by Mel Sparke
“God, that’s a bit heavy for a first date, isn’t it?” Sonja winced.
“I know! I couldn’t believe it – like I’m the Indian cultural attaché to Winstead,” said Maya, wrinkling her nose in disbelief. “I mean, what do I know? My parents aren’t religious; they didn’t have an arranged marriage – it’s not like I’m an expert, is it?”
As Kerry shook her head in sympathy, Sonja took a long look at her friend.
“But Maya, why does it bug you so much that he asked you all those sort of questions?” she said pointedly. “I’ve had all that kind of thing too, you know. Just because my mum’s Swedish, I get all the questions like I know the country inside out. And I’ve had a million boys doing fnar-fnar jokes about Swedish porn.”
“Yes, but it’s not the same – he was just making so many presumptions about me, about who I am and what I’m like.”
“Everyone makes judgements about what people are like from the way they look,” Sonja tried to reason. “Whether that’s right or wrong or good or bad, it’s just the way people are – trying to look for clues to someone’s personality through the way they dress or the colour of their hair – whatever.”
“That’s true,” nodded Kerry. “It’s like Cat; because of the way she dresses and everything, people who don’t know her tend to think she’s a bit, well, tarty, when we all know…”
Kerry’s argument fizzled out as she looked at the other girls’ faces.
“OK, OK, maybe Cat wasn’t a good example,” she found herself laughing.
“Maya, do you hate being labelled because of what happened when you first arrived at St Mark’s?” asked Sonja astutely, remembering the racial taunts that Maya had had to endure from a couple of moronic girls when she joined their school.
Cat, who’d been in two of Maya’s classes, told Sonja and Kerry about the new girl’s problems and together they’d all had a quiet word with the bullies (Kerry standing at the back for moral support while the two girls got an earful from the forceful duo of Cat and Sonja). Out of sympathy, the three of them had adopted the friendless Maya at the same time, but quickly became as fond of and inseparable from her as she was from them.
“No!” said Maya vehemently. “It’s just– I mean, he shouldn’t have—”
“Listen, you should think about it, Maya,” Sonja interrupted. “Sure, you’re the same as us, but you do have another whole aspect to your life, courtesy of your family – we all do. And I just think it sounds like you’re being a bit hard on this Billy guy. It’s not like he insulted you or anything.”
Maya didn’t reply but just looked down at the table. Along with Brigid’s, this made her second lecture of the day, and the second that she grudgingly had to accept made sense.
“Hi, I’m home!” shouted Maya, closing the door behind her and hanging her jacket up on the coat-rack.
“Hello?” she said, pushing the living room door open and wondering why no one had responded.
Three sets of eyes stared at her. Her father was sitting rigidly in his armchair. Her mother was perched poker-straight on a chair by the writing desk, with Marcus curled up but awake on her lap.
“Mum?” said Maya, slightly frightened by how silent they were.
“Did you have a nice time at Sonja’s?” her mother asked finally.
“Um, yes…” Maya answered, still stranded in the doorway, reluctant to step any further into the atmosphere of the room.
“And how do you explain the fact that when Sunny phoned you at Sonja’s to ask you for help with her summer school project, you weren’t there?”
“Er, we went out, and—”
“And when I spoke to Sonja’s mother, she said you hadn’t made any plans to come for tea at all!” her mother continued the tirade before Maya had a chance to think on her feet.
“I didn’t—”
”—bother to tell us the truth?” her father chipped in, with a thunderous look. “Like you didn’t tell us about taking Ravi along on some outing with the photographic club you’ve joined – just another little thing that seems to have slipped your mind?”
Brigid was right, then, Maya thought to herself in panic, aware that even Marcus seemed to be turning traitor, settled into her mother’s lap and staring coolly at her. Ravi couldn’t manage to keep the secret to himself…
“And where has this come from?” asked her mother, holding up a green plastic bag. It contained Joe’s camera and a folder that included the old school photos she’d finally unearthed in the attic, her more recent efforts from the sleepover at Sonja’s – as well as the picture from the album of her father and the mystery girl.
Maya suddenly realised that everything comes in threes and she was just about to get her third
– and biggest – lecture of the day.
CHAPTER 19
OTHER SECRETS AND PAST LIVES
“Who told you?” asked Maya, not able to believe that Brigid had betrayed her trust.
“Your sister. She overheard you talking to Brigid about this photography nonsense this afternoon,” Nina Joshi replied, folding her arms across her chest.
“Sunny! How dare she—”
“How dare she nothing!” her dad bellowed. “We’re very glad that at least one of our daughters is responsible! Do you realise how serious this is, going behind our backs? And as for Brigid, we’ll have to speak to her too…”
Maya blinked hard and tried to contain her anger. She instantly remembered an article she’d read in one of her magazines that said it was vital to seem as much like a rational grown-up as possible in arguments with parents: start wailing or whining and you’ve lost it with them straight away.
“Look, it’s not Brigid’s fault, whatever Sunny’s made out. I decided to join this club and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think you’d approve,” said Maya as calmly as she could, which was difficult, faced with the contained fury of her parents.
“Approve? Of course we don’t approve!” snapped her mother. “You’ve got sixth form coming up and some serious studying ahead. A-levels mean commitment. You spend quite enough of your free time as it is with your friends.”
“Free time? You make it sound like I’m in prison – exercise privileges will be granted for good behaviour!” Maya snapped back before she could check herself.
“Don’t be cheeky, Miss!” her father boomed. “You know exactly what we mean. We allow you plenty of freedom—”
“But you don’t!” Maya protested. “I’m not like any of my friends; I can’t just go to the cinema on the spur of the moment – I have to check that it’s all right with you first. I can’t just suddenly decide on a whim to wander round to Sonja’s for a chat – I have to book it two weeks in advance!”
“You’re being facetious!” her mother responded. “All we’re trying to do is get the balance right between getting you to work hard and have time to yourself.”
“Well, you haven’t got the balance right!” said Maya, trying hard to rein in her runaway emotions.
“That’s for us to decide!” her father bellowed.
“Dad – that’s the point! It’s not for you and Mum to decide, as if I haven’t got a brain or an opinion of my own!”
“Don’t be silly! You’re still a child, and—”
“Look at me! I’m not a child! And even if I was, there should still be some decisions that are left down to me, like what hobbies I choose to have…”
“But when it’s something that will ultimately affect your work at sixth form, which could in turn jeopardise your future career—”
“Dad, this is why I didn’t tell you, because you make all these judgements about things without discussing them. I mean, of course you want to be involved in the major things in my life, but why can’t it be something the three of us talk about together, rather than you two just laying down the law all the time?”
“You say that, but how can we trust your judgement if you go around lying about things like this?” her mother rebuked irri
tatingly, spreading out the photos from the plastic bag as if they were evidence in the case against Maya.
Feeling exhausted in the two-against-one battle of words, Maya was momentarily stumped. But as she drew breath, ready to push her point again, she heard her mother gasp.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sanjay Joshi, rising to his feet and striding over quickly to his wife’s side.
“It’s-it’s nothing. Just a surprise,” she muttered, still staring down at the photos she’d randomly spread out in front of her.
Maya moved a couple of steps in from the doorway and tried to see what had caught her mother’s attention so suddenly.
It was the dog-eared photo of her father and the mystery girl.
“I just haven’t seen this for a long time. I didn’t know we still had it…” her mother continued quietly.
Sanjay Joshi picked up the photo and stared at it.
“Where did you get this?” he asked Maya, the anger in his voice now gone.
“The attic – it was in an old album I found in a box,” she answered, noticing that her father’s hand was gently rubbing her mother’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “Who is she?”
Maya felt her nerves jangling in anticipation of his reply. Judging from their reaction, the girl wasn’t just another student or a family friend who could be casually explained away.
“She was the girl my parents wanted me to marry,” her father said simply.
Sitting around the kitchen table, Maya poured everyone another cup of tea and felt strangely elated, despite the downcast expressions on her parents’ faces.
“…and I was hardly the perfect prospective daughter-in-law, having a Muslim father and a white, Protestant mother,” shrugged Nina Joshi as she added to her husband’s explanation of the arranged marriage he’d spurned.
“My parents had seemed very liberal and caring up till that point,” Maya’s father elaborated. “But once I’d said no to the nice Hindu girl they’d chosen, and then told them about your mother, they made it very clear that it was the family… or her.”
“So at the time you were introduced to this girl, you already knew that you loved Mum?” Maya asked her father, who’d rolled up his shirt sleeves and looked uncharacteristically ruffled, yet also more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.
“By that point,” he answered her, looking directly into his wife’s eyes, “we’d already been seeing each other in secret, for about…”
“…for about two years,” Nina Joshi prompted him with a smile.
Secretly having a relationship? thought Maya. And they worry about me doing some silly hobby behind their backs?
“So is that why you’re not really in touch with the rest of your family?” asked Maya, a whole chunk of her history now falling into place.
“Yes,” her father nodded. “We had a strained relationship for a while then once my parents moved to Canada to be closer to your uncle, well…”
Maya was listening to a sad story of intolerance and estrangement – and she’d never been so happy. Her parents had never been so candid and open with her; sitting telling her about the unhappy circumstances of their fledgling relationship. They’d never treated her more like an adult.
There was, Maya realised joyously, no going back.
Ten minutes’ walk away, at a small terraced house across from the park, Joe sat in front of the TV, randomly flicking through the channels with the remote control.
“Don’t do that, Joe, love,” said his mum, blinking uncomfortably at the rapidly flashing images.
“Sorry,” Joe mumbled, stopping at some animal documentary and tossing the remote on to the sofa beside him.
Susie Gladwin blinked uncomfortably again as some unsuspecting antelope who’d been admiring the scenery was suddenly pounced on by a lioness.
“Do we have to watch this?” she asked squeamishly, closing one eye to lessen the impact of the unpleasant events unfolding on screen.
“Sorry!” he said sarcastically, picking the remote up and flicking over to some mind-numbing game show instead. Sometimes his mother seemed so naive that Joe felt as if he was the parent and she was the kid. And that could be a real burden.
“Joe,” said his mother after a few seconds’ silence. “Is something wrong? You’ve been a bit, well, funny since you came back from your dad’s…”
Joe ground his teeth and knew that this was the time he’d have to go for it – as Maya had said, he needed to get everything out in the open.
Here goes, he thought as he turned and looked at his doe-eyed mum, her face full of maternal concern.
“Yeah, there’s a couple of things actually,” he began, dreading telling her the first bit in case she cried, and dreading confronting her with the second in case she cried again. “Mum, Gillian had a miscarriage when I was at Dad’s.”
“Oh, poor girl!” she gasped, clasping her hands together.
It wasn’t the reaction Joe had expected. Why wasn’t his mother more distressed at the idea of his father starting a new family?
“Do you understand, Mum?” he pressed her, in case she’d missed the point. “They were going to have a baby.”
“Well, it was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?” she answered him. “Gillian’s a young woman; of course she’d want a child of her own with your father, instead of a hulking big stepson like you!”
She’s making a joke, Joe realised, staring at his mother in amazement. Why is she taking all this so well?
“Well, there was something else, Mum,” he went on, wondering how she’d react to the next thing he had to say.
“Yes, dear?” she smiled at him.
“When we were talking, Dad said… Dad said that he wasn’t the only one who’d been seeing someone else when the two of you were together.”
“Oh, he told you that, did he?” Susie Gladwin nodded, a slight flush on her round cheeks. “And did he explain why I ‘saw’ someone else?”
“Uh, no,” Joe replied, again surprised to see how calmly his mother was taking things; she was normally such as fusser and flusterer.
“Well,” she said, folding her hands neatly on her lap as if she were about to tell him a bedtime story, “it was a good few months between your father telling me he’d met Gillian and him eventually deciding whether to leave us or give her up.”
“I didn’t know that!” Joe interrupted. “I thought it all happened really quickly!”
“Joe, you were barely thirteen – I wasn’t going to burden you with all the gory details,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Anyway, as you can imagine, that was a miserable time for me. And at that time, I met someone who listened and sympathised, and yes, it did go further once. I ended up telling your father and he got dreadfully upset, and that’s when he finally decided to choose Gillian.”
“But that wasn’t fair – he didn’t have any right to be annoyed with you when he was still seeing her!” Joe blurted out.
“No, but love isn’t fair, Joe. You might find that out one day,” his mother said gently, while giving him a questioning look.
Joe had already learned this lesson. If love was fair, Kerry would be besotted with him instead of his best friend.
“But who was the man you saw and why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to turn you against your dad; us breaking up had nothing to do with you,” his mum shrugged. “And, despite the fact that you just see me as the sock-washer and meal-maker round here, I do have a private life. I don’t really want to talk about something that happened a long time ago just now.”
Joe felt a shock wave pass through him. It was as if he was seeing his mother in a whole new light; as if he had completely misunderstood her for the past four years. He’d always felt protective of her – the spurned, downtrodden little wife who’d been traumatised by her husband’s desertion. And he’d felt resentful of his father too, not just for leaving them, but for landing the responsibility for looking after h
is mum unfairly but squarely on Joe’s shoulders alone.
Now, staring at her, he realised that his mother was a lot stronger than he’d ever given her credit for. In fact, she had probably got over his father leaving far quicker than Joe had.
It struck him too that he didn’t have to be his mother’s protector any more. And, although he knew he’d never feel particularly close to his father, Joe saw that he didn’t have to waste his energies hating his dad for his mother’s sake any more.
The shock wave passed, and with it Joe felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
CHAPTER 20
AND THE WINNER IS…
“Nervous?”
Maya turned the source of the voice and found herself staring into a sheepish-looking face.
“I’m fine, Billy,” she answered him, resisting the urge to point out that with more than a hundred entries to the Peacock Trust’s competition, all of whom were probably a hundred times more experienced than her, Maya didn’t see much point in being nervous. “And you?”
“Well, you know…” he smiled.
“What did you decide to enter in the end?” she asked, remembering he’d told her at their not-so-great date on Wednesday that he’d been stuck between a photo of a friend in mid-air heading a football and a shot he’d taken of a girl mid-conversation at the fair.
“I went for the girl,” he nodded, slightly distracted by the kerfuffle of people stepping up to the dais close by them in the gallery’s huge white entrance hall.
“Looks like this is it – good luck everyone!” said Alex, leaning over towards Maya, Ashleigh and Billy, before repeating the message to the rest of the photographic club members who were clustered around him.
Gazing back through the crowded hall, Maya focused in on Sonja and Matt and the others, all standing together at the back of the room. She laughed as she saw them all wave and make cartoon crossed-finger gestures at her.
As she turned back to face the front, Maya’s eye was caught by a group of people pushing their way through the swing doors into the hall, and her heart beat with pride and excitement. They’d come: her parents, with Sunny and Brigid, and probably Ravi too, although he was too short to see above the throng.