by Jemma Forte
‘What is it?’ she says, looking nervous, mainly of me I think. She’s not good with people being upset around her. She tends not to do sympathy.
‘When I was at yours … Gary … he … oh Hayley I’m so, so, unbelievably sorry to have to tell you this but … he sort of tried it on with me.’
Hayley’s face drains of all its colour and her stare seems to pierce my soul.
‘I’m so, so sorry but I had to tell you obviously. You need to know what kind of a man he is. I mean, I don’t think he would have gone as far as to sleep with me but he was definitely up for a bit of playing around and … to be completely honest, I’m not totally sure he hasn’t done it with other people too.’
Still she says nothing, but I understand. It’s a shock. I move towards her expecting to have to comfort her any second now, once she’s absorbed what’s happened. She’ll feel dreadful for me too no doubt, once she’s realised what her vile husband’s put me through.
‘Oh Hayley it was so awful. It was so embarrassing and all I could think was how upset you’d be and what an idiot he was being and …’
‘How dare you?’ she says, only she says it so quietly and so icily, at first I’m not convinced I’ve heard right.
‘You what?’
‘How fucking dare you speak a word against my husband? He said you’d try this but I wouldn’t believe it. I said you may be fucked in the head but that you weren’t an evil bitch. Turns out I was wrong.’
‘Hayley, what do you mean?’ I say, beyond distraught. ‘How can you even say those things?’
‘You’re a lying little slut and just because I’ve got everything you would like to have for yourself you think you can try and ruin it for me. Well you’re not going to get away with it.’
‘Hayley, think about what you’re saying. Do you really honestly think I would make something like this up? He came on to me I’m telling you. I know it’s hard to hear but please believe me, this is the last conversation I ever wanted to be having.’
‘Bitch,’ she yells, edging ever nearer towards me. ‘Gary told me how you came on to him and how you’ve been trying to get him into bed for years. Only I’m so stupid I told him he was talking bollocks. Told him you weren’t a disgusting little slag, except I was wrong.’
‘You weren’t,’ I wail, but don’t get any further because from nowhere, suddenly Hayley slaps me hard round the face.
The sound reverberates around the room and in that second everything changes.
That’s it.
She hasn’t just crossed a line she’s flung herself bodily over it and years of her selfishness, her shit, have finally caught up with me.
Clutching my face and trembling, now I’m the one advancing towards her. ‘I never want to see you again,’ I find myself saying, in a voice so full of white fury even Hayley recoils. She puts her hands out. ‘Look, just chill out OK? I shouldn’t have hit you …’
But I have no interest in listening to what she has to say any more. ‘From this day forward you are no longer my sister and I don’t want to have anything to do with you or your disgusting pig of a husband.’
‘Don’t you dare try and …’
‘No, don’t you dare,’ I scream at the top of my lungs and I’m so angry I hardly recognise myself.
She stares at me, her mouth set into a strip of misery, her eyes cold, yet satisfyingly frightened.
‘I’ve spent my life tip-toeing around your feelings,’ I yell. ‘Always aware that as far as everyone around here was concerned, for some strange reason your life was more important than mine. I have learnt over the years how to blend into the background. How to keep most of my opinions, my thoughts and my feelings to myself because when I do speak up no one cares what I think anyway. This entire house has always revolved around you. Mum’s pride in your looks, your wedding, your modelling, your life. Only I don’t know why, because although you may happen to look a lot like some supermodel, other than that you’re just an arsehole. And you know what Hayley?’
During the stunned, possibly petrified and very frosty silence that ensues I notice I’m actually trembling with rage. ‘You know what? I don’t care any more. I don’t care and I’m not going to live my life worrying about what I can and can’t say because you’re so “sensitive”, because inside you’re not a very nice person so, frankly, you don’t deserve it.’
‘Well that’s rich coming from the whore who tried to cop off with my husband,’ Hayley replies, her hands in tight fists by her side, but I know that for once she’s listening because although her eyes are blazing her tone is more defensive than anything.
‘You’ve always been jealous of me Marianne, but that doesn’t give you the right to make shit up about Gary,’ she adds, though again, in less of an assured way.
I can tell she’s spooked. I’m glad.
‘Jealous? Of you? Are you completely stupid? Can’t you hear what I’m saying? I pity you. I pity you for being so pathetic that you can’t see how much of an unfaithful prick your husband is. I feel sorry for you for being so deluded and for being so insecure that you’ve never been able to go without male attention for more than five minutes without panicking. And I despise you for robbing me of a sister by choosing to be such a disgusting cow to me all the time.’
‘Robbing you of a sister? Oh as if,’ Hayley retorts, her voice dripping with contempt.
‘You have. We were close when we were kids. You used to look out for me. Hard to imagine now but you even used to give me a cuddle when I was sad or if I was missing Dad. Don’t you remember? Only as soon as boys started being interested in you, you couldn’t give a shit. Suddenly I became nothing more than irritation.’
‘Not true.’
‘Oh it is,’ I say, refusing to let her pretend otherwise. ‘I have tried over the years to show you that I care, to be there for you, to talk to you but you are as cold as ice to me half the time and I’ve got no idea why.’
‘Haven’t you?’ she whispers.
‘No,’ I say. ‘But if there is a reason then I’d love to know what it is.’
Hayley stares back at me for ages.
‘Maybe I didn’t want to be responsible for you all the time,’ she says eventually, albeit reluctantly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, forget it,’ snaps Hayley, ‘I can’t be bothered with this.’
‘Er, I don’t think so,’ I retort immediately. ‘No, if there really is something you’ve got to say, and I’m not sure there even really is, then you need to say it right now. Or forget about ever having any kind of relationship with me ever again.’
‘Fine,’ yells Hayley.
‘Fine,’ I echo. ‘Well, go on then. Get on with it.’
‘Well, why did I have to be the one to pick up the pieces after Dad left?’
‘What do you mean?’ I reply. I wasn’t expecting that.
‘What I mean is that I was only six myself, for crying out loud, but I always had to be the “big girl”.’
I’m still not entirely sure where she’s going with this but, for the first time ever, it dawns on me that there might be more to Hayley’s aloofness than I have ever truly understood.
‘Go on,’ I say with a heavy heart.
‘He broke my heart too when he left, you know. But you Marianne, you were so devastated, such a daddy’s girl. And Mum was so depressed for ages that I had to look after you in a way. I became the mother for a while. And I tried to make it all better. I did. I felt so sorry and almost … guilty that I couldn’t make things different, that when I was older I suppose I just couldn’t handle it any more. I didn’t see why I had to be the one making everything all right all the time. Seeing you in pain just made me feel worse about the fact he’d fucked off so I hardened up a bit. Just made things easier.’
‘Oh Hayley, I am so so sorry,’ I say, instantly ready to forgive and desperate to make amends for the pain she’d felt as my older sister, worrying on my behalf.
But Hayley hasn’t fin
ished. ‘Don’t bother being sorry. It’s pathetic. And besides, I’m glad I changed because why would I want to be close to a cheating bitch like you?’
‘Hayley,’ I begin. ‘Why do you do this?’
‘Do what?’
‘You open up and I just begin to understand but then you can’t help yourself. You have to start with the name calling and the venom.’
‘Oh get over yourself. I couldn’t give a flying shit what you think about anything. I think you’re tragic and a husband stealer, lowest of the low.’
I’m shaking with anger now. ‘You are aware of what you’re saying aren’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ she says, petulant but unsure again. She does this every time. Speaks without thinking, without considering the damage she’s causing.
Well I’m not going to put up with it any more.
‘Fine, well if that’s all you can say then I don’t want to see you any more, so please get the fuck out of my room.’
And with that, looking more shaken than I’ve ever seen her before, Hayley finally leaves. And only once I’ve heard her run down the stairs and slam the front door behind her, do I allow myself to sink onto the bed and sob like I’ve never sobbed before.
As I do, I make a decision. I am done with this family. I am done with my sister and from now on am going to start looking after number one so that I don’t end up stuck here for the rest of my life. Dad was right. I’ve wasted enough time believing that I’m not good enough while feeling like second best. I need to explore what potential I might have. Nobody else is going to do it for me.
The next day I put a call in to my teacher and ask her if it’s too late for a tour of the Royal College of Music.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When the doorbell goes Mrs Demetrius gives me a little nudge and a wink, and it’s hard to tell which one of us is more excited about Dad being at my lesson today. Well, I say lesson, it’s more an opportunity to play them the pieces I’ve picked for my audition. When you apply to the Royal College of Music, provided you’ve visited the place and got an A grade in A level Music, you are automatically given an audition. For this potentially life-changing event they require that you play the first movement from a concerto plus one contrasting piece.
I did offer to go and pick Dad up from his flat today but he wasn’t interested and was adamant instead that he’d meet me here. As soon as I open the door I realise why.
‘Dad hi, oh … and Matthew, hello, I didn’t know you were coming,’ I say, frowning pointedly at Dad.
‘I asked him to,’ he says grinning. ‘I needed a lift and thought he might enjoy hearing you play.’
I flush red from the tips of my shoes while wishing I’d worn something different. I’ve got baggy boyfriend jeans on, a scruffy old cardi with a camisole underneath, and my roots need doing.
‘Hi,’ says Matthew, looking as awkward as I feel. I can’t help but wonder whether Dad is only imagining that he likes me. Poor guy probably feels too terrified to tell him that actually he couldn’t be less interested in his weird, violin-playing daughter.
‘Well come in, come in,’ says a voice behind me, and Mrs Demetrius comes bustling up the hallway to save the day.
‘This is my dad, Ray,’ I say to my beloved teacher.
‘Well,’ says Mrs Demetrius, giving him a little wink. ‘How about that? You’re back from Australia then?’
God love her for that opening gambit.
‘Something like that,’ Ray replies cheerfully as we all stand in what is a fairly confined space, grinning idiotically at each other. His spirits seem high today. They have been ever since I announced my decision to do everything in my power to try and get into music college. Having procrastinated for years and years, suddenly I seem to have transformed into the most determined person in the world and Dad can tell. He can tell that I really want to do this, mainly for myself, but also for him, and for Mrs Demetrius. The two people who believe in me.
‘It’s good to meet you,’ he’s saying now. ‘This is Matthew, my nurse, who also happens to be a very good friend of mine.’
‘Wonderful to meet you too, and do call me Nina,’ she says, giving Matthew a proper once-over. ‘I’ve been telling Marianne to do so for years but she prefers the formality I think!’
‘Nina it is then,’ says Dad. ‘I’m excited to be here truth be told. I want to see for myself that you think Marianne’s as good as I think she is. She’s too modest for her own good.’
‘Couldn’t agree more,’ says Mrs Demetrius, waving everyone inside and wafting purposefully back through her hall, towards the dining room where her piano is, and where her music stand is set up. Her big grey cat follows her.
‘So, here we are then, this is where it all happens,’ she says, once we’re all gathered in the room and Dad and Matthew have sat themselves down on the dark red velvet sofa. ‘And can I just say before Marianne starts, that your daughter does indeed have a rare and wonderful gift. A gift I believe she’d be crazy not to do something with.’
Ray’s face breaks into a wide grin, so big it looks like it might crack his thin face. ‘See,’ he says, grinning firstly at me and then Matthew.
‘Yeah er, listen, Matthew,’ I pipe up, deciding to throw him a lifeline. ‘It’s really kind of you to bring Dad and everything but I’m sure you’d rather not be stuck here listening to me play on such a lovely day so do feel free to go and grab yourself a coffee somewhere.’
‘No way,’ he says, looking slightly bashful. ‘As long as you don’t mind I’d love to stay and listen, though I did tell your dad I was worried you might think I was gate-crashing.’
At this point both Dad and Mrs Demetrius give me such ridiculously unsubtle looks it’s unbelievable. Dad’s is a ‘See, what did I tell you?’ kind of look, my teacher’s is a ‘Ooh, check out what a lovely bit of crumpet he is. On pain of death don’t mess this one up girl,’ type of look.
It’s all horrendously embarrassing and I decide there and then that the best thing to do is probably just to get on and start playing.
‘Well, in that case, um what I’ve been thinking is that I might attempt the Mendelssohn …’
This warrants a loud intake of breath from my teacher for she knows this is about as advanced a concerto as I could possibly have chosen.
‘And for my contrasting piece a solo Bach sonata.’
‘Perfect,’ says Mrs Demetrius, clapping her hands together before taking a seat at the piano.
We’re there for two hours in the end. Once I’ve played the two pieces I’ve selected, with Mrs Demetrius accompanying me, there is much discussion about why they should be the ones for my audition, and then Mrs Demetrius gets me to try playing a few other things, just to be sure. My dad seems spellbound throughout and to be fair, so does Matthew. I know I sound surprised, but then so few of my contemporaries show any interest at all in classical music so when someone does enjoy it, it’s a rare novelty.
‘That,’ says Dad, wiping away a tear, ‘Was beautiful. It moved me.’
‘I second that,’ says Matthew, and my heart leaps with the praise because I can tell he means it and even better he’s not laughing at me …
‘So, we’re all agreed on the pieces then,’ says Mrs Demetrius. ‘Though I’m going to have to seriously brush up on the Mendelssohn myself because I’m not all that familiar with it.’
In that moment I realise that I don’t just love my teacher because she’s a brilliant and passionate teacher, but because she’s only ever seen the best in me. She hasn’t made any snap judgements about my dad. She’s the most accepting person I know and I experience a huge pang of affection for her. I also realise in that moment how much I must have frustrated her over the years by not trying.
‘If she don’t do them it would be criminal,’ says Dad, his voice gruff. He gets really affected by music, just like I do, and then it dawns on me that of course in actual fact it’s the other way around. I get really affected by music just like him and have obviousl
y inherited my passion for it from my father.
‘OK, I’m just going to come out and say what we’re probably all thinking,’ says Mrs Demetrius. ‘I am so relieved Marianne that you are finally going to give things a shot and try to pursue music in a serious way. She’s good enough guys, I’m telling you.’
‘We don’t know that for sure,’ I say, slightly sulkily, as nerves threaten to unhinge my new-found confidence for a minute. ‘Do you know that about two and a half thousand people audition for the college every year, but that there are only two hundred and forty spaces available?’
‘That is tough,’ says Matthew, looking quite taken aback by these grim statistics.
At last, someone with a vague sense of reality.
‘What is it?’ says Dad.
‘What’s what?’
‘Look, of course you might not get in, and I hope we haven’t made you feel like if you don’t, you will have failed, ‘cos that isn’t how I see it. If you don’t get in, it just means you can explore other options. On the other hand, you might just do it, so what is it that holds you back from wanting to give things a shot?’
I swallow and although I’ve tried hard never to confront the answer to this question, find myself replying to it completely truthfully, at which point it dawns on me that I’ve known the answer all along.
‘I don’t want to fail at my music, because if I do, then it’s over. I don’t care about doing anything else, so don’t want to hear that I’m not good enough.’
‘But now that you’ve admitted that you want your future to involve music, if you don’t get in to the College we can work out another plan,’ promises Mrs Demetrius. ‘Look how much pleasure I’ve got out of teaching over the years, for example.’
‘And isn’t it better to at least know either way, rather than being in permanent limbo?’ says Dad, who’s looking a bit exhausted by this point.
‘Shall we go soon, Ray?’ says Matthew.
‘Yeah,’ he agrees.