Being Emily (10 page)

I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out the keys, walked across the road and let mysel in the close. Even though it had been cleaned, a sooty smell lingered under the lemony disinfectant, and it got worse as I went up the stair. When I reached the landing, the sight of our front door, all padlocked up, hit me. I’d thought I’d be able tae go inside, somehow it seemed that important tae walk through the rooms. But the Fire Brigade or the Polis or someone must have secured the place for safety. I turned and walked back doon the stair, paused a moment afore letting mysel out intae the back court. There was a real nip in the air and the heat I’d built up while I was running through the streets had evaporated, but I made my way to the corner beside the shaughly auld wall, under the bare tree, and sat doon so I wouldnae be seen fae the houses.

All around, as far as I could see, were the backs of tenements, lurking under a moonless sky. A web of windaes crisscrossed their shadowy presence, hundreds of lives mapped out in this wee area. Every now and again I’d see someone come tae their kitchen sink to fill a kettle or draw their bedroom curtain, mibbe looking out for a second intae the blank dark. And above me were the deid windaes of the house that was no longer my hame.

I ENDED UP
at Jas’s. After sitting in the back court till I was frozen I started tae walk aimlessly, but by now it was late and it didnae feel good to be out by mysel. I couldnae face gaun back to Janice’s so I went to the only place that felt like hame to me.

Jas’s ma said nothing that night, lent me a tent of a nightie and produced a box of new toothbrushes.

Is this stock for the shop?
I asked.

No dear, I just like to be prepared in case of any unexpected
visitors
.

Jas laughed.
In case an unexpected busload of tourists arrive
.

So cheeky, this boy of mine
. She ruffled his hair.
The other, of
course, hardly ever speaks
. She opened a drawer, handed me two orange towels.
You’ll meet him soon, Fiona – he’s coming next week
.

Maybe next week
, said Jas.
Maybe the week after or the week after
that
.

That’s another difference, Fiona. One is reliable, the other as vague
as a cloud. But you’re tired, dear. Go to bed
.

Next day Patrick flew up fae London. As usual, he and Janice took charge, Patrick dealing wi the building society about the repossession, and Janice managing to get the council to rehouse us. Except I wasnae gonnae go with them.

I didnae want to think about where I would live. Mrs Kaur was kind and never pressed me to leave, but I knew I couldnae stay there forever. But right noo, I could hardly bear to be in the same room as my da.

I tried. A few days later Patrick came round and took me tae Janice’s. They wanted tae include me in the discussions about what had to be done, but I sat on the other side of the room fae my da like a hedgehog, curled in a ball of hate, prickling every time he opened his mouth or looked in my direction. Every move he made grated on me; the way he pulled on his left ear when he was listening to what was said, the whiny tone of his voice as he sat glued to the chair and never even got up to make a cup of tea.

That night when I got back, Mrs Kaur put her airms round me, spoke gently.

I know it’s hard to forgive, but it’s sweet too. Just take it in baby
steps, dear
. The smell of the oil she put on her hair, the softness of her cheek, made me want to say, yes, yes, I will, but I couldnae.

Da and the twins flitted tae the new house the following week and I moved back wi Janice and Angie, sharing Evie’s room wi its Winnie the Pooh mural.

Are you gonnae sleep in the bump beds with me, Auntie Fiona?

Sure. It’ll be fun
.

When I’m five I’m gonnae sleep in the top bump.

Are you?

Janice held out sheets and a downie cover.
She’s desperate to
sleep in the top bunk but I don’t feel safe with her up there yet –
d’you mind, Fiona?

I took the sheets.
I’d sleep on the flair, anywhere
.

It won’t come to that
.

I started to make up the bed. Evie skipped around me.

When I’m five and I sleep on the top bump my baby sister will
sleep under me
.

Will she?

Janice turned fae the drawer she was emptying.
Mibbe not
right away, pet. Babies sleep in a cot first
.

I looked at her.
Janice, are you … having another baby?

I’m not pregnant, yet. But we’re thinking about it. I mean we
definitely want another, it’s just a question of when. I want to save
up a bit more before I have to take time off work
. She hunkered doon to Evie, rubbed noses with her.
But I cannae promise it’ll
be a sister
.

That afternoon Jas and me took Evie out for a walk. At the swing park she insisted on going on the big chute which was far too high for her so Jas held her in his lap and went doon too.
See – you’ve got your own racing car
.

When she teamed up with another wee one on the seesaw, we sat on a bench and watched her giggling away as she went up and doon, rhythmically.

Jas took my haund.
How you?

Dunno. I feel awful. Everybody’s being dead kind. Your ma, Janice.
If I could just get my act thegether and stop feeling like this about
Da, it’d be cool
.

It’ll take time. Families are like that
.

Yours isnae.

Sometimes it is.

You and your ma get on better than anybody I’ve ever known.

That’s just luck, how we are. The way our personalities work.

Me and Patrick are a bit like that.

But me and my da rubbed each other up the wrong way a lot.
And Amrik and me are total chalk and cheese. You just learn to live
with it. Family is kind of … sacred
.

A few days later Janice was washing up at the sink while I sat at the table. Evie came rushing in the room and Janice hauf-turned; her face, as the light hit it at that angle, was Mammy’s. Lying in bed that night I couldnae sleep, tossed and turned in the bunk bed above Evie, thinking about Janice getting pregnant again. They said that what happened tae Mammy was a fluke, one in a million, but I was scared. Janice would be forty next year. She looked younger and was dead fit, but then so was my mammy. When I closed my eyes all I seen was the radiance of that face, the one that was both Mammy’s and Janice’s, expecting, hoping for the future, then dissolving intae nothing.

Somewhere in the middle of this stuff, my eighteenth birthday came and went. Janice wanted us all to go out for a meal, but the way things were it didnae seem that great an idea. Instead I went out with Jas, who gied me a box wrapped in white tissue paper.

Got it in Haworth
, he said.
I’ve been saving it till now
.

It was a glass paperweight with a profile of Emily trapped inside it.

It’s lovely
. I held it in the palm of my haund, felt its heaviness.

* * *

The letters arrived the next week, forwarded to Janice’s house. I took them to school to let Jas see them. I found him in the library, folders and books spread out in fronty him, placed three envelopes on top of the pile.

That one first – it’s the least interesting
. It said my piece hadnae got anywhere in the national finals of the competition.

Shame
, said Jas.

Ach, I never expected it
.

He read the others; one offering me a place at uni and one at Art School.

Cool
. He handed them back.
Have you decided what you’re
gonnae do?

Art School
. I sat doon in the chair next to his.
It’s weird –
for years I’ve wanted to study literature at uni, but somehow, when
I read they magic words I’d always dreamed of, it just didnae feel
the same. Then I opened this one and it said you’ve been offered a
place at Art School and it was just, this is it. This is right
.

That’s what you have to go by, that feeling
.

I turned tae him.
What about you, Jas?

How d’you mean? I’m all settled, accepted my place last year
.

You wouldnae think of changing – I mean, is this what you really
want or is it because your family wants you to study pharmacy?

Fiona, if I said to Ma I’ve changed my mind, I really want to
study literature or go to Art School she’d support me. But I don’t
.

He replaced the letters in their envelopes.
Do you want me
to stay in Glasgow, is that it? It might be possible to change unis
next year
.

It’s no that. Jas, I know you love Shelley mair than anything, and
there’s your photography. You said you don’t have that passion for
Chemistry that you dae for Art and books and all that
.

Pharmacy will give me the life I want, Fiona. It feels right
.

The librarian glared at us fae behind her glass screen and
we shut up. I opened my books and pretended to read. Still didnae get it but. Jas always had clear ideas about things, had principles. He’d never get sucked intae studying the wrang course out of loyalty. But I couldnae see why he was so keen on pharmacy except that it suited his family. And I couldnae understaund what he meant about it giving him the life he wanted. Sure it was steady and a good job and that. But Jas wasnae materialistic. He didnae want a fast car or fancy holidays. I wished we’d talked mair then about what kind of life he did want, about the future. I assumed I was part of his plan whatever that was but, like sex, it was something we never discussed. Mibbe if we had things might of been different. Naa, I don’t believe that. Probably it would of only made what happened next even worse.

AMRIK WAS A
fallen angel. Taller and thinner than Jas, his hair tummled past his shoulders in lank curls; he was only twenty-five but the lines round his mouth and eyes were deep. Oh but those eyes – earth-brown with flecks of gold, eyes to drown in. He was draped over a chair in the kitchen, long legs stretched out in front of the gas fire. Jas’s ma placed a cup on the table by his side and tapped his thigh as she squeezed past him.

Watch you don’t trip over these big legs, Fiona – always in the
way. Amrik, this is Fiona, Jaswinder’s girlfriend
.

His haund moved vaguely in my direction.
Hi
.

Hi
.

Sit down, dear. I’ll get you some tea. Jaswinder will be back in a
moment – he just went out for a message
.

I sat in the chair opposite Amrik. He held the mug in his haund, sipped the tea. I noticed that the tips of his long thin fingers were calloused and the fingernail of his right pinkie was longer than the others. He said nothing and, though I rummled around in my heid for small talk, I found mysel unable to speak.

The door opened and Jas struggled in with a bag spilling over with aubergines and peppers, so full that he was hugging it like a baby. He gied a big grin, dumped the bag on the flair and put his airm round me.

I cannae think back to that day without shame that floods me, makes me close my eyes and put ma haunds over ma ears. Sounds stupid to say it, as if I’m making it up in retrospect, but when Jas put his airm round me and I stood looking at Amrik I felt as though I’d already been unfaithful with him, even though we’d done nothing but sit in fronty the fire thegether, drinking tea in silence. There’s a phrase in the bible about how you can commit adultery in your heart; I know what that means. Even if Amrik and me had never ever done anything, I was guilty as soon as I looked at him. When I was wee my granny tellt me about sins of intention, how if you really really wanted to murder somebody and felt all they feelings in your heart it was a mortal sin anyway, even though you never laid a finger on them. And I thought that was daft, how could thinking about something be wrang? You cannae help your thoughts, can you? Thoughts are just things that come and go, they don’t harm anyone unless you act on them.

I don’t believe that noo. Thoughts are dangerous, and no just because they make it that bit mair likely that you will do something bad. The thought itsel is bad. I mentally detached mysel fae Jas the second his ma introduced me as his girlfriend; there was something, that cauld splinter, an ice crystal the size of a pinheid, that crept in my heart and stayed there.

Looking back on it, I find it hard tae believe I even liked Amrik, let alone loved him. Mibbe it wasnae love, but obsession, whatever that is. I was constantly aware of Amrik’s presence, as if static electricity had set up hame inside me, wee tremors prickling under my skin. It wasnae a pleasant feeling, no the warm comfort I’d always felt with Jas. I was hyper, couldnae sit still, kept leppin up fae my seat tae make cups of tea or help wi the dishes. And of course Jas’s ma thought I was being helpful which made me feel even worse.

That night Amrik was playing in a local café which had live music. Jas and me had been there quite often – he didnae drink so we never went tae pubs. Usually there were local bands, boys posing and playing thinly disguised ripoffs of their heroes. Everyone talked over them except for their pals, who crowded round the tiny platform, applauding enthusiastically after every number. Tonight Jas led me tae a table near the front.

Amrik’s amazing – I cannae wait till you hear him
.

I’ve never heard sitar music afore
.

It’s a dead haunting sound, no really like anything else, draws
you right inside it. I used to listen while I done my homework at the
kitchen table. Then when I heard my da coming in I’d rush up and
bang on Amrik’s door to warn him to stop
.

Why did your da no want him to play?

Sitar is not a traditional Sikh instrument. Amrik was always musical
but he’d learned the tabla – the drums – at the Gurdwara. My da
seen it as rebellion when Amrik wanted to learn sitar. He wanted
him to play sacred music – of course to Amrik his music is sacred
but no the way my da meant
.

A few minutes after eight, Amrik strolled in and made his way to the wee platform in the corner. There was a stool and a mic on a stand. Amrik lowered the mic till it was a few feet
fae the flair, dumped his jacket in a corner and sat cross-legged. He placed his sitar carefully across his legs, and, eyes closed, paying nae attention to anyone or anything in the room, began to play.

Discordant and harmonious at the same time, the notes flew and trembled like nervous birds. Amrik appeared to be in a trance, swaying slightly, his fingers coalescing with the keys and strings, as though he were tuned intae something larger, which played through him.

At first the folk in the café continued their conversations, sipped their coffees, ate their tapas and muffins. But gradually, a hush descended on the place, people crept fae their seats tae be closer to Amrik, till everyone was huddled round this one corner. Amrik continued to play without stopping, one tune merging intae another, different moods intermingling; sadness and joy, playfulness and melancholy, but above all a sweetness you could almost taste. When he finished, after what could of been hours or minutes, there was silence. He opened his eyes and I saw the eyes of an angel.

Of course then came the applause and the chaos of a fawning crowd round him. Jas went up tae talk to him, put his airm round him, but I held back, no wanting to be like everyone else. I sat alone at the table in the hauf-dark, staring at cauld foam in my coffee cup.

Two days later, Amrik and me were lovers.

Three days later, Jas and me were finished.

I think that’s what I feel worst about now, though at the time I was too swept away tae notice what was gaun on. I wish I’d been honourable enough to finish with Jas, leave, get right out of his life afore I took up with Amrik. I know
it’s an odd word, old-fashioned, but that’s the only one that fits. Folk are always talking about respect nooadays but we’ve nae idea what it means, the word means nothing.

Honourable.

Tell him it’s over.

Simple. I should of done it that night after the gig, walking hame with Jas under the full moon that shone on us as if we were real lovers; it was like blasphemy to walk haund in haund with Jas under that moon. But how do you break up with your best friend?

Answer: You don’t. You betray him.

I will never forget that Monday afternoon; the wee room high in the attic, the single bed opposite the windae that looked out at the grey sky. Monday afternoon was the only time when you could be sure their ma was out – she never missed meeting her friends for their Scrabble game – and Jas was on a trip with his Chemistry class. As I walked up the road I kept telling mysel that I had a reason to go round to Jas’s; I needed a special set of pens I’d left there on Friday, even kidded mysel I was gonnae return tae school once I’d got them, but when I went up the close and heard the sound of Amrik’s sitar drifting fae the flat, I knew fine well I wouldnae.

The first time. There was me assuming it would be with Jas, the man who loved me. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, I’d think about what it’d be like, what he’d say, how we’d be thegether.

I don’t remember much about that first time with Amrik, what we done or how it happened, just the afterwards, lying cooried like spoons in the narrow bed, watching the grey sky turn a darker shade of grey. I mind other times, when the lovemaking became a kind of dance with a familiar rhythm.
It’s a cliché that musicians make good lovers but Amrik played my body like an instrument, his fingers caressing me till every nerve quivered and I screamed and squealed scales. That was after he moved intae the bedsit, when I didnae care who heard us. The first time was silent.

I never told Jas about that first time – couldnae even be honest about that. Just said it was over.

Over? What d’you mean, over?

I’m sorry, Jas
.

Fiona
…

I’m really sorry
.

The gulls swooping and diving over a grey sky as we walked along by the brown, murky river. My haunds that cold they hurt. And his eyes that I didnae dare look intae.

Mrs Kaur was kind, phoned and told me to keep in touch.
I mean it, dear. You are always welcome in our home
. I wonder how much she knew then. She was a wise woman who knew her sons. It must of been obvious fae the way I looked at Amrik that there was something up. But if she had known, could she really have been so kind to me?

But then everyone was kind to me, too kind. Janice gied me the
probably best not to get tied down at your age
speech, and Jemma said,
These things happen
. Only Monica blurted out,
Oh that’s a shame, Jas is so nice
when I tellt her, then she went scarlet and said,
Of course I’m sure Amrik is nice too but
…

But?

Oh what do I know? I just hope he looks after you as well as Jas
.

Jemma laughed.
Boyfriends don’t look after you, they’re for
having fun with
.

I guess
, said Monica.
But in the long run you want someone you
can rely on
.