by Sandy Taylor
I did know though. I’d wanted Jack to think that I was clever and funny and not some silly girl. I’d embarrassed Nelson in front of his best friend and now I felt really bad about it and not funny or clever at all. That night, in bed, I snuggled down under the blankets and tried to think about Jack. About how lovely he was to look at and the sound of his voice and the way he smiled. I concentrated really hard on keeping the memory in my head but just as I was drifting off to sleep I remembered the look on Nelson’s face and how I had tried to make a fool of him and then I couldn’t remember Jack’s face at all.
Ten
I tried to be nicer to Nelson after that, because I realised that he loved Jack as much as I did, just in a different way. Sometimes, when they were playing marbles in the gutter, they let me and Brenda join in. Nelson taught me how to play the game and he let us borrow some of his best marbles. The more I got to know Nelson, the more I liked him. Of course he wasn’t Jack, no one could be like Jack, but he was kind and he wasn’t mean, even though I’d been mean to him. I even lit a candle for him next to the dead dog’s candle. We were both happy to follow where Jack led. Monica liked Nelson too, in fact I got the feeling she liked him better than Jack, although she never actually said so. Maybe Monica could marry Nelson when she grew up, then we could all be friends and live together in the same house. I’d like that.
It turned out that Jack and Nelson were only a year older than me and Monica, but Jack seemed way older than that. Neither of them had any brothers or sisters, so I guess that’s why they were such close friends. Nelson said that Jack was like his brother. That would have made me jealous once, but now I’d got to know Nelson I didn’t mind so much.
I wondered how many babies me and Jack were going to have. Monica said she would like to have two, a boy first and then a girl. I decided that if I had a girl I would call her Margaret Rose after the new princess. Monica said she would call hers after Princess Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, which I thought was a bit of a handle to saddle a baby with. A name like that was OK if you were royalty like the Princess and you lived in a palace and you had servants and stuff, but a bit of a mouthful if you lived round here. I was beginning to think that Monica had aspirations above her station. I liked the word ‘aspirations’. I’d learned it from the tallyman who was talking about the woman down the road who’d gone to the Isle of Wight for her holidays.
Me and Monica didn’t have a clue where babies came from. Shirley Green at school said that a stork brought them. Well, me and Monica had never seen a bloody stork flying over the pier with a baby in its mouth and if we had, we would have told a policeman. Ruth Watkins said the nurse delivered it in a black bag. Which makes you wonder why the poor thing didn’t suffocate on the way. Christine Ward said that you got pregnant if you kissed a boy. Me and Monica didn’t believe that for one second, because if it was true then Julie Baxter would have had a tribe of kids by now. We knew it had something to do with boys though, we just didn’t know exactly what and there was no one that we could ask. The nuns didn’t know anything about having babies so it was no good asking them, not even Sister Mary Benedict who looked like a film star. So we had to keep guessing.
‘I bet your dad would tell you if you asked him,’ said Monica one day.
She was probably right. My dad always told me the truth when I asked him a question.
One day, me and Brenda and Daddy were walking on the Downs. I took a deep breath and said, ‘Daddy, where do babies come from?’
Daddy was smoking one of his Senior Service fags and he started coughing and nearly choked.
‘Where do what come from?’ he said, when he’d caught his breath.
‘Babies.’
Daddy scratched at his head, which made his hair stand up on end on account of the margarine. ‘Well…’ he started.
‘I know where they come from,’ said Brenda.
‘No you don’t.’
‘Yes I do.’
‘Where then?’
‘Sister Mary Benedict says that babies are a blessing from God and she should know, she’s married to him.’
‘And that’s perfectly right, Brenda,’ said Daddy, looking relieved.
But I wasn’t satisfied with that. I knew that there had to be more to it and I was determined to find out what it was.
‘How does God put them in the mummies’ tummies, then?’
‘Through a straw,’ said Brenda.
‘Don’t be daft,’ I said.
‘It’s true, isn’t it, Dadda? It’s true!’
‘Now where did you hear that, my love?’ said Daddy.
Brenda chewed at her lip. ‘I dunno.’
‘That’s because it’s not true,’ I said.
‘How do they get in there then?’ demanded Brenda.
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out if you’d shut up for a minute.’
We both stared at Daddy. ‘Well?’ we both said.
Daddy looked uncomfortable and concentrated on undoing and doing up his shoelace. He cleared his throat. ‘I think that’s something you need to ask your mum.’
‘Mum’s not going to tell us, is she?’
‘Remind me how old you are?’
‘I’m nearly nine,’ I said.
‘And I’m almost seven,’ said Brenda.
‘Ask me again when you’re sixteen.’
‘SIXTEEN!’
‘At least,’ said Daddy.
‘Is it a tricky subject?’ said Brenda very seriously and that made us both laugh.
‘Very tricky,’ said Daddy.
‘I thought so,’ said Brenda solemnly.
Daddy started running ahead of us. ‘Let’s roll down the hill!’ he shouted.
So instead of finding out where babies came from, we all rolled down the hill instead.
* * *
Monica and me were sitting, side by side, on the swings.
‘I asked my dad how babies were made and he said he wouldn’t tell me until I was at least sixteen. I don’t think it’s got anything to do with storks and black bags though,’ I said.
Monica stopped swinging, tossed her plaits over her shoulder and said, ‘I think it’s got something to do with boys’ willies.’
I screwed up my face in disgust. ‘Boys’ willies?’
‘That’s what I think.’
‘Why?’
Monica leaned back on the swing so that her plaits touched the ground. ‘I just think it has.’
‘I’ve never even seen a boy’s willy.’
‘I have.’
‘When?’
‘I saw my brother’s willy when he was a baby.’
‘What did it look like?’
‘Well…’ began Monica.
‘I’ll tell you what, I haven’t had my tea yet, so don’t bother.’
‘OK.’
‘I think we need to rethink the whole baby thing, Monica.’
‘I’m with you on that.’
From that moment on, I couldn’t look at Jack without thinking of his willy and then there was Nelson, he would have one as well. Then there was my dad and Uncle Fred and Uncle John and the milkman and the coalman and the tallyman. The whole world was full of willies. I decided not to tell Brenda; she was too young to know about stuff like that. Bloody hell, I’m glad we never asked the nuns.
Eleven
When Brenda was seven, she had to make her first Confession. I’d already made mine at my old school. You had to be in a state of grace before you could receive Holy Communion, which was the body of Christ. You had to go to Confession every Saturday, so that you could stick out your tongue for the wafer on a Sunday morning. It was a mortal sin to eat the wafer if you hadn’t been to Confession the day before. You couldn’t have any breakfast, so your tummy rumbled all through Mass. In fact, the whole congregation’s tummies rumbled all through Mass.
So every Saturday you had to go into a cupboard that looked a bit like a wardrobe and tell the priest all the bad things you’d done. I explained all this to Brenda.
; ‘What bad things have I done, Maureen?’ she asked, with a worried look on her face.
‘I dunno.’
‘What shall I say, then?’
‘I just make it up,’ I replied, grinning.
‘Isn’t that a sin?’
‘Probably, but I haven’t been struck down by lightning yet, so I’m not too worried.’
‘So what do you say, then?’ asked Brenda.
‘I tell him I told a lie, I pinched stuff from the sweet shop, I was rude to my mum and dad. You know, the usual stuff.’
‘But I haven’t done any of those things, Maureen.’
‘Well, you have to say something, you can’t just sit there with your gob shut. Just tell him a load of sins, then say you’re very sorry and mean it. The upside is that when you go back next time, you can say you’ve told lies and you’ll be telling him the truth.’
‘What happens then?’
‘The priest forgives you of your sins and hands out a penance.’
‘What’s a penance?’
‘Blimey, Brenda, don’t you know anything?’
‘How am I supposed to know anything when I’ve never done it before?’
‘Fair comment. OK, a penance is a kind of punishment.’
‘He won’t hit me, will he?’
‘Course he won’t bloody hit you, he’ll just give you some prayers to say.’
‘Can you come in the wardrobe with me, Maureen?’
‘Don’t be daft, you have to go in on your own. It’s really small, we wouldn’t both fit in there.’
‘Is it dark?’
‘For heavens sake, Brenda, you’re in and out in five minutes! Except Danny Denny, of course, who’s got loads of sins to tell him. He’s in there ages but you won’t be.’
‘What prayers will I have to say for me penance?’
‘Now that’s another thing you’ve got to be careful of.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, if say he gives you five Hail Marys, it’s best to do just the one at the altar and the rest on the way home, otherwise people will think you’re a terrible sinner who is destined to languish in the fires of Hell for all eternity. You don’t want that, do you?’
‘No, I bloody don’t.’
‘Do you know what, Brenda? Your language is getting really bad.’
‘I can’t imagine where I get that from,’ she said, grinning.
‘Cheeky monkey,’ I said, giving her a hug.
* * *
That spring I turned nine and Mum said that I could have a birthday party. I had never had a party before. She said that I could invite a few friends, so of course I invited Jack, Nelson and Monica. I was beside myself with excitement and counted the days leading up to it. Aunty Marge had made me a new dress: it was dark blue taffeta with little white dots all over it. I had never owned a dress like it before, it was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.
As I stood looking at myself in the mirror, Mum came into the bedroom. She stood behind me and put her hands on my shoulders so that I could see both of us in the mirror. She was smiling at me.
‘My little girl is growing up,’ she said.
‘Do I look pretty, Mum?’
‘You are beautiful, my darling, inside and out. I am so proud of you.’
I turned around and put my arms around her waist. She smelled of home. Then I sat on the stool in front of the dressing table, while Mum did my hair. First, she brushed the knots out of it, brushed it until the silky, flyaway ends floated around my face. Then she smoothed it with the palms of her hands. That was the bit I liked best – the feel of her hands on my head, stroking my head as they smoothed the hair back away from my face and out of my eyes. Often, when she was doing this, she would lean forward, over the top of me, and plant a kiss on my forehead. My mum’s hands were strong. They weren’t soft hands; the skin was rough and red and chapped because of all the work she did; all the washing up, all the laundry, all the scrubbing and cleaning and polishing. They were strong, rough hands, but when my mum gathered my hair together, she was gentle as anything. When she tied the blue velvet ribbon around my ponytail, she was so careful not to hurt me, or pull my hair. And when she had finished, she always ran her fingers around the back of my neck, tidying up the loose wisps, and when she did that, those rough fingers touched me so softly, she could have been wearing gloves made of silk.
‘Now I must get on,’ she said. ‘I have a birthday party to see to.’
After she’d gone, I looked in the mirror again. Was I really pretty? Daddy said I was. Daddy said that I was the prettiest girl in See Saw Lane, but then he would, wouldn’t he? He was my dad. I wanted to look pretty; I wanted Jack to think that I was pretty.
I ran downstairs and was immediately shooed out into the garden by Aunty Marge. I leaned against the wall watching Brenda play hopscotch down the path.
She hopped towards me and said, ‘Shall we climb the tree?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘I’ll dirty my new dress.’
‘I wish I had a new dress,’ she said.
‘It’s not your birthday, is it? It’s mine.’
‘When’s my birthday then?’
‘Don’t hold your breath, Brenda. It’s not for bloody months!’
‘And I’ll be seven?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And I’ll get a new dress?’
‘How should I know?’
I looked at Brenda’s little face and put my arm around her. ‘I’m sure you’ll get a new dress. I expect Aunty Marge will make you the nicest dress in the whole world when you’re seven.’
Brenda reached out and gently stroked the soft taffeta. ‘Will it be as pretty as yours?’
‘Prettier, I should think.’
Brenda grinned at me. ‘You look very beautiful indeed,’ she said solemnly.
I ruffled the top of her head. ‘You’re a funny old bunny, do you know that?’
‘I don’t mind being a bunny,’ she said.
Daddy came into the garden. ‘I’ve been thrown out of my own house, girls. Now why do you think that is?’
‘It’s because Maureen is going to have a party, Dada. Did you know that it’s Maureen’s birthday?’
‘Really?’ he said, pretending to be surprised.
‘She’s, um… How old are you?’
‘Nine,’ I said.
‘Dada, Maureen is nine today and she is going to have a birthday party and when I’m seven, I’m going to have one as well and Aunty Marge is going to make me a new dress and it’s going to be yellow.’
‘And when is this momentous birthday of yours going to happen?’
‘Don’t hold your breath, Dada. It’s not for bloody months!’
When Daddy looked at me, he wasn’t smiling. ‘You look lovely, my darlin’,’ he said. ‘As pretty as a picture.’
‘Thank you, Daddy.’
It was the best birthday party ever. Jack looked very handsome. He was wearing a white shirt and a tie and a navy jumper with no sleeves and long trousers. Nelson was still wearing his brown jumper but he had slicked his hair back. Sometimes when I looked at Nelson I got the same feeling in my tummy as I did when I looked at Daddy and I didn’t know why. Jack gave me a little brooch in the shape of a bird. I knew that I would treasure it forever. Monica gave me a hanky with an ‘M’ embroidered in the corner. Brenda didn’t have a present for me so she sneaked a jam sandwich off the kitchen table and wrapped it in a bit of old newspaper. I hugged her as if she had given me the Crown Jewels. I ate the sandwich even though most of the jam had stuck to the paper and I told her that it was the nicest sandwich that I had ever eaten.
Nelson handed me a paper bag. Inside were two Black Jacks and two Bullseyes. I knew it must have been hard for him to buy me a present so I told him that they were my very favourite sweets and he went red and scratched behind his ear but he looked happy. ‘I think your dress is very nice,’ he said.
I could feel my face going red. ‘Thank you, Nelson.’
I wished it had been Jack that had said my dress was very nice and not Nelson. Then I felt bad because Nelson had bought me Black Jacks and Bullseyes, even though he was skint, so I said, ‘I think your jumper is very nice.’
Nelson looked down at his old brown jumper and grinned. ‘I like brown,’ he said and we both laughed.
We played statues and in and out the dusty bluebells and hide and seek and hunt the fag packet, even though we didn’t have a thimble.
My birthday present from Mum was a birthday cake with nine candles on the top. I looked at Jack through the glow of the candles and I thought again that he was very beautiful. Daddy had his arm around Mum’s shoulder and I was happier than I had ever been.
‘You have to make a wish,’ said Jack, smiling at me.
I closed my eyes and made my wish, then I took a deep breath and blew the candles out. Everyone sang happy birthday to me. It was the best birthday party ever and even if I never had another party in my whole life it wouldn’t matter, because this one was perfect.
When everyone had gone home and Mum and Aunty Marge were tidying up, me and Daddy sat side by side on the back doorstep. Daddy handed me a parcel. I opened it and inside was some dolls’ house furniture. He had made the furniture out of fag packets and matchboxes. There was a little couch and a table and some chairs and two little beds. I threw my arms around his neck. ‘This has been the happiest day of my life,’ I said.
‘Then it’s the happiest day of mine,’ he said, kissing my cheek.
That night when I went to bed I put the little brooch under my pillow, then just as I was going off to sleep, I added the bag of Black Jacks and Bullseyes. Then I thanked Jesus and the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the angels and saints for letting my daddy be my normal daddy for my birthday party.
* * *
Jack loved everything to do with the movies. Me and Monica never had the money to go to the pictures but I loved listening to Jack talk about the big stars in Hollywood that lived in mansions with swimming pools and servants. It sounded like a million miles away from See Saw Lane. He told me about Greta Garbo, who was a screen goddess, and Mary Pickford, who was beautiful, and Clark Gable, who was the dashing hero. Jack always seemed to have money to go to the cinema but he had to go on his own, because Nelson was just as skint as we were. Jack’s dad worked in a bank and went to work wearing a proper suit and his shoes were always shiny and clean, so Jack got pocket money. I liked Jack’s dad, he always had a smile for me and Brenda and he talked about important things with Daddy, like the state of the world and pigeons, as if he thought Daddy was a regular person and worth talking to. Jack’s mum was a different kettle of cod though. She looked down her nose at us, as if we weren’t as good as her. Mum said she had ideas above her station and Daddy said it looked as if she was sucking on a lemon.