‘Mary,’ Mum told him.
As if to prove it, Mary spat the cherry stone metres across the sand. ‘There was a tree,’ she said, ‘and a boy polishing his bike saddle.’
‘Norman,’ Katie said.
Mary clapped her hands. ‘That’s it. It starts with “N” and ends in “N” and it’s got six letters. I told him, if it’s Nelson, you can forget it!’
‘Forget what?’ Chris said.
‘Kissing!’ Katie and Mum said in unison.
Mary hooted with delight. Mum and Katie laughed with her. Even Chris joined in. It was wonderful, the sound of them all laughing.
Mum said, ‘It wasn’t funny when you got dragged up the path by your dad though. He made you scrub your face at the sink.’
‘That was because of the lipstick,’ Katie said. ‘You didn’t tell Norman you’d left the shape of a kiss on his face. And because he didn’t know it was there, he didn’t wipe it off. And that’s how you got caught.’
‘And the lipstick was your mother’s,’ Mum said, ‘which probably made it worse in your dad’s eyes. You found it in the wardrobe on the night of an air raid and kept it with you for good luck.’
Chris looked utterly bemused, but Mary gazed at Katie and Mum in amazement. ‘You two know a lot of things,’ she said. ‘I have to say, it’s absolutely magical sitting with you.’
‘It’s all in your memory book,’ Katie said. ‘You told me everything in the first place.’
‘Did I? Well, that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always been very good with words.’
The sky had turned the colour of ink. Mary laughed as her skirt lifted in the breeze.
‘We should get going,’ Mum said. ‘It’s going to rain any minute.’
‘And what if I want to stay?’ Mary looked at Mum, expecting something from her, but Mum only smiled.
‘Then I guess we’ll get wet.’
Chris groaned and huddled himself into his jumper. ‘I won’t. I’ll go and sit in the car.’
‘And what about you?’ Mary asked Katie. ‘What will you do if the sky opens up?’
‘Brave it out with you, of course.’
‘Although really,’ Mum said, ‘it’d be much better if we went inside and got a nice cup of tea together, don’t you think?’
Mary considered that. ‘Will they have biscuits?’
Mum laughed, a soft noise through her nose. ‘If you’ve got room for biscuits after all that ice cream, I’ll be very surprised. But they’ve definitely got some. Shall we go and see what kind?’
Katie helped Mary to her feet. They stood shoulder to shoulder as Chris folded the deckchair and Mum packed the ice box.
‘You know,’ Mary said, her eyes lit with amusement, ‘I’m sure they just did all that.’
‘That was when we arrived,’ Katie said. ‘Now they’re doing it in reverse.’
Mum whisked up the blanket, gave it a shake and passed it to Katie to carry. ‘You’ll be all right seeing Mary up the stairs?’
‘Sure, don’t worry about us.’
‘What’s happening next?’ Mary asked as Katie linked arms with her.
‘Anything you want. What would you like to happen?’
‘Well, I don’t want to go to bed.’
‘It’s not bedtime,’ Mum called over her shoulder. ‘It’s cup of tea time.’
‘But after that,’ Mary insisted.
‘After that, you’re going to stay awake all night,’ Katie said. ‘You’re going to wait until everyone’s asleep and then you’re going to watch a movie in the TV room and steal cakes from the kitchen.’
‘Don’t,’ Mum said. ‘You’ll give her ideas.’
But Katie wanted to give Mary ideas. Hundreds of them. Resistant, demanding ideas. Indecorous and unseemly ideas.
Chris stood with Mum at the top of the steps and looked down at Katie and Mary as they made their way up. ‘You could have a party.’
‘Great idea,’ Katie said. ‘You could borrow a radio and invite everyone to your room.’
‘I do like a bit of dancing,’ Mary said, pulling herself up by the rail. ‘And I know where they hide the cigarettes.’
Katie laughed. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
Mum shook her head. ‘I clearly have no control over anyone.’
The first fat drops of rain began to fall, changing the smell of the air. Chris yelped and ran across the car park, banging the ice box against his leg. Mum hurried after him.
‘And tomorrow?’ Mary said, pausing on the step to gaze back at the waves. ‘What will I do then?’
Outlined against cloud, birds appeared – autumn migrants streaming out to sea.
‘Beautiful,’ Mary breathed.
Katie drew Mary close and linked their arms more securely. ‘You’ll have more adventures.’
‘What kind?’
‘All kinds. You’re a work in progress.’
Mary jigged her feet in delight. ‘That’ll do me.’
It would do Katie too.
She was bound to stumble, but if she did – she’d pick herself up and try again. She’d falter, resolve, lapse, have another go. Her whole life over. On and on.
Just like Mary. Just like Mum and Chris and everyone else.
Works in progress, all of them.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Nathalie Abi-Ezzi, Katherine Davey, Patrice Lawrence, Sarah Lerner, Anna Owen, Aisha Phoenix and Elly Shepherd for their camaraderie and encouragement.
Thanks to Louis Hill and Archie Hill for their patience, wisdom and general brilliance.
Thanks to Andrew St John for braving the storm.
Thanks to Catherine Clarke, Bella Pearson and all at David Fickling Books for their unfaltering belief and many kindnesses.
Also by Jenny Downham
Before I Die
You Against Me
Copyright
Unbecoming
First published in 2015
by David Fickling Books, 31 Beaumont Street, Oxford, OX1 2NP
This ebook edition first published in 2015
All rights reserved
Text © Jenny Downham, 2015
Cover design © Alice Todd, 2015
The right of Jenny Downham to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
ISBN 978-1-910200-73-5
Jenny Downham, Unbecoming
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