Kiss

by Wilson, Jacqueline

  ‘OK, OK. And you’ve obviously fallen out with Carl too. I was talking to Jules this morning and he’s just flopping around in his room, not wanting to talk to anyone either. Honestly, you kids!’

  Mum sighed, but she didn’t look sad. Her eyes were shining and she had a silly smile, as if someone was telling her a private joke. It was as if she had her own private hotline in her head to this wretched Gerry.

  I needed to get away from her. I didn’t want to go next door. I didn’t want to go over to Miranda’s.

  I decided I’d go and see Lucy. She was very lukewarm when I phoned. I couldn’t blame her. I’d been practically ignoring her recently.

  ‘Can I come round this afternoon, Lucy?’ I asked.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, because – because we’re friends. Friends hang out together, don’t they?’

  ‘I suppose Miranda’s busy,’ she snapped.

  I thought she might put the phone down on me but then she weakened.

  ‘OK. Come round if you really must.’

  I didn’t really want to go at all. I felt I’d been mad to think of it, but I couldn’t back out now. I went over to Lucy’s, and when she opened the door I made an effort to put on a big smile and be sweet to her. It wasn’t easy. She was still acting very off-hand and talked to me in monosyllables, sitting primly on the end of her bed, picking at the stitching on her gingham patchwork quilt.

  I found it harder and harder to make bright friendly conversation. I wandered restlessly around the room while Lucy played her favourite new album, nodding her head and snapping her fingers and tapping her feet. She was never quite on the beat, which made it even more maddening. I turned my back on her to stop having to watch this twitchy performance and started rearranging her three bears on the windowsill, making them cosy up together.

  ‘Hello, Bobby, hello, Billy, hello, Bernie,’ I said. I made them each wave a furry paw. ‘Hello, Sylvie,’ I said in a big booming bear voice. ‘Hello, Sylvie,’ I said in a soft middling bear voice. ‘Hello, Sylvie,’ I said in a teeny-tiny squeaky bear voice.

  ‘I suppose you think you’re funny,’ said Lucy. ‘They’re all the same size so they all have the same sort of voice. And what are you doing now? They don’t kiss.’

  ‘Yes they do,’ I said, making them cosy up together and rub snouts.

  ‘You’re so weird,’ said Lucy, bouncing up off her bed and snatching her bears from me.

  ‘OK, I’m sorry. Let’s do something, Lucy. Shall we go shopping?’

  ‘I’ve already been shopping this morning, with my mum.’

  ‘Well, how about we look at some magazines then? We could cut stuff out and start up a scrapbook each. You could do one on all your favourite pop stars.’

  Lucy perked up a little. ‘I’ve got scissors and Pritt. I’ve got one proper scrapbook. I bought it to stick Christmas cards in but I never got round to it. But what can you use?’

  She searched through all her stationery and eventually found me a big drawing pad from years ago, though she’d used up nearly all the pages. Little-girl Lucy had drawn endless pictures of a red house with frilly curtains at each square window, a line of blue sky at the top and a line of green grass at the bottom, with red and yellow flowers in regimental formation. Each picture was practically identical.

  Lucy and I divided a huge pile of magazines between us. She commandeered all the teenage ones devoted to pop stars. I flicked through her mum’s cast-off Hello! and Heat and her dad’s car magazines. I decided to use all Lucy’s bland little-girl houses, though I customized each one as I went. I cut out the Osbourne family and gave their house fancy extensions, with a gothic bat-decorated music studio for Ozzy. I gave them a car each and added lots of dogs cut from an old Ladybird book of dogs.

  ‘You shouldn’t cut up books,’ said Lucy, snipping carefully round a heart-shaped photo of a blond boy band. Her lips opened and shut in time to the snip of her scissors.

  ‘You can’t tell me you still read it, Lucy,’ I said. ‘Do you have any crayons?’

  I scribbled a little brown swirly pile beside each dog.

  ‘Don’t! That’s disgusting!’ said Lucy, but she couldn’t help laughing.

  I turned the page and cut out Elton and David for the next house. I extended it in every direction, making it as plush and palatial as I could. I found an old Gardening Monthly and filled their house with as many flowers as I could pick out from the shiny pages.

  I started on the Beckhams next, giving them thrones in the garden, two huge golden chairs and three little ones for the children. I drew Victoria her own walk-in wardrobe and snipped out some dinky designer outfits for her. I stuck a lot of green at the back of the house so that David had his very own pitch for playing footie with his sons.

  ‘Honestly, Sylvie!’ Lucy kept exclaiming. She kept giggling too. ‘You are so so so weird.’

  When I was with Miranda I was the little titch meek mousy friend. When I was with Lucy I was the weird outrageous girl. I liked the way it made me feel.

  Then Lucy’s mum came in with a tray of Ribena and chocolate finger biscuits, as if we were still both six years old.

  ‘Whatever are you up to, girls?’ she said, frowning at the snippets of paper.

  ‘We’re making scrapbooks,’ said Lucy. ‘Oh, Mum, you should see what Sylvie’s done, it’s such a scream.’

  Lucy’s mum looked as if she might start screaming.

  ‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘You’ve stuck all these silly pictures in Lucy’s drawing book! Oh dear, why couldn’t you have used the empty pages at the back? Why did you spoil all Lucy’s drawings, Sylvia?’

  ‘It’s Sylvie, actually. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil them. I was just turning them into collages,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t fuss, Mummy. I don’t mind,’ said Lucy, embarrassed. ‘It’s only a dumb old book I did in Year Two.’

  ‘I want to keep all your drawings and stories, Lucy; they’re very precious to me.’ Lucy’s mum put the tray down on the dressing table so crossly that the purple Ribena splashed over the rim of each glass, and then stomped out of the room.

  There was an awkward silence. Lucy and I looked at each other and then looked away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again.

  I picked up the drawing book to see if I could peel off the pictures but they were stuck fast. They didn’t seem so witty and inventive now.

  ‘Don’t worry, Sylvie, you know what mums are like,’ said Lucy.

  I was so glad I had my mum, not Lucy’s.

  I STARTED PLANNING Saturday evening on my way home from Lucy’s. Mum and I could have a girly night in together. We could watch some silly romantic film, eat chocolates, try out new hairstyles on each other.

  Mum had other plans.

  ‘I’m supposed to be seeing Gerry, Sylvie.’

  ‘I thought that was tomorrow. Aren’t you going swimming again with him?’

  ‘Yes. But he’s suggested we go out tonight too. I told him the other day I like Abba and he’s managed to get tickets for Mamma Mia!. But I don’t have to go. I can easily ring him up and cancel.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mum. Of course you can’t cancel! You go and enjoy yourself. You’ll love it,’ I said.

  ‘I feel so guilty going out and leaving you. Still, I know you’ll be fine next door. Though I’m not sure Carl will be there. Jules said he was out somewhere.’

  ‘Oh. Well. I don’t have to go round there. I’ll stay home.’

  ‘I can’t leave you all by yourself. Do you maybe want to have someone over for a sleepover? Miranda keeps phoning. I’m sure she’d like to.’

  ‘You would so live to regret Miranda on a sleepover. She’d bring a bottle of vodka and half a dozen boys,’ I said.

  ‘I hope you’re joking,’ said Mum. ‘All right, what about Lucy?’

  I thought about having Lucy to stay, doubtless with Billy and Bobby and Bernie Bear.

  ‘I’ll be fine by myself,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I
know you’re a sensible girl, and responsible enough to be left. It isn’t as if you’ll be alone in the house. Miss Miles will be in her room.’ Mum paused. ‘If you felt it was cosier I could always ask Miss Miles to fix a bit of supper for both of you and then you could watch television together.’

  ‘Mum, no offence to poor Miss Miles, but I’d sooner cut my throat than sit eating one of her omelettes and watching her old Midsomer Murders videos. I keep telling you and telling you, I’ll be fine. Go, Mum, go!’

  So she went. I managed to stay all smiley until the front door closed, and then I lay on the sofa and cried. I felt so lonely and left out. I wondered if Carl was still out. Had he made it up with Paul? I kept thinking about them.

  Miss Miles put her head round the living-room door. ‘Are you all right, Sylvie? Not too lonely now that Mum’s out? You can come and sit with me if you’d like?’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said.

  Miss Miles sighed. ‘Not that I’m exactly exciting company for you,’ she muttered.

  Then I felt really mean. ‘It’s not that at all. I’m just really tired – in fact I’m going to bed now,’ I said.

  I did go to bed early. I didn’t get to sleep. I was still awake when Mum got in, way after midnight. I didn’t call out to her. She came creeping into my room and hovered above me. I kept very still, my eyes shut.

  ‘Are you asleep, Sylvie?’ she whispered.

  I stayed motionless, breathing very deeply.

  ‘Night-night darling,’ Mum whispered, and crept out again.

  I heard her spinning round and round on the landing, whisper-singing Dancing Queen. I stuck my fingers in my ears. I didn’t want to hear any Abba songs, especially not that one.

  Mum woke me up early the next morning. She had her hair tied up with a ribbon and wore a T-shirt and skinny jeans. She looked like my big sister, not my mum.

  ‘Hi, sweetie,’ she said, sitting cross-legged on my bed. ‘Were you OK last night? I looked in on you when I got in but you seemed sound asleep. I had just the most fantastic time. I loved Mamma Mia!. I’ll have to save up and take you some time – it’s such fun. I just know you’d love it too – and Carl. Maybe I can try to take you for your birthday treat. Though I expect it’s really pricey. Gerry wouldn’t let me have the tickets to see how much they were. He wouldn’t let me pay anything towards the evening, not even our drinks.’

  ‘Oh, what a perfect gent,’ I said. It sounded sourer than I meant it to.

  Mum paused. ‘Well, I think he is the perfect gent,’ she said. ‘I can’t quite believe this is happening to me. It’s mad, I know you’ll think me totally crazy. I hardly know him, but I think I’m falling in love with him, Sylvie. I know all sorts of things could go wrong, and it probably won’t last, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt this way, not even when I first met your dad. You’ve no idea what it’s like. I just look at him and I absolutely melt. Don’t laugh at me, please!’

  I didn’t feel like laughing. I felt like crying. I knew exactly what it felt like.

  I burrowed down in bed so Mum couldn’t see my face. She misunderstood.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh, God, I know nothing’s more disgusting and pathetic than your own mother rambling on about true lurve.’ She said it the silly way, sending herself up, trying to ease the situation.

  ‘I’m very happy for you, Mum,’ I mumbled underneath the covers. ‘I just wish you wouldn’t go on about it.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’ll shut up, I promise. But I can’t wait till you meet him, Sylvie, just so you can tell me if I’m making a total fool of myself. In fact … we were thinking, Gerry and me, would you come and join us today?’

  ‘No! Don’t be silly. You don’t want me.’

  ‘We do! Gerry’s dying to meet you. I’ve told him so much about you. You could come swimming with us. You love swimming, and it’s such a fantastic pool. Then we could all have Sunday lunch together. Yes, it’ll be great! Hang on just one tick and I’ll phone Gerry—’

  So it wasn’t properly arranged. Maybe they hadn’t even discussed it. I could just imagine Mum’s furtive whispering on the phone: ‘Yes, I know, I’m sorry, darling, I wanted it to be just us too, but I feel so bad about leaving Sylvie again. It’s so sad, she just keeps moping after her childhood sweetheart when anyone can see that isn’t going to get her anywhere.’

  ‘No, Mum!’ I said angrily, as if she’d actually said it.

  ‘Why not?’ Mum said. ‘You’ll like him, I know you will. And you’ll have to meet him some day, won’t you?’

  ‘Well. I will. If it lasts,’ I said.

  Mum had expressed exactly the same doubts but it was mean of me to say it back to her. She didn’t get cross with me or tell me I was acting like a horrible jealous baby. She kept smiling at me bravely, and patted my shoulder.

  ‘OK then, pet. Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep. I’ll come and say goodbye when I’m off, right?’

  She walked slowly out of my bedroom, waiting for me to snap out of it and say something sweet. I kept quiet. She trailed down the landing to the bathroom – but after five minutes I heard her singing Knowing Me, Knowing You, in her bath, even doing a funny voice for the Ah-ha! part.

  I put my head under my pillow and tried to blot her out, to blot out Carl and Paul and Miranda, to blot myself out entirely until I was the blackness and the blackness was me.

  Mum lifted the pillow an hour later. ‘Anyone hiding in the burrow?’ she whispered, breathing fresh smells of coffee and perfume and toothpaste into my black lair. ‘I’m off, sweetie. I feel terrible leaving you, but I’m still going to do it! I’ve just had a chat with Jules—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘She says lunch is around half one, but come round any time.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop being so difficult,’ Mum said. ‘Now, I have to go, I’m late already. Give me a kiss goodbye, eh?’

  I sucked in my lips until they disappeared.

  Mum burst out laughing. ‘You used to do that when you were cross with me when you were two!’ she said. ‘OK then, don’t kiss me. Love you, babe.’ She patted the duvet above my bottom and then walked to the door.

  ‘Kiss kiss,’ I mumbled under my pillow.

  Then I went back to sleep, down down down, though there was a ringing and a banging, and then a knock-knock-knocking.

  ‘Sylvie, dear, are you awake?’ Miss Miles was at my door.

  ‘I’m having a bit of a lie-in,’ I said.

  ‘Your friend’s downstairs, dear,’ she said.

  I jumped right out of bed, tugged on jeans and a T-shirt, and ran barefoot out of my room, past Miss Miles, down the stairs – but it wasn’t Carl.

  Miranda was sprawling on our living-room sofa, her boots propped up on the arm.

  ‘What are you doing here? And get your boots off that sofa, you’re making all dirty marks,’ I said.

  ‘You certainly got out of bed the wrong side this morning,’ said Miranda, raising her eyebrows. ‘Dear, dear. Shall I make you a cup of coffee? You look as if you need one.’

  She swung her legs off the sofa and waltzed off to the kitchen as if it was her house.

  ‘Would you like a cup of coffee too?’ she asked Miss Miles, who was hovering in the hall.

  ‘Thank you, dear, but I’ll leave you two girls to have a nice chat together,’ she said, starting back up the stairs to her own room.

  I went up the stairs, too. ‘I wish you hadn’t let her in,’ I whispered.

  ‘Well, I didn’t exactly. She was knocking very hard at the front door so I had to open it. Then she immediately barged straight past me, demanding to talk to you. I just about managed to make her wait in the living room. I had to use my fiercest teacher’s voice too. She’s one formidable young lady. I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward for you, Sylvie.’

  I softened towards her. ‘I’m sorry I moaned, Miss Miles.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s good to have friends, you
know, even very pushy ones.’

  I took her point. Miss Miles didn’t seem to have many friends at all.

  I went to the loo and washed my face and cleaned my teeth and brushed my hair, so that I looked marginally better when I went downstairs again.

  Miranda had a mug of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen table.

  ‘Has your granny gone upstairs?’ she asked.

  ‘Who? She’s not my grandma, she’s our lodger.’

  ‘Oh, yes, the lodger!’ said Miranda, as if it was the most eccentric thing to have, like a pet llama in the living room.

  ‘What do you want?’ I said coldly.

  ‘Well, let’s hope the granny-lodger stays upstairs, because I’ve got an eye-bulging tale to tell.’

  ‘You and your stories,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’ve heard enough of them.’

  ‘Why are you being so mean to me?’ said Miranda. She put down her own cup of coffee and threw her arms round my neck. ‘You’re meant to be nice to me. You’re my best friend!’

  ‘Yes, I thought we were best friends, but then you cleared off when we were all playing that stupid game of Hide and Seek and left me all alone in Kew Gardens!’

  ‘Oh, Sylvie, you poor little diddums, did you get fwightened?’

  ‘Yes, I was frightened!’ I said, shaking her off. ‘It was horrible and I couldn’t find any of you and the gates were about to close. How could you just walk out on me and leave me there?’

  ‘I thought that was what you wanted so that you and Carl could cosy up together. I thought you’d fixed it all up with Paul. That’s what he said, I swear. You mean that was all a dirty great lie?’

  ‘Well. Not exactly. He did talk about us pairing up. You were the one who insisted we all hide separately.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, well, that’s me, baby. I like to fly solo,’ said Miranda, striking a pose and tossing her hair, sending herself up. ‘Not that it really worked out that way. I did hope I might just catch your Carl and indulge in a teeny bit of hanky-panky in the shrubbery, but no such luck. I couldn’t find him. I hung around for ages. You weren’t the only one, chum. Then Paul found me and he was in a really weird state, all fired up and telling me how much he fancied me. He actually said he loved me, truly. No one’s ever said the l-word to me before so I thought, OK, we’ll go with the flow on this one. I thought you must have caught up with Carl by this stage so I was happy to head off with Paul. And wait till you hear what happened!’