Goose (17 page)

I feel like everything is coming together. Mum's found Arthur, Renée knows she wants to go back to Spain, I got the grades I need to go to uni. Life is shifting into place. I've changed so much as a person this year. I'm more comfortable in myself than I've ever been, I know who I am better than ever before. Church has helped me with that. I'll always be insecure, but that's OK – I think everyone probably is.

I don't think I am into religious rock groups, and even weekly Bible meetings might be a bit too much, but I've found something this summer, something that held me up when I was about to fall. I think my faith is here to stay. The church gives me a place to be neutral, to feel like the things that stress me out are manageable. It's given me a way of coping, it's guided me through another tough period in my life. I just wish I had found it sooner. It's taught me how to trust in myself, and it's taught me how to forgive. How to really forgive, and that's why I'm about to do what I'm about to do. I am going to turn over the final stone that will truly release me into the next stage of my life. My final challenge.

I knock on the door. It opens.

‘Flo, what are you doing here?'

‘Hello, Sally.'

‘Excuse the mess,' Sally says, bending down in front of me to pick up some kids' toys. Her bottom eclipses the floor, she's put on so much weight. She was always so skinny. Being bigger doesn't suit her.

‘I'd make you some tea but I've been in the kitchen for the last hour washing bottles and I can't be bothered to go back in.'

‘Don't worry. I'm fine. So how have you been?' I ask.

‘OK. Being a mum isn't as easy as it looks, but it's all right. It didn't help that my dad cut me off.' She looks at me suspiciously. ‘Not being funny, Flo, but what are you doing here?'

I see she hasn't lost her ability to be rude to me, even after two years.

‘It was results day today. I passed everything and got what I need to go to uni.'

‘Results day? Wow, I feel so out of touch with anything like that. I tried to stay at school, but I had a hard pregnancy. I was really sick and had every complication you could ask for. School became more hassle than it was worth, so I left. You going to go away then?'

‘Yes, Nottingham,' I say. ‘I'm excited. Look, I just wanted to come and see you because  …  our friendship really affected my life, Sally.'

‘Well, we were friends for a long time, until you dumped me.'

I bite my tongue.

‘You bullied me, Sally, for years. And I just wanted to say –'

There is a scream from upstairs. Her baby has woken up. As if I'm not even there she leaves the room and goes up to him. I follow the sound of his screams and find her in a tiny kids' bedroom bobbing him up and down. I carry on.

‘You bullied me. I know you don't think you did, but you did.'

The screams are getting louder. But I don't stop.

‘Every day you'd tell me I was rubbish. You thought I was ugly, stupid, unfunny. And I believed you.'

The wailing is out of control. As if the baby is responding to what I am saying, but she isn't.

‘I'll always question myself because of the way you treated me. I don't think it will ever really go away. The sound of your voice belittling me, your jibes, the way you bossed me about.'

‘Sorry, Flo. I think he has wind.'

The baby screams into her ear and I know what I am saying doesn't reach her, but I have to say it.

‘But I forgive you, Sally. I forgive you for what you did to me for all of those years. And I'm going to get on with my life now, and do my best to move on from you.

‘Sorry, what? Flo, just wait, I'll get him off again soon. Good boy, come on now, stop that noise.'

‘Bye, Sally.'

She doesn't even notice me leaving.

‘Don't turn my bedroom into a study when I've gone,' I say to Mum as she sits on my bed watching me pack my last few bits and bobs.

‘Of course I won't. It's your room.'

‘And don't redecorate. I like my wallpaper.'

‘As if I have the time to redecorate,' she says huffily.

I sit on my case to shut it and look up at her as if to suggest that she help me, and then I see that she looks sad.

‘Mum? What's the matter?'

‘I'll miss you,' she says. ‘I'll miss having you around.'

I don't know what to do with myself. In my entire life my mother has never said anything affectionate to me, or even suggested that she enjoyed my company. Even at our best, which has been over the last couple of years, there's been no hint of love.

‘I know it's never been easy between us, Flo, but you are my daughter and I love you. I'm sorry I've not been such a great mother to you. I'm trying to make sure I don't mess Abi up in the same way.'

‘Mum, I  …  '

‘It's OK, you don't need to say anything, I don't blame you for hating me. Just come back and visit in the holidays, won't you? You will come back?'

‘Of course I'll come back. This is my home. And I don't hate you, Mum.'

The strange thing is that I did hate her, for years. I hated her so much I wanted to hit her. But I don't now. And I don't want to leave with her thinking that I do.

‘Maybe without me living here, we will be better friends,' I say.

‘I'd like that,' she says. ‘For us to be better friends.'

‘I'd like that too.'

I zip up the last inch of my case.

‘Wow, I couldn't have got another thing in. We should probably get going if we're going to have time to pick Renée up on the way to the airport. Is that still OK?'

‘Of course. Flo  … ' Mum hesitates. I sense it would be inappropriate for me to move. ‘I'm proud of you, Flo, for doing so well and getting into university. And your father would be too.'

This is where I crumble. Dad should be here to shut my suitcase and carry it to the car. I sit on it and drop my head as tears fall onto my legs. ‘He should be here,' I say, looking up.

‘Yes, he should. Come here,' says Mum. ‘Come to me.' I go over to the bed to sit next to her, and we cuddle for the first time in about thirteen years.

Having picked up Renée, the two of us sit in the back with Abi in between us. Mum is driving and Arthur is in the passenger seat. We arrive at the airport and no one is saying anything.

‘This is it,' says Arthur, breaking the silence.

We all get out of the car. Arthur goes to the boot to get my case. It's what Dad would have done.

‘Let's say goodbye here,' says Mum. ‘I can't stand farewells at airports.'

She is actually crying. I go to her and hug her and she kisses my face and then she pushes me away, but I know she doesn't mean to be cruel.

I kneel down to Abi.

‘I'll miss you,' I say, kissing her head. ‘You're the best little sister in the world and I'll be back soon. We can talk on the phone every day, OK? I'm not far away.'

She hugs me. She'll change so much by the time I see her next. I try not to think about that.

‘I love you,' she tells me gently in my ear. I kiss her cheeks that are wet with tears.

‘Bye, Arthur,' I say, kissing his cheek. ‘Look after Mum for me, won't you?'

‘Of course,' he says, and I know he will. He's the only man that's made her happy in years.

‘You take her in, Renée,' says Mum. ‘We'll wait for you and take you home when you're done.'

After checking in, Renée and I stand at the start of departures and laugh at how much we're crying.

‘This is ridiculous,' she says. ‘I can come and see you anytime.'

‘Exactly. And I'll come to Spain. I can sit at the end of the bar you work in and you can sneak me drinks.'

‘Yes, yes, we can do that.'

But although we know this isn't the end, it's scary.

‘You're not to make any friends, OK, Flo? No one. You must be on your own at all times.'

‘Got it. Just me and Jesus.'

‘Yup, Jesus and me. We're your only friends. If someone tries to make conversation with you, you say no, I have enough friends. Go away. OK?'

We laugh and cry all at once.

‘Will you be all right?' I ask her.

‘I'll be fine. I'll go to Spain, get myself a hot Spanish boyfriend. I'll write restaurant reviews and work on my tan. It will be great.'

‘It will.'

A voice comes over the Tannoy. ‘
This is the last call for flight FB 4653 to East Midlands.'

‘I'll miss you every day,' I say. ‘You're my best friend in the world.'

She thinks for a second, then says,‘I'm your goose.'

‘My goose?'

‘Yeah, the one person you can always rely on – your goose.'

I don't know what she's talking about, but that's nothing new.

‘I'd better go,' I say as we squeeze each other so hard my arm hurts. ‘I love you.'

‘I love you too. Don't go, Flo.'

‘I have to. We have to live our lives, remember?'

I start to walk away. We're crying like we're never going to see each other ever again. As I get to the electric doors that take me through, I turn back and wave. As much as I tell myself I will see her soon, I can't help but doubt it as the doors close behind me.

No matter what happens from here, our lives will never be the same again.

Dawn O'Porter is a broadcaster, novelist and print journalist who lives in Los Angeles with her husband Chris, cat Lilu and dog Potato. She has made numerous documentaries about all sorts of things, including polygamy, childbirth, geisha, body image, breast cancer and even the movie
Dirty Dancing
. Dawn is currently the columnist for
Glamour
magazine in the UK, and writes regularly for many other publications. Her first novel, PAPER AEROPLANES, was published by Hot Key Books in 2013, to critical acclaim. GOOSE is the sequel and there are another two in the series yet to be written. She is also a highly prolific Tweeter (@hotpatooties) and manages her own website
www.dawnoporter.co.uk
.

Dawn is obsessed with vintage clothing and can be seen in
This Old Thing
on Channel
4, trying to convert high streetaholics to the way of old threads. Dawn also has her own clothing label called BOB (she also has a bob).

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