183 Times a Year (7 page)

‘
Well,' Andy stutters, ‘I didn't mean Cassie or Maisy, they wouldn't be that foolish.'

‘How do you know?' I exclaim. ‘It's true neither of them appear to have a maternal bone in their bodies but what if one of them did get pregnant? There is so much grey area Andy between your narrow black and white views. A lot of these young women are vulnerable and any belief or politics that excludes vulnerability is bound to have a spiteful, authoritarian edge. I don't understand you Andy, you had a daughter. Do you really believe what you're saying? And more importantly what would she have thought of you if she was here today?'

I feel like this question is hitting below the belt but it had to be said. I don't expect a response. Andy is quiet but looks stunned. It's a victory for me but not one I feel good about. I no longer see the grotesque round belly. Instead I see a wounded, moth eared, oversized teddy.

Andy swirls the red wine he's drinking diligently around the large wine glass he's holding, bringing it up to eye level. He pretends to examine the glass before finally putting it to his mouth and taking a large gulp. He then puts the glass down and looks at me. He grins.

‘You're right. I'm ashamed of myself. I'm a complete and utter twat.' I smile and he takes another swig of wine and bangs the empty glass on the table.

‘Bloody hell, no wonder Scott bloody left you. I bet he could never win an argument.'

I grin back at Andy.

‘Touche,' I say. ‘Touche Andy.'

CASSIE

Right that's it for tonight, I've done enough revision. If I don't know it now I never will. Besides, I'm too excited to concentrate.
Its
official – Chelsea texted me and I'm now going to the party. I was a bit offended by the text though.

Chelsea:
Pheeb said u keep hassling her about my party? Must admit I didn't even think of u but Em can't make it so u can take her place I spose!

Me:
Thanx Chelsea, that's well sick. What time does it start? Xxx
Chelsea:
8 but drinking with my bitches at 7 – if u can handle it?

Me:
I can handle it. See u at 7. Thanx again xxx

What the hell Pheeb? I wasn't hassling you. Was I? Whatevs, it's obvious I'm an afterthought but I don't care coz now I'm going to the party like everyone else. At least I won't look like such a loser tomorrow when all and sundried – or is it laundry? No, it's sundry. Yeah, when all and sundry is talking about what to wear.

Oh my god what
will
I wear? I don't have anything decent. I'll have to ask Mum to take me shopping. Oh no, she'll take me to all the cheap shops. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that, this is Chelsea Divine's party.

Oh god, I'm stressed already. Okay, okay, take a deep breath Cassie. Mum will just have to help me out for once in her life. Or maybe Dad could buy me a dress, if I explain how important it is? He won't though. I know he won't. The idiot will just say he's got no money – as usual. I'll just have to be nice to Mum for a few days. I'll start now by going downstairs and playing
Fur Elise
for her.

I open the kitchen door my mouth starts watering. I can smell the lasagna Simon's cooked. He's quite good at cooking, makes pretty good Italian food. Simon is loading the dishwasher. He looks up and asks me if I want some lasagna. I greedily accept,
taking
over the dishwasher loading while he dishes some up for me. Revising is hungry work.

Ruby is standing by the cupboards pouring herself another glass of wine. She smells of wine a lot lately. Mum and Andy are being a bit weird, just staring at one another across the table. Oh god, I hope they don't fancy each other?

Simon passes me a plateful of lasagna and I carry it towards the table.

‘Hi Andy. How are you?' I haven't seen him in a while, he looks quite fat.

‘Oh hey Cassie, I'm fine thanks love. How are you?'

Urrggghh, I am
not
your love. I smile sweetly. ‘Yeah, I'm okay thanks Andy, or at least I will be when I finish my stupid exams. Hey Mum, you look well pretty tonight. Would you like me to play
Fur Elise
for you?'

Bloody hell, she doesn't have to look so shocked. Mum smiles at me. She looks really happy. I can see why the boys in my year call her a MILF – sickos – she does have a really pretty face. Nan and Grandad say I look like Mum. Nobody thinks I'm pretty though, except Nan and Grandad and Mum, but that doesn't count.

‘Yes please Cassie, I'd love that,' Mum says.

I finish shovelling lasagna into my mouth then go into the lounge and sit at our old piano or “old Joanna” as Grandad calls it. I tell the perfect child to turn the bloody TV off and bugger off while I play.

‘Okay Cassie,' he says. Why does he have to be so bloody nice?

I begin to play. Mum walks in and is smiling. I have one exam to go and I am going to Chelsea's party. All is well with the world.

Chapter 5

THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR?

LIZZIE

The flat monotonous sound of Tabitha's voice is offensive to my ears. She is building up to something and I'm dreading it because Tabitha only ever comes round for two reasons; the first is to borrow something, the second is to be the bearer of bad news (as long as it doesn't involve her).

Something in her voice, despite its complete lack of colour, suggests it's most definitely the latter. Maybe it's the slight ripples of excitement that just lifts her words – barely noticeable to the untrained ear, ubiquitous to a skilled listener – that gives the game away.

Some unfortunate individual's calamity has excited my next-door neighbour and it's still only 7.30 in the morning. She is prattling on about something and nothing, no doubt building up to it, so I continue getting ready for work around her.

As she drones on I look up from time to time and marvel at Tabitha's excessively chattering mouth. Bright red lips frame bleached white teeth; teeth that protrude a little but not enough to disrupt the generic Barbie doll look Tabitha so obviously covets. Her hair is long (hair extensions I believe) and red today but it changes as often as Cassie changes outfits when going on a night out so there is every possibility it could be short and any one of a number of other colours tomorrow.

Tabitha owns her own Hair and Beauty salon – Scissortly Love – and never has a hair out of place. Her perfectly
manicured
locks match her perfectly manicured nails. It is the perfect profession offering the perfect opportunity for her to glean and gloat about the latest gossip and misfortune of others. Unfortunately, Tabitha's need to gossip perpetuates the urban myth that all hairdressers are brainless, shallow, gossipmongers; which, of course, many are not. Tabitha pauses.

Here we go, get ready for the bombshell.

‘Well, anyway, the reason I came round, is well…' Another pause.

Could she make this any more dramatic?

‘Well, don't be angry, but Mark and I caught Cassie smoking yesterday evening, and, well…' She lowers her voice and continues to talk from the corner of her mouth. ‘It smelled a bit, sort of funny, herbal – if you get my drift? It was quite late, we were taking Fortuna out for a walk because she had colic, and we bumped right into Cassie.' She makes a poor attempt at a half-hearted laugh. ‘We really did make her jump. Bless her.'

Yeah, and bless you too.

‘She looked very guilty so we didn't say too much. Just that it was rather disgusting.'

Disgusting? You – a parasitic amoeba greedily feeding off the misfortune and insecurities of others – is calling my daughter disgusting?

‘We didn't want to trouble you with it last night,' Tabitha continues. ‘But Mark and I discussed it at great length and we both agreed it was something you needed to know.'

Err no, I don't think so. What you mean is, you decided and Mark, who lost his balls the day he met you, did as he was told.

My mind races, quickly searching for a response; a forceful anti-climax is what's needed. My internal voice is on full rant.

Yeah, I bet this kept her awake last night. Long moments of wakefulness punctuated by small snatched moments of sleep, thinking about the various ways she might deliver this terrible
news.
I'm sure she was positively delighted when that alarm clock went off this morning.

I am disappointed with Cassie but not particularly surprised, she is a teenager after all. A child developing into an adult is, by definition, the process of a gradual managed parting of parent and child, and at the very core of those adolescents is the need – within reason – to try new things.

Barely a second has passed but it feels like an age and I'm still searching for my reply. For the briefest of moments I see myself poking a lighted spliff into Tabitha's perfectly made-up eye. I quickly reprimand myself and somewhere from the library of my mind I'm reminded of a non-violent technique promoted by Gandhi whereby he suggests the liquidation of the antagonisms rather than the actual antagonist.

I have my reply.

‘I know,' I smile.

‘Pardon? You know?' I can hear the bitter disappointment in Tabitha's voice.

‘Yes, I know.' I didn't but I'll deal with it later.

‘Oh. Well, isn't she a little young to be smoking cigarettes … or otherwise?'

‘Two years older than your husband was when my Dad caught him doing the same thing if I remember rightly?'

‘Yes, well, as you know I thoroughly disapprove of smoking and…'

I cut Tabitha off mid-flow. Devilment and sarcasm has grabbed me by the throat and I can't help my response.

‘Did I tell you Cassie's getting her tongue pierced in a couple of weeks? Come to think of it I might even go with her and get mine done too. Would you like to join us?'

‘Err, what? No, I don't think so, not really my thing.'

‘Go on,' I goad. ‘Live a little.'

‘No really,' Tabitha replies. ‘Anyway I have to go now,
Marks's
watching Fortuna.' Tabitha strides towards the door.

‘Good for him. How is little Tuna?'

Tabitha wrinkles her nose in disgust. ‘Her name is Fortuna,
not
Tuna,' she states. ‘Anyway Mark needs to get to work so, I'll, um, see you soon,' she finishes, irritation and disappointment evident in her farewell.

‘Yes, goodbye Tabitha,' I reply, mischief clearly evident in mine.

My revenge is sweet but short lived. Cassie is almost – from out of nowhere – on top of me, gangly, flaying arms trying to wrap themselves around my neck, practically choking me in the process.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,' she squeals. I'm confused to say the least.

‘Thank you for what?' I reply.

‘For letting me get my tongue pierced. I heard you, just now, talking to Tabs. I didn't even know you knew I wanted it done?' she continues, thoroughly delighted.

Serves you right
.
Let's see how you get out of this one.

‘No, I didn't mean you Cassie.' Her smile vanishes. I take a deep breath. ‘Tabitha came to tell me she caught you smoking what she thinks was cannabis last night?' Cassie immediately pulls away from me.

‘For god's bloody sake,' she shouts. ‘I'm going to Nan and Grandad's and why don't you just leave me a-bloody-lone.' Cassie grabs her jacket and with one almighty crash, slams the front door behind her.

Chapter 6

UNDER PRESSURE

CASSIE

‘It's not a life, it's an adventure!'

‘Oh shut up Salocin,' Nan snaps at Grandad. ‘You can't apply that stupid motto to every bloody thing that happens you know. Having cancer is not an adventure.'