Kiss

by Wilson, Jacqueline

  ‘Why didn’t you phone me?’

  ‘I wanted to hide away by myself. I tried to get drunk but the sherry tasted disgusting, so sweet and syrupy, it was hard to get it down. I wanted to blot out all their voices, all the stupid crude things, all the ugliness. I kept seeing Paul and the dirty things he was shouting, and there was the Glass Boy right in front of me. It’s so like Paul – I don’t know whether you’ve ever noticed. I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t really know what I was doing, I just flung the sherry bottle, and it smashed him. It was so awful, I couldn’t bear it, and yet I couldn’t stop smashing, and then I cut myself and—’

  Carl stopped. Jules was standing there, trying to balance three polystyrene cups of tea.

  ‘You cut yourself, Carl?’ she said. The cups wobbled, spilling tea onto the floor.

  I took them from her. She sat down beside Carl.

  ‘Tell me. I won’t tell anyone else. Not even Dad. But did you cut yourself on purpose?’

  ‘What? You mean, was I trying to slit my wrists? Well, I made a bit of a botch of it, didn’t I?’ said Carl, waggling his congealed fingers. ‘No, Mum, I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I didn’t really care that I was getting cut to ribbons, but I wasn’t doing it deliberately.’

  ‘Thank God,’ said Jules. She put her arm round Carl and rested her head against his. ‘I know you haven’t been very happy recently. I’ve been very worried about you. Obviously something horrible’s happened to get you in this state. You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. Just so long as you realize you’ve got everything to live for. You’re a fantastic, bright, gifted boy, you’ve got a family who love you to bits, and Sylvie’s your best friend in all the world.’

  ‘Yes, Mum. I know. It’s just—’ Carl struggled, shivering still.

  Jules gave him his tea. ‘Here, drink.’

  She gave me my tea too. ‘Do you know what’s wrong, Sylvie?’

  ‘Well. I do now. Sort of.’

  Carl took a few sips of tea. ‘The thing is, Mum – oh God, I don’t know how to say it. It all sounds so corny. You see, I fell in love with someone.’

  ‘Ah. And … they don’t love you back?’

  ‘They hate me,’ said Carl. He took another sip. ‘He hates me,’ he whispered.

  ‘Ah,’ said Jules again. She took a big gulp of her own tea. ‘Well, it’s awful that it hasn’t worked out for you this time, but I promise you you’ll fall in love again – and again and again and again. It might not be quite so intense, quite so painful, but it will be better, just you wait and see.’

  I stared at Jules. Carl stared at her too.

  ‘Mum? I’ve just told you I’m gay and you’re being so matter of fact about it.’

  ‘Well, it is a matter of fact. I’ve thought you might be.’

  ‘Oh God, you haven’t been discussing me with Dad, have you?’

  ‘No. Well, not your love life.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. You’re my Carl and I love you just the way you are. I mind a little bit for Sylvie.’ She reached out and held my hand. ‘It’s maybe a bonus for me. Gay sons are always lovely to their mums.’

  ‘What about Dad? Do you think he’ll mind?’

  ‘Mm. Maybe a bit. He prides himself on being totally PC and non-judgemental but it might take him a while to get his head round it. He’ll probably want you to keep quiet about it while you’re still at school.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ said Carl. ‘They all know. Paul told them. And now they’re all saying stuff.’

  ‘Awful things,’ I said.

  ‘I never wanted you to go to the wretched school,’ said Jules. ‘I wish you’d stayed at Milstead with Sylvie.’

  ‘I wish I had too,’ said Carl. ‘I wish we were back in the infants, doing our finger painting and pouring water out of teapots, playing house together.’

  ‘You always bagged the best Barbie doll even then,’ I said.

  It wasn’t a funny joke but we all laughed a lot because it was easier than crying.

  MUM WAS WAITING up when I got home at last. I’d phoned her from the hospital and told her truthfully that I only needed a single stitch, though poor Carl lost count of the number of stitches he had to endure. He was so brave too, barely flinching.

  ‘Let me see your hand, Sylvie,’ said Mum, fussing.

  ‘It’s fine, see.’ I waved it at her. I looked around the room. There was no sign of Gerry, but I’d seen his car outside. ‘Gerry’s still here?’

  ‘Yes, he’s staying the night,’ Mum said, going pink. ‘He’s gone up to bed.’

  Her bed.

  ‘I thought I could maybe sleep on the sofa down here,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Mum. Don’t be silly. I’m not a little kid.’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit embarrassing. Gerry didn’t plan to stay, but I was in a bit of a state and he wouldn’t leave me. But contrary to what you’re thinking, we haven’t – we’re not—’

  ‘Mum!’ I put my hands over my ears. ‘Don’t talk about it!’

  ‘I know. Look, it’s very embarrassing for all of us. And it’s obvious it is a big deal for you Sylvie. You were so hostile at supper.’

  ‘No I wasn’t.’

  ‘Come on! We could barely get a word out of you.’

  ‘I had other things on my mind. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,’ I said.

  ‘So you don’t absolutely hate Gerry?’

  ‘He’s OK. He seems quite nice.’

  ‘That’s a bit lukewarm. He thinks you’re lovely.’

  ‘Then he’s either lying or mad, because I admit I wasn’t acting lovely. But it was truly because I was so worried about Carl.’

  ‘Right. Carl. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘It’s private, Mum.’

  ‘Does Jules know?’

  ‘She does now.’

  ‘That’s good, because she’s been so worried about him. How badly has he hurt his hands? It looked like a lot of blood.’

  ‘He’s cut all his fingers. They had to tweezer some splinters out. He was so brave. I’d have cried my eyes out.’

  ‘But he was crying earlier.’

  ‘You’ve no idea what he’s had to put up with, Mum. I wish I could tell you. I feel so sorry for him.’

  She tucked me up into bed, giving me lots of little kisses the way she’d done when I was little. It was very late and I was exhausted, but I still couldn’t get to sleep. My finger throbbed and I tucked it into my armpit for comfort. If my hand was hurting then Carl must be in agony.

  I thought of all those boys shouting stupid insults at him. I hated Paul. I hoped Carl would start to hate him too. At least he’d be able to stay away from school for the next week or so, while his hands were healing.

  I got up very early even though I was still exhausted. I wanted to be in and out of the bath-room without any embarrassing encounters with Gerry. I made myself a quick breakfast, hoping to rush off before seeing anyone, but Miss Miles came in to make her early-morning cup of tea. She usually had a few Kirby grips skewering her thin grey hair into place and wore an old fleece over her limp nightie, but today she’d fluffed out her meagre curls and was wearing a silky kimono dressing gown.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Yes, I’m in my best bib and tucker in case I frighten our special guest,’ she whispered. ‘I met him last night when I went to make my Horlicks. He’s very nice, isn’t he?’

  ‘Mm,’ I said, shrugging.

  ‘Now, now, Sylvie, don’t play the surly teenager. He seems like a lovely man, and very fond of your mother.’

  ‘They’ve only just met each other. It’s not like they’re getting married,’ I said.

  ‘Well … in the fullness of time …’ said Miss Miles.

  ‘Oh, please!’ I hadn’t quite got that far. It was one thing Mum having a boyfriend, but I wasn’t ready for her to get serious. ‘I’d hate that,’ I said.

  ‘Well, if I’
m being totally selfish, I wouldn’t be keen either, because I’d have to find a new home and I like it so much more here! It’s been lovely, almost as if I’m part of the family.’ She smiled at me sweetly.

  I wondered if I should say she was just like an aunty to me but I couldn’t quite get the words out.

  ‘Did you ever have your own place, Miss Miles?’

  ‘My salary wouldn’t stretch to it, dear. I always thought I’d inherit the family house, but that had to be sold for Mother’s nursing care. Ah well.’ She sighed. ‘Something will turn up, as dear Mr Micawber always says.’

  Miss Miles treated Charles Dickens characters as if they were part of her family too. Still, I lived with King Carlo and Queen Sylviana …

  I tried to conjure them up. I could see them but they stood as still and silent as waxworks. I simply couldn’t will them to life. I couldn’t bear it if they were all over too.

  ‘I’m going to see how Carl is before I go to school,’ I said. ‘Can you say goodbye to Mum for me?’

  I was astonished to find Carl up already and dressed in his purple school uniform. His bandaged hands looked like comical white gloves.

  ‘You’re not going to school, are you?’ I said. ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I said,’ said Jules. ‘Oh, Carl, do see sense. There’s no point in your going to school – you can’t even write your name.’

  ‘Yes I can, with a bit of effort,’ said Carl. He flexed his bandaged fingers. ‘See. They still work.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. You were ages in the bathroom. You can barely brush your own teeth. Mick, tell him he can’t go.’

  ‘I think Carl’s the one who’s got to decide for himself – and it looks as if he has,’ said Mick.

  He put his arm round Carl’s shoulders and looked him straight in the face. ‘You’ve got guts, Carl. I’m proud of you,’ he said, and then he hurried out of the door.

  ‘Oh God, spare me that macho nonsense,’ said Jules. ‘You’re not going into school today, Carl, not in that state. They’ll make mincemeat of you.’

  ‘Shut up, Mum,’ said Carl as Jake ambled into the room, his shirt flapping, tie hanging off, shoelaces trailing.

  ‘Now what?’ said Jake. ‘Hi, Sylvie.’

  ‘We’re both telling Carl he can’t go to school with his hands so bad,’ said Jules, shoving cornflakes and milk in front of Jake.

  ‘Yeah, you’re mad, Carl,’ said Jake. He paused. ‘But if you are going, do you want me to come with you? In case these guys are waiting in the playground or whatever? I’d love an excuse to duff up a few of those snotty grammar-school twats.’

  Carl blinked. ‘Thanks, Jake. But no thanks,’ he said. He poured his own cornflakes and milk. His bandaged hand slipped and the jug tipped.

  ‘There!’ said Jules, dabbing with a J-cloth. ‘You’re proving my point, Carl. Look, let me do it for you, love.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Mum, I just spilled a drop of milk. It’s no big deal. I’ve only got cut hands. You’re acting like they’ve both been amputated. Stop flapping so,’ said Carl. ‘Look, I’m not hungry. I’m going now. See you tonight. And don’t worry.’

  He stood up and gave Jules a quick kiss on the cheek. She patted him helplessly. He went to the kitchen door. I got up too.

  ‘Bye, Sylvie,’ said Jake. ‘Bye, Carl. Hey. Keep cool, little guy.’

  ‘Cheers, Jake,’ said Carl.

  I walked with him to the gate. ‘Can I come with you, Carl?’

  ‘What? Are you offering to duff them all up, Sylvie?’ said Carl. ‘Hey, do you think Jake knows why the boys at school are picking on me? Do you think Mum told him? Or did he hear us?’

  ‘Whatever. I expect he just put two and two together. He’s not that dim.’

  ‘He seems to be acting OK about it.’

  ‘What, did you think he’d start beating you up?’

  ‘Oh, he’s done that all my life. What about Dad? He seems to know too. Oh God, I feel like all the neighbours are suddenly going to pop out of their front doors and start waving rainbow flags at me.’

  ‘I’m waving mine,’ I said.

  ‘Sylvie – I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t start,’ I said, patting his bandages very lightly.

  ‘I’m not sure how much I smashed. Was it absolutely everything?’

  ‘Pretty nearly.’

  ‘I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘You’re being an idiot now, going to school.’

  ‘I’m scared stiff, Sylvie. But if I don’t go now they’ll all know I’m too scared to face them.’

  ‘You don’t have to go at all. I’m sure Jules wants you to come back to Milstead. Oh, Carl, please, that would be so wonderful. And no one would make a big deal of stuff there. They all know you and think you’re really special.’

  ‘Look, I’d give anything to be back at Milstead. I’ve hated it at the grammar. It’s just such a weird atmosphere, all boys together. You breathe the testosterone, along with that awful smell of stale beds and smelly feet. The conversation’s equally murky. Everyone wants to score off everyone else and there’s all the joking and the shoving and the crazy rushing around. You can’t get any peace anywhere, and you can’t say stuff you really feel because they say it’s so gay to talk about your feelings.’

  ‘So what on earth’s stopping you coming back to Milstead? You know they’d have you back like a shot.’

  ‘I don’t want them to think I’m scared of them at Kingsmere.’

  ‘That’s crazy! You’re just letting your stupid pride stand in your way. Oh, Carl, why do you have to be so stubborn?’

  ‘Oh well. Maybe they’ll start throwing junk at me and shoving my head down the bog and it’ll be so awful I’ll be out of there like a shot.’

  ‘Do you think they really might do that?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I was just joking. Sort of. They can’t do too much in lessons, can they? I’ll charge out as soon as school finishes, don’t worry.’

  ‘What about lunch times?’

  ‘Well. That won’t be so great. Maybe I’ll try eating my lunch very very slowly, chewing each mouthful a hundred times, so I get to spend the whole hour in the canteen.’

  ‘I know! Come and meet me at McDonald’s. We can both get there and back at lunch time. Go on, Carl, please. Then I won’t worry so.’

  ‘OK. I’ll see, anyway.’

  ‘No, promise. See you there – one o’clock?’

  ‘All right, one o’clock. Happy now?’

  He blew me a kiss and then started running down the road. I waited until he turned the corner. He didn’t glance back, but he waved his bandaged hand at me, knowing I’d be watching.

  I wished he could wear his magic Glassworld boots so that he could outrun everyone. I wondered if we’d ever be able to play Glassworld again. I tried to invent a new chronicle in my head but I couldn’t come up with any idea at all. I tried re-running old adventures but the King and Queen stared at me blankly and wouldn’t speak.

  I wondered if the book itself was all right. What if Carl had ripped the pages, intent on destroying everything? I wondered about creeping back indoors and going through the hole in the fence in our garden to see for myself. No, I couldn’t face all that shattered glass just yet.

  I trudged off to school instead. Miranda was waiting for me, surprisingly early.

  ‘Hey, why wouldn’t you answer your mobile?’

  She’d texted again and again while I was waiting in the hospital with Carl, but I didn’t know how to reduce the horror of what had happened into several lines of text-talk.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miranda. I couldn’t. I was at the hospital.’

  ‘What? Did you hurt yourself? What happened?’

  ‘It was Carl,’ I said. ‘He was hurt.’

  Lucy was standing nearby, moodily flipping through a gossip magazine with Jenny Rawlings, a sad spotty girl who didn’t have any other friends. Lucy looked up at the sound of Carl’s name.

  ‘Carl’
s hurt?’ she said.

  ‘What? No. No, he’s fine,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Come over here,’ said Miranda, tugging at me.

  ‘Some people think they’re it, bossing everyone around,’ said Lucy. ‘Yet she’s just a silly slag. Imagine, Jenny, showing your boobs off on a mobile phone!’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? They’re lovely boobs,’ said Miranda, sticking her tongue out at them both.

  But when she’d dragged me to a private corner over by the canteen she took a deep breath. ‘I think this photo might have been a bit of a mistake. I meant it as a laugh just to tease Paul. I didn’t really think he’d show everyone. I wouldn’t have minded just one or two of his mates – Carl, for instance – but I don’t want to have them all ogling. Sylvie, do you think I’m a slag?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  She squeezed my hand gratefully. It was the sore hand with the stitched finger. She saw me wince. ‘Sorry! Hey, you are hurt!’

  ‘Only a little bit. Carl’s the one who’s really hurt. His fingers were cut to ribbons with all the glass.’

  ‘Not his glass? His collection?’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone else ever, Miranda, swear? Paul was so hateful, him and all the others in their form, calling Carl all sorts of names – you know what they’re like – and Carl got a bit drunk and then he smashed up all his glass—’

  ‘All? My Remember Me paperweight? Bloody hell, it cost a fortune!’

  ‘I don’t know if it got broken or not. I just saw glass everywhere. All the little animals were smashed, and the Glass Boy’s broken.’

  ‘So is Carl in hospital then?’

  ‘No, they’ve stitched him up. He’s got these big bandages on his hands and yet he’s gone to school.’

  ‘He’s brave. Crazy, but brave. Oh God, I love him more than ever now, don’t you?’

  ‘You don’t love him, Miranda!’ I was suddenly furious with her. ‘He’s my boyfriend.’

  ‘No, he’s not. Don’t get ratty. We can both love him, can’t we? I wish I could have seen him all worked up like that. He’s always seemed so in control.’