We were sitting at the table, all of us together, you and me side by side as always; Sunday dinner was a family ritual that was only missed if Dad couldn’t swap a Sunday shift on the bus.
You and I were full – we’d eaten too many roast potatoes – but we were still looking forward to Mum’s homemade apple crumble. Then, as if he had to say it quickly or not say it at all, Cal blurted out, ‘I’ve asked Lydia to marry me.’
You and I looked at one another. This was impossible; Lydia was the same age as us.
Mum was bringing the crumble to the table. She almost dropped it as she said, ‘You’ve what?’
Cal’s body stiffened but he repeated his statement in a firm voice and awaited the inevitable objections.
‘How can you even think of getting married? You’re only eighteen. You’re about to go to university. Do you know how hard your father’s worked so you could stay at school and study?’
Cal stared at his empty pudding bowl. ‘I want to marry Lydia,’ he said.
‘Well, you can’t,’ answered Mum briskly. ‘You’re going to university. I’ve never cared for that girl. She’s a bad influence. Look at the effect she’s had on the twins. They would never have started smoking if it wasn’t for her. And what about that New Year’s Eve party they both sneaked off to?’
‘It isn’t fair to blame Lydia for whatever those two get up to,’ said Cal. ‘They’ve got minds of their own.’
‘It wasn’t anything to do with Lydia,’ I chipped in. ‘We needed to be more… more sophisticated. Everybody smokes nowadays. You can’t tell us off. It’s really hypocritical when you smoke all the time.’
‘That’s just what I’m talking about. Before Lydia came along, you would never have spoken to me like that.’
‘We were children before Lydia came along. We’re grown up now,’ I persisted. ‘Lydia doesn’t influence us; we make our own decisions.’
Ignoring me, Mum turned to Cal and said, ‘You’re too young, you don’t know what you want at your age. Lydia doesn’t know what she wants either. Just give it time, please. Don’t throw away your whole future out of impatience to be more adult than you are. Marry her, if you really must, but wait until after university.’
‘We want to get married now, Mum. We don’t want to wait.’
‘How many handbags does Lydia Russell have? How many pairs of shoes? Do you really think she’s going to want to settle for a bedsit somewhere and a few second-hand sticks of furniture?’
‘We love each other. Nothing else matters.’
‘If you love each other, she’ll wait until after you’ve got your qualifications before expecting you to settle down.’
‘We have to get married now.’
‘Oh my God! Don’t tell me you’ve got her pregnant,’ said Dad, throwing down his unused spoon. It pinged against his empty bowl, making you and me jump.
Cal was silent. I was silent too as I thought about the implications of this for my own relationship with Lydia.
‘How could you have been so stupid?’ Dad picked up his spoon again and waved it angrily.
‘Has Lydia said yes?’ you asked, your tone suggesting that if she had, it would be a good thing, bringing her into the family and making us related.
‘She hasn’t decided yet,’ Cal replied.
‘What do you mean, she hasn’t decided?’ asked Mum, as if she couldn’t conceive of anyone having the audacity to turn down her son.
‘She could get rid of it,’ I said, more in hope than anything else. A baby would seal Lydia’s relationship with Cal for ever.
‘Get rid of it? She’s a Catholic. She’d never do something like that.’ Mum had conveniently forgotten that Catholics didn’t have sex before marriage either.
‘Lydia isn’t a Catholic. She doesn’t even believe in God,’ I replied.
‘But she goes to St Mary’s.’
‘Her dad gave the nuns a donation to get Lydia in,’ you said.
Mum looked sceptical, as if you’d made it up.
‘You’re not marrying anyone,’ Dad said to Cal. ‘You’re going to university.’ His face was full of tension; he had told everyone at the bus depot about his clever son who was going to university in the autumn. He’d been so proud, prouder than we’d ever seen him before. And now Cal was talking about getting married and ruining his future.
‘I could still go to university. It doesn’t mean I can’t.’
‘You really think a student grant will run to nappies and baby clothes?’ said Dad.
‘I’ll get a part-time job. We’ll manage somehow.’
Mum put a hand on Dad’s arm. ‘This changes things, Rudy. If Lydia’s pregnant, Cal has to stand by her, of course he does. It’s as much his responsibility as hers. He’s doing the right thing.’
‘I’m not having this. I don’t care if she’s pregnant or not. Cal is going to university and that’s the end of it,’ said Dad.
I took a sip of water. Turning to Cal, I said, ‘Have you actually seen proof that she’s pregnant? She could be making it up.’
He looked at me in disbelief. ‘How can you say something like that? Lydia would never lie to me.’
He doesn’t know Lydia at all, I thought.
Dad was still speaking. ‘You’re putting your whole future at risk. You’ll end up in some dead-end job, moving boxes round a warehouse, or being… or being a bus conductor.’ Dad spat out those last two words. For a moment, I feared he would cry – our dad was so crushed that he was almost in tears.
‘I’ll only be working part-time. I’ll get an evening job. The rest of the time I’ll be at university. I’ve thought it all through, Dad. I wouldn’t be telling you if I hadn’t. Lydia and I are in love. It will be all right. You’re going to be a granddad. That’s something to celebrate.’
‘If Lydia goes through with the pregnancy,’ I said.
‘Why wouldn’t she go through with it?’ you asked.
‘Can you really imagine Lydia settling down with a baby? Has she definitely said she’s keeping it?’
‘She’s still thinking about it,’ Cal replied.
‘You can’t let her have an abortion. That would be wrong,’ said Mum.
Dad flung back his chair so hard that it crashed to the floor. He fled from the room. Mum hurried after him. The apple crumble remained untouched on the table. You put a spoon in the jug of custard and pushed back the skin that was now resting on the top. We could hear our parents shouting at one another. Words like ‘ruined’ and ‘sacrifice’ echoed through the house. Cal’s face was taut, as if he hadn’t been expecting this. What had he been expecting? I thought.
‘It’s all going to work out,’ you said, squeezing his hand. You and Cal were equally naïve.
‘What did Lydia’s father say?’ I asked.
‘She hasn’t told him yet.’
The words, But would you want your daughter to marry one?, bandied about so often after Enoch Powell’s speech, circled round my head.
I went to our bedroom and sat on the top bunk, leaving you with Cal. I needed to think. Lydia was pregnant. Cal intended to marry her. Our parents were still arguing, their raised voices impossible to shut out. And I was numb with confusion. A pregnancy was absolute proof that Lydia and my brother had an intimacy that was no longer open to me and never would be again, and she was the only person I could ever see myself being with. I felt the sting of humiliation once more. I doubted that Lydia had ever wanted me in any real sense. I’d been her little experiment, her way of proving to herself that no one, male or female, was immune to her charms.
One day it would probably please her to tell Cal what we’d done. She would be tired of him. She would want to hurt him. She would want him to know that she’d never really been his. She would want to set us against each other. I lay on the bed, my body still. I had to tell Cal before she did. At least then, he might not marry her, and something would be salvaged. Cal would go to university. He wouldn’t break Dad’s heart.
It grew dark. Our parents’ angry voices were still audible, but they were quieter now. You came into the room. ‘Are you all right?’ you asked.
‘Yes.’
I felt your hesitation, your awareness that I wasn’t all right at all. ‘It will work out with Cal and Lydia,’ you said. ‘They’ll sort it somehow. Cal will find a way of going to university. Mum and Dad will calm down about the baby.’
‘Yes,’ I repeated, in the hope that this would shut you up.
‘We’re going to be aunties. That’s pretty amazing.’
I didn’t reply.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘What do you think is the matter?’
‘It will work out,’ you said again.
‘Where’s Cal?’ I asked.
‘He’s gone to his room.’
‘I need to talk to him.’
‘He’s upset. I think he wants to be left alone.’
‘You’ve spent most of the afternoon with him. It’s my turn now.’ I slid off my bunk and went to find him.
Cal was sitting on his bed when I entered his room. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Zora, I’m all talked out.’ His eyes were ringed black and there was a frown on his face.
‘I need to tell you something,’ I said.
‘Can’t it wait? I’m really not in the mood for anymore talking.’
I sat beside him. ‘No, it can’t wait. I need to tell you something about Lydia, something important that you really need to know.’
He listened in silence as I told him about the night we’d spent together, the frown on his face deepening.
‘She plays with people, Cal, you must have seen it. She doesn’t care who she sleeps with or who she hurts. I had to tell you, to warn you.’
‘Get out, Zora,’ he said.
‘You have to listen to me.’
‘You’re a liar.’
‘I’m not lying. Why would I lie?’
‘You would never do something like that with another girl, nor would Lydia.’
‘Cal—’
‘You’re feeling left out because Lydia can’t spend as much time with you as she used to. You’re the same with Selina; you always want her all to yourself. You’re just jealous and you want to split me and Lydia up. Get out now.’
‘You have to listen to me. Lydia told me about the pregnancy. She told me that she didn’t want the baby, she’s going to get rid of it. She doesn’t love you, Cal, that’s what she said.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true,’ I said, but my voice was unsteady and I couldn’t look at him.
Cal was trembling. ‘All right then, I’m going to go and ask her. I’ll prove what a liar you are.’
I followed Cal from the bedroom, anxious now as I watched him go into the hall and put on his jacket. What would he say to Lydia? What would happen once he told her what I’d said? She would deny it of course, and then she’d stop being friends with me. Cal would hate me too.
He yanked open the front door and dashed out of the house.