Girl, (Nearly) 16: Absolute Torture! (25 page)

Jess felt she had two choices: either she must never be alone with her mum again (tempting, but hard to organise), or make sure she had some time alone with her as soon as possible, so she could see what her mum was really thinking.

Though this evening seemed somehow enchanted, Jess was terrified that, once they were alone together, her mum would rip off her smile with a horrible tearing Velcro sound. In fact, she might rip off her whole friendly face and underneath there might be a fire-breathing dragon.

‘This time you’ve really blown it!’
she might roar, sparks flying out of her eyes and burning small craters in the pavement.
‘You’re a treacherous, cunning, lying, horrible harlot!’

Mum’s hair would turn into hissing snakes. Steam would come screaming out of her ears and cause a sulphurous fog that would hang over Cornwall for days. Ships would founder on the rocks. Trees would go black and die. Teddy bears’ eyes would fall out.

‘Well,’ said Mum, in the real world, ‘this has been lovely, but I’d better be going.’ She got up. ‘Thanks so much for the tea – and for the offer of your boat tomorrow, Phil. We’ll be over at about eleven, then?’

Phil nodded. ‘I’ll have the
Peggy Sue
all spruced up and ready to go,’ he said. ‘They have funerals at sea in Venice. I saw one once.’

‘So they do!’ exclaimed Mum. ‘It is kind of romantic, somehow.’

‘Where are you parked?’ asked Dad, always one to dispel a romantic atmosphere with tiresome practical details.

‘The Island car park,’ said Mum.

‘I’ll walk to the car with you, Mum,’ said Jess.

Mum said her goodbyes – even, in quite a friendly way, to Fred. She and Dad exchanged a peck on the cheek. Phil actually gave her a hug, from which she emerged flushed and confused but sort of pleased-looking.

The men stood at the door and waved as Jess and her mum set off down the narrow lane. Jess felt a throb of terror and braced herself for the steam, the snakes, the burning sparks of rage. But her mum said nothing. All she did was take Jess’s arm, and they set off towards the Island car park.

‘Mum,’ said Jess, ‘you’re not cross, are you?’

‘Cross?’ said Mum, in rather a startled way. ‘No. Why should I be cross? I was feeling a bit guilty, actually.’

‘Guilty?’ repeated Jess, amazed. ‘Why should you feel guilty?’

‘Because I didn’t manage to tell you about Dad,’ said Mum, with a sigh. ‘I should have said something long ago.’

‘Yeah, why didn’t you?’ asked Jess. ‘Not that I’m cross or upset or anything. It just would have been so much easier for us – and Dad, too – if I’d known.’

‘We should have managed it better,’ said Mum. ‘Dad and I kept discussing it. I wasn’t sure when you’d be old enough. I kept meaning to tell you, but, somehow, the right moment never came. I did try, just a few days ago, when we went to see Lawrence of Arabia’s cottage, and I tried again in that park in Penzance, but I’m afraid I lost my nerve.’

‘Well, it’s OK now,’ said Jess. ‘There’s no need to worry about that any more.’

‘I thought you might freak out,’ said Mum.

‘Well, I did, for a while, just at first,’ said Jess. ‘But I’m thrilled about it now. It is so much better than if he had got a girlfriend and a horrible baby and stuff. That would be dire. Instead, he’s gay! That’s so cool! Just wait till I tell all my friends! They’ll be so envious!’

‘Good. That’s all right, then,’ said Mum. She heaved a great sigh, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Are you sure you’re not cross about . . . about Fred?’ asked Jess, her heart pounding. ‘I really didn’t know he was going to be here. It was a total surprise.’

‘It seems rather a flamboyant gesture on his part,’ said Mum. Jess was glad they were walking side by side, and she didn’t have to look her mum in the eye at this crucial moment.

‘Yes, well, Fred is a bit flamboyant,’ said Jess.

‘He’s trying to impress you?’ said Mum.

‘It’s just his way,’ said Jess. Her heart was working up to a terrifying crescendo of thumping. She was sure it could be heard, like distant drumming, all over Cornwall. ‘Fred’s, well, in some faintly ludicrous sort of way, Fred’s actually – what might be known as “my boyfriend”, I suppose.’

‘I thought as much,’ said Mum. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday.’

There was a mesmerising pause. They went on walking towards the car park. Jess braced herself for her mum’s furious denunciation of Fred and all his satanic ways.

‘Oh well,’ said her mum.
‘C’est la vie.’
And she shrugged, quite pleasantly.

‘
C’est
what?’ gasped Jess. Why, at this desperate moment, did her mum have to launch into French, of all things?

‘That’s life!’ said Mum. ‘
Que serà, serà
– what will be, will be. And that’s Spanish, by the way.’

‘Are you trying to tell me, in several different European languages, that you don’t mind?’ asked Jess.

‘I’m saying that this moment was bound to come, and as I’m on holiday and in a rather good mood, I’m not going to let it bother me.’

They arrived at the car and, as Mum turned to face Jess, she suddenly looked about ten years younger.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ said Jess.

‘So am I,’ said Mum. ‘I thought I’d do something impulsive, just for once. A spur of the moment type thing. And, well, you did need your PJs and stuff, so I did have a practical excuse. I hope I didn’t ruin your evening, turning up out of the blue like that.’

‘Of course you didn’t!’ said Jess. ‘You made it just perfect!’

Jess threw her arms around her mum and hugged her harder than anyone has ever been hugged in the history of hugging. And her mum hugged her back, twice as hard as that.

Eventually the hug came to an end. They stood there in silence, looking at each other with tears in their eyes.

‘You look pretty, Mum,’ said Jess.

‘So do you, my babe,’ said Mum.

Then she got in the car, started it and drove off with a funny little wave. Jess stood and watched her go. She looked so tiny, so vulnerable. Tears were running down Jess’s cheeks now.

‘
Please let her be safe
,’ she whispered out loud. ‘
Please let her be safe and happy for ever and ever. And ever
.’

Chapter 37

When Jess got back to Dad’s house she found Phil and Fred in the kitchen. Dad was vacuuming. When she came in, he switched it off. They all looked at her.

‘Was she cross?’ asked Dad.

‘No – it was strange, she was completely cool,’ said Jess.

‘She must have been furious with me, though,’ said Fred.

‘No. I told her you were my gentleman companion and she didn’t bat an eyelid,’ said Jess. ‘I think Mum’s had a really great evening and it’s all sort of – well, sorted for her, now.’

‘Well, well,’ said Dad. ‘That’s terrific. I thought she would be giving you a hard time.’

‘We’d got the stretcher ready,’ said Phil. ‘And the oxygen tent.’

‘I have to admit I thought she was going to eat me alive,’ said Jess. ‘But it just goes to show how surprising people can be.’

‘Well, I thought she was wonderful,’ said Phil.

‘Her problem,’ said Jess, ‘is that she’s never had any confidence in herself.’

‘That’s because of me,’ said Dad.

‘Now, Timbo!’ said Phil sharply. ‘No wallowing in guilt! We agreed! You’re only guilty on Thursdays between four and five!’

‘Yes, Dad, don’t be daft!’ said Jess. ‘You and Mum split up ages ago. She’s had years and years to get over it. She did go out with a few guys when I was younger, but there was nothing major. I’m sure she’ll meet somebody nice one day. Somebody who suits her.’

‘She’s very attractive, I think,’ said Phil. ‘Like our own dear Jess. Small, dark and pixie-ish.’

‘At this point,’ said Fred, ‘Phil should reveal he has a brother who somehow never found the right woman . . .’

‘Yes!’ said Dad. ‘A tall, tragic fisherman with steely grey eyes . . . I almost fancy him myself.’

‘I feel so guilty for not having a brother!’ said Phil. ‘Or even a friend in need of a date.’

‘Maybe somebody who’s looking after his elderly father,’ said Dad. ‘So Granny could have a hot date, too.’

‘I don’t think Granny would ever be interested in anybody else,’ said Jess. ‘Grandpa was the love of her life. She still adores him, you can tell.’ Again, somehow Jess caught Fred’s eye. She was longing to be alone with him again. Just for the next sixty years.

‘Maybe that’s another reason your mum lacks confidence,’ said Phil thoughtfully. ‘I mean, if her parents’ marriage was a terrific success.’

Jess had never thought of that. Poor Mum! Of course. She must have felt even more of a sad unloved reject after her divorce, with Granny and Grandpa cuddling away flamboyantly for years and years, right under her nose.

‘She just needs to get her confidence back,’ said Phil. ‘She’s a really attractive woman. Don’t you think, Timbo?’

‘Well, I did marry her,’ Dad pointed out. ‘And considering I was gay, you have to conclude, she must have been really something.’

‘I’d love to give her a makeover,’ said Phil. ‘With the right hair and clothes, and contact lenses, she could be stunning.’

‘I think she looks like Jane Austen,’ said Fred.

‘Fred!’ cried Jess. ‘Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!
Jackpot!
’

‘What did Jane Austen look like?’ asked Phil.

‘Well, like Jess’s mum,’ said Fred. ‘There’s a picture of her on the cover of
Pride and Prejudice
.’

‘I didn’t know you’d read
Pride and Prejudice
, Fred,’ said Jess, amazed and delighted.

‘My mum’s reading it, to be honest,’ said Fred. ‘But I don’t have to read it. I saw the movie. And, of course, I
am
Mr Darcy.’ And he tossed his head back and glared at her with what he imagined was aristocratic pride.

Jess collapsed into giggles. ‘Idiot! You look like a dromedary!’

The long summer day drew to its close. They all went for a last walk on the beach. It was dark, and the surf crashed, ferocious and white, under the moon.

‘OK,’ said Phil. ‘I’ll be off now to my mum’s. I’ve got to get up early and get the
Peggy Sue
ready for her special trip!’ And he walked off past the Tate Gallery, waving. He hadn’t kissed Dad goodbye or anything. So considerate.

‘Right,’ said Dad, when they got back home. ‘I’m going to make up a bed for Fred on the sofa. While I’m doing that, why don’t you two go and say good-night up on the terrace, under the stars?’

‘Oh goodness, Dad, must we?’ sighed Jess. ‘We’d much rather stay down here and discuss literature.’

‘Well,’ said Fred, ‘we could go up and discuss astronomy.’

‘OK, then,’ said Jess as they trudged upstairs. ‘What’s your favourite star?’

They walked out on to the deck. It was bathed in moonlight. Fred grabbed her and wrapped his long ape-like arms around her.

‘You are!’ he whispered. ‘You’re my favourite star. This has been the best day of my life.’ His heart was thudding away like mad. They sank into a long, long kiss. Then they came up for breath. ‘Apart from when Fubchester United won the European Cup, of course,’ added Fred.