I deserved bouquets and a ticker tape parade for making it to school later that afternoon to take my history GCSE (my predicted A grade becoming a shaky C) but my Maths GCSE had been the Thursday before, English on the Monday and it wasn’t like I had a sick note or a mother who’d admit that there was anything wrong with her.
I folded my arms, mostly to stop my hands from shaking. No one said anything. The three of us looked everywhere but at each other until the silence began to feel like a person in its own right.
‘It’s not what you think, Richard,’ Mum said at last. I think her hands were shaking too because she shoved them under the duvet. ‘You know how Franny exaggerates. The thing is —’
‘It’s not what you think because you don’t think about us at all,’ I interrupted. I couldn’t believe that I was talking to them like this and that they were sitting up in bed, looking pretty shellshocked but letting me. ‘You can’t wait to disappear and the minute you do, she stops taking the pills and going to counselling. She just stops. But I don’t want to stop here with her just because nobody else can bear to.’
Everyone always said it was good to talk. You couldn’t bottle things up. You had to get stuff off your chest. But it didn’t feel good. It felt awful, like the worst kind of betrayal. That all the stuff we never said was unsaid for a good reason and that I was destroying our home; prising up the floorboards, tearing off the wallpaper, going through each room and smashing everything I could find.
‘I don’t expect you to, Franny,’ Mum said in a tiny, tight voice. She wasn’t even crying, though tears were streaming down my face and even Dad was brushing an impatient hand against his cheek. ‘I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t ask you to.’
‘But if I don’t, then who will? You don’t have to drive across Europe every month,’ I shouted and Dad flinched. ‘We all know it’s why Shuv hardly ever comes home and Anna only turns up when she wants me to do her mending. I’m the only one left. That’s the reason you both want me trapped here in Merrycliffe – so I’m around to pick you up every time you fall. Well, it’s not fair!’
Dad flung back the covers. ‘Franny! Just calm down!’
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I can’t do it any more. If you can get your shit together when Dad’s back, then why can’t you keep it together when he goes away again?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand, Franny. You don’t know what it’s like.’
‘I’ve tried to but I’m sick of trying when you won’t make any effort.’ I’d backed myself up against the wall and I felt like a cornered animal with no place left to hide.
Dad hadn’t even made it to his feet but was sitting on the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure that his legs worked. Most other dads that I knew were getting fat – Alice had told me that Sean had a personal trainer because he couldn’t do up his fitted shirts over his paunch – but Dad seemed to be getting thinner. ‘Is this true, pet?’ He looked over his shoulder at Mum, who was staring out of the window, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. ‘Are things really this bad? I didn’t think you were that depressed any more, love.’
‘I’m fine,’ Mum insisted. ‘Everybody gets down now and again. Everyone has off days. It doesn’t mean that I’m depressed. Not like I was before.’
‘Stop lying! Nobody ever says what they really mean in this house. It makes me want to scream!’ It wasn’t enough. I had to get through to them. Shock them into having some kind of reaction otherwise they’d just go back to pretending that everything was mostly all right, nothing to worry about, let’s not make a fuss, because it was the easiest way to cope with it. ‘You know what? I’m not even going to Manchester! I’m going to London! With a rock band! And you weren’t even going to find out because you’re not that interested in anything I do that doesn’t fit in with your crummy plans to keep me trapped in Merrycliffe for the rest of my life.’
Dad did manage to stand up then and oh, now he was getting red-faced and cross because it was always easy to get cross with me. ‘You are not going to London, young lady.’
I was already halfway out of the door. ‘I am and I’m going to stay there. There is absolutely nothing worth coming back for.’ I meant it. I didn’t care if I had to spend ten years doing alterations in the dry-cleaning shops of London until I had enough saved up to go to Central St Martin’s, I was done with Merrycliffe. Done with being told that my life was never going to amount to anything.
‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to lose the attitude and you’re going to apologise to your mother for —’
‘I’m not apologising for anything. You should be apologising to me!’
Then I was racing down the stairs, grabbing my Marc by Marc Jacobs tote bag that always sat in the hall and racing out the front door. I ran as fast as I could along the seafront. Ran so hard I thought my lungs might burst and it wasn’t until I got to the Wow Club where we’d arranged to meet that I realised there was no one running after me.
24
There was no one waiting for me either. No minibus. All around me was desolation. Well, I was half an hour early.
It was especially cold on the seafront; the wind whipping up the waves, so the iron-grey sea was trimmed with white frills.
I could have walked down to the Market Diner to get coffee and maybe a bacon sandwich, because I’d left my coffee and toast on the tray in my parents’ bedroom. I’d fondly imagined that we’d eat breakfast together while I told them some medium-weight lies about how excited I was to be going to Manchester for the weekend.
Now the thought of eating and drinking anything made me gag and I huddled outside the entrance to the club. I tucked my arms around myself and wondered why I was even thinking about breakfast when my world had just come crashing down around me. Funny how it could take ten minutes to destroy your entire life, but I’d still meant every word I’d screamed: I wasn’t going to stay in Merrycliffe to stagnate and become bitter and corroded with thwarted ambition and all that other bad shit. I’d end up like Barbara. Or worse, like my mum.
But I was only sixteen and hadn’t had any plans to leave Merrycliffe just yet. I’d read about people who’d arrived in a new city or even a new country with nothing but a handful of bank notes and a dream, and ten, twenty years later they were rich and successful. I had ages and ages to go until I got to the rich and successful bit and what was going to happen to me in the meantime? Maybe I really should go to Manchester and then Shuv would have to help me. There was more to being a big sister than forking out for two different kinds of doughballs.
I heard my mobile ring. I pulled it out, only to see Dad’s face flashing up on the screen. I cancelled the call and even that was dreadful. Even that felt like the worst thing I’d ever done. Then I did something even more dreadful and I blocked his number and Mum’s and the landline. There was nothing left to say.
I’d crossed a line. It couldn’t be uncrossed. I had to get away from Merrycliffe. There was no going back now. Stuff could never be sorted out. Mum’s head would still be messed up and I’d still be the person who had to deal with it and I’d be grounded. Indefinitely. Worse than grounded. Dad would probably march me to college on Monday morning and make me turn in my sewing kit.
My pity party was interrupted by the toot of a horn. I looked up to see Francis leaning out of the window of a minibus borrowed from one of the local retirement homes. You didn’t get much more rock ’n’ roll than that.
‘Hey, Franny,’ he called. ‘You’re early.’
I nodded in agreement. Wasn’t quite up to smiling yet. I tried not to shiver as Francis jumped down from the bus along with a guy I vaguely knew from Saturday nights at The Wow. He always wore a trucker hat and a Nirvana T-shirt.
‘Olly, our driver slash roadie slash… what else do you get stuck doing?’ Francis asked.
‘Babysitting Louis and shoving his head out of the window if it looks like he’s going to vom.’ Olly dipped his head at me. ‘Aren’t you cold withou
t a coat?’
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I said but as soon as I spoke I realised that talking wasn’t a good idea. My voice caught on every word like it didn’t know how to behave when it wasn’t shouting out awful truths.
Olly turned away to open the back doors of the minibus but Francis peered at my face like he was counting how many open pores I had. ‘You all right?’
I shrank back, then realised I could blame my red-rimmed watering eyes on natural causes. ‘I told you I’m fine. It’s the early start. It’s a killer.’
‘Whatever.’ Generally I liked being friends with Francis, except now that he knew me it made him kind of perceptive about when I might be lying. ‘You had breakfast? Shall we drive up to the Diner to grab some coffee and a toastie?’
My stomach clenched at the mention of food but I was saved from having to answer by the arrival of three Desperadettes and two Desperadoes spilling out of a parentally driven people carrier.
‘Let’s do this thing!’ Kirsten exclaimed. She was very excited. I looked at Bethany and Lexy and realised my leather dress was a terrible mistake.
They were all wearing onesies, and though I would never wear a onesie outside the house, not even to go to the Spar for emergency chocolate supplies, I should have planned for this trip better. They all had huge holdalls and it was obvious they were going to change into their Desperadette outfits later on, whereas I was going to be stuck in a thin leather dress all day. Hadn’t even brought the bag I’d so carefully packed.
As it was, all three of them were staring at me. ‘You all right, Franny? You look a bit weird.’
This time I was saved from having to reply by another toot of a horn and I thought the day couldn’t have got any worse, but it just did. Pulling up in a dilapidated Ford Capri was Louis… and Alice.
Even in the midst of being furious with Alice, I had to admire her sheer, brazen cheek.
She had no truck in wearing a onesie either but was in another short black dress, bare legs and heels. Despite the ungodliness of the time, she was also in full warpaint: red lipstick and flicky eyeliner, which made my nostrils flare like an angry little bull because flicky eyeliner was my thing.
Alice didn’t seem to care that she was greeted by cool nods and tight little smiles from Thee Desperadettes. She barely acknowledged their presence and her glance skimmed over me like I wasn’t even there but she gave all the boys a flash of her smile, tongue coming out to moisten her bottom lip, that flirty fluttery thing she did with her eyelashes. No shame.
‘So, come on,’ Olly said and made shooing gestures towards the van. ‘Sooner we get going, the sooner we get to London.’
We climbed into the minibus and I didn’t even have the heart to roll my eyes along with Thee Desperadettes as Alice made a huge fuss about needing Louis to give her a hand into the bus while simpering, ‘But don’t you dare look up my skirt while you’re doing it, you gigantic perv!’
It didn’t take long to reach the motorway. I watched the green blur of endless fields and hedges as we tootled along the M6 in the slow lane because Olly said that the van made a weird grindy noise if he went above sixty miles per hour. I sat next to Bethany in the back of the bus. She was asleep, her head on my shoulder. Anyone who looked over would think I was also asleep but my eyes were open just a sliver so I could see where Alice was sitting by herself. Not that she cared, because Louis was sitting in the seat in front of her with Francis and they’d both turned round so they could chat to her. She was doing that thing where she pressed her tits together with her elbows to make them look ginormous and I couldn’t believe that everything Louis and Francis said was so hilarious that Alice had to make an annoying tinkling sound that I guessed she thought was a sexy laugh.
I couldn’t blame Louis, creature of impulse that he was, for being captivated by all that Alice was currently offering, but I was disappointed with Francis. I’d hoped he was too smart to be swayed by Alice’s boobs. But no, he was like every other boy in Merrycliffe.
We stopped at a service station just before the M6 became the M1. Now instead of feeling like I’d die if I tried to eat something, I felt like I’d die if I didn’t. Also, they had Starbucks and Waitrose because even the most humble service station had more thrilling food options than the whole of Merrycliffe. I climbed back into the bus clutching something called a Caramel Macchiato, which was bigger than my face, and a sausage buttie.
Thee Desperadettes, now changed out of onesies into their usual skater dresses, had taken over the front seats so they could chat to Olly and have control of the music. Two Desperadoes were crashed out at the back of the bus. I took the seat that I’d had before.
Louis and Francis were the last to climb into the van. Francis smiled and gestured at the empty space next to me and I really wanted to leech some of his calm, maybe even tell him a little bit about what had happened. He’d give me good advice and he was bound to know someone in London that I could crash with but…
‘Hey! Franny B! Let’s be bus buddies!’ Louis had already slipped into the seat next to me, forcing me towards the window because he was all arms and legs and took up a lot of space.
It was just what I needed to take my mind off, well, everything. Louis chattered away about how he hoped that there’d be a lot of A&R men at the gig in London and how maybe even some other bands might be there. Really well-known bands.
‘Do you think?’ I asked, because that would be cool. ‘Like who?’
‘Well, no one really, really famous,’ Louis amended. ‘See, the thing is that really famous people don’t go out on the weekend. They go out during the week when there’s less chance of them being spotted.’
I wasn’t sure that was true and I heard Francis snort from where he sat somewhere behind us but it was lovely to have Louis all to myself and to get one up on Alice, who was sitting all by herself across the aisle. Besides, I’d forgotten how pretty Louis was; how blue his eyes were, his cheekbones like geometry and his lips… They were always in motion as Louis talked and talked. I wondered what they’d feel like on mine.
It was lovely to experience all these familiar tingles instead of fear and shame and abject terror. ‘I’m so glad you’re part of the gang now, Franny,’ Louis exclaimed happily.
‘Me too. But maybe I want to be more than just part of the gang,’ I added bravely because what the hell. I had nothing to lose. ‘If you know what I mean.’
Louis nodded. ‘Yeah, absolutely!’
Then he took my hand. The fluttery sensation I used to get whenever he was near wasn’t as fierce as it used to be, probably because I don’t think Louis had had time to shower that morning and he smelled kind of pungent. ‘You’re not like other girls.’
A genuine thrill ran through me, especially when Alice shifted in her seat then looked right at me. I knew she was listening to every word. ‘Well, some girls can be so obvious, can’t they?’
Alice narrowed her eyes. I’d never noticed what small, piggy eyes she had before. ‘Yeah, but it’s also because you’re kind of odd,’ Louis told me. ‘Like all those really weird clothes you wear. I don’t get it but Francis says that if I understood anything about fashion I would.’
It wasn’t what I wanted to hear but I could work with it. ‘They’re not that weird, but compared to what some Merrycliffe girls wear, they’re quite —’
‘Like, most girls would wear a leather dress and they’d look really sexy but you don’t,’ Louis said. Immediately I wanted to rip off my leather dress and never see it again. I’d die rather than make myself look tarty but I wanted Louis to think I had some sex appeal. ‘You look… like you’ve never got any touch before.’
The urge to cry was overwhelming. I blinked.
‘Jesus, Louis, do you ever engage what few brain cells you’ve actually got before you open your mouth?’ I heard Francis say sharply and Louis protested that he’d been paying me a compliment because ‘I was saying that Franny never looks like she gives it up that easily.’
‘Yo
u can say that again.’ Alice leaned forward so once more we could all see down her dress. ‘You don’t give it up at all, do you, Franny?’
‘Shut up,’ I hissed in that gap between songs so the bus was silent and everyone could hear. ‘I’m not even talking to you.’
‘Franny’s never even been kissed.’ I wanted to rip the smile of smug satisfaction off of Alice’s face with my bare hands. ‘How is it possible that you can get to sixteen and not have got off with someone?’