One Day at a Time

by Susan Lewis

  I know in her heart she’s a good girl really, I just can’t always get through to her heart and I don’t know why. We used to be so close, she was my little angel, and now I’m frightened out of my mind that I’m losing her.

  Susan

  ‘There you are, my old loves,’ Auntie Kath says, putting our bowls of cereal on the table. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, or some orange squash?’

  ‘Tea please,’ I reply, ‘with two sugars.’

  ‘Squash please,’ Gary says, his mouth already stuffed full of cornflakes. ‘We’re going up Blaize Castle today.’

  ‘Yes, I saw your dad before he left, and he told me. That’ll be lovely.’

  ‘When are we coming down your house again?’ he asks. ‘I like it down there.’

  I do too, so I’m interested to know the answer.

  ‘Well,’ she says, going out to the kitchen to get our drinks, ‘there’s something I have to tell you.’

  I don’t know why, but I suddenly get a feeling that I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

  ‘What is it?’ Gary asks cheerfully when she comes back in the room.

  She puts a glass in front of him, and starts to spoon some sugar into my tea.

  ‘Have you still got a kite that we can go on the green and fly?’ he wants to know.

  She laughs. ‘That old thing got caught round someone’s aerial and we never got it back,’ she tells him.

  ‘Oh.’ He looks a bit put out, but then shovels another spoonful of cornflakes into his bottomless gob.

  ‘What have you got to tell us?’ I remind her, in spite of not really wanting to know.

  She takes out her fags, lights one and blows out a great big cloud of smoke. I’m tempted to ask for one, but don’t dare because I know she’ll give me what for if I do. ‘Well,’ she says, taking another drag, ‘do you remember I told you Uncle Les might be taking over a baker’s shop on Two Mile Hill?’ Uncle Les is her husband.

  I look at Gary as he says, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, he’s decided he’s going to, so we’ll be moving in a couple of weeks. I’m afraid that means, my old loves, that I won’t be coming here any more, but you haven’t got to worry because the council will find someone else to take my place. As a matter of fact, I think they already have.’

  I don’t say anything. I don’t even move.

  Gary’s bottom lip is starting to quiver. ‘I don’t want anyone else,’ he says. ‘I only want you.’

  She sticks her fag in her mouth and goes to give him a hug. ‘I know, my love, but you’ll still be able to come and see us, and I expect the new lady’s … Where are you going?’ she asks me, as I get up from the table. ‘You haven’t finished your breakfast.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ I tell her.

  ‘You have to eat something. What about a piece of toast?’

  When I get upstairs I close my bedroom door and go to sit on the edge of the bed. My old ted’s on the floor where he fell during the night, so I pick him up and sit him on my lap. I don’t really care that Auntie Kath’s leaving. It makes no difference to me, because I know everyone leaves, but I think it’s really mean on Gary. He’s got used to her now, and it’s not right that she should just go off like he doesn’t matter. Also, I’m not very happy about someone else coming into the house to take her place. I’m the one who should be doing the housework and getting Gary off to school, not a person we’ve never met before.

  I start wondering what it might be like to live in a baker’s shop, then I think about Dad’s verruca, and whether it’s hurting him. He’d better not be lying about it, pretending that’s all it is, when really he’s got cancer or something, or I’ll be really mad. My fists are going all tight and I can feel my eyes filling up with tears, but I’m not going to cry. I’m not going up Blaize Castle this afternoon, either. Dad and Gary can go on their own and I’ll stay here, because I don’t want to do anything any more, except wait for Kev and his mates to come back from Torquay. He’s the only one who really cares about me, that’s why he’s running away, because it’s just like in the song, ‘Young Girl’. He’s scared of what people will say, but it’ll be all right as soon as I’m older.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Auntie Kath says, putting her head round the door.

  ‘If you like.’

  She comes to sit next to me and puts an arm round my shoulders. ‘Are you all right?’ she asks. ‘Feeling a bit upset?’

  ‘No. Why should I be?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe you’re not very happy about me leaving.’

  ‘It’s up to you,’ I tell her. ‘It doesn’t make any difference to me.’

  She gives me a hug. ‘That’s all right then, isn’t it?’ she says.

  It’s not, but what does she care? I get to my feet. ‘I have to clean my teeth,’ I tell her, and leaving her sitting on the bed I go and shut myself in the bathroom.

  *

  It’s Saturday afternoon now and after four days of feeling really down in the dumps and like I want to run away, I just don’t know where to, the best thing in the entire world has happened. It turns out that Kev and his mates are back from Torquay, and they only want to see me and Mand. Rich called round for her last night, so she went out with him, and told him off for standing us up the other night. He said they were really sorry, but they want to make up for it today.

  Lucky Dad’s taken Gary down the Rovers ground, so I’ve been able to put on my make-up and miniskirt without having to worry about how to get past him. He wouldn’t be able to complain about my black patent kinky boots though, because he bought them himself to cheer me up after we went to Blaize Castle.

  Mandy and I are sitting on one of the benches outside the Horseshoe now, shivering like mad, because it’s freezing cold out today. I’m not wearing a coat, because I’ve only got my stupid anorak, or school gaberdine, and I wouldn’t be seen dead in either of them. Mandy’s got a lush reefer jacket that she says she nicked from a shop downtown, and she’s going to get one for me the next time she’s there, if she can. She’s wearing boots too (the heels on hers are higher than mine), and her hair’s more back-combed, but I don’t mind because secretly I think hers is too high.

  There’s no one else around, because the pub’s not open yet, and not many people live up this way, so hardly any cars are going by. There’s a huge patch of green across the road, and at the bottom is the brook where I was the very first time I ever saw Kev. When I think back to that day it makes me feel all happy inside. I really love him, and I’m so glad I’ve met him.

  When the time ticks on past five I start getting worried that they won’t come again. I even wonder if Mandy was making it up, just to get me to come out. I’ve already told her that I have to be home by six, because that’s when we watch The Munsters so Dad will be expecting me, and I don’t want to have another row with him in case he tries to stop me going out again. Of course, if Kev does turn up and we get off together, I won’t worry about what time I get home then.

  ‘Here they are,’ Mandy suddenly whispers. ‘And it’s only Rich and Kev.’

  I stop breathing and duck my head. I can’t look. My heart’s banging like anything. After a bit I peep out from under my fringe, and it really is them. They’re coming across the green towards us looking really mod, and like they know they’re it.

  ‘Quick, light up,’ Mandy says, getting out her fags, ‘it’ll make you look older.’

  The wind blows out her first two matches, and I start to panic that we won’t be able to get them going in time.

  ‘Remember what I said,’ she whispers, as I suck in the smoke, ‘I told them that you’ve already gone all the way, so they don’t have to worry about you being a virgin or anything, OK?’

  I start choking.

  ‘Don’t do that. It makes you look stupid.’

  I’m trying not to, but my throat and nose are on fire. I want to ask what a virgin is, but I still can’t speak. The only one I know about is Jesus’s mother, and I can’t work out w
hat she has to do with it, so it’s probably best that I don’t show myself up and just keep quiet.

  ‘All right,’ Rich grunts as they come up to us.

  ‘All right,’ Mandy grunts back.

  I keep my head down, feeling too soft to look up.

  ‘Coming?’ Rich says.

  Mandy gets to her feet and I start to panic again as she links his arm and walks off round the corner of the pub. I want to ask where they’re going, and how long they’re going to be, but then I look at Kev who’s hunched in his denim jacket as he smokes, and kicking his feet to keep warm. Wanting him to see that I smoke too, I take another puff of my fag, and this time I manage to take back without choking.

  After a while he comes and sits next to me. I go all shy and wonder what I should do. He stretches his legs out in front of him and I notice his winklepickers, but I don’t say anything, like they’re really mod, or cool, or fabsville, because I’m afraid of how my voice might sound. I can smell the denim of his jacket, and the smoke in his hair, and for a minute I want to run home, but I never would. I just stay where I am, smoking and staring down at his feet.

  He doesn’t say anything for ages, so in the end I have a quick look at his face. He’s so good-looking that I know I’ll do anything for him, because I’m deeply in love. I wish I could think of something to say. I wonder what other girls talk about when they’re with their chaps. I’ll have to ask Mandy, she’ll know.

  ‘So you’re Sue,’ he says, flicking his ash on to the ground between us.

  ‘Yes,’ I answer. My voice comes out all hoarse and I wonder if he heard.

  ‘The one who writes me the letters?’

  I swallow hard and colour right up. I wish I hadn’t written them now, because I’ve never felt so soft in my life. He probably thinks I’m a loony.

  ‘What’s it like up at that school?’ he asks.

  I try to find my voice, by clearing my throat. ‘Horrible,’ I reply. ‘They keep us locked up all the time, as though we were babies, but we always manage to sneak out.’

  He gives me a quick look. ‘Where do you go?’

  ‘Just in the back lane to meet b … friends.’

  ‘Boyfriends?’ he says, like a tease.

  I laugh and blush again. It’ll probably make me seem quite mature if I say yes, but I’m not sure I want him to think I already have a boyfriend, so instead of answering I say, ‘What’s it like working down Brains?’

  He shrugs. ‘Like anywhere else, I s’pose.’

  ‘I love faggots,’ I tell him. That’s what they make down Brains.

  He takes a long drag of his fag, then looks at me with one eye closed as he blows out the smoke. ‘So you’re fourteen,’ he says. ‘That’s still a bit young.’

  ‘I’m nearly fifteen.’ The lie seemed to pop out all on its own.

  ‘Mm,’ he says, like he’s not sure whether to believe me. ‘Have you ever snogged anyone?’ he asks.

  My heart turns over and I feel myself going beetroot red. ‘Oh yeah, loads of times,’ I say, tucking my hair behind one ear. ‘What about you?’

  He laughs at that, and so do I. It was a dumb thing to say, but quite funny too, and it’s nice that I made him laugh.

  ‘So do you fancy a snog now?’ he asks.

  I don’t know what to say, because I do, but at the same time I don’t.

  He carries on looking at me.

  I swallow, and try to nod, but I think I just look like I twitched.

  He moves a bit closer and slides an arm round my shoulders. ‘You’re cold,’ he says, pulling me against him. ‘Where’s your coat?’

  ‘I didn’t want to wear one.’ My heart’s pounding so hard I can hardly hear myself. I wonder what he’s going to do. I’m scared stiff, and excited, and shaking, and wishing I had loads of experience so I’d know what to do next.

  Ages go by with us just sitting there. It starts to feel quite nice, the way he’s trying to keep me warm. I imagine being in the back row of the pictures with him, or sitting on a settee in front of a fire.

  ‘What’s your favourite record?’ I ask.

  He throws down his fag and grinds the end under a heel. ‘I s’pose it would be, “Jumping Jack Flash” or “Hey Jude”.’

  ‘Oh yeah, they’re great,’ I agree, though I’m a bit disappointed that he didn’t say ‘Young Girl’.

  ‘“I Get by with a Little Help from My Friends”,’ is cool too,’ he adds.

  ‘Really cool,’ I agree. ‘Do you watch Top of the Pops?’

  ‘Sometimes, if I’m home. I used to prefer Ready Steady Go when it was on. Did you ever watch that?’

  ‘Yes, all the time with my …’ I was about to say with my mum, but stopped myself just in time. I don’t really won’t to bring her into this. ‘It was brilliant. Did you ever go up to London to see it?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t that keen.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  After that I can’t think of anything else to say, and he doesn’t bother, so I dig into my bag for another fag. ‘Want one?’ I offer.

  ‘I just put one out.’

  I have too, but I feel too stupid to put them away again, so I ask him for a light.

  He flicks open his lighter and cups his hands round the flame as I start to suck. I pretend not to hear my hair singe as the wind blows it into the flame. I’m sucking like mad and at last some smoke starts coming through. I cough a bit, and my eyes start watering.

  ‘How long have you smoked?’ he asks.

  ‘Oh, ages,’ I reply, ‘ever since I was a kid.’

  He tucks me back in under his arm, and doesn’t say anything else until we hear someone unlocking the pub door. ‘Want a drink?’ he offers.

  ‘OK. Thanks.’

  ‘What’ll you have?’

  I can’t say lemonade and lime, or Tizer, which is what I usually have, or he’ll think I’m a right baby, but I don’t know any other drinks, apart from whisky and beer. Then I remember shandy, so I say that.

  When he comes back he has a pint for himself, a shandy for me and two bags of salt and vinegar crisps.

  ‘You’re turning blue,’ he tells me, and taking off his jacket he puts it round my shoulders.

  He’s acting like my husband already, and I love it so much that I want to tell him I’m ready for a snog, but I still don’t know how to do it. If only I’d had some practice with someone else, because I know you’re supposed to open your mouth, and sometimes people use their tongues, but I don’t know how it’s really meant to go, and I don’t want him to end up thinking I’m an idiot or a weirdo or something.

  We eat our crisps and drink our drinks. The beer in the shandy makes me feel lightheaded, but it’s nice so I take another sip. A couple of old blokes go into the pub, but I don’t know either of them, so I don’t have to hide my face. If it was anyone who knew Dad it would be a different story, but luckily I can just sit here pretending I’m out on a date with my chap, and actually it’s not pretending, because I am!

  After he’s thrown our empty crisp bags away and put the glasses on the windowsill, he tilts up my chin and tucks my hair behind one ear. I’m shuddering and shaking, with cold as much as anything, and being too embarrassed to look back at him I keep my eyes down.

  In the end, all he does is tweak my nose then look up as Rich and Mandy come back round the corner of the pub.

  ‘What are you doing still here?’ Rich says, sounding surprised to see us.

  ‘What the bloody hell do you think?’ Kev retorts. ‘And where the fuck have you been? I thought you were never coming back.’

  ‘All right, keep your shirt on. I’ll go and get some drinks.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ Kev says, and taking his jacket off me, he gets hold of Mandy and walks her back round the corner of the pub.

  My head starts to spin as I turn ice cold. He’s gone off with Mandy right in front of me, leaving me alone with Rich. I don’t understand. I thought he was with me, and she’s supposed to be my friend, so why did she go wi
th him?

  I look at Rich. He’s not nearly as tall as his brother, nor anywhere near as dishy – in fact he’s got a bit of a snidey look, I always think, but I don’t care. When he says, ‘Fancy going?’ even though I don’t really know what he means, I reply, ‘Yes, all right,’ because I’m going to teach that Mandy a lesson. If she can have Kev, then I can have Rich, and we’ll see how she likes it when she comes back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eddie

  OUR SUSAN’S BACK at school now, and I have to say, knowing where she is from morning to night has been such a weight off my mind that I might be feeling ten years younger, if Betty Williams hadn’t told me she thought she saw her last Sunday up Siston Common with Mandy Hughes and a gang of boys. I didn’t even know she knew Mandy Hughes, and as far as I was concerned she was in detention that day, so she either lied, and I’m very much afraid I think she did, or Betty had got it wrong.

  When I saw Susan the following Sunday she swore black and blue it couldn’t have been her. ‘You can ask Sadie, or Cheryl, or even Seaweed, if you like,’ she cried. ‘I was here, in stupid, bloody detention for chalking a zebra crossing between the gym and the art room. Can’t anyone take a joke around here?’

  She directed the last words so loudly towards Miss Sayward that I put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down, and led her over to the car. I waited until we were on our way back to school before broaching the next serious issue, which was the school’s repeated insistence that she, and I, go to see a child psychiatrist.

  She looked at me as though I was off my head. ‘Get lost!’ she sneered, in a way that’s becoming typical of her lately, and makes me wonder what’s happened to my daughter. ‘I’m not seeing any psychiatrist. I’m not a child.’

  ‘In the eyes of the school, and the law, you are, and the way you’re constantly misbehaving is causing everyone a great deal of concern.’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t everyone just mind their own business?’

  ‘Because you are their business while you’re in their care, and they’re trying to help us get to the bottom of why you’re being so disruptive.’