‘Yes. I found three in the back, and they’re ready on the shelves. Did you get the email?’ Anna went on. ‘From Nicky Oliphant at the Longhampton Gazette? About interviewing us for the Leisure pages?’
‘I thought you could do that. You’re the manager.’
‘They want us both, for the friends angle. You’ve got to say what your favourite book is.’ Anna gave her a resigned look. ‘I mean, I can make something up for you if you want. I guess it’s not that important.’
‘No,’ said Michelle, suddenly feeling bad. If Anna was abandoning her attempts to get her to read now, it was a really bad sign. ‘It is important. We run this shop together, don’t we? It’s just that I don’t have time.’
‘How about putting an audiobook on your iPod?’ Anna brightened up. ‘And you could listen to it while you were running?’
‘Good idea.’ An hour or so would do it. Michelle was an expert blagger.
‘What would you like? Something you read as a teenager? Jilly Cooper? Shirley Conran? I can ask Becca to download something.’
‘Jilly Cooper,’ said Michelle automatically. ‘Here’s my iPod. Tell Becca to knock herself out. But not if she’s busy. Obviously.’
Anna picked it up and Michelle sensed a slight tension.
‘Is everything going OK . . . with the exams?’ she asked carefully.
‘I think so.’ Anna fiddled with the controls. ‘I’m trying to make sure she does her revision at home and not round at . . . Well, you know what I mean.’ She paused and looked up. ‘I think we’ve both been teenage girls. And I can remember what twenty-four-year-old men are like.’
Michelle felt torn. ‘I have told him that Becca’s special, and that he needs to respect her, or face the wrath of you and Phil. And me.’
‘And Sarah. This isn’t an easy time for them, any of them. I don’t want . . .’ Anna seemed embarrassed but determined, in a mother hen-ish way that Michelle would have admired under other circumstances, but now struck her as painful. ‘I don’t want her to think she needs to find affection somewhere else. I’m bloody mad with Phil right now, but as far as the girls go, I’m doing what I can to keep things on an even keel at home. I just want her to get the results she deserves.’
‘Believe me, Anna, if anyone’s aware of how easy it is to mess up A-levels, it’s me,’ said Michelle tightly.
‘She’s not going to mess them up,’ said Anna. ‘I just think you could talk to Owen. Make sure he realises that. Did he go to university?’
Michelle raised her hands. ‘Fine. I’ll start calling round at the flat more,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you the keys if you want, to make some surprise visits to pick up stock? Call in at shag-worthy times? Shall I try to get a timetable? At least this business with Sarah might make them realise how possible a baby is, and what a headfuck it can be. I can’t think of anything more likely to put me off reckless sex with my boyfriend than the thought of my forty-year-old mother doing it, frankly.’
Anna’s face registered horror, then weariness. ‘God. I hope so.’
‘Anyway, if he is taking her back there, at least it’s forcing him to tidy up. I’ve never seen any room of his so clean.’
‘Becca’s very realistic,’ said Anna, as if she was reassuring herself. ‘They’re so much more . . . blasé about things these days than we were. Maybe talking is the new sex. Maybe they’re just having passionate discussions about the EU.’
‘Sensible girls are the ones who need looking after most.’
It slipped out, and Anna looked at her quizzically. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning . . .’ Normally she’d have left it, but for Becca’s sake, she said, ‘It can get boring being sensible. But I’ll talk to Owen again. Lay it on the line about Phil’s rugby-playing background.’ She scooped up her bag. ‘Listen, let me know if there’s anything I can do – for Becca, I mean. I was going to give her a bonus for all the extra work she’s done for the website.’
‘Actually,’ said Anna, ‘there is something. It’s her prom coming up at the end of June, and I wondered if you had any contacts in the flashy car department? Phil refuses to hire her a limo. He says he doesn’t want her looking like she’s in a reality show.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Michelle, glad it was something as easy as that.
‘Thanks,’ said Anna, and touched her arm.
Michelle felt a bittersweet warmth. The fact that she was noticing how nice this moment was, just her and Anna, in their bookshop, was a sad reflection of how few and far between those moments had got lately.
Anna hoped the weather would break to make revision less of a struggle for Chloe and Becca, but it seemed to get hotter every day. The incessant hum of fans didn’t do much to help the bad mood already hanging over the McQueen house, and Sarah’s announcement that she and Jeff would be getting married in the summer holidays, with the girls as bridesmaids in Las Vegas as part of a big family holiday, only stoked things to volcanic levels.
‘She can get lost if she thinks I’m going to stand there like something off of Jeremy Kyle, being a bridesmaid to my pregnant mother,’ Chloe announced over dinner, flicking her new extensions so hard she whipped them in Lily’s eye.
Lily howled and stormed out, knocking over her glass and sending Pongo leaping from the sofa, barking in alarm.
‘Stop crying, you crybaby!’ yelled Chloe spitefully. ‘You’re just doing it for attention!’
Anna looked to Phil to tell Chloe off, but he was already pushing back his chair and going after Lily, before she could. ‘I’ll go.’
She pressed her lips together with annoyance. Phil had run out of ways to deal with Chloe’s simmering fury and now passed all responsibility for tamping it down to her. Meanwhile, he insisted on taking over Lily’s bedtime story – the one enjoyable part of her day – so she could deal with Chloe’s revision. What Phil didn’t know was that Anna was giving Chloe one iTunes download for every hour studied, from his account.
‘What?’ Chloe demanded. ‘What did I say that you’re not all thinking? It’s disgusting.’
‘Nothing,’ said Becca. ‘You keep going on like that. But you’re starting to make Mum look like the reasonable one.’
‘It’ll be a fab holiday, driving across California,’ said Anna. Sticking to the facts was her only tactic; if she thought too hard about the unfairness of everything, her head would explode. ‘You could all do with a break after your exams. And your granny and granddad will be going too – won’t it be nice to spend time with them?’
‘I’m only going for the first week,’ said Becca. She turned over a page in her book, and Anna was surprised to see it was Lily’s copy of Ballet Shoes. Becca had a French exam the next afternoon. She should have been reading La Peste.
‘What?’ demanded Chloe. She raised a finger. ‘No way.’
‘I totally can. I’m only going for a week. I’ve got reading to do, and I need to do some extra hours in the shop, and—’
‘I can’t stand being away from Ooooweeeeeen,’ Chloe sing-songed.
‘Shut up, tubby. Ow!’
‘Chloe, don’t kick,’ said Anna automatically. ‘You’re not eight. Becca, you can’t just go for a week. Your mum will be hurt.’
‘She didn’t think of whether we’d be hurt when she totally got pregnant without talking to us about it,’ retorted Chloe with another head toss. ‘Or if we’d want to be in her embarrassing wedding. I wish I could just leave this dump and go to London and . . . get a proper life.’
Anna wondered if there was a full orchestra in Chloe’s head that burst out into song and dance numbers whenever she made pronouncements like that. She watched a lot of Glee.
‘Get your A-levels, and you can go wherever you want,’ she said instead.
‘You should read this book, Chloe,’ said Becca. ‘It’s all about stage-school girls who get too big for their boots. Only they learn about Shakespeare and are nice to their wise old foster parents and don’t demand hair extensions or leave their moustache bleach in the
shower.’
‘Shut up, Becca, you don’t understand.’ Chloe’s face was bright red; Anna knew she was trying to look dramatic, but beneath the eyeliner, she had the same overwhelmed tiredness in her eyes that Lily got when school became too much. ‘None of you understand, and I wish I didn’t have to live in this house!’
And with a mighty blare of invisible trumpets, she stormed out too.
The cellar door slammed and Becca and Anna looked at each other over the kitchen table. After ten seconds, the opening bars of ‘Toxic’ began, the Wii turned up to maximum volume.
‘She’s dancing away the pain,’ said Becca. ‘Just like the actor playing her will in the film about her life, at this point.’
Anna fought back a smile. ‘So that’s two girls down. What would you like to storm off about?’
‘Me? I’m fine,’ said Becca. ‘I’m cool with Mum’s wedding. If she wants to look back on her wedding photos and cringe, that’s up to her. I’m just not going to hang around for the honeymoon.’
‘OK, I’ll risk it, then,’ sighed Anna. ‘Have you told your dad that you’re going to the prom with Owen yet? Because you haven’t arranged that dinner, like I asked, and he wants to know what’s happening.’
That was a neat filleting around the truth.
‘Did you tell him?’ Becca asked.
‘I just gave him a name. What? I had to, he asked about Josh!’ Anna protested. ‘I don’t like keeping secrets in this house, from anyone. Becca, come on.’
Becca put the book down, gave Anna a reproachful look, then without saying anything, picked up her school bag and went upstairs. Pongo slunk out from under the coffee table and followed her.
Great, thought Anna, refilling her wine glass. My parenting job here is done.
As Sarah’s wedding approached and one exam after another was crossed off, the weather got even hotter, tempers got shorter, and only Lily seemed oblivious to the tension criss-crossing the dinner table. That was because she was lost in her own little world, something else that Anna felt she should be worrying about. Eventually, after hours of sulking, sudden tears, midnight panics and endless chocolate supplied by Anna to the bedroom door each night, Chloe’s final exam, then Becca’s came and went, and Becca’s Year 13 prom night arrived.
Phil’s concerns about Owen finally surfaced properly the night before.
‘Is he trustworthy?’ he whispered over the hum of the electric fan, which was moving the hot air around the bed, not cooling them. ‘Does he have his own car? And what kind of car is it? Has Becca been in it?’
‘This obsession with his car is saying more about you than it is about Owen,’ Anna hissed back. ‘What kind of teenager were you?’
‘An opportunist one with a Mini Clubman. It was my secret weapon.’ He lay back glumly on the pillows. ‘My little girl. Leaving school. Can you tell Michelle to tell Owen to keep his hands to himself?’
‘And how exactly do you propose I frame that request to my boss?’ Anna asked crossly, and Phil shushed her.
She rolled over onto her side of the bed, and he rolled over onto his. The coolest part of the bed, thought Anna, as she tried to plump the heat out of her pillow, was the ever-increasing trench in the middle.
To his credit, when Owen arrived at the front door of the McQueen house, he played the role of dashing-but-reliable escort to a point just short of self-parody.
His dark hair was neater than Anna had seen it before, though still tousled, and he’d found a forest green velvet dinner jacket that gave him a 70s era James Bond panache, far beyond what the Longhampton youth in their dad’s old dinner jackets would be pulling off. He’d shaved, and although one or two leather bracelets were still visible under the crisp white shirt cuff, he smelled clean and fresh, and exuded a handsome eagerness that made Anna wistful for her own university life, where everyone’s scrubbed-up finery was a fairytale transformation from their artfully scruffy daytime looks.
He’d also brought flowers for Becca to pin on her dress, and some for Anna, which he gave her with a shameless smile.
‘Thought I’d err on the safe side,’ he said, following her into the kitchen where she’d chilled a bottle of champagne to toast them. ‘Michelle always told me it’s best to give flowers for no reason.’
‘She was right.’ Anna eyed him, hoping Michelle had given him other advice too. Owen was being charming. Too charming?
Phil appeared behind Anna, with Becca following behind him, suddenly shy, and watching Owen’s face for his reaction.
Anna knew Becca looked beautiful in her simple red column dress, bought from eBay and adjusted by Michelle’s secret tailor, but the expression on Owen’s face was better than a mirror. His eyes widened in admiration, but then blinked rapidly, presumably as he clocked Phil’s reaction to his reaction.
‘You look amazing,’ he said, quietly, and Becca beamed. Anna had to wipe away a sneaky tear.
‘Getting Becca ready’ had been a happy afternoon for Anna and the girls, with lots of make-up and Diet Coke and pop music and nail varnish for all. Chloe had generously offered a loan of her spare hair extensions and bronzing pearls, but Becca had politely demurred – without hurting her little sister’s feelings, for once – and had instead gone for a very simple elegance. Her shiny brown hair was pinned up in a messy bun, and she wore the Tiffany heart necklace Phil had given her for her eighteenth birthday. Becca moved carefully in her high heels and long dress, as if she was feeling her way around an unfamiliar side of herself as much as the unfamiliar outfit, and Anna’s heart burst with pride when Becca asked if she could do her make-up for her. They were sharing something new, the four of them, and she was touched to be part of it.
‘Now, Owen,’ said Phil as Anna handed round flutes of champagne. ‘You’re going to take care of her, aren’t you? I’m her dad. She might have mentioned me. And my black belt in karate.’
‘Daaaad,’ groaned Becca.
Owen’s eyes flicked nervously towards her – Anna hadn’t seen him nervous before – but Becca shook her head.
‘He’s winding you up,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t even have a black belt in . . . in his jeans.’
‘Good.’ Owen held out a hand. Phil shook it, looking slightly taken aback by the firm enthusiasm of Owen’s handshake and the appearance of a leather bracelet. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll have her back before the car turns into a pumpkin.’
‘And what time’s that?’ asked Phil. ‘Midnight?’
‘One thirty,’ said Becca.
‘One o’clock,’ said Anna.
‘But it doesn’t finish until one . . .’
‘One o’clock,’ said Owen, with a swift glance at Anna.
‘Cheers! To your first ball, Becca!’ she said, lifting her flute, but the moment was immediately broken by the arrival of Chloe and Lily, both clamouring for their own glasses ‘to try’.
Chloe was also singing ‘My Heart Will Go On’, but with rather suspect lyrics.
‘Now, Owen, what kind of car are you taking her in?’ asked Phil, as if this was the most important element of the night.
A horn honking outside prevented Owen from answering.
‘I’ll go,’ said Chloe, who, Anna noticed suddenly, was also dressed up to go out.
‘Chloe, where are you . . . ?’ she started, but Chloe was gone. Phil didn’t meet her eye when she looked at him, and she knew permission had been granted already. She was annoyed; Chloe going out meant that she’d have to be collected from somewhere. Phil could have checked with her first.
Owen, Becca, Phil and Anna stood looking at each other, not quite sure what to say.
‘I’m having a prom tonight,’ Lily announced. ‘It’s very exclusive. Everyone’s had to find a partner, and Mrs Piggle has two dates because she doesn’t want to let anyone down.’ She turned to Anna. ‘It’s OK for her to have two dates, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Maybe one is her first husband. And the second is her handsome lover.’
Becca l
aughed and turned it into a cough when Phil looked askance.
‘Oh my God,’ screeched Chloe from the front door. ‘Oh my actual God, you are not going to believe what’s outside!’
‘What is it?’ Phil looked straight at Owen. ‘I hope it’s suitable . . .’
‘Michelle arranged the transport for tonight,’ said Owen. ‘She said it’s her treat. She spoke to Dad and he said he’d find something appropriate, so I honestly don’t know what’s going to be out there.’
‘I trust it’s not a stretch Hummer,’ said Phil darkly. ‘Or anything with blacked-out windows. Or a minibar.’
He made to reach for Owen’s glass but Anna stopped him as discreetly as she could.
Chloe came running in, her eyes round with excitement. ‘Anna, you have so got to come and see this! They are so going to make everyone die with jealousy when they see what they’re going in. They’ll think Cheryl Cole’s arrived.
Owen held out his arm to Becca and she took it, only looking at him very quickly. Anna couldn’t help it; despite every misgiving in her head, her heart was yelling that they made a beautiful couple.
Parked outside their house, the engine idling with a throaty rumble, was a long sleek sports car, dark green with blood red seats. Between their Espace and next door’s old Land Rover, it looked like a cheetah in the dog park.
Anna heard Phil make a faint noise of schoolboy longing.
‘You’d better tell me what it is,’ she said. ‘Because I have no idea.’
‘It’s an Aston Martin Rapide,’ he moaned. ‘I didn’t even know you could buy them. I thought they were like unicorns or something.’
‘Who’s driving it?’ Chloe demanded, as the driver’s door opened and a man in a peaked cap got out. ‘Is he, like, the chauffeur?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Anna. ‘That’s very responsible. So you can drink, I mean – not excessively, of course . . .’
‘Oh, very good!’ roared Owen. ‘I know who that is! Harvey, you joker!’ He strode forward with his hand already extended and clapped the chauffeur on the back. ‘I can’t believe it! This is so good of you!’
‘Well, I had a look at what Charlie was going to send up, and I thought, no, no, no. Can’t have my favourite brother-in-law turning up in anything less than an Aston.’ The man’s voice was rich and confident, with a London edge. He swept the hat off to reveal a thick head of blond hair and an affable sort of face, albeit with a red band where the hat had been.