‘No one.’ His eyes had bored into hers.
‘Okay.’
They made a pact and it had given her the confidence to repeat the act eight more times over the coming months. And what was the harm, if no one was ever going to find out? She and Lawrence secretly passed notes; these too sent a frisson of joy through her core. The messages were always simple, scribbled in pencil on scraps of paper – Tonight after school or Thursday at six. No need to state a venue; Bessie knew where: the garage step in the alleyway, where they would meet, giggle, and she would hurriedly kick off her underwear. For the fleeting minutes of their union, nothing in the whole wide world existed . . . She could escape, free from all the small worries that sat in her mind like tiny thorns in her shoe: Would her mum drive her dad away with her nagging? Would Bessie ever feel as confident as a girl like Melanie Hall? Would an airline want to hire her? How could she make herself prettier?
She too now thought of him before she fell asleep each night, which meant actual sleep was delayed, as she tried in vain to tamp down the explosive bomb of excitement that bounced in her gut. To be liked in that way felt wonderful. A secret! That was what they had, and the fact it was a secret gave their liaisons a whole other heightened element of joy. It was a special thing indeed between the two of them.
Until she had experienced it, it was romance, not sex, that had filled her imaginings, but now she was hooked on its heady power. They kissed a lot, even though his breath was often a little eggy. She didn’t care, not one bit! The kissing, which she used to think of as the end goal, was, she now realised, a mere stepping stone towards the main event, or an accompaniment like ketchup on chips. Sex – that fabulous, messy, hurried, clumsy contact – that was the real deal. Having sex with Lawrence had changed something inside her. She felt grown-up and confident. She felt . . . alive! And even though her mum had made her view on girls who had sex quite clear, and was even judgemental of her own sister, Bessie’s Auntie Nerys, who had lots of boyfriends, who all looked remarkably similar and all seemed to work in the motor trade, she felt no shame – didn’t understand even why she should feel shame! She looked up to Madonna, who oozed sex and was proud of it. The act between her and Lawrence was mutual and wonderful! Not that she quite felt confident or shameless enough to share the event with her mum, but if anything, she felt calm, knowing and liking the fact she had a glorious secret. After that first hurried coupling, Lawrence had treated her differently. They weren’t going out, weren’t official or anything like that, but she now noticed how instead of her trying to catch his eye across the playing field or at the bus stop, he sought her out, stared at her until she acknowledged him.
But the weight of withheld knowledge did not come without its price and it sat heavily upon her. It felt like a betrayal of her friendship with Michelle, but that was what she and Lawrence had agreed. It was like she was under a spell, intoxicated by the thought of him, and it was as surprising to her as it was scary that her loyalties could shift in this way.
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind if you had a change of heart,’ Michelle now said, pulling her from her thoughts, ‘and I don’t want this to be weird.’
Bessie stopped walking and stared at her friend, swallowing the spike of guilt that was never far away and wondering what exactly Michelle might have found out. ‘Don’t be daft! Nothing could be weird – you’re my best friend in the whole wide world ever, ever!’
Michelle twitched, as if not entirely reassured by her words. ‘The thing is, Tony Dunlop told me something.’ She paused and licked her top lip.
Bessie felt her heart leap. She didn’t like Tony Dunlop, didn’t like the way he looked at her and didn’t like his little brown front tooth. She was particular about teeth. Tony was Lawrence’s best friend and her gut flipped at the possibility that maybe Lawrence had told Tony about them meeting up for sex and maybe Tony had told Michelle! The very thought angered her on so many levels, namely that Lawrence had not kept his word of secrecy, but also that it was not Tony Dunlop’s story to tell – it was hers.
‘Well, I shouldn’t believe a thing Tony says, he’s full of shite.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’ Michelle linked arms with her as they walked slowly towards school.
‘Well, you have to tell me now,’ Bessie said with a nervous laugh. ‘You can’t start a conversation like that and not give me the punchline!’
‘The thing is, I know Tony’s full of shite, but . . .’
‘But what?’
Michelle’s voice changed, taking on a softness Bessie rarely heard from her friend. ‘He . . . he told me that Lawrence fancied me.’
The words thumped Bessie’s chest and smacked her in the face. She felt her heart jump and her face colour.
‘Fancies you?’ The quake of unease in her bones made her want to cry. Why would Tony say something like that? It wasn’t true! It couldn’t be!
‘Yeah. Jesus, no need to sound so shocked – I’m not that unfanciable! Especially now I have such smooth shins.’ Michelle’s big eyes pleaded, and Bessie knew in that moment that her best friend wanted Tony’s words to be the truth. It was one thing to joke around about both wanting to marry Simon Le Bon and each agreeing to be bridesmaid for whoever he asked first, but it was quite another when the boy in question was Lawrence. This was not in the least bit funny.
‘I . . .’ She didn’t know where to begin, how to begin. ‘I just . . .’
‘I mean, don’t worry! I haven’t said anything to Lawrence, and I ignored Tony because I wanted to talk to you first, but there are things I want to say to you before anything happens . . .’
‘What . . . what things?’ Bessie was flustered and confused. Regardless of Michelle’s doe-eyed response, the news from Tony was either bullshit and infuriating or true and upsetting, and until she knew which, her response was going to be measured, lest she give the game away.
Michelle squeezed her friend’s arm so they were walking as close as could be, hip to hip. ‘I wanted to say that I know we joke about Simon . . .’
Bessie laughed through her nose.
‘And you know I would never do anything to hurt you, Bessie?’
She nodded. This she did know. They were a team.
‘But I kind of like him. In fact, more than kind of – I like him! I like Lawrence.’ She bit her lip, clearly awaiting Bessie’s response.
The words rang in her ears. How the hell was she supposed to answer that? What would Michelle say when she knew that her ship of dreams had sailed and that she, Bessie, and Lawrence were a couple in all but name and announcement – they had had sex nine times. Nine times!
‘Here’s the thing . . . we do need to talk,’ Bessie said as the school building came into view. I’ll tell you the whole story on the way home. With more time and our results out of the way, I’ll tell you the truth that Lawrence and I have been meeting for sex and it’s fabulous. I really like sex! And the truth is, I really like him. I think we’re very close to going official. ‘Can we pick up about it after we’ve got our results? It feels like too big a subject to rush here on the pavement.’ She wanted more time, unsure of how to broach the subject or, more specifically, how to justify having kept it from her friend.