Playing with the Grown-ups (16 page)

'My love!' Jenkins ran to her. 'How was Charleston? Was it magical? Do you want to get rid of me and run off with a Bloomsbury
painter? We've been to market, Kitty and me.'

Her voice was quiet but the quietness roared like the loudest shouting.

'If you ever, ever, do something like that again, behind my back, without my permission, I will send you back to boarding
school, and you will stay there until you are eighteen years old, do you hear me? I've just had Beste-mama on the phone for
an hour, trying to interfere, talking about the company I keep, worried about you and Sam and Violet. I am your family, not
them. I am your mother.

If you ever try to undermine my authority again, I will punish you and you will live to regret it. How dare you?! How dare
you do this to me, to us?!'

'She was trying to help, Marina, she was doing something pure. Besides, it made them so happy. They liked me too.' Jenkins
put his hand on Kitty's arm, like a barrier.

'No, they did not. They did not like you. They said you were a common charming drunk. An old drunk.'

'They did like me,' Jenkins said. 'I know they did, I'm likeable. Your father showed me his greenhouse. Kitty says he doesn't
show it to just anyone.'

'They appreciated you like people appreciate vaudeville,' her mother hissed.

'People like me,' he said. This last statement was delivered to an empty chair.

Kitty nodded mutely, as if to say yes, you are likeable.

'What? What do you mean he's gone?' She sat up. 'Is it the middle of the night?'

'No. It's two. Come with me. I'm going to find him.' How young her mother sounded in the dark, she thought.

'Can I get dressed?'

'No, there's no time for that. Just put a coat over your nightie.'

'Is it good luck or bad?' her mother said desperately.

'What?' Kitty pulled her coat around her and hoped the neighbours weren't watching.

'The cat. I can never remember whether it's good luck or bad if a black cat crosses your path.'

'I think it's good.' Kitty squeezed her mother's hand.

Three streets down, they caught sight of him. He was weaving in and out of the road, his hair white against the black backdrop
of night. He looked cinematic.

'Follow him,' her mother whispered.

'What's he doing?' Kitty asked.

'He's dancing.'

They watched Jenkins waltz by himself, taking sips from a brown bottle. He clung to a lamp-post lovingly, as if it were a
lifebuoy and he were being washed out to sea.

Her mother stood in front of him with her arms crossed.

'Hello, Fred,' Jenkins said politely. 'Hello, Kitty. Nice night for it. My funny valentine . . .' he sang.

'Come home, Jenkins,' her mother said. 'It's late. Kitty was worried about you. Look, she's in her nightdress.'

'Oh why oh why does everyone always spoil my fun?' Jenkins said like a little boy.

'Come on, darling, please?' her mother pleaded.

'My funny valentine, I had a valentine in Montana. I have to go back there, my favourite suit's there. I have to go and get
it; it will be lonely without me.'

'We'll get your suit, darling. We can have it sent tomorrow, all right?'

'No it's not all right. It's all very wrong indeed, Fred. The ladies come and go, they speak of Michelangelo. I will come
back if you dance with me, both of you.'

He took their hands and they began an awkward ghost waltz home.

Jenkins wore tails and a tall satin top hat. Sam wore a white rabbit's costume and Violet was, inexplicably to Kitty, Puss
in Wellington Boots.

'Sam and Violet will now take you on a magical mystery tour, the likes of which you have never seen, through the tunnel of
Zadora . . . Quick, follow them . . .'

Her mother had spent all night painting wooden packing boxes with snowy landscapes, and fairies dancing through pine trees.

'He's pretty good. I'd have him at my party . . . your mother looks foxy!' Dylan nearly dropped his Ribena.

Her mother came out in a black swimsuit over fishnet tights, black suede pixie boots.

'Good afternoon,' her mother said in a throaty Baltic drawl. 'Ze forest can be perilous; each of you will need an invisible
crown of safety.' Solemnly she placed a pretend crown on each child's head.

'I feel like such an ass.' Marina came over to where Kitty and Dylan stood, and sneaked a puff of Dylan's cigarette. She held
hands with a tall boy, who had a big gap-toothed smile.

'Kitty, I want you to re-meet Tommy. You used to play together when you were little, do you remember? He's Natalie's son,
he went to St Paul's till GCSEs. Aren't you at a tutorial now? I thought you should meet because he lives three streets away.
It might be nice for you to have a friend who lives close by; and is slightly older . . .'

'How do you do?' Tommy said politely.

'St Paul's, eh?' Dylan said in his best rude-boy effort.

'That's a posh school, innit?'

'Oh Dylan,' Marina said. 'Isn't your mother in advertising?'

Tommy blushed.

'Hi,' Kitty said. 'Ignore him, he can't help it.'

'I'm so glad we've discovered Tommy again; it's perfect with him only down the road. All of her other friends live so far
away; I mean where is NW8? What is Jenkins doing?'

Marina looked over at him lovingly; he was pretending to be frozen in the forest, as Violet waved a wand around his knees.

'Three cheers for Sam and Violet! Three cheers for you all! And three resounding cheers for my divine assistant, Mrs Marina
Jenkins!'

Her mother looked stunned.

'Do you mean it?' she said quietly.

'I mean it more than I've ever meant anything. You, this, Violet wellington boots, you're all my life. We're a family now.
But do let's buy a new house; Sarah-in-Poona's really won't do for all the babies I'm going to give you, the menagerie we'll
have.'

'Oh Jenkins,' her mother said, melting into him.

'Jenkins has gone home to get his suit,' she said, 'and Mum won't stop crying. She says he won't come back but I know he will,
because he loves us. I said don't worry, Mum, Jenkins will come back tomorrow, but that made her cry more. Do you think you
can make her stop? I said she could have my pocket money, but that made her cry more as well. She's being very difficult.'

'She'll be all right,' Kitty said automatically. 'I'm sure she will. It's probably a joke or something. It was nice of you
to offer her your pocket money though.'

'I thought so too.' Violet remained by the gate, like a cat waiting watchfully for its owner.

Kitty walked into the house. Her mother lay in the sitting room on the huge lily-pond rug, Thumbelina dissolving. She barely
looked up when Kitty walked in.

'He's gone,' she said to the wall. She scratched at her arms, and made a noise that was so dark and deep Kitty shivered.

'What do you mean "gone"? He hasn't gone far. he's a wanderer. He'll come back in a few days, like always. Shsh, Mum, you're
going to frighten the little ones.' She sat down on the floor next to her mother and stroked her back.

'I don't give a fuck about anything except for Jenkins, don't you understand? Nothing. Without him there's no point.'

'Well, what did he say? How do you know he's gone?'

Her mother looked through her.

'He said nothing. He said he was going back to get his fucking suit. Then he left. I just know in my heart that he's not coming
back. I just know.' She made the animal noise again.

Nora opened the door and looked at Marina with a mixture of sorrow and disdain.

'I'm taking the children to the park, Marina,' she said.

Kitty put her mother in bed. She made a facecloth cool and laid it on her brow, and brought her a tray with a boiled egg and
soldiers.

'I don't want it,' her mother said. 'I just want Jenkins.

Please turn out the light and make it really dark in here, my head hurts so much. Can you call the doctor and get him to come;
my head feels like it's going to explode.'

'Dr Cartwright?'

'No, the other doctor, his name is in my Filofax, under doctor. Call him now, please.'

The other doctor was smooth and handsome, and he came as quickly as a snake in the night. He carried a leather bag that rattled.

'Would you like a cup of tea?' Kitty said.

'No, I'll just pop up.'

They went into the darkness together.

'Is that the doctor?' her mother said in a small voice.

'Hello, Marina. What's the problem? A migraine again?'

'A terrible one. I can't bear the light.'

'I'm going to have to turn it on so I can give you an injection, OK?'

'Kitty, can you leave me with the doctor now, please?'

Her mother pulled herself up and squinted at her.

Kitty didn't want to go, and she hovered by the door.

'I can take over now.' The handsome other doctor smiled at Kitty.

'What's wrong with her?' she asked him twenty minutes later as she showed him out.

'Just a migraine. Your mother suffers from them periodically. She'll be fine tomorrow.'

'Good,' Kitty said. 'Thank you.'

Kitty watched him get into a clean navy-blue Renault as he prepared to zip off to wherever he came from. She saw him look
in the mirror before he drove off, and adjust his tie, and she wondered if he had a date.

'There's some risotto rice,' Sam says hopefully.

'That's ambitious,' she says. But she takes it, and opens the cupboard to find a pan.

Violet sits on the Aga as Kitty stirs. She remembers a childhood story, 'Stone Soup', in which a group of people come together
and make a feast out of nothing. There is a bottle of Pernod on a shelf, and she pours it into the pan, filling the kitchen
with a definite aniseed life.

'Will you ring Nora?' she asks Violet.

Violet dials Nora on speakerphone.

'Hello?' Nora says.

'It's us!'Violet says. 'All calling you from Mum's kitchen.'

'What are you doing there? Who's us?'

'All of your babies, me, Sam and Kit.'

'Hi, Nora!' Kitty and Sam clamour in the background.

'Are you on that bloody speakerphone thing? I can't hear you; you sound like you're in an aquarium.'

'We're cooking,' Kitty shouts. 'Nora, Mark is so excited that you're coming in January; he thinks we'll have a tidy house
and an immaculate, well-mannered Anglo-Irish baby.'

'More fool him,' Nora laughs. 'New York again, after all this time. Who would have thought?'

'Don't you want to know why we're all here?' Violet says.

'I suppose so,' Nora says guardedly. 'I know you shouldn't all be there.'

'Mum had a black dog day,' Violet says.

They sit in their mother's kitchen, surrounded by her things. Her pug Little Dorritt sits on Violet's lap.

'Does she need clothes?' Kitty asks Violet.

'Yeah, she was taken away in a negligee. The ambulance men were thrilled.'

Upstairs Violet does pliés in her mother's bathroom as Kitty opens the wardrobe.

'But, Mum, I don't know anyone that well yet, just Dylan and Honor . . . what if no one comes, and where will everyone fit?'

'Those are just petty logistics - we'll make everyone fit. It'll be cosy and intimate. We must make the best of the space
we have. It's called imagination, and I know you have lots of it. Maybe I should dye my hair the same colour as Guinevere's,
what do you think?'

'No,' Kitty said. 'It's really far for everyone to get here, and what if they trash the house?'

'Of course they'll come; that's how you get to know people, you throw parties. No one will trash the house, I'll be here.
We'll have a disco, and all your girlfriends can stay the night.'

Tommy from three streets away was invited with his friends Ollie and Naim so the boy-girl ratio was equal.

'Tommy has lovely manners,' Marina said. 'It's good for you girls to meet boys with good manners. He wrote me a thank-you
letter after Sam and Violet's birthday.'

Kitty didn't care about Tommy's manners. She was in love with Nicky, the sexiest boy in her year, who didn't have any.

Nicky didn't talk to her exactly; he placed her in a headlock in biology and watched as she froze under his touch, like a
lab rat hypnotised by fear.

'You're having a party, innit?' he asked, his pale arm right next to her mouth. Kitty wanted to lick it.

'Yeah,' she muttered, sweat stinging her eyes. He had a gold tooth, and she wondered whether the dentist put it in, how it
got there, into his wide smiling mouth.

'Yes. Of course.'

'Wicked. See you there.' He bobbed off leaving her so weak she had to go and see Ruby, the progressive school nurse, for some
Rescue Remedy.

'Kitty do you want to go for a walk?' he asked, his voice curiously normal.

'All right.' Kitty smiled up at him, on fire.

Outside it was cold. She heard the buses rumbling towards Clapham Junction. They walked halfway down the street, silently.
Nicky guided her by the elbow into a neighbouring driveway. He pushed her up against a black Saab and kissed her, his tongue
darting in and out of her mouth. He smelt of vodka, horniness and pizza. My first French kiss, Kitty thought, concentrating
on what exactly to do with her tongue.

With moist hands he grabbed the straps of her dress and pulled them down, swiftly exposing her breasts to the street.

'Please?' Kitty said in weak protest.

'Sorry,' he said. 'It's just you've got really beautiful tits.'

'Do you want to go back inside?' she said covering her nipples.

'Yeah. We can be private.' He looked excited.

In the house he propelled her towards the cellar.

The darkness was black and thin like Indian ink.

'Hello,' Kitty said, wanting to be like a romantic heroine.

'Stop talking. Just kiss me,' he said, his hand burrowing insistently up her dress.

The Donna Karan tummy-control tights caused a thankful passion intervention. They were impenetrable.

'Can you just take those off?' he asked.

'I think I have to go back upstairs, I can hear the doorbell. People will be leaving. I have to say goodbye.'

'Fuck's sake.' He sounded disgusted.

Kitty bolted through the blackness upstairs to see her mother dancing alone, her eyes shut dreamily, like nothing else mattered.

'Mum, the pizza man needs to be paid,' Kitty said.

'Jenkins was an incredible dancer,' Marina said.

As all the girls lay on Kitty's bedroom floor, Camilla said to her, 'Did you get off with Nicky?'

'Yes.' she said.

'Well, you're a really bad friend - I've liked him since the first year.'

'She didn't know that,' said Honor. 'It's not her fault if he fancies her and not you. Don't be such a drama queen.'

Camilla lay in silence and refused to speak to anyone.

'He took my top off on the street. I was so embarrassed,' Kitty whispered to Honor.

'I hate it when they do that,' she answered wearily.

Kitty walked into the kitchen after everyone had left and found her mother staring at the lovebirds with tears in her eyes.
Kitty put her arms around her.

'Thank you for my party, Mummy,' she said. 'Everyone had fun; they said it was the best party all year, much better than Greta's
and she's got a swimming pool.' She searched her mother's face for a clue, but it was closed.

'I told you no one would trash the house. They're not very wild for a bunch of teenagers.' Marina sounded disappointed.

'Enter!' her mother said.

She was in bed, VH 1 blaring, and she had a pleased look about her.

Lying next to her, prone, was a ravishing woman, fast asleep, a tangle of baby blonde hair and whistling snores. Kitty gazed
at her in fascination. She began to grind her teeth so ferociously Kitty jumped.

'Poor darling, it's a wonder she has any teeth at all . . . Morning, Magpie.'

'Morning,' Kitty said faintly.

There was a bellow down the hall.

'Marina! I do hope you're not decent,' followed by Violet imploring, 'Billy, have you bought me a chocolate croissant?'

Her mother's friend Billy swaggered in clutching a paper bag, shadowed by Violet and Sam whose eyes were round with longing
like hungry orphan children's.

'Mum, why is there a lady in your bed?' asked Violet.

'That's no lady,' said Billy.

'Woman. Not lady, Violet,' corrected her mother.

'It's my friend Candy. We went to a party and she came to stay the night afterwards, because we were far away from her house.
Isn't she pretty?'

'Suppose,' said Sam.

Billy rocked with laughter, and muttered, 'You are the end. The end. I know who that is, she's a deal . . .'

Candy slept on, resolute as a soldier after battle won. Violet and Sam sat at Billy's booted feet, pretending to be dogs as
he threw them scraps of chocolate croissant. They played Pictionary until four, when Marina decided it was time to get dressed.

At four-fifteen Candy rose like Lazarus, rolling one brown eye lazily around the room. She didn't seem alarmed.

'Mornin',' she said cheerfully. She had teeth sharp and pointed like a little vampire's. 'OHHHI, could murder a cup of coffee.'

'Darling, you're SUCH a sleeper,' Marina told her admiringly.

Kitty smiled at her.

'I'll make you a cup of coffee,' she said.

'Would you? You're an ANGEL. YOU must be Kitty, your Mum's told me all about you. I must say you really are sweet, look at
your little face.'

Kitty decided in the kitchen that Candy would be her new best friend, after Honor.

At the end of the road there was an Italian restaurant called La Dolce Vita. Kitty was dispatched to get pizza for Sam and
Violet. Candy came with her.

'I love pizza when I'm hungover,' she said. 'That and a Coke with loads of ice for breakfast.'

The pizza boys were in raptures at the sight of Candy.

'No, she's my friend.'

Candy giggled.

'My sister and I want a big pizza,' she said. 'Avery big one, with lots of cheese, and a bit burnt, if you don't mind.'

They set them up at a table while they waited, and brought Candy a Malibu and Coke on the house. Kitty ordered a Coke, but
she didn't drink it.

'What do you do?' Kitty asked her. 'Are you an actress?'

Candy smiled.

Kitty shook her head.

'Epic, it's like it was written for me. I try and fix people. I keep attracting bastards, though. . . Oh well. . . I'm trying
to concentrate on going out and letting life happen.'

'How did you meet Mummy?' Kitty said.

'Oh I met her last night at this mad warehouse party. She's brilliant - it must be really fun to have a mum like yours,' Candy
said. 'My parents are really boring and middle-aged. You're so lucky; your mother's very bohemian, being an artist and all
that. She's a bit tragic, in a good way.'

'What do you mean tragic in a good way?' Kitty said, trying to imagine her mother at a warehouse party.

'Like Judy Garland was tragic, or Virginia Woolf. Really creative people are sometimes; they just carry it with them. You
can see it in their eyes. It helps if they're beautiful.'

'Do I have tragic eyes?' Kitty asked her.

'No, sweetheart. Clear happy eyes, with a bit of mystery to keep things interesting. I'm an only child. I bet you never feel
lonely, being surrounded by so many people. What's it like?'

'Not very private,' Kitty said.

The Admiral Crichton Hotel was a crooked Georgian house off Camden High Street. The hallway was the colour of a miner's lungs,
and behind a Perspex window sat a birdlike woman painting her nails electric blue.

'I've come to visit Candy,' Kitty said.

'Well, let's see if we can rouse the dead.'

The woman got up and led her through a maze of corridors. They arrived at room 109 and the woman thumped loudly on the door.

Kitty heard a shuffling from within followed by a sulky, 'What?'

'You've a visitor, darling.'

'Who is it?' Candy sounded angry. 'I'm not expecting anyone. If it's Stu tell him to bugger off. I told him not to come till
eight.'

'It's Kitty,' Kitty said apologetically. 'I bought you some soup.'

'Who? Marina's Kitty?'

She nodded enthusiastically, and then remembered Candy couldn't see her.

'Yes. Marina's Kitty,' she said.

'Can you open the door with the master, Moira? I don't think I can move.'

Moira the bird woman opened the door.

In the dark, close room, incense smoke hung in the air like a memory.

The bedside light was turned on, and there was Candy, six feet of curves and angles sitting up in bed, wearing a pair of cream
silk pyjamas that were exactly the same colour as her hair. She stretched out a long silky leg. Kitty stood in the middle
of an ocean of mess, clothes and half-eaten bars of chocolate, magazines, lipsticks and twenty-pound notes.

'Sorry about the state in here, I had another late one,' Candy said.

'Did you want something for your mum?' She gave a lusty cough.

'No. I bought you chicken soup because I thought you were ill.' Kitty held out the warm container and felt stupid.

'Thank you, that's really sweet.'

Candy lit a cigarette. Kitty tried to think of another reason she might be there, in this virtual stranger's bedroom.

'I'm going to this club on Friday night and I don't know what to wear,' she said.

'Which club?'

'Hanover Grand, it's called. There's this boy . . .'

'And you fancy him?' Candy said.

'Yes, and I think he's forgotten I exist. I got off with him a few months ago and he told everyone at school I was frigid,
and he hasn't spoken to me since.' Kitty looked apologetic.

'Men,' Candy said. 'Well, we better find you something to wear, so he remembers that you very much do exist. How do you feel
about satin?' She beamed at Kitty, and she didn't feel stupid any more.

In Candy's satin trousers, she felt nearly sexy.