Megan 3 (4 page)

‘Do you get out much, then?’ the boy called.

Just in case I went red again, I kept turned away slightly so he wouldn’t see my face. I didn’t want him to think I was so much of a bozo that I couldn’t chat to a boy without going all stupid. Anyway, what was going on?
Was
he chatting me up? Was asking me if I went out much a preliminary? And – given that he was obviously sharp, easy to talk to and had the most fantastically high cheekbones – what should I say next? Cool or keen? God, I’d been out of touch for so long that I’d forgotten the rules.

Before I could decide what to say, my taxi pulled up at the kerb with a squeal of brakes and the driver – this morning’s driver – hooted at me. I opened the back door of the cab, lifted Jack in, and then turned to collect my other stuff.

Jon handed it in to me. ‘See you again soon, Gorgeous!’ he said.

‘See you,’ I echoed, and clambered into the cab all confused.

When I looked past the driver’s fat neck I saw his
eyes in the mirror, looking at me knowingly. ‘New boyfriend, eh?’ he asked. ‘Trying it on, was he?’

I gave him what I hoped was a withering expression and didn’t reply.

Jack went to sleep on the way home. I tried to keep him awake, pointing at things out of the window and naming them until I was bored enough to scream, but in the end his little head lolled to one side, his lids fluttered down and, while I was holding him up and saying ‘Car!’ for the zillionth time, he went out for the count. I laid him on my lap, smoothed his dark hair and admired his long eyelashes. He looked lovely when he was asleep – but that was three sleeps he’d had today, which meant that it would be the devil’s own job to get him off tonight. I yawned widely to myself at the thought.

‘Hard work, is it?’ the driver said sarcastically.

On our way home we passed my old school, the one I’d been excluded from when I’d been pregnant. I stared across the playground: I could see a couple sitting on a wall. Was one of them Claire? Who was she with?

If I hadn’t got pregnant I’d be going there now and Claire and I would be doing our A Levels together.
I’d be part of the group she belonged to who had barbecues and discos and trips away together, who went to pubs and
California’s
and had Saturday jobs and bought clothes – even sometimes bought cars – and had a laugh. I wouldn’t be tied down and lumbered.

I strained to see if it
was
Claire, but a stream of cars passed on the other side of the road and I wasn’t sure. We went round the corner and I leaned back in my seat. How weird to think that one night and one moment had led to a complete and utter transformation of my life. I wasn’t the same person any more.

When would the real me come back? Would she ever?

When I got home, Mum was already in – she worked in an estate agents and did funny hours – and was doing something busy at the kitchen sink. Ellie was writing in a school book at the table and she came and took Jack from me, whispering in my ear, ‘Watch out – bad mood!’

Mum turned to look at me. ‘I came home from work early and happened to go in your bedroom. I could hardly walk in there for mess. Ellie’s things were all cleared away but I couldn’t even
see
the carpet for your stuff!’

‘Hello Megan. Hello Jack,’ I said. ‘Did you have a nice day?’

‘Never mind that,’ Mum said. ‘What’re you going to do about that room?’

‘I can’t do anything, can I?’ I said. ‘I can’t tidy things up because there’s nowhere to put them. It’s not my fault if Jack’s got so many toys and things.’

‘You could keep things cleaner and tidier than they are,’ she said, and I could see what sort of a mood she was in because she’d got all our mugs out of the cupboard and was scrubbing at their insides with a little brush. ‘You could keep some semblance of order in there. As it is, it’s complete chaos.’

Hearing his nan shouting, Jack’s bottom lip began to tremble.

‘You’re making Jack cry,’ I said.

‘I’m not talking to you, precious,’ she cooed to Jack. ‘I’m talking to that naughty mummy of yours. What sort of an example is she setting you, eh? It’s not very nice living in a pigsty, is it?’

The phone rang and Ellie and I looked at each other. ‘I’ll go!’ we both said, just to get out of the room, but as Ellie was still holding Jack I got there first.

‘May I speak to Christine?’ a man’s voice asked, and I was so surprised I think I might have gasped. A man
again. The same one who’d rung at Jack’s birthday party?

I played for time. ‘I’ll just see if she’s in,’ I said. ‘Who’s calling, please?’

‘It’s George,’ the voice said. ‘George Simpson.’

I stood there with the receiver pressed against my ear, listening hard, as if I could somehow absorb further information from down the line. I wanted to know more. If we were the sort of family – if Mum was the sort of woman – who had loads of friends and relations calling all the time it would be different and no big deal, but we didn’t. So who
was
George Simpson? Did she work with him?

I put the receiver down on the hall table and went back to the kitchen. Mum was looking at me expectantly. ‘It’s for you,’ I said, and she did no more than drop the scrubbing brush and dash off, still with wet hands, to answer it. She reached the phone and then came back to close the door firmly behind her so that we couldn’t eavesdrop.

‘Oooh!’ I said to Ellie. ‘That was a man again. George Simpson.’

Ellie looked mystified. ‘Never heard of him.’ She held Jack out at arm’s length. ‘This baby needs changing.’

‘Hang on a sec,’ I said. I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.

‘I see. Of course. Yes, perhaps,’ she was saying in a low voice.

‘It’s not double glazing,’ I said to Ellie. ‘It’s not that sort of conversation.’

I listened again. ‘Well, if you think so,’ Mum said. ‘Yes, I’m sorry too.’

‘She’s sorry about something!’ I whispered to Ellie behind me.

I turned back to the door to hear more, but Mum looked across and saw me. ‘Close that immediately and don’t be so nosy!’

I sat down at the kitchen table, grinning at Ellie. ‘It must be a man.’

‘With the name George Simpson I expect it is,’ Ellie said.

‘You know what I mean.
A man
. A boyfriend.’

‘D’you think so?’ Ellie asked. ‘Mmm,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘She’s made a few phone calls in the evenings… and she’s always made-up now when she goes to work.’

We could hear some more murmuring from the hall, then a moment or two later there came the sound of laughter. Our jaws dropped.

A moment later Mum came back into the kitchen.

‘Just a friend, was it?’ I said after she’d started hammering at the mugs again.

‘Never you mind,’ Mum said. ‘That’s for me to know and you to wonder.’

Ellie and I made faces at each other. At least she was in a better mood…

My taxi driver was in full flow all the way home on Friday, but I just let him rant on. I was a bit miffed because, just as we’d driven away from the educational unit, I’d seen Jon jogging up the road and looking, it seemed to me, as if he was heading straight for Poppies. He must have been going to see me. I’d already seen him once in the week, but my driver had been early and we’d only had time to exchange a few remarks. He’d called me Gorgeous again, though, and said I had very kissable lips, and though I knew it was probably all baloney I didn’t care. Now I’d missed him, though, and I had a whole weekend ahead with no hope of seeing him.

I turned to watch his progress up the road, pressing my nose against the glass, and the taxi driver saw me. ‘That your boyfriend?’ he said, and then added with satisfaction, ‘Looks like you missed him.’

Well, if he was that keen, I thought, he’d turn up again. If he wasn’t – well, I could handle it.

As the taxi pulled up outside the flats (‘These council flats, are they? Suppose your rent’s paid by the government. All right for some!’), Mrs Brewster was standing on the pavement. Mrs Brewster – Ellie and I called her Witch’s Brew – was about eighty, lived in our block and took a keen interest in what was going on. She’d had a field day when she found out about Jack, but she wasn’t an entirely horrible old bat because she’d actually knitted me quite a lot of things for him. They weren’t Designer Baby but when you’re on income support you can’t care about that.

She waited while Jack and I emerged with all our stuff. ‘How’s this lovely lad?’ she said, poking a bony finger under Jack’s chin and tickling him.

‘Bye!’ Jack said, showing his two teeth.

‘He’s fine, thanks.’ I shut the taxi door after us and Witch’s Brew insisted on carrying Jack’s changing mat and bag into the flats and up the stairs. ‘Not wearing any of my woollies, then?’

‘It’s too warm at the moment,’ I said. ‘Soon as it gets cold, he’ll have them on.’

We reached the top of the stairs; our flat was just along the corridor. I glanced down, saw two people standing outside it and tried to take evasive action.
‘It’s all right, thanks, Mrs Brewster. I’ll take that mat now,’ I said.

‘No, no. Let me help you,’ she said. She was insisting not because she really wanted to help, but because she’d seen what I’d seen: Ellie outside the door of our flat, locked in a clinch with some boy.

As we advanced on them I coughed loudly. They didn’t move. I could hardly believe it. A week or so ago she’d been playing with dolls, now she was snogging! I knew for a fact I hadn’t snogged anyone when I was only twelve.

I coughed again – right in her ear, practically – and they broke away. The boy, who was about the same age, looked embarrassed, but Ellie just smiled uncaringly. ‘Hi!’ she said. ‘Hello, Mrs Brewster.’

I looked pointedly at the boy. ‘Who’s this, then?’

‘This is Jamie.’

Jamie muttered something.

‘Your boyfriend, is it?’ Witch’s Brew asked.

‘Sort of.’

The old girl gave her a knowing look. ‘You want to watch out. I don’t want to be knitting another set of baby clothes for you, lass.’

I glowered at Ellie. ‘Coming inside?’ I asked pointedly.

‘I was just saying goodbye to Jamie.’

‘Bye!’ Jack said, getting it right for once.

‘I think you’ve already said it.’ Bundling Ellie in, I left Witch’s Brew to walk Jamie off the premises and discover what she could.

‘You haven’t let that boy come in here, have you?’ I asked before we were even through the door.

‘What if I have?’ Ellie asked, wide-eyed. ‘He’s only a friend. He just came in for a cold drink.’

‘Is that what you call it? Only a
friend
!’ I said. ‘I should hate to see what you’d get up to if he was your boyfriend.’

‘Do leave off. You sound just like Mum.’

I put Jack down on the floor in the hall and he immediately pulled himself up using the legs of the hall table, and began to make his way unsteadily into the kitchen, holding on to the walls.

‘Mum would go mad if she knew that boy had been in here,’ I said.

Ellie just shrugged.

I heard a faint squeak as a kitchen door was opened. Then came the noise Jack made when he was greeting the saucepans. I looked at Ellie closely. ‘You wouldn’t, would you?’

‘Wouldn’t what?’

‘Sleep with him.’

She gave a short scream. ‘Of course I wouldn’t. D’you think I’m mad?’

‘Only …’

‘You don’t have to tell me anything,’ she said. ‘I’ve got no intention of sleeping with anyone yet. For years and years. Give me some credit!’

‘Yes, well, that’s what I said, and then things happened and everything got sidelined.’

‘Apart from anything else, I think two babies in this flat might be a bit too much,’ Ellie said.

There was a crash from the kitchen and I ran in to see Jack sitting on the floor surrounded by two colanders and an assortment of saucepan lids.

I looked round: the place was a mess. The worktops were covered in a sea of bottles, feeding cups, dishes, packets of this and that, things to be washed up and things washed but not put away. An enormous pile of washing was strewn in front of the machine and on the worktop sat a basket full of ironing. Mum had already had a fit about the state of things before she left for work and I’d said I’d tidy up, but I hadn’t had time to do anything before I’d left.

‘Look at this place!’ I wailed.

‘I’ve got to do my homework,’ Ellie said.

‘So have I.’ I looked round again. ‘Mum will go mad if she comes in and sees it like this.’

Ellie shrugged. ‘What’s new? She’s always going mad.’ Sticking her Walkman in her ears she went into our bedroom. I leaned over Jack, put the kettle on for a cup of tea and then noticed that the milk hadn’t been put back in the fridge that morning. I sniffed it and realised it had gone off.

Jack saw me looking at the milk and stretched his arm up, making a noise that meant he wanted some.

‘There isn’t any,’ I said, turning the kettle off. I sighed heavily.
Now
I’d have to go down to the corner shop and get some milk. Mum always liked a cup of tea as soon as she came in from work.

I picked up Jack and took him in to Ellie, who was sprawled on her bed reading a magazine. ‘I thought you had homework to do.’

‘This
is
homework.’ She smiled at me sweetly. ‘We’ve got to write a short story.’

‘Look after him, can you? I’ve got to go down for milk.’

Jack lurched towards her, trying to grab the magazine with sticky fingers, and Ellie pulled a face. ‘Do I have to? I can’t do anything if he’s around.’

‘Join the club,’ I said, shutting the door on them
both. I found a few coins in the bottom of my bag and went out. OK, maybe I wasn’t being fair to Ellie, dumping Jack on her, but (as Mum never tired of telling us) life wasn’t fair, was it? And she
was
his auntie. If I’d had to take him with me it would take ages just to get him and the buggy ready and the shop would probably be closed before we got there.

As soon as I was down those stairs and out of the flats I felt better. I was in the world again, normal, free of everyone:
child free
. I could be me for ten whole minutes.

I dawdled in the shop, spending a luxurious amount of time looking in the chill cabinet for the right sort of milk, then made the happy discovery that I had enough money left over for some sort of sweetie treat. I spent another few moments choosing chocolate buttons – normally I would whip past that counter in double-quick time before Jack saw what was on offer and starting wailing for something.