Goose (11 page)

Surely not? I think, as I lie in bed and hear the pebbles being thrown at my window. My heart does a leap. Gordon?

I rush to my window like Juliet rushing to the balcony. Did she even rush to the balcony? I can't remember. Anyway, I tear across my bedroom ready to embrace my love's romantic gesture with open arms. The idea of such romance is overwhelming for me. I have never had a guy come to my house, let alone throw pebbles at my window. It's so, it's so, it's so  … 

It's Renée.

‘What are you doing?' I say in a loud shouty whisper out of the window. I see a police car drive past my house slowly, and she turns to give them a wave. What on earth is going on?

‘I need to stay here tonight,' she shouts up. ‘Let me in!'

Fifteen minutes later, with cups of tea and pyjamas on, Renée and I sit head to toe in my single bed.

‘We haven't done this in weeks,' she says.

‘It's because we have boyfriends,' I tell her.

‘It changes everything, doesn't it?'

‘It really does.'

We think about that for a moment. We used to do this all the time, sit in bed for hours and hours drinking tea and talking. Now I don't know what we have to talk about. We are so different all of a sudden.

‘So how is
Gordon
?' she asks, a silly smirk on her face.

‘He's good. We get on really well, I like him a lot. How's Dean?'

‘Yeah, Dean's great. Such a laugh, and it's getting quite serious. Really good. So nice, I'm really happy. Really, really happy.'

‘Great.'

‘Great.'

We drink some tea and pretend that things don't feel awkward. I'm sure it's just because we haven't seen each other in ages that's making things feel weird.

‘Have you been doing any revision?' I ask her, thinking that might warm us up a bit.

‘No, but it's OK. I will do some last-minute cramming.'

‘The exams start in two weeks, Renée. You'll fail everything again if you don't –'

‘All right, Flo, don't go on. What are you, my mum?'

‘Jesus, I was just saying,' I say, shocked by how snappy she is being in
my
bed.

‘Jesus? I thought that was blasphemy?' she says, like a smart arse.

‘OK, so you've still got issues with me believing in God, Renée. I know you think it's a fad, but it isn't, OK?'

‘It's just a distraction from the actual stuff that's going on in your life, Flo. It doesn't make you stronger than being the kind of person who deals with stuff properly, like you used to be, does it?'

But that's the thing, I think. I didn't used to deal with stuff properly. I used to hate myself, I used to think everyone hated me. Since going to church I feel far more solid, far more secure. How can that be a bad thing?

‘Let's go to sleep,' I say, turning off the light. She is just in a terrible mood. Hopefully by tomorrow she will have calmed down.

In the morning Renée drives us to school. She obviously hasn't come to terms with my choices at all.

‘I just don't see where it's all come from,' she says suddenly.

‘I know, you've made that very clear.'

‘What about other people at school? Do they know you are part of the church now?' I hate the way she says ‘part of the church'. It makes it sound so culty. But I think that's how she sees it, as a cult.

‘In the book I am reading for English,
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit
,' Renée goes on, ‘the main girl's mum is a crazy religious woman who makes her study the Bible and won't let her read books. And the church is like this horrid institution that people like the mum get obsessive about and judge people who are not in it. And they don't like sex and they don't like freedom, basically. And I thought that was what we are all about at the moment, freedom? And how we are about to break free from school and live our lives in a way we haven't been able to yet. And just as we are about to do that you join the church, which is more controlling than school ever was, even Tudor Falls.'

‘Firstly, Renée,' I say, ‘the church is nothing like the way it is described in that book you are reading. That's a really extreme example of it. And as far as us being free goes, we will be. If we get into Nottingham then we will have so much freedom. I can do History, you can do English and we will be really happy, like we said.'

‘Like
you
said, you mean?'

‘No, like
we
said. We made a plan, to go together.'

‘No we didn't, Flo,
you
made that plan. Will you stop planning my bloody life for me? You were the one who said I should apply to the polytechnic at Nottingham, not me. I never sent my form, so no matter what happens with my results I am not going to Nottingham, or Bristol, or wherever your third choice was. Jesus, if you took any notice of who I really am you would stop making me feel like shit for not wanting to do what you want me to do.'

‘You didn't send off your UCAS form? But you said you were going to the post office,' I say, shocked.

‘I know. I did go to the post office. But I threw mine in the bin and sent yours. I don't want to go.'

‘So you've been lying to me for the last few months? Making me think we were going together when you never had any plans to come with me at all?'

‘Yup.'

My face goes red, but not with embarrassment.

‘FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!' I scream in her ear as she drives along.

‘Flo, chill out! I'll crash!'

‘No, Renée, I won't chill out!' I yell. ‘It's always something, isn't it? You always have to let me down, or lie, or get whatever you want from a situation and not think about me somehow, don't you?'

‘Well, you forced me into this,' she says, swerving the car as she leans away from me. ‘This was your plan, not mine. We are different, Flo, bloody hell. You can't make me do something I don't want to do.'

‘Stop the car, I want to walk.'

Renée stops slowly, having to use her gears to slow down.

‘Maybe we're just too different to be friends, Renée. Maybe it would be easier if we were just honest about that, rather than pretending we can be friends and giving ourselves that stress when we go away. Maybe we should just call it quits now.'

‘Fine,' she says, not even looking at me.

‘Fine,' I say, slamming the door of her car.

She drives off, and I walk to school. I'm too angry to cry.

It's our last ever English lesson. That's it now until the exams. This is the moment I have been waiting for. The end of school is so close. I don't have to get up in the morning as my first exam isn't for ten days. I am free, but I don't feel it. I feel more trapped than ever. I haven't spoken to Flo in nearly a week, and I don't want to. I don't want her telling me who I should be – but it's strange. In two years we have hardly ever gone more than a morning without contact. Is that really it? Is our friendship actually over?

I watch Meg from across the room. What
is she
all about? I used to think she was so cool, so chilled out and interesting. Now I realise she's just a tag-along. A drifter. Dean always brushes it off when I ask him why she is always there, why she sleeps under that little blanket on the uncomfortable couch in his flat. But then I guess by the time Meg goes to sleep every night she is so stoned she doesn't notice small details like that.

It does explain how she is so well read, though. I rarely see her at his place without a book in her hands. ‘Weed makes me me absorb more,' she tells me often. She says that she ‘inhales books' when she is stoned, and that schoolwork is way easier when she has had a few spliffs. I still haven't managed to have more than three drags without passing out myself, so I don't really know what she is talking about.

But the weirdest thing about Meg is the way she is with Dean. What is that relationship all about? She stays there all the time and is completely unfazed by my arrival into the equation, and he just acts like it's completely normal to have an eighteen-year-old girl living in his place. She is always really nice to me. Really non-judgemental about the fact I slept with Dean so quickly. She makes me tea when I go round, she is as lovely to me at school as she ever was, she doesn't seem to be jealous of my relationship with him and she certainly doesn't seem to have a problem with me being there. I can't work it out. Maybe it's me that needs to chill out, but it's so weird. When I ask Dean about it he says, ‘She isn't a pain to have around.' So I just have to accept it as part of the deal. There is me, there is Dean and there is Meg. It's bizarre how you can think someone is the coolest person ever, then you get a glimpse of their reality and realise they are actually quite tragic.

And what does it say about Dean? I'm not ready to think too much about that right now, though. I've got enough in my head as it is.

‘Have you all checked the timetables? The exam dates are up,' says Mr Frankel. ‘Your first English exam is May 23rd. We can meet and discuss the texts if you want to, but otherwise, this is where I leave you. Any questions?'

‘Yeah, I've got a question,' says Maggie, rough as ever. ‘Where's Emma?'

We all look up from our books and look around the room, even though we know she isn't there. It was the question we have all been wanting to ask for the past two weeks. Mr Frankel looks uncomfortable.

‘Emma won't be coming back for the exams,' he says.

‘What? Why? She didn't cark it, did she?' barks Maggie, meaning to sound sympathetic but not managing it.

‘No, she didn't “cark it”, Maggie. She just needs to be somewhere that people can take proper care of her. We are working on a way for her to take the exams at home. It's no secret that she isn't very well.'

I feel happy about this. Happy that Emma is getting the help she needs. Nell should have had that. And I miss Nell these days, I miss her so much I want to run out of the English class and run to Spain to see her. I hope she is all right, that Dad is nice to her. That she is happier than she was with Nana and Pop.

I suddenly realise that this is the moment Aunty Jo was telling me I would have one day. A natural moment where I realise that my sister is one of the most important people in my life. I will call her tonight, and I will make a plan to go and stay with her in Spain this summer. It's the right thing to do.

The bell rings and we all gather our things.

‘I'll miss you, Mr Frankel,' I say, not feeling at all silly.

‘And me,' says Maggie.

‘Me too,' says Martha.

‘I will miss you all too,' he says. ‘You've been a great class and I know you will all do great in the exams. Hopefully I will bump into you in town one night and you won't have to ignore me, because I won't be your teacher any more.'

We all laugh. I love how unprofessional he is. He's just such a nice man. I do hope our paths cross again – I think he'd probably be really fun to get drunk with.

We leave our English room for the last time.

At home, something is wrong. Aunty Jo is sitting on a bench in the garden, her head down. A shovel is next to her, with blood on it. Oh my God.

‘Aunty Jo, what happened? Is it Nana?'

‘No, no, Renée,' she says quickly. ‘It's Clara. She was killed by a dog this morning. It ran into the garden and straight over to them. Before I could do anything it had poor Clara by the neck. Freddie is heartbroken – look.'

I look over into the area where the geese live and see Freddie, sitting still as anything, his beak down, in a way I have never seen him before. He was always so tall, so proud to protect Clara.

‘He looks so sad.'

‘There is a breeder up the road who says he has a female, but the deal would be I would have to take two. I was thinking about getting some more pets, so I guess having three geese would be all right. I'm sure you've got revision to do, but you couldn't come with me to pick them up, could you? I think Freddie needs some new love in his life, and quickly.'

‘Of course,' I say, happy to do whatever I can to get Freddie back to his usual self.

‘It would help me out enormously if you did take the two,' says the man with the geese. ‘I have another lot that have just hatched and I need to shift these ones or it's going to be a very overcrowded garden.'

‘Yes, that's OK,' says Aunty Jo. ‘I am sure Freddie will be delighted with two new girlfriends.'

After a lot of squawking and flapping we manage to get the two female geese into the back of Aunty Jo's car. ‘I'll be scraping shit off those seats for the rest of my life now,' she says, laughing at the squelchy splat sounds that keep coming from the back seats. ‘Freddie had better appreciate this.'

Carrying a bird each, we head back to the goose enclosure at the end of the garden. Freddie hasn't moved.

‘That's the exact spot I found her,' Aunty Jo tells me. ‘He hasn't moved from it once. He even has her blood on his feet.'

‘It's so sad,' I say. ‘Poor Freddie. Do you think we can just replace her? Can the love of your life really just be replaced by someone else?'

‘I hope so, Renée. Or Freddie and I are doomed!'

We gently put the birds down inside the gate. They spread their wings and shake their heads, rearranging their feathers to how they looked before Aunty Jo and I messed them up. They eat some of the soggy bread that Freddie hasn't quite managed today and start to explore their new home. Freddie pushes himself up to his feet.

‘There you go,' says Aunty Jo. ‘Now he sees he has two new lovely ladies to play with. That should cheer him up.'

But Freddie doesn't walk towards Feather and Flapper – the names that came naturally to us to call them – instead he clumps slowly in the opposite direction, his head never reaching up, his beak almost scraping the ground as he walks. He plods around the side of the little house he goes into at night and right around the back and out of sight.

‘Let's give him some time to get used to them,' Aunty Jo says. ‘I'm sure he'll be fine tomorrow.'

As we walk back up to the house, the impulse to speak to my sister is as strong as it was earlier.

‘Is it OK if I call Nell?' I ask Aunty Jo, thinking I already know the answer.

‘Oh yes!' she says. ‘Use the phone in my room and stay on it as long as you can. Give her my love!'

‘I will,' I say, running up to the house. ‘I will.'

Come on, Mum, time to go. Now.

It's seven thirty and my mum is faffing about before she goes on her date. I get her coat and try to put it on her myself. ‘Go, you will be late.'

‘Flo? What is wrong with you?' says Mum, wrestling with the coat sleeves, finally getting it on. ‘I won't be late –'

‘Mum?' I tell her, opening the front door. ‘Go and have fun.'

The door slams behind her and the smell of cheap perfume is left lingering in the hall. I hope it doesn't put Arthur off her. I like him. She's been about fifty per cent less hard work since he's been on the scene.

With Abi all tucked up in bed nice and early, it's time to get ready for Gordon. Tonight is the night. I want to move on to the next level of our relationship. Well, maybe just past that actually, as the next stage would literally be just kissing with tongues. But I think I want more than that with him – I am ready. I want us to be a proper boyfriend and girlfriend. At the very least I would like to kiss him properly. Renée was right about one thing – it is normal for people to be sexual.

I run into my bedroom and put on a little bit of blusher and some lip balm. I brush my hair and take it out of the scrunchie it's pulled into, and I spray some deodorant under my arms.

Next, I order some pizza. I thought it might be quite cool to have already ordered pizza so that it arrives shortly after he does. I presume he likes manly-type pizzas, being a man and everything. Renée eats like a man and she always orders the spicy meat feast, so I got him one of those and a ham and pineapple for me. I wonder what she is doing tonight, but then I get the thought of her out of my head. I have to get used to not thinking about her.

I have Cokes in the fridge, and also beers if Gordon and I feel like drinking. During my lunch hour today I ran down to Blockbusters and rented
Dirty Dancing
. It's perfect, because it's a really beautiful love story, but there is a sex scene that I think is the perfect level of sexy for tonight. The main character, Baby, loses her virginity to Johnny, played by Patrick Swayze. It's her first time, but it seems to go really well. It's how I hope my first time goes. It's also a really good one to watch with Gordon as it isn't too explicit, so won't make us feel silly watching it together. Hopefully it will just get us in the mood to do whatever it is we end up doing. If I do think it's going to be awkward, I can just go and make us a cup of tea when the sex scene is coming up. I've seen the movie four times so I know exactly when to leave the room, should I need to. I am terrified but also really excited. This is what boyfriends and girlfriends do, this is normal, this is what should have happened weeks ago. My mouth feels so dry. I also feel a bit sick. The door bell rings.

‘Hello, Flo,' Gordon says formally as he passes me a bottle of ginger beer and kisses me on the cheek.

‘Hello, Gordon, come in. Can I take your coat?'

‘Er  …  thanks,' he says awkwardly. But instead of letting me take it, he shrugs out of it and keeps it bunched up under one arm.

‘OK.' Odd, but OK. I start to show him around.

‘This is the living room, this is the kitchen, this is the downstairs toilet and up here is my –'

‘We don't need to go upstairs,' he says, quickly. ‘It's nice down here.'

‘Yeah. Of course,' I say, suggesting we go into the living room. I sit on the sofa, he sits on the armchair. ‘I ordered pizza and got some movies. I presumed you'd like the spicy meaty one so I got you one of those, and
Dirty Dancing
to watch. It's a love story.'

‘Oh, sorry Flo, I'm a vegetarian. And as a matter of fact, I brought a film with me.
Chariots of Fire
. Have you seen it? It's a classic, a must-see for people like us.' He holds out a VHS of the film.

‘People like us?'

‘People of God.'

Christ!

‘I'll just change the order,' I say, gutted that I got it wrong. I run into the hall and call back the pizza place. I catch it just in time.

‘I was thinking that maybe, before the movie and the pizza, we could get to know each other a bit,' I say as I go back into the living room, feeling proud of myself for taking control. ‘We've spent so much time with other people, and talking about God and the Bible, that I really don't know very much about you. I didn't even know you were a vegetarian. What else should I know about you?' I say, sitting by his feet.

He puts his hand on my head,
his hand on my head
, and says, ‘My life is dedicated to Christ. He died for us and I will spend my entire existence on this earth expressing my gratitude for his sacrifice. What else would you like to know, Flo?'

This is hard work. Jesus is like a drug to him. Even in the small amount of time I have known Gordon he has become more and more obsessed. Surely I can distract him from God, for just one night?

‘Well, I'd quite like to know the other things about you, not just the stuff related to your faith.'

‘Everything about me is related to my faith,' he interjects. ‘My life is dedicated to my faith.'

I need to word this differently.

‘Yes, but there are other things you like. I mean, do you like sport? If you are a vegetarian, what's your favourite vegetable?'

Did I seriously just ask him what his favourite vegetable is? If we get from cauliflower to kissing over the course of the next three hours it'll be a miracle. Come on, God, I know you are on both of our sides. Help me out with this one, please?

‘Flo, you are being a little strange tonight. Is everything all right?'

Strange? Why strange? I am just being interested in him. It's him that's being strange. His body language is so closed. He seems nervous, so unsure of himself compared to usual. It's a very different Gordon to the one who preaches and sings to all of those people. One-on-one Gordon, outside of the confines of his own car, away from God, is quite a different story. But I still want to kiss him.

I stand up and sit back down on the arm of the chair. He jumps up so fast the chair flips to the side from my weight and I land in a heap on the floor with the chair on top of me. When I look up, he has left the room.

‘Gordon?' I say, pushing the chair off me and following him into the kitchen. ‘What's the matter?' I don't ask him why he didn't bother to help me up, even though I can't believe he just left me squashed under an armchair. I need to sort this out.

‘Sorry, Flo, it's just you are coming on so strong,' he says nervously. ‘You seem so  …  so desperate. I haven't seen this side of you before.'

‘
Desperate?
How am I desperate?'

‘Well. The pizza, the sexy movies, the conversation. It's like you've become obsessed with  …  with sex. The reason I was so attracted to you was that you seemed so, I don't know, not into all that  …  sort of innocent. Unsexual.'

UNSEXUAL??

‘Gordon, you say you are my boyfriend, but in six weeks you have never even properly kissed me. We have never walked down a street holding hands. We should be at third base by now – that would be normal.' I'm not really sure what I mean by ‘third base'.

‘Flo, I believe in chastity before marriage. You need to know that and respect it.'

‘You what?'

‘I follow the word of the Bible. Sexual purity. No sex until marriage. All of this, this
seduction
, is just so predatory. It isn't about love, or the sanctity of marriage, or the word of our dear Lord Jesus Christ.'

‘NO, it isn't to do with any of those things. It's about an eighteen-year-old girl who has never been laid who should at least be allowed to see her boyfriend's penis if she feels like she might be ready to do so!'

Oh my, did that just come out of my mouth? God? Did you make me say that? I didn't even know I was capable of saying something like that.

We stand in total silence for about two whole minutes.

‘I think I had better go,' he says.

‘I think you should too,' I say crossly, not bothering to walk him to the door.

No sooner do I hear the front door shut than the door bell rings, almost instantly.

Gordon has come back! I run to the door and open it, ready to be ravished.

‘Pizza?' says a little man wearing a bike helmet. He's only holding one box.

‘I ordered two pizzas.'

‘Your friend took his.'

‘Great,' I say, handing over some money. ‘That's just great.'