Carl, meanwhile, had stormed off to have it out with Thomas. I tried to get up to stop him, but the room spun. Mr Davies, the gym teacher, came over to make sure I was okay, and insisted on taking me to see the nurse. I hated the nurse’s office, it reeked of disinfectant, and as long as I was able to stand and all my limbs were in roughly the right place, I had sworn to myself that I would never set foot in it.
‘I’m fine, don’t worry! No one has ever died from being hit by a ball. Right, Mr. Davies? ‘
His worried look suggested that maybe they had, which was a bit disconcerting. Probably the balls were all made of concrete in the old days, before Health and Safety.
Nina helped me up and led me back over to the bench, and someone bought me a wet towel to put on my nose.
‘It’s swollen,’ Nina said apprehensively.
‘What? How bad is it?’ I asked, alarmed. I couldn’t go to the theatre or have dinner with Patrick with my nose like Shrek!
‘Well…you can see it a bit.’ She touched it with her fingers.
‘Ow! That hurt!’
‘What a total bastard!’ said Nina.
‘Total, total bastard!’ Carl echoed, back from his punitive expedition. ‘Ooh, that’s swollen,’ he said, his eyes widening.
‘I need a mirror!’ I got up and ran to the bathroom.
The end of my nose was purple and there was bruising around my eyes and cheekbones. I was a monster.
When Mum came home and saw me she was scared.
‘What have you been doing? Have you been in a fight? ‘
It wasn’t that far from the truth.
‘I fought a volleyball with my face.’
‘The ball won I see. Have you put ice on it?’
‘I’ve put an iceberg on it, it’s not working.’
When Paul saw me, he burst out laughing.
I scowled at him, and he stopped instantly.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘It’s a new game we play at school: everyone headbutts the wall, and whoever makes the biggest dent wins. You’re looking at the new champion!
‘Really?’ he asked, puzzled.
I closed the door.
All this fuss about my swollen nose had prevented me from solving the dilemma of Thursday evening, not that I needed much encouragement to put it off, coward that I was. I supposed if I told Patrick I couldn’t come to dinner with them he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. I knew really that he’d only asked me out of politeness, but if I lost this opportunity who knew how long it would be before I got to see him again? There was no-one I could turn to for help or advice, no-one knew how much it meant to me to see him that Thursday.
The next morning, my nose had turned blue, my right cheekbone was swollen and painful, and I had difficulty opening my eye. Mum saw me in the kitchen doorway and screamed.
I frowned and went to sit in my usual chair, but then I noticed there was already a half-used mug on the table in front of me. I looked at Mum, waiting for an explanation.
‘It’s Paul’s,’ she said, continuing to fry the eggs.
‘But this is my place!’
‘You can sit on the other chair,’ she sighed, turning her back to me.
‘I don’t want to sit in the other chair, this has always been my chair! Paul can have the other chair!’ I was getting annoyed.
‘Mia, for God’s sake, it’s just a chair!’
‘Mum, look at me!’
She tried it, grimaced, and looked away
‘Okay, I’ll ask him to move.’
At least my face was good for something. It bothered me though. Was it really so difficult to ask a stupid fat man to make room for her daughter? I hated it when she acted like a doormat.
At that moment the genius himself emerged from the bathroom and walked into the kitchen.
‘Oh... I was sitting there,’ he told me.
I turned to face him. ‘Sorry Paul, house rules state that if you’re away from the table for more than seven minutes, your chair is fair game.
‘Miiiia!’ Mum sighed.
‘Seven minutes? It didn’t feel like seven minutes!’
‘Well, my stopwatch says different’ I showed him my watch.
He sat down in the other seat with a bemused expression and finished his breakfast. Poor thing, I almost felt sorry for him. Not enough to leave him alone, though.
Mum gave me a lift to school so I didn’t catch cold, although I think partly she was afraid that someone would see me and call social services. If a month ago I had been a nobody, now even the walls knew who I was. From outbursts to assaults and now a face like a prize fighter, everyone was watching to see what I did next. Whenever I passed someone would always shout something like, ‘Hey Mia, a guy just stole my parking space, will you smash his face in for me?’ or,’My Magna Carta’s stuck. Can you help me get it out?’
The notoriety was stressful.
And today was Thursday. In a few hours, Patrick would be in the city. Just knowing that he was on his way filled me with panic. I hadn’t said anything to Nina yet. What if he’d already told his mum I was coming over for dinner? Carl had arranged to pick me up at five to give us a couple of hours to get down to Covent Garden, and I still didn’t know what I was going to do. It was time for action.
I spotted Nina over by her locker, and walked resolutely towards her, trying to ignore the looks of horror or pity from the other kids as I walked by.
‘Nina!’ I burst out awkwardly, startling her, ‘I didn’t tell you, but a funny thing happened to me the day before yesterday!’ I tried to smile like I genuinely thought it was hilarious. ‘I accidentally made a phone call to your brother, and he called me back to laugh at me, we chatted for a bit, and then he said that he was coming back today and asked if I was going for dinner at your house later.’
Nina looked at me, puzzled. The fact that I was only telling her now made it seem more suspicious than it really was. He had only asked me to be nice, I was the one with the ulterior motives.
‘Really? I didn’t know that. I was messaging him last night and he never mentioned it.’
I tried to hide my enormous disappointment. I felt my heart crumble. It was stupid of me to think he would remember inviting me, of course he had only asked me out of politeness, but hearing it said out loud still hurt. Suddenly I didn’t even want to see the ballet any more.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, forcing a smile, ‘I couldn’t have come anyway because I’m going to London. I was going to tell you about it yesterday, but with all the fuss about that ball I totally forgot. Don’t mention it to Patrick, he probably won’t even remember!’
I don’t know if I was convincing, just that the effort to act natural was immense and terribly painful. I didn’t have to worry any more, the choice had made itself. But it wasn’t the way I wanted it to.
I was miserable all day, unable to talk about it to anyone. Everyone thought I was out of sorts because my nose hurt and I let them believe it so they left me in peace. Nina, on the other hand, sensed that there was something bothering me besides my bruises.
‘Aren’t you looking forward to the show tonight?’
‘Of course!’ I lied.
‘You wouldn’t think it. You look like you’re going to cry!’
Two worried grey eyes looked straight into my soul. And I collapsed.
‘Everything hurts and I have to go to the Royal Opera House looking like I’ve been in a backstreet brawl. It’s so embarrassing!’
My tears fell, warm and genuine, and even if not for that reason, they were still suffering and sincere.
Nina wrapped me in her arms and stroked my hair, resting her chin on my head. She knew it wasn’t just about my nose, even if, I hoped, she didn’t know the exact reason.
‘Mia, you’ve been through so much all by yourself. And now you’re tired and you need someone to lean on,’ she paused, ‘I wish I was strong and fearless like you.’
I lifted my face from her shoulder an
d looked at her in amazement: ‘You...wish you were like me?’
‘Of course, ever since we were kids! You’re independent and talented, you have this unshakable sense of justice, you’re stubborn, honest and loyal and you make me laugh with your evil sense of humour. I’m sorry if..sometimes your family let you down, but for what it’s worth, I’ll always be here for you.’
She wiped away my tears with the end of her sleeve and continued, ‘If you ask me, you should spend some time with Carl. He’s really sweet, he likes you, and maybe you’ll learn to trust someone else and stop living like a hermit!’
‘You think he likes me?’ I asked, blowing my nose.
‘I was talking to him yesterday and he’s smitten! And he seems like such a nice guy. Obviously I don’t know as much about boys as I thought I did, but he seemed pretty sincere to me. He’s so happy that you’re going to the ballet with him. Give him a chance, please. Do it for me.’
She was right. I had to forget Patrick and my world of make-believe, and focus on Carl, a real boy who actually liked me.
I promised I would think about it.
He arrived at my house to pick me up at five on the dot.
I wanted to make a good impression, and was wearing a dress that belonged to my mother and had been taken in by Mrs Fancher. It was long and black, closed at the front, with a plunging neckline at the back, and it had to be worn with heels, which I had not entirely mastered walking in. I smoothed my hair back behind my ears, with loose curls creating waves around my face, like a 30s starlet.
Now I had to try to disguise my bruises with the help of some makeup borrowed from Mum. From Avon, ironically. I covered the dark spots with concealer, accentuated my eyes with eyeliner and mascara, and finished the look with a matte red lip. I was hoping that if I diverted attention away from the centre of my face, people would be less likely to run away screaming. I took a step back to take a better look, and hardly recognised myself. I certainly didn’t look like a girl of sixteen.
I turned to look over my shoulder. That neckline was definitely too sexy. I ran to Mum’s room and rummaged in her wardrobe until I found a long black pashmina that I draped over my shoulders, and on further inspection I also decided to borrow her elegant sequinned clutch bag.
I was ready.
I went down the stairs slowly, partly to create some suspense, partly because I was afraid of stumbling in my heels and falling, and, if I was honest, partly because I was embarrassed.
Mum raised her head and gasped, and Carl gave me a look that I wished I could have interpreted as something other than longing. I felt myself blush.
‘You look amazing.’ he said, and I could tell that it came from the heart.
‘Thanks. You’re not bad yourself,’ I replied, covering my nose.
He was wearing a black tuxedo that was a touch too big, and his hair was artfully tousled, the result of a good half hour in front of the mirror. He smelled clean and pleasant. He was nice, and fun, Mum and Nina liked him, and he clearly into me, and even if I didn’t feel the same way, I was sure we would get along fine. Anything to forget Patrick. As always, thinking about him gave me painful pangs, and I tried to push the thought away.
Carl gave me an orchid to tie on my wrist. I wasn’t really the orchid type, but I pretended to like it. Mum couldn’t believe her eyes: her only daughter, a born tomboy, had come down the stairs all dressed up to meet a nice boy who was going to take her to the theatre. It was like all her Christmases had come at once. Carl gave me his arm, gently placed my hand on it and, like two dancers in an imaginary pas de deux, we headed towards the car.
He had had it washed specially. I turned and saw Mum waving at us from the living room window, and motioned for her to stop. I was stressed enough without her watching me. Carl put the details into his SatNav. It would take two and a quarter hours to get there. I wondered why we hadn’t taken the train.
‘Why didn’t we take the train?’
‘It doesn’t seem very romantic, does it?’
Romantic? Why did he want to be romantic?
There wasn’t much traffic on the M1. Perhaps we would arrive earlier than planned, and I would have time to torture myself by going and standing outside the Royal Ballet School.
‘Are you cold? I can turn the heating up.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ I said, opening the sun visor to look at my reflection. I glanced in the mirror and closed it immediately, frightened.
I had to start up a conversation and try to get to know him better, otherwise I would do nothing for the whole journey but think about how, at that very moment, in a parallel universe, I could have been at Patrick’s home having dinner, sitting in his lap being fed chocolate cake.
‘That tuxedo suits you, you should wear it every day!’ I ventured
‘Ah this? My oldest brother lent it to me, it’s the second time I’ve borrowed it.’
‘Do you have two brothers?’ I asked, surprised.
‘Two brothers, and two sisters.’
‘Wow!’ I exclaimed. ‘Didn’t your parents have television?’
‘They really wanted a girl, but they kept having boys, so they decided to try for a girl one last time, and ended up having two.’
‘Really? My dad has twins, too!’ I said, pleased to have found something in common.
‘But not with your Mum though, right?’
‘No, Mum only has me, they’re with his second wife.’
‘And where do they live?’
‘Pimlico. They both work in the City, and they can’t live without real-time prices, whatever that means.’
‘And your Mum?’
‘Oh God, she’s the exact opposite. She’s sort of an arty type, really creative and fun. Her only problem is that she always falls for the wrong men.’
‘I guess I don’t need to ask who’s your favourite.’
‘It’s not that she’s my favourite, it’s just that she’s always been there for me, and he hasn’t. And I can’t stand people with no sense of humour.’
‘Oh no! I hope I’m up to your standards.’
‘I don’t know Carl, making me laugh is very difficult.’
‘I know, I get performance anxiety every time I’m about to speak to you.’
‘Nina is always telling me that I’m difficult, but I prefer to think of myself as demanding.’
‘Is there a difference?’
‘That’s what she says.’
We smiled.
‘You two are so alike, you could be sisters.’
‘Really?’ I could have kissed him just for saying that.
‘I mean, you look different, but you’re both kind of crazy. In a good way!’
‘Can you do me a favour, Carl?’
‘Anything!’ he turned to look into my eyes and he didn’t look like he was going to vomit.
‘Will you say that to her tomorrow, when you see her? It’s the nicest compliment anyone could pay either of us.’
‘If you like,’ he smiled.
‘Anyway, why don’t you tell me how you and Thomas got to be friends?’
‘We’ve just always been in classes together. I’ve known him most of my life.’
‘And has he always been like this?’
‘You mean arrogant and cocky?’
‘I was thinking more along the lines of ‘a total bastard,’ but okay.’
‘A bit, but he never behaved as badly as he did with Nina before.’
‘Are you talking to him again?’
‘I can’t ignore him, but I don’t hang out with him after school anymore.’
‘Why can’t you ignore him? Girls stop speaking to people all the time, why can’t boys? Exclude him, make him realise he can’t behave like that!’
‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ he sighed. ‘People like Thomas always seem to be popular and successful. If I excluded him he’d still have a ton of other hangers on. He always seems to know how to put the right face on things.’
‘Until someone breaks
it for him,’ I muttered.
‘You had a pretty good go!’
‘Yeah, and now I look like a boxer!’ I said, pointing to my face. ‘Seriously though, one day someone should teach him a proper lesson.’
‘I don’t think it would help, he’s got skin like a rhino. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘sorry’.’
‘Of course, because he’s always been allowed to treat other people like crap!’
‘Guess what his dad does?’
‘Is he the King of Earth?’
‘A lawyer.’
‘Ha! Almost, then.’
I smiled and relaxed, enjoying the view, and we chatted pleasantly throughout the journey like old friends. I did my best to avoid any lull in the conversation, anything that might bring me back to Patrick.
Finally we came off the motorway and turned onto Edgware Road. London air always energised me. I felt less provincial, more a citizen of the world. This was the place where I would realise my potential, far from everything and everyone, even from the people I loved the most. My heart beat harder and faster as we approached the city centre.
Carl seemed to read my mind, although perhaps the fact that my face was glued to the window had given him a clue.
‘Are you excited?’
‘Totally!’
This was where I wanted to live. I didn’t care if it was in a damp attic with no windows, as long as I was close to my dream. Although, as we drove through the elegant streets of Belgravia and Mayfair, I had to admit I wouldn’t have minded living in a fancy Georgian apartment overlooking Hyde Park. I could have taken York for a walk in the morning before going to class. When you begin to want something, there is no limit to what you can imagine.
I spent the rest of the journey transfixed by the view, dreaming of my future. I could see Carl smiling to himself, proud of the gift he had given me.
‘I can never thank you enough,’ I said, with shining eyes.
‘It’s just a trip to London and a show!’
‘But really, you don’t know what this means to me.’
‘Well, seeing you smile is the best thanks I could wish for.’
When we reached Bow Street, he let me out in front of the theatre and went to find a parking space. I looked up at the imposing facade of the Royal Opera House and caught my breath. I felt dizzy. It was more incredible than I had ever dared to imagine. No photograph could ever do it justice. It was the most beautiful theatre in the world. At least for me. Because for me it wasn’t just a theatre, it represented the fulfilment of every hope or dream I had ever had.
9781789543087 If I Can't Have You Page 9