‘Just don’t, Michelle!’ She couldn’t stand to hear the words of consolation, knowing that there was in fact only one person in the whole year who had actually done worse than her. ‘There’s not much to say about it really.’
There was silence for a beat.
‘Do you want me to come and knock for you later? We can walk to the rugby club together, or I could come earlier and we could . . .’
‘No,’ Bessie said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t even know if I’m going to go tonight.’ The thought occurred as the words left her mouth.
‘You must go!’ her mum enthused, while at the same time Michelle said, ‘You have to go! Everyone’s going – we’ve been talking about it for weeks!’
‘I just don’t know if I’m in the mood,’ she said to her friend, while looking at her mum.
‘We can have a dance and it’ll cheer you up. We can dance all night! And I’ve got some cigarettes. My brother gave them to me.’
‘Mmm,’ was the only way she could respond with her mum standing within earshot. ‘Can you give us a minute, Mum?’
‘Oh,’ her mum laughed, as if unaware of the intrusion, ‘’course!’ She tiptoed in an exaggerated fashion back to the kitchen. Bessie turned her full attention back to the phone call.
‘I’ll see how I feel nearer the time. I just don’t think I can face anyone.’
‘No one cares!’ Michelle yelled. ‘They’re all busy dealing with their own shit. Honestly, Bessie, everyone has so much going on, and it’s only a piece of paper, at the end of the day. My mum says exams are overrated, and look at my dad! He has loads of exams but that’s not what stops him working – good exams can’t make up for poor health and a bad back, can they?’ Michelle gabbled, as she did when she was nervous or lying, as if trying to fill the air and avoid either questions or comment.
Bessie was only half listening. ‘Did you hear Melanie say something mean as we left the hall?’
‘So, what’s new? Melanie always says something mean. That’s why she’s ugly even though she’s beautiful. Ignore her!’
‘And . . .’ Bessie said, closing her eyes, not really knowing where to begin.
‘And what?’
‘We need to talk about Lawrence.’
‘I know. I wish I hadn’t said anything, Bessie. I could kick myself, I really could. Can we just forget about it?’
‘No, it’s good you raised it. So, when you say you like him, is this a new thing or . . . ?’ It felt easier to broach the topic over the phone, where her friend was unable to read her expression – fraught with tension over what she was going to have to reveal.
‘Not really. I’ve liked him for a while . . .’ Michelle let this linger, ‘but you seemed quite keen and so I didn’t say anything and then we’ve kind of been smiling at each other a bit . . .’
‘You and Lawrence?’
‘Yes.’ The confirmation made her heart boom.
‘And so, when Tony told me he liked me,’ Michelle continued, ‘I wasn’t that surprised because we’ve been quite flirty and stuff, but obviously I didn’t want to do anything with him or say anything about it until I’d spoken to you. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’
Bessie’s jaw tensed with irritation that this conversation seemed necessary, but also in anticipation of Michelle’s own feelings getting hurt when she knew the full story.
‘I would never stand in your way with anyone you liked, especially if they liked you back . . .’ Bessie started cautiously.
‘Thank you, Bessie! I really hoped you’d say that! I’m so relieved – thank you.’
‘No, but . . .’
The doorbell rang and her mum ran up the hallway to open up, wiping her hands on her pinny as she went. Nanny Pat and Grandad Norm stood smiling at her from the front step with a large bunch of flowers and a big, brightly wrapped gift. Bessie gripped the receiver; there was so much more she wanted to say.
‘There she is!’ her nan yelled.
‘I’ve got to go, Michelle; my nan and grandad are here. Look, I’ll meet you there, if I decide to go, I’ll meet you outside.’ And then I can tell you all the reasons why you can’t start seeing Lawrence and all the reasons I think you might be mistaken about his feelings for you, all nine of them.
‘Okay, see you later then, Bessie. Love you!’
‘Love you.’
Replacing the phone in its holder on the small telephone table by the front door, Bessie stood still to receive the inevitable hugs from her grandparents, which always went on a fraction longer than she was comfortable with.
‘What a day for our girl!’ said her nan, who, at a little under five foot, grinned up at her. ‘These flowers are for you.’ She presented her with the pretty pink bouquet. ‘A proper bunch of flowers from the florist on the high street, none of that rubbish from your grandad’s garden, tied with a bit of old string.’ She gave her husband a withering look, suggesting the topic had been under discussion, and Bessie noticed for the first time how her nan treated Grandad Norm in exactly the same way her own mum spoke to her dad.
‘They’re to say congratulations, darling, on your results.’ Her grandad reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘And this,’ he said, handing over the large, flat, wrapped box, ‘is an extra birthday present. What a day!’
Bessie stared at the gift in one hand and the flowers in the other. Her sweet, loving grandparents had showered her in kindness, as they always had, and it was almost more than she could stand. The looks of adoration they fixed her with were certainly more than she deserved. This and the echo of Michelle’s words swirled in her head as hot tears of wretchedness trickled down her face, dripping from her chin and falling in fat droplets on to her birthday present.
‘Oh lovey! Whatever is the matter?’ Her nan gripped her arm and stared up at her.
‘She’s had a bit of a day, Mum,’ her own mum said, pulling a face and putting a finger to her lips, trying to covertly ask her mother to be quiet, jerking with her head towards the kitchen, where no doubt she would give her the full low-down.
‘Did you not get your grades?’ Her grandad was clearly not paying attention.
Bessie shook her head. ‘I didn’t get any grades. They were all absolute rubbish.’
‘Well, you can’t trust them people who do the marking! I think you need to get them re-marked. What do teachers know? They’re rubbish, all of them! You’re the cleverest girl I know.’
His blind support, blinkered by his love for her, only made her tears fall harder.
‘Now, now,’ her nan said, pulling her into her arms, ‘don’t cry, baby girl – you’ll make your Monopoly board all soggy.’
‘Brilliant, Pat, now you’ve told her it’s Monopoly before she’s even opened it!’ Grandad Norm shook his head, disappointed.
And strangely, this was the thing that made Bessie laugh. It was her sixteenth birthday and her grandparents had bought her a new Monopoly set. No doubt the same one they had bought her for Christmas and for her birthday the year before last. She resolved to put it with the others in the bottom of her wardrobe.