never talks when she drives) and Auntie Mo is far too easily impressed. Well, I think she is. Ellie doesn’t need any encouragement; it is all fantasy! By the time we arrived in Grange Road, she already had Dad in Hollywood, with his name up in lights.

  “It could happen,” she said earnestly. “All you need is one big break!” And then she looked at me and pulled a face and said, “She’s just in a mood cos of not being allowed to see her boyfriend.”

  “Yes, we’ve heard about that,” said Auntie May. “He doesn’t sound very suitable, Tamsin, dear.”

  “He’s Polish,” said Ellie.

  “I know, my dear; your mum said. And quite old, I believe. Never mind!” Auntie May patted my hand. “You’re still very young, you’ll get over it. No broken hearts at your age!”

  “That’s what Father said,” said Auntie Mo. “And look what happened there.”

  There was a split second of freezing silence.

  “I don’t think,” said Auntie May, “that we need to bring that up, do we?”

  She said it quite gently, but sometimes I have noticed that when Auntie May’s seeming to be gentle it’s actually like an iron fist in a velvet glove kind of thing.

  Auntie Mo immediately grew flustered and said, “Oh, well, no, of course not!” and went scuttling off indoors. If I hadn’t been in such a sulk I’d have wanted to know more, but Ellie had already started burbling again about Dad becoming a big star and the moment passed. Still sulking, I followed Auntie Mo, into the house.

  The Aunties’ house is very old; Victorian, I think. It is tall and narrow, and has been divided into two, with the back part cut off from the front, except for the kitchen, which is down
in the basement. The back part is let out into rooms, mostly to little old ladies who have lived there for ever. The Aunties prefer little old ladies because old ladies are not troublesome like young people. They’re quiet and well-behaved and don’t play loud music all the time or have noisy parties with everyone getting drunk and being sick. Kind of boring, really, but I suppose you can understand it.

  As a result of all the little old ladies, me and Ellie had to share a bedroom. More than just kind of boring: totally, completely, and utterly boring. I needed my own space! How could I daydream with Ellie lying there? Watching me. Listening. Talking. I needed to be by myself!

  Six weeks had never loomed so long. When we were little I used to enjoy staying with the Aunties. Apart from anything else, there was the sheer unusualness of being at the seaside. Donkey rides and crazy golf and building castles in the sand. Walking along the front, stuffing ourselves with candy floss. Dodgem cars and slot machines. Fish and chip suppers, and going off for picnics with the kids next door.

  But that was then; this was now. I was too old for all that stuff. How dare Auntie May try to belittle my emotions? Telling me I’d get over it! “No broken hearts at your age”. What did she know about anything? I bet she’d never been in love in her life, withered old stick.

  I’m not normally ageist as it’s every bit as bad, in my opinion, as sexism or racism. I mean, people can’t help being old. It’s not their fault. But Auntie May makes me so mad!

  And then I remembered Auntie Mo’s remark. “That’s what Father said…and look what happened there.” Suddenly, I was really curious. Father was Mum’s grandad. Who had he been talking about? Surely not either of the Aunties! Mum’s mum? In other words, my grandmother, whom I never knew because she died when Mum was a baby. Or maybe Mum herself? Yes! That sounded more like it. Mum, with her neverending stream of boyfriends. I bet it was Mum!

  I knew it wouldn’t be any use asking Auntie May; she wouldn’t tell me. Neither would Auntie Mo, unless I could get her on her own. It took me ages to corner her, but I managed it at last, as she was coming out of the bathroom later that night, all wrapped up in a fluffy pink dressing-gown.

  I said, “Auntie Mo?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “You know what you said earlier, about your dad saying the same thing and look what happened?”

  “What was that, dear?”

  “When Auntie May was telling me how you don’t get broken hearts when you’re only my age.” I could hear the note of bitterness creeping into my voice. “You said that’s what your dad said.”

  “Did I, dear?” Auntie Mo clutched nervously at the neck of her dressing-gown.

  “Who did he say it about?”

  “Goodness me!” She gave a little trill. “I don’t remember.”

  I knew that she did; she was just scared of Auntie May.

  “Was it my mum?”

  “Malorie? Oh, no, dear!” She shook her head, quite vigorously.

  “Her mum?”

  “Pam.” She sighed. “Poor Pam! She died so young. Such a terrible tragedy.”

  “So was it her?”

  “No, dear, certainly not! Pam was a good girl. She never did anything to upset Father.”

  “It wasn’t Auntie May?” I couldn’t believe it!

  Auntie Mo gave a little titter. “May? The very idea! What a thing to accuse her of.”

  I said, “So who?” And what thing? “Auntie Mo,” I said, “it wasn’t you, was it?”

  At that moment a door closed somewhere below and we heard footsteps along the hall. Auntie Mo said, “It’s not something we really talk about dear.” And then she was off, scuttling along the passage and diving into her room like a frightened rabbit. Really annoying! I love a mystery, but I wanted to get to the bottom of this one. I tried talking about it in bed with Ellie, but she wasn’t interested.

  “Who cares?” she said. “Whatever it was, it was centuries ago.”

  “Decades,” I said. “Actually.”

  “Whatever.” Ellie shrugged her shoulders.

  “About 1950, it must have been.” When Auntie Mo was young.

  “Like I said”, said Ellie. “Centuries.”

  I hate it when people are so careless about dates.

  “I’m still going to keep on at Auntie Mo,” I said. “I bet you it was her!”

  But Auntie Mo can be very stubborn. It didn’t matter how much I prodded and poked, she still wouldn’t tell me. She even tried that old person’s thing of saying her memory had gone. I hate it when old people do that! I know in some cases it may be true, but more often I’m sure it’s just a ploy. What Auntie Mo was really saying was, “Don’t ask me, I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  I spent all that first weekend thinking about Alex. Texting him. Gazing at his picture. Secretly kissing it under the duvet at night. Sleeping with it beneath my pillow. Kissing it again when I woke up. When Ellie wasn’t around to bother me I lay on my bed, daydreaming. I lay there for hours at a time. Auntie May said it wasn’t natural; she said, “Dwelling on things never did anyone any good.” Sometimes, to stop her nagging, I went out for long lonely walks along the sea front. Quite often, as I walked, I passed boys and girls with their arms round each other, and the pain of not being with Alex was so bad I was almost tempted to catch the first train back to London and tell him that I couldn’t bear it any longer.

  “We have to run away now!”

  On Sunday evening, Mum rang up. “We’ve just done Wolverhampton,” she chirped. “Next stop Newcastle!”

  I knew I ought to ask her how it was going, but I just couldn’t bring myself. I didn’t care how it was going! I didn’t care if all the reviews were hideous and the audience non-existent. She didn’t care about me; why should I care about her?

  Mum said, “Tammy? Are you still there?”

  I grunted into the telephone.

  “Oh, darling, you’re not still cross with me? Please say you’re not!”

  “Why should I be cross?” I said sarcastically. “I’m having a wonderful time.”

  Mum heaved a sigh; deep and quivering down the line. “Listen, angel, I know you think you’ll never forgive me, but this isn’t intended as a punishment. You were going to stay with the Aunties anyhow. Nothing’s changed! All I’m asking is that you give it six weeks, and then—”

  What? I could go out with Alex?

  “Then we’ll see how you feel. And we’ll plan something really big for your birthday! How about that?”

  I said, “You won’t be here for my birthday.”

  “I’ll be back the following week, and with any luck so will your dad. You be thinking what you’d like to do!”

  I knew what I’d like to do. I knew what I was going to do. Mum wouldn’t be here for my birthday and neither would I. I bounced the phone back on to its rest.

  “You never asked how the play was doing.” Ellie looked at me accusingly. “You never asked her anything!”

  I said, “No, I left that to you.”

  “You should have asked as well!”

  “Chill your beans,” I said.

  “Chill yours!” retorted Ellie.

  “Girls, girls, that is enough,” said Auntie May. “But I do think,” she added, looking rather hard at me, “that you might have been a bit kinder to your mother.”

  Kind? Why should I be kind to Mum? She was ruining my life! Except that she wasn’t, cos I wasn’t going to let her. My mind was made up: in five weeks and two days’ time, Alex and I would be together, and nothing would ever part us again.

  “Where are you off to now?” said Auntie May.

  Sullenly I said, “I’m going up to my room.”

  “You spend far too much time in your room. It’s not healthy.”

  I said, “Now I can’t even go to my room? What’s the problem? D’you think I’ve got a man up there, or something?”

  Ellie giggled. Auntie Mo gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. Auntie May just shook her head.

&nb
sp; “I’m going to read a book,” I said. “If that’s all right?”

  Slamming the door behind me, I headed up the stairs. And that was when I saw her: the strange girl on the landing…

  CHAPTER TEN

  The reason she was strange was that she didn’t say anything; just stood there, staring. Not even staring, really. More like…vacant. Like in some kind of a trance. It gave me a bit of a shock, as people from the back of the house are not meant to come through into the front part. The front part is private. There is a door at the top of the basement stairs, but it’s supposed to be kept locked. Obviously someone must have forgotten. Not me! I never use it. Me and Ellie aren’t allowed in what Auntie May refers to as “the guests’ quarters”. In any case, just because the door wasn’t locked didn’t give this total stranger the right to come wandering through.

  What with one thing and another I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly, but you can hardly just push past people without saying anything. Especially when they are trespassing. So I said “hello?”, expecting she would at least explain what she was doing there, but it was like she never even heard me; or if she did she wasn’t taking any notice.

  “Are you looking for someone?” I said.

  Her eyes slid vaguely in my direction, but she still didn’t say anything.

  “I mean, in case you hadn’t realised—” you have to give people the benefit of the doubt, she mightn’t be quite all there—“you’re not really supposed to be in this part of the house.”

  The eyes swam away again and she stared off into space, with this far-away look and a slight frown on her forehead. Maybe she was on drugs; they could frazzle your brain. She didn’t actually look dangerous, but the fact was she had no right to be there. Bad enough the house being full of old ladies using up all the rooms and me and Ellie having to share, without one of their granddaughters, or whoever she was, wandering all about the place.

  Well, if she wasn’t going to talk. I turned and went back downstairs. Auntie May said, “Why, here’s madam come back! Does she intend to apologise?”