Chapter 8

 

 

 

The pub was crowded, but the theatre crowd found a mostly free table and squashed themselves around it. In honour of impending Hallowe'en, the landlord had decorated the bar with strings of black plastic bats and orange pumpkins. Lily could get a job here, Becca thought despondently, if she was old enough. She'd fit right into the vampire theme. Becca sipped her drink, listening with half an ear to the other actors round the table and trying to hide the fact that she was sick with anxiety. Lily was only fourteen. It was far too young. And who was the boy? Kevin, presumably. When she'd seen the stick, for a second she could have committed murder, but now she was trying to be rational about it. Teenagers experimented. She had, Martin had, heavens, half her Othello class definitely had. It was just that most fourteen year olds didn't go as far.

She'd wanted to talk to Martin about it before she tackled Lily, but Martin, red-faced from his running, had been edgy. Girl's stuff, he kept saying, obviously not taking in the implications. Women's department. And then she'd had to leave or she'd have been late for rehearsal. She was going to have to tackle Lily about the pregnancy-testing stick when she got back. At least it was negative.

Victoria leaned forward. 'How long have you been married, Becca?'

Becca started and brought herself away from Lily and back into the discussion. 'Oh. Twenty years?' She did the maths in her head. They'd been married for five years before Lily came along, and Lily was fourteen. 'No, it must be nineteen.'

'What about you, Brian?'

Brian looked smug. 'Thirty-five.'

'Thirty-five!' Victoria beamed at him. 'That's incredible - what's your secret?'

'I always do what I'm told.' He looked around the table for approval. Becca smiled politely, although she was pretty certain that Brian was an old-school misogynist. She could just see him complaining that things went downhill when they gave women the vote. He'd do it with a little smile as if to say, I don't really believe this, I'm just being a playful tease, what's the matter, can't you take a joke?

'I don't know why we make such a fuss of people who've been married for ages as if it's some kind of great personal achievement,' Becca said. 'Surely they've just been lucky.'

'I don't think so,' Victoria said, frowning. 'You have to work at marriage.'

'Hard labour, in my case,' Brian chipped in, looking as sleek and smug as if he'd never done a day's work in his life, hard or otherwise.

'What about you, Paul?' Victoria said, turning the full wattage of her smile on to Paul as he approached their table, moving up to create a space beside her. Instead Paul sat down next to Becca.

'What about me?'

'Do you think people with long marriages have just got lucky?'

'That, or they're scared.'

'Ooh, you cynic,' Victoria squealed.

'A lot of people stay married because the devil you know is better than risking being on your own.' There was something in his tone that made Becca look closely at him. 'At least during the Restoration there wasn't any pretence about marrying for love. That was a late eighteenth-century concept. You took friendship where you could find it, and lovers - once you'd done your duty and provided the heir.'

'And what about poor people, who didn't have land or money?' Becca said. 'Did they marry for love?'

'The average age of marriage was twenty-six for women, twenty- eight for men. Which isn't much different from now. People saved up to get married, acquired property. Sure there were shotgun weddings - Shakespeare being a prime example - but generally everyone was hard-headed about marriage. They simply didn't expect to find love or a soul mate in their marriage.'

'I didn't know Shakespeare had a shotgun wedding,' Victoria said. 'How romantic.'

'To be fair, we don't know that it was a shotgun wedding,' Paul said. 'But she had a baby six months later so that's the assumption.'

'Didn't he leave her his second-best bed in his will?' Becca said.

'That doesn't sound like love,' Brian said, sniffing.

Paul sipped his beer, then leaned forward. 'Attitudes were different.' As he talked about Tudor and Jacobean attitudes to possessions she realised that he'd sidestepped the question about people being too scared of loneliness to leave a marriage. Was he unhappy in his own marriage? His wife had seemed frighteningly bossy that day at the auditions. And there was something restless about him, a sense of power being controlled, you could see it sometimes in the set of his shoulders when Victoria kept on getting her lines wrong, or Brian couldn't remember whether to turn upstage or down. It must be hard for him to be working with a bunch of amateurs when he'd directed professionally all over the world, Becca thought.

She traced round the edge of one of the beer mats. What would she have done if Lily had been pregnant? Not a shotgun marriage à la Shakespeare, despite Lily being the same age as Juliet had been. She was going to have to have a talk with Lily. She drained her glass. It frightened her to think of Lily - her baby - having sex, needing a pregnancy test. And she was going to have to deal with it, especially as Martin looked as if he was going to opt out of any responsibility. Perhaps if they'd had a boy, Martin would have seen him as 'his' department and gone off for man-to-man bonding sessions over football and fishing.

'That was a big sigh,' Paul said, his voice low.

'Sorry.' She looked around, but no one was looking at her. Victoria, Angela and Brian were deep in some other discussion, Michael was chatting up Rosie. 'I was somewhere else.'

'I'm the one who should be sorry, I was obviously boring for England.'

'Not at all,' Becca said. She looked around the pub, the rest of the cast chatting and drinking, their eyes bright. 'It was fascinating.'

'So much so you drifted off.'

'Sorry, I'm a bit distracted.' She took a sip of wine, then realised the glass was empty. 'I hope it didn't wreck the rehearsal.'

He shook his head. 'Of course not. I don't suppose anyone noticed.'

'You did,' Becca said.

'It's my job to notice.' Paul smiled at her, his eyes sympathetic. 'How are things?' he said.

She opened her mouth to say fine, but found herself talking. 'I found a pregnancy-testing kit at home just before I came out.' If he'd looked surprised, she'd probably have stopped. As it was he nodded, and sipped his beer. 'My daughter's only fourteen. She's too young to be having sex, let alone risking pregnancy.'

'You can't be sure she's having sex.'

'It was used. She'd done the test.'

'She might have bought the test out of curiosity. I'm assuming it was negative?'

'Yes, thank heavens.' She leaned back against the high wooden seat.

'Have you asked her about it?'

She knew she didn't want to ask Lily about it, because of the reply she might get. Becca shook her head. 'I found it literally the second I had to leave to come to rehearsal, so I haven't had a chance.' She wished she could pass the responsibility to Martin but she had to face it, it would come right back.

'Perhaps you could have a more general discussion, but not say anything about the test. She might volunteer the information anyway.' He sipped his beer. 'My kids are too young right now, but I'm not looking forward to talking about sex. I'm sure they already know far more than I did at their age. Probably far more than I do now.'

'Oh yes, Lily always says “But I've already done it at school”. God, I hope that's not literally true.'

Paul laughed, and she felt a stab of pleasure that he had picked up the double meaning. 'You're a teacher, Victoria said. Surely you have to deal with this sort of issue in the normal course of your job.'

'It's very different when it's your own child.' She shook her head and got up. 'I must go home and talk to her.'

'I ought to go as well.' Paul stood. 'Where did you park? I'll walk you to your car.'

'Oh, Becca, are you off?' Angela perked up. 'The calls are a bit different next week because someone had already booked the hall. I think you're on Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday. I'll ring you.'

'Great. Bye, everyone.' Becca smiled at them, there was a chorus of goodbyes from the others, then Paul's hand was in the small of her back, steering her through the pub and out on to the street.

'Which car park do you use?'

'Manvers Street.'

'That's the one towards the railway station?' Becca nodded. 'See? I'm getting my bearings.'

'What about you?'

'Oh, we live up on Lansdown.'

The posh bit, she thought. 'But that's the other direction.'

'I can't have one of my leading ladies being mugged.'

Becca shook her head. 'I'm hardly a leading lady, and Bath's perfectly safe. You don't need to walk me to my car.' He smiled. Becca looked at him. 'You're going to insist, aren't you?' He nodded. 'Then I shall accept your company gracefully. Thank you.'

They walked past the abbey which was lit up and silhouetted against the ink-black sky. 'Are you enjoying rehearsals?' Paul said.

'They're the highlight of my week. I'm really grateful to you for giving me the chance,' Becca said, sticking her hands into her pockets and thinking she'd have to get her winter coat out soon. 'It's a major achievement I haven't yet fallen off the stage or bashed into the furniture.'

'It's a pity you didn't take it further - I think you said you thought about applying to drama school after university?'

Becca nodded. 'But I didn't want it enough to follow through, and I think acting's the sort of profession where you have to really, really want it. Perhaps I should have tried. Maybe I'd have become a film star and gone to Hollywood.' She laughed. As if that was likely! 'Or maybe I'd have struggled for work and worked in an antique shop to make ends meet. Or maybe I'd have ended up teaching English after all. Who knows.'

'It's never too late to find out. You could always apply again.'

'What - at my age?'

'Why not? There are lots of courses for postgraduates and mature students. You could do it if you tried.'

'What, audition again, and go to drama school? No, I couldn't.'

He turned away as if disappointed by her immediate dismissal of his preposterous suggestion. Because it was preposterous. Fancy going to drama school at her age. It was ridiculous. You sound just like your mother, she told herself. Or rather, the old version of June. The new version would probably be leaping at the thought of going to drama school.

'This is me.' She smiled at him. 'Thanks for walking me to the car.'

'My pleasure. I hope things work out with your daughter.'

'I'm sure they will.' She jiggled her car keys. 'Till Thursday.'

'Till then.' He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek, the lightest of touches but somehow strangely disturbing.

 

- ooo -

 

'I'm so fat,' Lily moaned, clutching her tummy as she stretched the seat belt over it. There did seem to be more of it than usual, bulging over her school trousers in a muffin top. Pregnant, Becca thought feeling cold all over, despite knowing the test had been negative.

'Perhaps if you ate more sensibly,' Becca said, slipping the car into gear and setting off from Lily's best friend Grace's house, where Lily had gone after school. 'Fewer biscuits and chips, more salads.'

'I don't like salad.' Lily's lower lip stuck out.

'Fruit, then. It might help your skin too,' Becca said, looking straight ahead as if she was just saying it casually. Lily's skin had always been beautifully smooth, with delicate colouring, but recently it had flared up into a band of teenage acne. She was undoubtedly a pretty girl, but the last few months had not been kind. The contrasting jet-black hair didn't help either.

'What's wrong with my skin?'

'Nothing. It's just having a bit of a reaction to the hormonal changes you're going through.'

'Great. My mother thinks I'm spotty and fat.'

'I never said that.'

'You're supposed to be supportive.'

'I am being supportive.' Becca struggled to keep her temper under control. You're the adult, she's the child, she muttered to herself. You're the one in charge. She needs to let off steam in a safe place, and who safer than her mother. But it was hard not to mutter 'not fair', like a more mature version of Lily herself. Not fair, not fair.

'It's not fair,' Lily said. 'Why did I have to inherit Dad's legs, why couldn't I have inherited yours? Everybody else is really skinny except me. It's not fair.'

'Life's not fair,' Becca snapped back. 'Do you think I want to be stuck in a car in a traffic jam with a moaning teenager? Because I don't. I'm fed up too, but I don't go on and on about it.'

Lily started to sob. 'It's all wrong, everything is useless, I'm useless, there's no point in doing anything, it's all hopeless.'

Becca felt swamped with remorse at losing her temper even momentarily. 'Lily darling, of course it isn't hopeless. Of course you're not useless.'

'You're just saying that,' Lily sniffed. 'You're angry with me because I'm a disappointment.'

'Of course you're not, darling.' It was terrifying how fast they could go from the most anodyne of conversations to nihilism. Lily's hormones may have been on a rollercoaster, but did they have to drag Becca along too? She felt giddy from the ride. Best to try distraction. 'How was Grace? I haven't seen her for ages.'

'Why are you trying to distract me? I'm not a child,' Lily said. Becca winced. Lily was sharp at spotting ruses and tricks. On the other hand, saying you weren't a child was practically positive proof that you were immature.

'Oh, look there's Kevin!' Lily sat up.

'Where?' Becca swivelled her head round, eager to catch a glimpse of Lily's object of affection.

'Don't look,' Lily said, subsiding in the passenger seat. 'He might see you.'

'Isn't that a good thing?' Becca saw a youth shuffling along the pavement who she guessed was Kevin. He was stocky, as far as she could tell from his baggy clothes. And older than Lily by quite a few years, she guessed. Old enough to get a girl pregnant. This was her opportunity to find out some more about him. 'Do you want to hop out and say hello, or give him a lift somewhere?'

'Shut up, don't look,' Lily hissed. 'Drive on.'

'Really? I thought he was your friend,' Becca said. The lights changed and she moved forwards, past Kevin on the pavement. As they did, Lily turned round to look at him, then settled back in her seat, texting furiously.

'Sort of.' Lily's fingers rattled over her mobile phone.

The mysteries of teenagers, Becca thought. Still, at Lily's age she'd gone out with different boys all the time, in what seemed like, in retrospect, a complicated rotation around her class at school. The pregnancy-testing kit floated in front of her imagination. She had to ask about it.

'I know you're not a child,' she started, hoping that this might be a way of approaching the subject. 'You're becoming a lovely young woman. But that means you have to think about some other things, like taking responsibility for yourself.'

'I am responsible.'

'I know you are.' Becca couldn't think how to open up the subject. Perhaps it was better to just say it straight out. 'When I was cleaning the house I discovered a pregnancy-testing kit in the bathroom cupboard.'

'It's none of your business.' Lily's tone was of shocked outrage.

'I'm your mother, and it is my business.' Becca took a deep breath. 'You're too young to be having sex, but if you are, you must take precautions.'

'I know all this.'

'Well, you obviously don't know, as you've had to take a pregnancy test.'

'I'm not pregnant.'

'So I saw, thank heavens. Darling, I don't want to pry or discuss your private life, but -'

Lily cut in. 'It was Grace's idea. We wanted to see what happened.'

Becca's heart lifted. 'So you haven't...?'

Lily made a face. 'No,' she said, managing to squeeze about five vowel sounds indicating disgust and horror into the single syllable. But while the thought may have seemed disgusting and horrible to Lily, it made Becca feel light-headed with relief. It was all right. Paul had been right. She felt a wave of gratitude towards him as Lily carried on. 'All the boys round here are creeps. Except Kevin. Anyway, Mum, I know all about it. We've done all this at school, ages ago, in PHSE. They're always going on about it: don't get pregnant, use a condom, AIDS can kill you.'

Becca felt quite taken aback, thwarted in her motherly role of information provider. 'Promise me you'll always use a condom.'

'Yes, yes, I promise. Oh, this is so embarrassing. Can we stop now pleeeease?'

Becca nodded, relieved that it was over and that they had arrived back at the house with her mission accomplished and a happy outcome.

'Mum?' Lily's voice had that two-note wheedling tone that indicated that whatever Lily was about to ask, she didn't expect her mother to agree easily. 'There's Battle of the Bands on Saturday at Moles, and I want to go.'

'What is it?' Becca reversed into a small space trying to avoid touching next door's car.

'Lots of bands play, and then they decide who's best. I'll stay overnight with Hannah,' Lily said brightly as she undid her seat belt.

They got out of the car and went through the back gate. Drat, I should have done the planters this weekend, Becca thought. Never mind, they said tulips were better planted in November, didn't they, so she had a few more weeks. Becca had her hand in her pocket for the back-door keys when Martin opened it.

'Hello.' He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. 'I was just popping out for a run.'

'Hang on a sec. Lily wants to go to some thing late on Saturday night.' She thought back to what Lily had said. 'Isn't Moles a club? You're only fourteen. And who's Hannah?'

'She's my best friend.' Lily's lower lip was sticking out again, ready for a fight.

Becca blinked. As far as she knew, Lily's best friend was Grace, and had been for years. 'What about Grace?'

'She's a friend too.'

Becca looked at Martin who shrugged. 'You girls sort it out between yourselves. You don't need me.'

'I do, I want your opinion.'

'I've got to go - I said I'd meet Una at the corner five minutes ago.' He gave a huge sigh as if it was all too much. 'OK, my opinion is: she's too young, she can't go. Right, I'm off,' and he loped away leaving Becca to cope with the fallout.

'That is so unfair. You never let me do anything,' Lily shouted, slamming through the back door. 'You just want to keep me here locked up.'

Becca followed Lily into the house. 'Lily, be reasonable.' Was that a reasonable thing to say to a teenager? Silence. Becca waited, then climbed the stairs. She could hear sobbing from behind the bathroom door. 'Lily?' More sobs. 'Darling?'

'Go away.'

What to do? Go away, as Lily suggested or talk through the gap. Or break it down and drag her off by her hair to some teenage bootcamp. Becca could see the appeal of boarding schools, pack them off and don't worry about them until they were eighteen, let the teachers deal with teenage tantrums. She was saved from having to decide which course of action to take by the phone ringing.

'I'm just going to get the phone,' she said to Lily. 'But I'll be right back.' By which time she hoped she would have come up with some magic formula, some crafty line, some ingenious solution to Lily's teenage years beyond disowning her.

'Hello?' Becca said, her mind on Lily.

'Ah, Becca...' Her father's voice quavered down the line. 'Can you come over.'

Becca's heart sank. 'It's not a great time, you've caught me in the middle of something.'

'It's about your mother. If you could just come round and talk to her...'

'What is it?' she said. 'Is Mum OK?'

'Yes,' he said, drawing the word out. 'But on the other hand, no. I suppose it depends on who you're talking to.' His voice went into humble mode. 'No, it's too much trouble. I shouldn't have rung.'

She had to say she'd go at that.

If Martin was there he'd say it was emotional blackmail, but Martin wasn't there, he was off running. Becca put the phone down and went back to the bathroom door. The sobbing had stopped. 'Look, I've got to go up to Gran and Grandpa's. Work out what it is you want, put Hannah's address and phone number on a piece of paper for us, and we'll see.' Audible sniffs. 'I'm sure we can work something out.'

'Like going to Moles?'

'Oh, Lily, you're only fourteen. It's too young to be going to pubs and clubs and things.'

'You just don't want me to have any fun,' Lily flung back.

'Yes, well.' Becca could feel a headache developing at a point just above her left eyebrow, as if a small and evil elf were drilling for oil. 'We'll talk about this later. I have to go.'

'Later, it's always later. You never have any time for me,' Lily wailed through the bathroom door. Emotional blackmailing skills were obviously inherited. Becca's sense of duty was neatly torn in half. Who came first, her parents, or her daughter? And what about me?

Lily was working herself up. 'I'm just inconvenient,' she sobbed. 'It would have been better if I'd never been born. That's what you'd like. You wish you'd never had me.'

'Oh Lily,' Becca said, not able to keep the smile out of her voice at the exaggeration. You had to laugh really, all things considered. Lily hadn't yet learned that less was sometimes more in the blackmail stakes. 'You silly pickle, you're the most important thing in my life, as you well know, but I'm just going up to see your grandparents. You could come too, if you like. 'I'm sure they'd love to see you,' she added.

'I might die of neglect, and you wouldn't care,' came tragically through the door.

'We've all got to die sometime,' Becca said cheerfully. 'Never mind, I'll be back soon to sort out your funeral.'