If I Can't Have You

by Federica Bosco

  ‘Whaaaaaat? Me playing Sophie?’ Nina shouted in my ear in a mixture of disbelief and panic.

  ‘Why not? It’s a great choice! Look how pleased everyone is! You look a bit like her, too. But who’s Carlton O’Malley?’

  My question was soon answered when I turned round and saw a small group of boys gathered around Carl, slapping him on the back and offering congratulations. Carl himself was looking over at me and Nina, frowning. My best friend had landed a leading role in the Christmas Show and had to play Carl’s girlfriend. My Carl. Well, okay, not exactly my Carl, but it was me he was in love with, dammit!

  The buzz of excitement had burst out into a mass of voices all talking at once. People were shouting across to one another, laughing, and singing the bits of Abba songs that they knew. Bibi and Dell had stormed out in a huff, Thomas was strutting about like he was Brad Pitt, Nina was in shock, and I was worried Carl might burst into tears.

  ‘Quiet! Quiet, please!’ Mrs Jenkins went on, ‘We’re not finished yet. There is still one role to be announced, and that is a ballet solo performed to The Winner Takes It All, danced by.Mia Foster Benelli!’

  A hundred heads turned at once to look at me.

  After that, everything was a blur. I had a vague impression of Nina looking at me with her mouth open, a sea of staring eyes, and Mrs Jenkins smiling broadly, delighted with her ridiculous decision. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about where to study next year, because I wasn’t going to make it that far. Maybe they would put up a plaque in my honour. I couldn’t do it. I had to talk to the head, I couldn’t dance en pointe to Abba, in front of the entire school.

  A deafening roar echoed through the hall, the excited shouts drowning out our voices.

  ‘Nina, this is crazy!’ I shouted, trying to make myself heard.

  ‘I know, it’s mad!’ she replied, ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘You don’t need to do anything, you just have to pretend to be Carl’s girlfriend.’

  I realised at that moment that she didn’t know our short history had already ended.

  ‘Oh my god, I hadn’t thought! He’s your boyfriend, you should do it!’

  ‘No, don’t worry, he’s not my boyfriend.’ I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘But you were .’

  ‘Yes, but it was nothing serious. Really, it’s not a problem.’

  It wasn’t a problem, that was true, but I was still very sorry to have lost him as a friend. He was a special person and I wanted to keep hanging out with him and having fun with no strings attached, and although it was flattering being chased after and showered with attention, it wasn’t fair to string him along. Still, I couldn’t deny that I had felt a pang of jealousy when the roles were announced.

  ‘Mia tell me the truth, what happened between you two?’

  ‘Nothing! I just didn’t think of him that way, and I told him.’ It was the truth.

  ‘I was hoping you would say that you were madly in love with him and demand to take my part in the show!’

  ‘Would you rather dance a solo to Abba?’

  ‘You’ll be great! I wonder what made her think of it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I have to ask her, I’ve already had my dose of fame for this year.’

  We found ourselves surrounded by a group of well-wishers, like we were actual famous people surrounded by fans looking for autographs.

  ‘Are you really a ballerina, Mia?’ asked one girl I had never spoken to before.

  ‘Apparently!’ I said, trying to make light of the situation.

  ‘I used to do ballet too when I was little. My mum didn’t like the teacher though.’

  ‘How long have you been dancing?’

  ‘Is there a ballet school here in Leicester?’

  ‘Can you do that thing where you stand on your toes?’

  I looked over at Nina, silently begging for help

  ‘Come on, let’s go and talk to Mrs Jenkins.’ She took my hand and dragged me away.

  Mrs Jenkins was heading towards the door, and we ran to catch up with her.

  ‘Ah girls! Are you happy then?’ she asked, beaming.

  ‘No we’re not! It’s ridiculous!’ I burst out.

  Nina gave me a kick. ‘Sorry, Mrs Jenkins! What Mia means is that...well…it is ridiculous, Mrs Jenkins!’ she repeated finally, exasperated.

  ‘Why is it ridiculous?’ The headmistress asked patiently, walking on as we trotted along behind her like yapping chihuahuas.

  ‘Well, because. I can’t dance in front of the whole school!’

  ‘Why not?’ she stopped abruptly.

  ‘I don’t dance to pop music!’ I said coldly.

  ‘Well, Mia, you’re a dancer, and dancers dance, right? I’m sure Tchaikovsky would forgive you just this once.’ She smiled.

  ‘But I don’t want to dance in front of everyone!’ I protested.

  ‘Then who do you want to dance in front of?’

  ‘But they’ll all make fun of me and laugh at me! They already think I’m weird. Even my mum thinks I’m weird! This would just be the end for me!’

  ‘Mia!’ Laughed Mrs. Jenkins, ‘I know you’ve been going through a rough patch this year, what with that incident in history the other week, and fighting with Thomas Bronson, and of course we have noticed that your grades have suffered too, but I also know that you enjoy dancing, and I think it will do you good to come out of your shell a bit. A bit of mickey-taking never killed anyone!’

  ‘Mrs. Jenkins,’ Nina interrupted ‘I don’t want to be Sophie! I can’t act!’ she whimpered.

  ‘Will you two stop it,’ she said in exasperation, her hands on her hips, ‘I know for a fact that half the school will be wanting to go out and slash my tyres because I didn’t give those roles to them! ‘I’m embarrassed Mrs Jenkins, I don’t want to Mrs Jenkins.’ The challenge will do the pair of you good. Now get to class, or you’ll be late!’

  We watched her walk away.

  ‘Now what?’ I asked, dejected.

  ‘Excuse me.’ said a voice behind us.

  We spun around. It was Carl. Suddenly I felt like a third wheel.

  He turned away from me slightly and spoke to Nina, looking into her eyes.

  ‘I have never acted in my life and if you’re not feeling it I understand.

  I’m terrified.’ He smiled sweetly at her. The coward was flirting with her. In front of me!

  ‘I never acted either, but we could get coaching from the drama teacher. It’ll be fun, you’ll see!’

  Oh really? That wasn’t what she’d been saying a minute ago!

  ‘Come on, we’re late, let’s go to class,’ I yanked her arm. ‘Bye Carl, nice talking to you!’

  ‘Here, Nina, this is my number, maybe we could meet up and go over our lines.’

  I dragged her away as she waved goodbye to him. I was furious.

  ‘What’s wrong with you? First you complain that you don’t want to act and a second later do you’re getting his number for private rehearsals? Did you know there’s a big kissing scene?’ I pointed my finger under her nose.

  ‘What choice do we have? And I think with a guy like Carl, who is so kind and sweet, would really help to put me at ease, and...wait, there’s a kissing scene?’

  ‘Didn’t you see the film? Sophie and Sky give in to their passion by the edge of the sea!’ I said with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Oh well…It’s only acting, isn’t it?’ And...you said he was a good kisser, right?’

  ‘Nina!’

  ‘Come on, I’m just kidding! But I’m glad you don’t still have feelings for him. That would have made it a bit awkward!’

  But even that wasn’t exactly the truth. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  I was tired when I got home that evening, so I was heading straight through the hallway towards the stairs to go up to my room, when I heard lowered voices coming from the kitchen. It sounded like Mum and Betty, talking in whispers. I stopped to listen.

  ‘I don
’t know what to do, I’m desperate…’ Mum was saying. She sounded exhausted and unhappy.

  ‘But there must be something,’ Betty was saying, ‘Her father, a loan maybe. If I had that kind of money myself, you know I’d help you out…’

  ‘Giles can’t afford any more than he already pays in maintenance, and I can’t ask for a loan. Fifteen lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to repay it.’

  ‘But there are subsidies, scholarships .’

  ‘Even then we can’t afford it! She’d need rent money - in London! - food, bills, and probably all sorts of other things I haven’t even thought of. And to be totally honest, I don’t want her living in London all by herself. She’s my baby!’

  ‘That’s the Italian mother in you! I think you’d be surprised at how well your baby can take care of herself. She’s got a good head on her shoulders! I bet you were far worse when you were her age!’ she teased.

  Good. At least Betty was on my side.

  ‘They were different times!’ Mum fretted

  ‘They were the same times! It was the nineties, not 1900!’

  ‘But I’d go crazy knowing my daughter was so far away.’

  ‘Kevin has been living in Berlin for two years! How do you think I manage?’

  ‘But I’m not like you, Betty! And he’s a boy, anyway, it’s different!’

  ‘Ducky, you have to get used to it. She’s your daughter, not your property. Kids have to go their own way, make mistakes, fall down and get back up again, that’s how it works for everyone.’

  ‘Yes, yes I know you’re right, but it’s so difficult.’

  ‘But listen, can’t your mother help you out?’

  I crouched closer to the door. This was getting interesting.

  ‘No, no, Betty, my mother has to be left out of it. I haven’t heard from her for years now. She’s a terrible woman; authoritarian, intrusive, manipulative. She controls you psychologically until the point you can’t live your own life. I can’t even tell you what it was like living with her. If I didn’t do what she wanted she capable of anything. She would ban me from leaving the house for weeks, listen to my phone calls, refuse to let me go out with my friends, be rude to my guests, demand that I justify every expense. It took me years to shake the feeling that she was always looking over my shoulder. Even now I sometimes worry that she’ll check my bank account. I know it’s ridiculous, but they were terrible years.’

  ‘I understand Elena. The problem is that the future of your daughter …’

  ‘Betty. the last time we argued, because of Giles, she said that from that day on I was dead to her, and that she’d had taken the advice of her lawyers, and would give everything she owns to a charity when she dies, to make sure I don’t get a penny.’

  ‘She sounds charming, your mother. I’d like to meet her one day!’

  ‘You probably would, everyone loves her! She’s beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, and she knows everyone who’s anyone in Italy. She spends six months in Kenya, and when she’s back in Florence she’s the darling of all the glitterati.’ I could almost hear Mum roll her eyes.

  ‘Wow! But will she really not want to help her granddaughter?’

  ‘Oh, she adores Mia, she just can’t stand me! But can you imagine what my life would be like if I had to ask her for money. She would take every opportunity to humiliate me and tell me what a terrible mother I am. I don’t think I could take being under her control again. If I’m honest, my marriage was more to escape from her than... true love.’

  I decided not to listen to any more. I didn’t want to hear anything that might further test my already fragile trust in human relationships. I supposed at least it explained what my mother had seen in him. I went up to my room in a terrible mood, sat down on the carpet and took out a chemistry book, putting my feet under the radiator to make them more arched, like Mum told me dancers used to do in the old days.

  I couldn’t concentrate. There was too much going on: the musical, my solo, Carl, the Royal, my parents, school, the four papers I had due, my exams and above all Patrick, who I was missing like air.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I had not yet thanked him for the other day. Should I send him a message? Or...I could call him. The idea excited and terrified me in equal measure. A message seemed a bit too short, didn’t it? I had to thank him properly for saving my life. I put a chair in front of the door to make sure I wasn’t disturbed, then sat on it and scrolled through my embarrassingly short list of contacts to find his number. There. Patrick Dewayne. I took a deep breath and pressed ‘call’, half hoping it would go straight to answerphone.

  He hadn’t picked up by the fifth ring, and I relaxed a little, preparing to hang up, but just as my finger hovered over the button, I heard that wonderful voice saying my name.

  ‘Hi Mia!’

  Not ‘Sulks’ or any other nickname. Just Mia.

  I melted.

  ‘Patrick, hi! Are you busy?’

  ‘No, no, don’t worry, I’m on my break at the moment. How are you? Have you recovered from the other night?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine! I couldn’t see anything in that fog! If you hadn’t found me they’d be putting leaflets with my picture on all the lamp posts!’

  ‘I think you’d have frozen first! I was worried sick when I saw you there all alone.’

  I felt my heart flip. I wanted to hang up and remember that as the last sentence, but I ventured on.

  ‘I’m sorry about your… girlfriend. Christine, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s been on and off with Christine for months, it wasn’t the first time we had fought.’

  He was confiding in me like an adult! I felt flattered, but it wasn’t clear whether or not they’d made it up afterwards.’ I had to investigate.

  ‘I hope you made up afterwards .’ I lied.

  ‘Maybe we’ll talk when I come home again, but that relationship is over. It had been for a while honestly.’

  Yes! Now I had to find another topic so we could keep talking. At least just for another minute…’

  ‘When are you back in Leicester?’

  ‘I should have a bit longer over Christmas. I’ve been doing extra shifts, so I’m hoping they let me have a few more days.’

  ‘Did you know we’re doing a musical at school? Nina has the lead role, and I’m doing a ballet solo. You should come and watch!’

  What did I just say? Had my brain switched off? I had asked Patrick to come and watch me dancing to Abba. There had to be something seriously wrong with me.

  ‘Really? That’s great! I really hope I can be there, I’ll put myself in the front row to cheer you on. I’ve never seen you dance, you must be really good.’

  I blushed violently.

  ‘Oh, you think? I mean . I don’t know.’

  ‘You must be. You’ve always been so strong and determined. If you put your mind to something, you’ll always do well.’

  Was this real? Patrick, praising me. Why couldn’t I record the conversation and use it as a ringtone?

  ‘Ha! You should see my grades!’

  ‘Don’t put yourself down! All the best artists struggle at school, it stifles their creativity. The smart kids in my class were all boring anyway!’

  I knew for a fact that he had been the smartest kid in his class, but you couldn’t stop that Dewayne optimism! I loved him more with every word.

  ‘Hey, you didn’t have to wash my bike though!’ I laughed nervously, trying to change the subject.

  ‘It was a state! You couldn’t round on a thing like that. You’re not a tomboy having scraps with all the boys now!’

  Hmm, perhaps I hadn’t changed that much…

  ‘Well, I owe you one!’

  ‘In that case, I would like to see you dance one day, if that’s okay.’

  If it was okay? It was my dream, dancing for him, with him, for ever…

  ‘Okay! I, er... I have to go now, see you at Christmas!’ I cut the conversation short, flustered, and hung up with a s
ense of vertigo.

  He didn’t think of me as a child any more, but an adult! And... what did he say? I was determined. And an artist! I was shaking.

  Now I was supposed to concentrate on revising for tomorrow’s chemistry test, which of course turned out to be completely impossible. His voice was in my blood, flowing through every cell in my body.

  Then I did something I never thought anyone did in real life. I took a new notebook and wrote down every word of our conversation as accurately as I could remember, and at the bottom, I stuck the note he had left on the doorstep. If anyone had found it I would have died before admitting I wrote it. I didn’t even notice that Mum was rattling the door off its hinges trying to open it. I hid the notebook under the bed and moved the chair.

  ‘Why have you locked yourself in?’

  ‘Can’t I have any privacy in this house?’ I replied, irritated.

  ‘Listen, I need to talk to you for a minute.’

  ‘Okay!’

  ‘It’s about Paul.’

  ‘Ah, the magnificent Paul!’ I gushed, ‘What happened, did he manage to tie his shoelaces all by himself?’

  She frowned.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘His wife threw him out of the house and...’

  ‘And.?’ I knew what was coming.

  ‘He’s moving in with us.’

  ‘WHAT?’ I yelled. ‘You want that big hairy ape in here with us? Mum, you can’t do this to me! I’ve got exams coming out of my ears, my hormones are a mess, and instead of supporting and nurturing me, you’re going to shack up with the Abominable Snowman? Well I’m sorry, it’s him or me!’

  I folded my arms and set my face.

  I could tell Mum was dying to say ‘him’, but she knew she would regret it later, and was doing her best to be patient.

  ‘It won’t be forever, just for a little while.’

  ‘Are there no hotels in Leicester? That bed and breakfast at the bottom of the street? Doesn’t Mrs Fancher have somewhere for him? Why here, for god’s sake?’

  I felt betrayed. It had always been me and Mum, just the two of us, and now that idiot was going to barge in and ruin everything. No more evenings on the couch, no more chats in the kitchen or weekend walks with York. Was I not good enough for her anymore?