The Year of the Rat (15 page)

‘So you know she’s here?’ I still can’t work out whether Mum knows more than she’s letting on about what happens in between her visits. I’d been thinking that
I might have to break the bad news about Granny’s arrival to her, half dreading her fury, half looking forward to it; it would be good to have an ally against Granny.

‘Oh yes,’ Mum says, sounding very blasé. ‘I’d recognize that perfume anywhere. It always did make me—’ She breaks off and sneezes again. It’s
true. Granny’s heavy, flowery scent seems to have permeated the whole house. Even in my room I get the occasional whiff of it, probably because she insists on going in there to clean on the
rare moments I’m not there. I’ve been threatening to put a lock on the door. ‘And let’s be honest you can hardly miss her, can you? I’d forgotten just how loud she is.
They can probably still hear her back in Edinburgh, poor things.’

She sounds disappointingly jolly about the whole thing.

‘I thought you’d be furious.’

Mum sighs. ‘Look, I’m not saying I’m delighted. But with Dad at work and you back at school soon someone has to look after Rose, don’t they?’

I know she’s right, but I can’t help feeling disappointed that she’s not more angry with Granny and Dad.

‘Easy for you to say,’ I grumble. ‘You’re not the one who has to live with her. She’s a nightmare. She’s always on at me.’ I do my best impression of
her drawling, posh Scottish voice. ‘
You should be out enjoying yourself
at your age instead of moping about. You should be eating more. You should have a boyfriend. When I was
your age, your Grampy, rest his soul, and I were already courting.
She drives me mad.’

She’s also always on at me to do things with Rose.
Ooh, could you just take her a wee minute, Pearl, while I go and spend a penny?
Or
Could you just take over this feed, so I
can get
on with making our dinner?
Without fail The Rat wails inconsolably when she’s thrust into my arms.
Oh, see, she loves her big sister,
Granny always says
implausibly. But I don’t mention any of this to Mum.

‘Oh dear,’ Mum laughs. ‘Poor you. I do pity you, Pearl, I really do. But Rose has to come first,’ she says firmly. ‘I know you understand that, darling.’

I’m so shocked that I can’t speak, and I’m thankful that the shower curtain means she can’t see the expression on my face.

‘Anyway, let’s not waste time talking about Granny. This is your day. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.’

I don’t say anything.

‘You could try to be a bit more excited, for heaven’s sake.’

‘What does it matter?’

Mum’s unimpressed face appears round the side of the curtain.

‘Oh, don’t start all that again, Pearl.’

‘Mum!’

‘What?’

‘A bit of privacy wouldn’t go amiss’

‘Oh really. I’ve seen it all before.’ She looks at me closely. ‘Are you OK? Your eyes are all red.’

‘I’ve got shampoo in them,’ I lie. She mustn’t guess how hurt I am. ‘Pass me a towel, will you?’

No towel appears.

‘You never go out anywhere any more.’

‘Molly’s boyfriend’s having a party next week.’ Molly keeps phoning me about it. She’s desperate for me to get to know Ravi. ‘I might go to that.’

‘Promise me you will.’

‘Give me a towel.’

‘Promise me or I’m not giving you the towel.’

‘OK, I promise.’

She gives me the towel and a peck on the cheek.

‘You won’t regret it.’

‘Fine. Now will you please go away and let me get dressed in peace?’

As I walk up to Ravi’s front door, I’m glad I started on the vodka before I got here. I feel nice and warm inside and not at all nervous about the fact that
Ravi’s house is much posher than I expected, or that I don’t know any of his friends, and even if I did I probably wouldn’t like them.

I nearly chickened out at the last minute, but, just as I was about to call Molly to say I wasn’t going to come after all, Mum stuck her head round my bedroom door and said, ‘You
needn’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. A promise is a promise, Pearl. Go on, you’ll enjoy yourself once you’re there.’ So I swiped the vodka from the
drinks cabinet and after I’d drunk a bit of it I decided maybe the party would be OK after all.

I ring the big brass doorbell and, after a moment, a very beautiful, sparkly woman, who I assume is Ravi’s mum, answers the door, which is a surprise. I hadn’t realized it was going
to be that sort of party. I’m still wearing the clothes I picked up off the bedroom floor this morning with Mum’s moth-eaten old cardigan over the top. The woman looks at me as if
she’s trying to work out whether I’ve come for the party or I’m going to try and sell her something she doesn’t want.

‘I’m Molly’s friend, Pearl.’

‘Oh yes,’ she says, flashing white teeth and lipgloss at me. ‘Lovely. I’m Sarah, Ravi’s mum. Go through, go through. Everyone’s in the garden.’ She
waits to greet more people who have pulled up in a 4 x 4.

Ravi’s house has lots of thick cream carpets and shiny floorboards and cut flowers in vases, and the overall effect is very
Hello!
magazine. I imagine a picture of Molly and Ravi,
sitting on one of the antique-looking sofas with fixed grins, and maybe a few kids scattered about the place.
Molly and Ravi and the triplets invite us into their Gracious Home.
This
thought combined with the vodka makes me giggle and then I hope sparkly, smiley Sarah can’t hear, which makes me giggle some more.

The whole back of the house opens on to a veranda overlooking the huge garden where there’s a kind of marquee bar area and an industrial-scale barbecue going on. People in uniforms –
in
actual uniforms
–
are flipping burgers and serving drinks. That’s how posh this party is. There’s a band playing terrible music at the far end of the garden
and fairy lights hanging in the trees and great big candle things stuck in the ground. There are lots and lots of people. Some are obviously Ravi’s friends; others look like relatives,
aunties and uncles. I don’t know any of them, which is good. I take another swig from my bottle then stash it back in my bag.

‘Well,’ Mum says from behind me. ‘This
is
swish.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I was expecting cans of beer in the bath and people being sick.’

‘Oh well,’ she says, ‘I wouldn’t complain. Just enjoy yourself. Have fun for once. Go easy on the free booze though if you’ve been on the vodka. You don’t
want to make a scene at Molly’s posh boyfriend’s house, do you?’

I head down the veranda steps towards the marquee where the bar is.

Molly comes running over and gives me a hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you might not come.’

‘It’s not really what I was expecting.’

‘Come on.’ She pulls me after her. ‘Get a drink and come and dance with me. Ravi’s so busy having to talk to all his relatives I’ve hardly seen him all
evening.’

‘I’ll have a drink, but there’s no way I’m dancing.’

‘OK,’ she says. ‘Let’s have a chat instead. A proper catch-up.’

We spot some chairs a bit out of the way and sit down.

‘Well done on your results,’ she says.

‘And you.’

‘We had such a great time in Spain.’ Her face falls a bit. ‘Just a shame to come back really.’

‘Oh right,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

‘Oh no!’ she says, taking my hand. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. It’s great to see you of course. I really missed
you
. It’s just—’

She stops.

‘What?’

‘It doesn’t matter. Come on, just a quick dance?’

But just as she’s trying to pull me up Ravi appears.

‘Hi, Pearl,’ he says and kisses me on both cheeks. Then he stands there, looking awkward and tall. ‘Thanks so much for coming. Are you enjoying yourself? Can I get you
anything?’

‘I’m fine thanks,’ I mutter to his shoes, which look as though he’s probably polished them specially for the occasion.

‘Do you mind if I just steal Molly away a minute?’ He takes her hand. ‘My auntie is dying to meet you.’

‘Oh, OK.’ Molly looks shy but pleased. ‘Back in a minute, Pearl.’

And they disappear into the crowd.

After I’ve drunk a bit more of the vodka, I find it’s quite good fun talking to people who don’t know anything about me. One of Ravi’s great-aunties in
a beautiful purple sari. His godfather. A cousin from Ealing. None of them feel sorry for me. None of them ask me how I’m feeling. I can just tell them anything that pops into my head.
I’m a black belt in karate. I’m at finishing school in Switzerland. I play the ukulele. My dad’s a fighter pilot. Oh yes, my mum’s an opera singer actually.

Oh no. No brothers and sisters. No, it’s just me.

I nip off to the loo every now and then to drink some more vodka. There are copies of
The Economist
in there which makes me giggle for no good reason. As I stash the vodka bottle back
in the bag, I notice that half of it has gone already.

‘You’re getting through that,’ Mum says from somewhere behind me. ‘Don’t you think that might be enough now? Have a glass or two of water. And I know you
don’t really do much eating these days, but some food might not be a bad idea.’

‘You were the one who told me to enjoy myself,’ I say, accidentally squirting expensive hand lotion all over my shoes which sets the giggling off again.

‘Just promise me you’re not going to make a spectacle of yourself. No vomiting in the water feature or trying to snog an uncle. It can all get very messy very quickly, Pearl. And
believe me, I know what I’m talking about here.’

‘I’m fine.’

I’m just in the middle of telling someone who works with Ravi’s dad that I grew up in the Australian outback when I find the ground seems to be moving about a bit.
Maybe Mum was right. I go to the bar and ask for a glass of water. Then I find a table out of the way of everyone where I can just sit on my own for a while and get my head straight.

‘Pearl?’

I look round. Oh God. It’s Taz. Awful Taz, the ‘self-obsessed pillock’ who I sort of accidentally used to go out with. What the hell is he doing here? Drinking mainly, by the
looks of it. Even I can tell he’s had way too much. He comes shambling up to the table, a bit unsteady on his feet, and sits down on the chair next to me.

‘Long time no see,’ he says, breathing alcohol fumes all over me. ‘How are you? You’re looking fantastic.’

He leans in close and I remember how much I didn’t fancy him even when I was going out with him, which I never was really.

‘Taz,’ I say with as little enthusiasm as I can manage. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I play football with the Ravster.’

Great.

‘How are you doing?’ he slurs.

‘Oh. You know.’

‘I heard about your mum.’ He tries to look all serious and sympathetic, but his eyes keep sliding down to where my cleavage would be if I still had one. He puts his hand on my hand.
It’s warm and sweaty, and I carefully remove it with my other hand. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he slurs. ‘Really, really sorry.’

‘Right.’

‘Really.’

‘OK. Got it.’

‘If there’s anything I can do . . .’

‘Taz,’ I say, taking my hand away, ‘are you trying to be nice about my mum because you think it might get you into my knickers?’

Even in his state he looks a bit taken aback.

‘No.’ There’s a pause and his head sways slightly. ‘Not really.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ I say. ‘Only a real arsehole would do something like that.’

‘Yeah.’

There’s another pause and this time he sways so much he almost falls off his chair.

‘I think I might go and get a drink,’ he says at last.

‘Good plan.’

‘You want anything?’

‘No.’

‘OK then. See you later.’

‘I doubt it somehow,’ I say as he staggers off, almost knocking over one of Ravi’s fiercer aunties, who doesn’t look best pleased.

The fairy lights are starting to swirl around a bit. I blink to get them to stay still. But everything’s just a bit hazy and it turns out I rather like it that way . .
.

‘You’re Molly’s friend, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I can’t remember your name.’

I look over to see who’s talking to me, but it takes me a moment to focus on her. Of course, it’s Ravi’s mum: sparkly, smiley Sarah.

‘Pearl,’ I mumble.

‘Such a lovely girl, Molly. She and Ravi seem very happy together.’

‘Don’t they just.’

‘It’s just a shame she’s having such a rotten time at the moment.’

I look up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, with her parents.’

‘What about them?’

‘You know. The trial separation.’

I stare at her, thinking maybe she’s got muddled. She does look as though she’s been on the champagne for a while now: a bit less sparkly, a bit more shiny. But then I think of Molly
and how sad she’d seemed earlier, and how she changed the subject instead of telling me what was wrong, and I know Sarah hasn’t got the wrong person. Molly just hasn’t told
me.

‘Oh, that,’ I say.

She hasn’t told me, but she has told Ravi.

‘It can be so hard on the children, even when they’re your age. Especially when there’s so much acrimony. And they’re using poor Molly like a pawn in their games. She was
in tears the other day just talking about it. I told her she’s got nothing to feel guilty about: none of this is her fault. It’s selfish, it really is.’

So not only has she told Ravi, but she’s told Ravi’s bloody mum.

‘I think our Spanish break really helped though,’ she says. ‘A chance to relax and forget about everything. We had such a wonderful time. But I expect she’s told you all
about it.’

‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘Of course.’

‘I just wonder how things will be when Ravi goes to university.’ She sips her champagne thoughtfully. ‘Hard to keep a relationship going. But some people do of course. I
suppose if it’s a strong enough relationship it will last.’

The lights are swirling again. I close my eyes. When I open them again, Ravi’s mum has gone. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been here, but it’s quite cold and I’m
definitely feeling quite dizzy now.