Being Emily

by Anne Donovan

  Jemma drained the last of her coffee, put her cup back on the saucer. So what’s new, Fiona? We saw you’d won another prize at the Art School – it was in the free paper. That’s fantastic.

  I nodded, didnae know what to say.

  What else have you been up to?

  Nothing. I’ve been working in the supermarket every hour God sends.

  Monica leaned her elbows on the table, and cupped her face in her haunds. Fiona, we’re worried about you. You look so tired and drawn. You’re working too hard.

  Her soft voice was so loving that my eyes started to prick with tears. I swallowed them, looked doon at a trace of sugar on the table.

  I’m fine. It’s no for long. I need tae get money for next year.

  We all do. I’m working and so is Jemma. But you need to relax sometimes too.

  Believe her, said Jemma. Coming from Monica whose idea of relaxation is helping with a soup run for homeless folk or mibbe doing some algebra problems in her head, that is really something.

  Monica smiled. Very funny. And how is Amrik?

  Amrik and me are … over.

  I’m so sorry, Fiona. Monica touched my wrist.

  It’s cool. He went tae London.

  And do you have a new boyfriend?

  Drifting. That feeling of drifting that had been so strong with Patric’s friends in London, came back. I was adrift in a sea, but this time Monica and Jemma were the secure jetty I somehow could not find anchor with. I wanted to, longed to sit there and confess all – Amrik and the miscarriage and everything from start tae finish, but it was impossible. There were too many gaps between us and it was too late to fill them in.

  No, I said. There’s no one. But I do have some news. And I started tae tell them all about Mona and her baby.

  One Sunday around the middle of August it dawned on me that Patric hadnae phoned for a while. I was that exhausted by work I’d never realised the time passing. We used tae have a long blether every week or so, but since I’d got back there had only been a few hurried calls fae his mobile while he was on the way somewhere. I needed to hear his voice, reconnect.

  It was hauf eleven and my shift didnae start till two. The twins and Declan had left for the town and Da went for a cup of tea in the chapel hall after ten o’clock mass so I’d probably have the place to mysel for a while. It was a bit early to phone but Patric was normally up by now – he usually met friends for lunch on a Sunday so he’d nae doubt be floating around the flat, mibbe in his goonie after a bath, watering his plants, making sure everything was pristine. Anyway, it was worth a try. I dialled his number.

  I don’t know why I dae it, but I always count the number of rings afore someone answers. At seven maist phones go through tae voicemail but his must of been switched off as it kept on ringing – eight, nine, ten. Then it was picked up at the other end.

  Hello.

  I didnae answer and the voice said, Hello again.

  It was Amrik’s voice.

  I put doon the receiver then a moment later the phone rang again.

  I picked it up immediately. Hello.

  Fiona?

  Patric.

  Did you just call?

  Uhhuh. I thought I had a wrong number.

  I was in the bathroom.

  Was that Amrik?

  Yeah, he’s here – we’re just about to go for lunch with some of the others.

  I never realised you two were friends.

  We’ve been seeing a bit of each other since you introduced us that night at the club.

  Oh.

  Pause.

  So how are you, Fiona?

  Tired. Working in the supermarket.

  You need a break.

  This was the time he’d normally say, Why don’t you come down here for a few days? but he never. You should go for a holiday with Monica and Jemma. Get a cheapo flight somewhere hot.

  They’re already booked up.

  Oh. Well, do something, get away before the baby comes and you get roped into being a nanny. How is Mona?

  She’s fine.

  Great.

  Have you had any time to do your artwork?

  No, barely time tae sleep.

  Listen Fiona, I’ve got to go now. You don’t want to run up the bill. I’m planning to come up next weekend – a flying visit. So take some time off and we’ll go out. Talk then.

  Sure.

  Don’t work too hard.

  The supermarket has a micro-climate of its ain, different fae anything that goes on outside. Nae matter whether it’s chucking it doon or blazing hot, the temperature is set to 17 degrees Celsius, except for the freezer cabinets, fruit and perishable items. The fluorescent lights cast an unnaturally even glow and bland music washes over you, interrupted by annoying announcements. I spent the afternoon and early evening on the till, beeping through items, smiling mechanically at the customers, punctuated by a few spells sorting tinned vegetables.

  But while my body was on autopilot, my mind was birling with thoughts of Amrik and Patric with their rhyming names. How could they of become friends? Easy to see how Patric and his pals would adopt Amrik after the night at the gig, how they’d drop by some Friday night and take him out. But his lifestyle was that different fae theirs. For all their apparent casualness there was a high degree of organisation underpinning their lives. They all worked at real, though glamorous, jobs; while much of their work seemed tae consist of wittering intae mobiles in the street or in cabs, and having lunch and coffees with folk, they did have places tae go and people tae see. And they relied on their phones, texting and emailing and voice messaging to say they’d been held up at X so would be at Y ten minutes late and could they reschedule lunch as they couldnae make it tomorrow but could manage cocktails tonight.

  How on earth would Amrik, who didnae possess a phone, barely knew what day it was and cared less, fit in with the precision power-socialising? He’d coincide with them once or twice then fall out their orbit when a new club became fashionable and they moved on tae another galaxy.

  Why was it bugging me that much anyway? After all what difference did it make that Amrik and Patric were friends. I’d never tellt Patric the truth about me and Amrik and for all he knew we might just of drifted apart. Amrik wasnae likely tae tell him – I don’t suppose he spent a lot of time thinking about it. But there was something niggling away inside me. It just didnae feel right.

  Casual workers never got Saturday aff but I tellt Marie I was gaun tae a wedding. I felt a bit guilty – Marie is really nice, in her late fifties with twinkly eyes, hair dyed jet-black and hairsprayed within an inch of its life. She always looks dead smart with her shoes polished and her uniform neatly ironed. I look hingy, sleeves escaping fae under the overall, hair trailing out fae the elastic band I’ve scraped it back with. I mind the first day I started, when the big boss manager put me under Marie’s care.

  Och, Fiona, says Marie, that gorgeous hair of yours. She stroked it, tried to push the strands back in. It’s no gonnae gie up easily, is it?

  Five minutes later the curls at the front had all come loose again and at teabreak I was standing in front of the mirror trying tae shove them back when Marie came in the wee cupboard that passed for a staffroom. C’mere hen, she said, taking a plastic poke out her handbag. I nipped out tae Savers and got these for you.

  She pulled my hair tighter intae the pony tail, then lifted the rogue locks at the front and clipped them back neatly with little hairgrips. They were covered with pink and blue sparkly flowers, the kind the twins loved and I thought were hideous.

  These’ll keep things where they should be. I know your hair is lovely and clean but working in a shop, around food, you’ve got to be really careful. Don’t want you getting into trouble, darlin. Here. She thrust the pack in my haund. These’ll dae for spares.

  I looked at the remaining hairgrips in the pack. But Marie, did you buy these yourself?

  Och, I was getting some shampoo and I seen them and thought they’d be just the j
ob.

  But how much dae I …?

  Don’t be daft, hen.

  I started to protest but she closed her haund over mines. Time we got back tae work.

  That was Marie all over. Always bringing in biscuits she’d had too many of in the house or buying a cake on someone’s birthday. Bill, the manager, used to call her the ER; if anyone needed paracetamol, plasters or a safety pin, Marie was the one they went tae. She noticed things too. I was on the checkout when Kathryn, a tall skinny lassie with a pale complexion, came to let me aff. As she sat doon at the till, and started to key in the code, Marie appeared at her elbow and whispered in her ear. Kathryn looked up and nodded. Marie slipped something in her haund and took over the till. As we walked away, I noticed Kathryn walked slowly and her face was chalk-white.

  You okay?

  Cramp, she said. My period came on dead suddenly – Marie must of noticed I wasnae looking right – she gave me painkillers and let me take a break.

  After a long lie on the Saturday morning the difference showed in my face – the circles were less pronounced though I still looked drawn and there wasnae much I could dae about the red patches on my skin apart from dab over them wi the twins’ make-up. I washed my hair and ironed a flowery top tae wear over my jeans. When I looked in the mirror my hair was all springing up round my heid like a character in the twins’ cartoons when they’ve had an electric shock. I took a scarf, wanny they Indian cotton ones with a gold pattern running through it, wound it round like a headband. It was a bit long but I thought it gied a nice effect, and the hair springing out at the back looked as if it was meant tae be like that.

  We were meeting Patric and he was taking us for lunch. My da had put on a tie and a light-coloured jacket I couldnae mind him wearing afore. It hung on his shoulders. Mona and Rona were in their best jeans with glittery belts and bags. Mona’s bump was huge noo and her shiny top barely covered it. Declan was his usual pristine self.

  When I came in the living room, Rona pointed at the scarf round my hair. Christ Fiona, you look like you’re about tae clean the hoose.

  I shrugged.

  You’re like wanny they women in the land army in the second world war, hen.

  Didnae know you were that auld, Da.

  Very funny – ah was born in 1950 as you well know. I’ve seen photies of them with their hair tied back wi a scarf wearing flowery pinnies like that.

  It’s no a flowery pinny, it’s a …

  Never mind hen, you look very nice. He turned to the twins. Yous all look very nice. Now let’s go or we’ll be late.

  We had lunch in the restaurant of Patric’s hotel, a light and airy place with glass tables and huge displays of lilies. There was a buffet laid out with lovely salads, roast meats and poached salmon.

  You can have something hot if you prefer, said Patric when we were all seated, but I think this is nice on a warm day, and you can always go for seconds.

  Once we’d chosen, I looked round the table. Patric’s plate was tasteful; a little salmon, a wafer-thin slice of roast beef, salads of various kinds – bulgar wheat, caesar – laid out as elegantly as the floral displays in the room. My da had solid helpings of roast beef, potato salad, tomato salad and lettuce, all separated on his plate. Mona and Rona took huge helpings of the cooked meats, a tiny amount of tomato with the dressing scraped aff and a daud of potato salad. On Declan’s plate was a triangular pile of food which he would nae doubt eat his way through, silently as he usually did. In fronty me was a small portion of everything, not artistically arranged, just there, mindlessly. I wondered if all families were this different. Or did no one else ever look at the way their family ate.

  Everyone was on their best behaviour and though Patric ordered some wine my da only had one glass. We talked about Mona’s baby, and Patric’s work. Anyone looking at us would of thought we were having a nice family lunch out. Which of course we were.

  After lunch Declan, Mona and Rona were off to the movies and Da decided tae join them. After they’d left, Patric led me to a table in the windae at the front of the hotel. You could watch the madness of a Saturday in Glasgow, cocooned fae the noise. Patric ordered coffee and the waiter brought us a cafetière.

  Patric leaned back in the upholstered chair, crossed his legs.

  Da’s looking a bit better.

  He’s awful thin.

  Aye, but he ate a good meal. And he only had one glass of wine.

  He’s no been drinking much recently.

  That’s good.

  He pressed the plunger on the cafetière, poured the coffee. We sipped in silence for a few minutes then Patrick put doon the cup and saucer.

  Fiona, there’s something we need to talk about.

  Shoot.

  I meant to tell you about it before but … it’s not really something you can talk about easily on the phone.

  What is it?

  Last week, when Amrik answered the phone, and I said that he and I were friends.

  Uhhuh.

  Well, actually, we’ve become very close. More than just friends.

  At first I was just utterly, utterly confused.

  But Amrik’s not … I paused.

  He is. Patric lifted a teaspoon aff the table and placed it in the saucer. I mean, obviously he’s bisexual.

  Obviously.

  Patric turned tae face me, took baith my haunds in his. Fiona, I feel really bad about this. I know that you and Amrik went out for a while but I never thought it was serious – you were always quite casual about it.

  I know. It’s no your fault – it’s just – a shock.

  I mean, you weren’t serious, were you?

  No.

  Clearly, however close they were, Amrik hadnae tellt Patric about what happened. Mibbe he’d forgotten or mibbe, with his total lack of interest in anything other than what was going on at the moment, he didnae think it was important.

  Thank God for that. He let go my haunds. I mean, I know it is a bit … well …

  I didnae say anything.

  Complicated.

  Good word. Very good.

  I mean, you and Jas, you and Amrik, me and Amrik.

  You don’t need tae spell it out.

  Fiona, are you okay?

  I don’t know. I really don’t know.

  You see, if it wasn’t important to me I would never have let it happen. If it had been something casual, I wouldnae want to hurt your feelings or make things awkward. You and me have always been so close, flesh and blood. If it had been casual …

  But it’s no.

  No.

  He looked out the windae. I’ve never felt like this for anyone, Fiona.

  And Amrik?

  I’m not sure – it’s early days. He turned and smiled, no the nice wallpaper smile I’d seen so often with his pals in London, a smile that came from inside. We’re just very happy thegether.

  I didnae want to but I had to. I wasnae sure if I was daeing it from pure motives or if the mixed-up mess that was inside me had spewed it out.

  Be careful, Patric. I mean, Amrik is … well, he loves his freedom.

  I don’t have a problem with that.

  I just don’t want you to get hurt.

  Patric stood, pulled me up on my feet and hugged me very tightly.

  Don’t you worry, wee sis. Don’t you worry.

  I caught the subway home like a zombie, chucked mysel on my bed and lay there, unable to dae anything. The room felt even smaller than usual; I stretched out to the sides and touched the walls without moving. They felt synthetic and if you pushed your fingers hard enough intae them you could make indentations – God knows what material they used tae build these wee boxes. The late afternoon sun stippled the far end of the right wall and I watched a bluebottle chase its shadow across it. The windae was open a crack at the bottom and it kept trying tae escape and failing, buzzing off to the patch of light, perhaps thinking it was another exit. I could not make mysel get up to open the windae and shoo it; my heid was full of it
s own buzzing insects unable to find their way out.

  I tried tae assemble them in some kind of order, line them up in wee insect regiments but they just stayed in a guddle that didnae make sense. Patric and Amrik, Amrik and me, me and Jas. I lay watching the light fade on the wall, till I eventually dropped off to sleep, waking only when I heard the voices of my da and the twins, returning fae the movies.

  How was the wedding?

  Marie leaned over me, stuck her key in the till and opened it. A man with a basket full of dogfood drew daggers at her.

  We’ll just be a moment, sir. Marie started tae bag the money.

  Oh … I’d forgotten I’d said I was going to a wedding. Fine.

  Late night, eh? She patted my shoulder. You can go off for your tea in ten minutes, hen. I’ll send Jo over.

  During the break I went out for some fresh air, bought a carryout coffee and stood in fronty the wee paper shop. The moment I’d been putting off. I had tae find somewhere to live, couldnae keep staying at my da’s after the baby was born. A few weeks ago Miss Starkey had muttered about getting Mona a flat but she didnae want that, at least no right away, and my da wouldnae hear of it. Janice didnae think it was a good idea either. I think Mona needs security and family round her at this time.

  She kept dropping hints about me sharing with other students, gied me cuttings about student flats.

  They’ve got these modern places now, Fiona. Your own flat but with other folk around, security doors and everything. Something like that would be really nice.

  I don’t think so.

  I’d seen the ads too. Urban student living. Purpose-built blocks thrown up on wasteground on the fringes of real areas. With fako names. I passed one on my way to the Art School each day, surrounded by tenements and multistoreys – they’d called it Ciao as if it was a restaurant or something. The ads were full of photies of trendy – but not too trendy in case it put off the mas and das who’d be paying for it – young folk all laughing thegether. Hopping in and out of each other’s Ikea-furnished boxes.

  Janice didnae gie up easily. What about the residences?

  They only have places for first years.

  Oh well, you’ll just need tae look for a flatshare. She laughed. Actually it’s quite exciting. I can still remember the first time I moved into a flat.