Boy Trouble (8 page)

But then Dad said, “We’re having a baby, Amy. Shelly’s pregnant. We wanted you to be the first to know. You’re going to have another baby brother or sister.”

“Half-brother or sister,” I said, standing up. “Excuse me.” I felt sick and I just wanted to get out of there. I could feel Shelly’s eyes on me and I didn’t want to cry in front of her.

“Amy,” Dad said. “Where are you going?”

“To the loo. Is that a problem?”

As I walked inside I could hear the puppy yapping and Shelly saying, “I knew she wouldn’t be happy. I did warn you. But oh no—”

Ten minutes later Dad found me in my bedroom. By that stage I was debating whether to go home or not. He sat down on the bed and put his arms round me. I shrugged them away and he backed off.

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “I know it’s a bit of a shock but I want you to be happy for us.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, tears filling my eyes. “I don’t want to be like this, but I can’t help it. I’m sick of babies.”

Dad gave a laugh. “I know, love, but life goes on. Shelly’s never had one of her own.” He shrugged. “She’s twenty-nine. It’s time.”

“She has years to go. Mum had Evie when she was thirty-seven.”

“I know, but it wasn’t her first. This is very special to Shelly.”

“What about you? Do you want another baby?” I asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Does this mean you’ll be getting married?”

“Ah, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

And that was when he dropped his second bombshell of the day. Dad and Shelly had got married on their holiday in Barbados in March – without telling a soul. March! It is May. When had they been thinking of telling me exactly?

When I’ve stopped crying, I ring Clover. I know it’s late, but it’s Saturday night; she’s probably out somewhere exciting with Ryan, having fun. But I feel so down, I need to talk to someone.

Clover answers her phone immediately. “Hey, Beanie, what’s up?” I can hear music and laughter in the background.

“Where are you?”

“Ryan’s gaff. I’ll just pop outside, give me one sec… Right, that’s better. Shoot.”

It all comes tumbling out. The whole story: the Barbados wedding, the baby, how confused I feel, how I want to die. As I’m telling her, tears run down my cheeks.

“You don’t want to die, Beanie,” she says calmly. “It’s perfectly normal to feel a bit overwhelmed and upset. It’s a lot to take in. What was your dad thinking? Listen, I’ll come and collect you in the morning. We’ll have lunch somewhere nice and you can help me with the new agony aunt letters. That’ll take your mind off it. Eleven, how does that sound?”

I wipe my tears away and give a hiccup. “That sounds perfect.”

“And Beanie?”

“Yes?”

“Love you, OK? That’ll never change. Hang in there. See you in the morning.”

Dad
isn’t thrilled that I’m dashing off with Clover before lunch, but as he’s planned to play golf all afternoon, leaving me with the dreaded Shelly, he can’t exactly complain. When Clover arrives at Dad’s, she’s not alone. Her latest beau, Ryan, is sitting in the passenger seat: my seat! The Red Hot Chili Peppers are playing on the car stereo and his head is bobbing backwards and forwards, his light brown hair rippling to the music. I stare at him for a second. Last time I saw him he had tousled surfer hair, now he has a seventies indie boy pudding bowl, shiny and sleek. With his slim face and cheeky grin he just about carries it off. But it’s close.

Clover opens the driver’s door and pulls down her seat to let me into the back.

Ryan says, “Hiya, Amy. How’s tricks?” and then goes back to his nodding dog impression.

Clover catches my eye in the rear-view mirror. She gives a little shrug with her eyebrows as if to say sorry. She’s been pretty nice to me about Dad and everything, and I’m sure I’m wrecking her romantic Sunday morning, so I smile back at her.

“How’s college?” I ask Ryan.

“Same old, same old,” he says. “Exams coming up. I’ll probably fail.”

“No, you won’t,” Clover says. “Pay no attention to him, Beanie. He’s been swotting away every night. I’ve hardly seen him. I’m surprised he wanted to come out to play this morning. But he squeezed me in. Didn’t you, babe?” Clover gives a laugh.

“Sure.” Ryan flashes her a smile and then stares out the passenger window. I wonder if something’s up. He’s being a little odd; quiet. He’s usually very chatty, cracking jokes and telling me about the new bands he’s just discovered.

“So where are we off to?” I ask her.

She catches my eye. “The zoo. They have a new baby chimp and baby elephant. I’ve wanted to see them for ages and seeing as we’re so near by…” She tails off. “I know you’re a bit old for the zoo, Green Bean, but it’ll be fun. I’ll drop Ryan off in town first. He has to study.”

I say nothing for a moment, and then I sit back in my seat and stare out the window. “OK,” I say eventually. “The zoo it is.” If Clover really wants to go, then I’ll go. It’s no big deal. And it’s time I put my zoo demons to rest.

I was nine, nearly ten, the last time I went. Mum and Dad wanted to take me somewhere special for lunch, my choice; they had something to tell me. So I said I’d like to go to the zoo. I hadn’t been for years and it always reminded me of family days out, in the old days when Mum and Dad still smiled at each other occasionally.

So off we trooped, Mum and Dad in the front, me in the back, silent the whole way to Phoenix Park, home of Dublin Zoo. By the time we got there it was grey and drizzling. I don’t know what I’d expected: that Mum and Dad would miraculously start talking to each other just because we were surrounded by all these cool animals.

Well, it didn’t happen. We had only got as far as the tigers before Dad’s mobile rang. He walked off, saying he had to take the call. Mum stared after him, her eyes flat and dead.

“Great timing,” she muttered. Then she said, “Whatever happens, remember how much we both love you, Amy.” There were tears in her eyes.

I remember thinking someone was dying. Gramps maybe. Gran had died three months previously and Gramps hadn’t been the same since, according to Mum.

But it wasn’t Gramps that was dying, it was their marriage. Later, we sat outside a fake African hut in the African Plains, eating burgers and chips and watching the little black and white striped “train” that took you on a tour of all the African animals. It was really just rickety carriages pulled along by a glorified tractor. Not a train at all. Fake.

I listened as Mum told me how she and Dad didn’t love each other any more, that they had decided to live apart. I’d be living with her and spending every second weekend with Dad. As she spoke, I felt like I was on a cloud looking down at myself. The words went in but I couldn’t concentrate on their meaning. But I knew instantly my life would never be the same again. Sophie’s parents had divorced when she was five and her mum is still bitter about it, even now.

Dad didn’t say much. He just held the back of my chair as Mum spoke to me. I found out afterwards that he’d been seeing Shelly for ages; they’d met in the bank. She was his secretary, what a cliché! But Mum said I wasn’t to blame Shelly. They would have broken up anyway; they hadn’t been happy for a long time.

I knew it was nothing to do with me, but I still felt guilty. Maybe if I’d made a bigger effort to keep my room clean and gone to bed when Mum had asked me to, she wouldn’t have been so tired all the time and Dad wouldn’t have taken up with Shelly. But when I said this to Mum afterwards she just cried and said, “It’s nothing to do with you, pet. It’s just something that happens to grown-ups sometimes.”

I grew up pretty quickly that year. So you can see why I wasn’t exactly waving pompoms like a cheerleader at Clover’s choice of venue. But she wasn’t to know; I’d never told her about it.

We’re standing in the monkey house, me and Clover, when her mobile rings.

“I’ll be back in a second, Beanie,” she says and walks outside.

I watch a baby chimp waddling around in his nappy through the reinforced glass. I know it’s a “he” because there’s a sign taped to the wall. W
ELCOME
B
ABY
L
IAM, BORN ON
12 A
PRIL
. He’s so tiny he trips over his own little feet and I want to pick him up and give him a hug. He reminds me of Evie. I watch as his monkey mum strokes his head gently and gives him a little push. She turns her head and looks at me. Then she puts her leathery hand against the glass. It looks like one of Mum’s muddy old gardening gloves.

I kneel down on the dusty concrete floor and put my own hand up to mirror it. She has a smushed up, almost heart-shaped, nose and I stare into her eyes. The look she gives me is so human, so knowing, I gasp. I’m still reeling from that stare when Clover comes back. She’s chewing on her lip and seems a little upset.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Ah, nothing.” She crouches down beside me and puts her head on my shoulder. “So how are you holding up, Beanie?”

I shrug. I don’t trust myself to talk without crying, so I say nothing.

“I’m sure you’re hurting,” she says. “But give it time. Once the baby is born you’ll be so excited, all this will be forgotten. I promise.”

“You think?”

“You’re kidding?” She nudges me with her shoulder. “You know what you’re like with teeny tinies. You go gaga. You even love their smell. That’s not normal.”

She’s right. I have this thing about sniffing babies’ necks: they smell so fresh and innocent. Like a new cotton T-shirt. My gran used to do it too.

Our backs are pressed up against the glass. Most of the monkeys are outside so there’s no one in the monkey house except for us, Liam and his mum.

“But I am sorry your dad landed you with all that news in one go,” Clover says gently. “Talk about timing.”

“Timing has never been Dad’s thing.” I tell her about Mum and Dad and what happened the last time I was at the zoo.

“Siúcra, Beanie,” she says. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. We could have gone somewhere else for lunch.”

“And missed the monkeys?”

Liam’s mum hits the glass behind us and we both jump in fright. And then laugh.

“Let’s get you home,” Clover says, pushing herself to her feet and holding out her hand to pull me up.

“What about the baby elephant? And we may as well have something to eat now we’re here.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Are you sure?”

I smile at her and nod. She’s been so nice to me – it’s the least I can do. She’s a sucker for elephants, she collects them. She has dozens of them on her windowsill, all joined by the trunk or the tail in long, flowing lines, like something out of
The Jungle Book
. She says they bring her good luck.

And, as she says, I’m a sucker for babies.

My
ears are still ringing from lunch in the zoo’s restaurant. The food was fine but most of the tables were packed with screaming children. I get enough of that at home.

We decided to grab ice creams and scoot. Now we’re sitting on a bench in front of the penguin enclosure. There’s a faint smell of fish and musky animals, but it doesn’t stop us licking our ice creams – a white chocolate Magnum for Clover, who has a very sweet tooth, a strawberry and banana Solero for me.

“I hope you’re not on a diet, Beanie,” she said when I chose the Solero.

“I’d hardly be eating ice cream if I was,” I pointed out.

“Frozen yoghurt,” she corrected me.

I smiled at her wanly. She can be so pedantic.

In fact, I am supposed to be on a diet – the NeanderThin diet – but I keep forgetting. It’s supposed to make you lean, strong and healthy, like a caveman. Honestly! I’m not making it up.

It was Sophie’s idea. She thought we should all diet at the same time and support each other – diet buddies, she called it. Stupid idea if you ask me, but Mills is into it, so I play along for her sake. Janet Jackson lost four stone on it apparently (according to Sophie who got it from her mum’s
Grazia
). You have to eat fruit, nuts, vegetables and steamed fish or chicken every three hours. Every three hours! It’s hard to see how we’ll lose weight if we keep eating so often, but Sophie says it’s all based on metabolic science.