Playing with the Grown-ups (18 page)

'It'll be fine,' Kitty said. 'Don't worry.'

She was excited. She had never met true hippy parents before.

On the platform she searched for someone in a woolly cardigan with rainbow stripes, and she was stunned when a tiny immaculate
woman came rushing forward, dressed head to toe in Issey Miyake.

'Is that my little boy?' she cried in a throaty rich voice.

Dylan looked pained.

'All right, Mum?' he said.

'Oh cut the crap, you little state-school wannabe, and give your mother a kiss.'

The cottage was whitewashed with flagstone floors, lit by a fire that emitted great lurching flames. Everything fabric was
cashmere or velvet. At a long wooden table a banquet was set, with deep silver goblets for wine.

'I love your house, Mrs O'Sullivan,' Kitty said as they sat down.

'Call me Lulu, and if you marry Dylan you can have it.'

'Just shut up, Lulu, all right!' Dylan shouted, apoplectic, but his voice had lost its North London twang somewhere between
the train station and the muddy track to the house.

Lester came in with logs for the fire. He was tall and gangling, with bright electric green eyes and a nose ring.

'Hello, fairy,' he said, gathering up Mrs O'Sullivan in his arms, kissing her full on the mouth.

Honor kicked Kitty under the table.

'See!' she said very quietly.

They slept in a huge attic under the eaves, all of them on the floor. The lulled voices of the grown-ups wafted up the stairs,
and in the effort of trying to catch their words Kitty fell into a heavy sleep, feeling that it would be strange to wake up
next to a boy.

In the morning she regarded the milk suspiciously. It was golden; a fat cloud of cream gathered on the top.

'Do you have any skimmed milk?' Kitty was starving.

'No, sweetheart, I don't,' Lulu said. 'There are chocolate croissants if you don't want cereal.'

Kitty computed in her head which was the lesser of the evils.

'No. I'll have cereal, please. But I'll have it with apple juice.'

She poured the apple juice on to her Alpen, and took a bite. They were all watching her, she realised.

'Delicious,' she said.

'You might get a bit cold like that, Kitty.' Dylan was wearing jeans, trainers, and a duffer-hooded sweatshirt.

'Oh, I never get cold, don't worry, I'm hot-blooded,' she said.

'My fucking cousin,' he said morosely. 'That's what comes from living in Wales. Cloud thinks a tea party in a church hall
is a rave, cause he's never been to Spiral Tribe. Hippy Loser.'

'Dylan, I'm freezing! My feet are killing me.' Her teeth chattered.

'I did TELL you,' he said to Kitty. 'Give me your hands.' He rubbed them hard.

Honor and she were both barefoot. Their shoes from Office were not equipped for rambling in the mountains. There were no cars
on the roads, just nothingness, and air so rich and full it took Kitty's city breath away and made her chest sting. It was
thicker than the air at Hay, but she felt at home, the sheep watching with placid eyes, and greenish black as far as the eye
could see. Honor and Shone, children of London, were nervous, every animal noise making them jump, cowpats an assault course.
They held hands, and looked miserable. Kitty was in her element. She skipped and jumped and ran and sang at the top of her
lungs, her voice echoing back to her like a friend. Dylan joined in, and he knew all the words to James Taylor.

'God. You two are so gay.' Shone and Honor glowered at them.

She forgot about Jenkins and her mother, and she didn't worry about what her mother was doing without her. I don't need to
think about her all of the time, she thought. Joy welled up in her. She had the same feeling she'd experienced daily in the
ashram, which was one of inexplicable love for everything in the world.

His fingers fell about three inches above her nipple. There they stayed, stroking the same spot, until she felt raw as sandpaper.
She stretched out, murmuring a little, pretending to be asleep, until his hand actually connected with her nipple. She didn't
know what should happen next. His hand ceased moving, as if it was surprised, and she fell asleep with it rooted to her.

When the sun's rays were hot on the floorboards, she opened her eyes and saw he was looking at her. She didn't want him to
know she remembered, so she said, yawning, 'I slept so WELL last night. It must have been that walk, I felt exhausted.'

'Yeah, so did I,' he said quickly. 'I was knackered. I went straight to sleep, nothing like the country air.'

During the day, she kept looking at his hands, and every time she did, a shock went through her like a mini electrocution.
It seemed magical to her that the mere glimpse of his hand could cause her cells to leap in such pleasurable recognition.

'You're being very weird,' Honor said.

'I know. I can't explain it. I think I feel very happy,' Kitty said truthfully.

She wanted to stay in the cottage, bathing in the river, knitting big scarves for Dylan to wear in the winter.

'Did you have a nice time?' She put her hands on Kitty's shoulders as they did the washing up. They were dry and thin, like
the wishbone from the chicken.

'So nice,' Kitty said.

'What were Dylan's parents like?'

'It was just his mum and her boyfriend. They were so sweet, you would really like them. She was great, the sort of person
you'd be friends with.'

She didn't tell her mother about the pot smoking or the sleeping in the same room as the boys, because she knew she wouldn't
understand that it was all done with innocence.

'What does she look like, Mrs Dylan?' her mother asked.

'Pretty, but in a different way to you, and much older than you are.'

Her mother smiled, and her face lit up from the inside like someone had turned on a light.

'Is it nice to have the youngest mummy?' she said.

Her telephone rang late in the night, and she thought that it was Jenkins, stating his intention to come home. The voice on
the other end of the line sounded at first like a little girl's, and it was crying.

'Kitty,' the voice said.

'Yes? Hello?'

'It's Dylan. It's terrible, Kitty, I've done something really bad.' He sobbed.

She said what her mother would say. 'Hush, darling, it's all right. What's happened?'

'Shone and I got arrested in Leicester Square, for buying ganja. We're in the police station, my mum's gonna be so mad at
me,' he wailed.

Kitty did not think this was romance as she imagined it. Boys weren't meant to cry.

'Are you drunk, Dylan?' she asked.

'Yeah, wasted. I love you so much, Kitty, I love you.'

She heard Shone in the background, saying, 'Shut up, Dylan, give me the phone, you sound like a dickhead.'

'No!' Dylan shouted like a petulant child through his thick sobs. 'I love her!'

There was a tussle for the phone, the sound of it being dropped on a cold hard floor, painful retching and then a click.

It rang again.

'What?!' Kitty said.

'Kitty, it's the magician.'

'Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Hi.'

'Hello to you. I want you to meet Tex, he'd be your best friend in the world. He's so great, my boy. You're both so great.
Destined for all good things. Just think, you could be brother and sister or husband and wife . . .'

'Can he play Scrabble?'

'Like a champion. But your mummy's the best at Scrabble, the best at everything. She has the most elegant feet I've ever seen.'

'Jenkins, please come back; we need you.'

'I wish I'd been your father - your real father. I could have been so good if I was the real thing. Shall we pretend?'

'Yes, we can pretend,' she said.

She knew he would hang up.

'Promise you'll call Mummy? Please?' she said quickly.

'Oh I promised so many things. But I love her, God, do I love her.'

Her mother was curled, in a sleepy half-ball.

'Of course, my baby. Are you all right?'

'Yes. I miss Jenkins a bit, that's all. I can't sleep.'

'Oh Kitty, I'm so sorry. It's wretched. I miss him too, more than I could ever explain. I feel like my heart is wandering
around the desert on its own, lost. We'll be all right. We'll always be all right as long as we have each other.'

'Mummy? Do you think if you hear someone throw up on the phone it can put you off them?'

'Absolutely,' her mother said. 'Without question.'

As they sang the resounding finale, her mother clapped heartily, and called out 'Bravo!' Kitty didn't mind that the other
parents were staring at her mother, because she was beguiling, and her hair fell in glossy curls over her white fur, and she
knew that the question on everybody's lips was, 'Who is that woman?'

'Your mum is really fit. I'd do her.' Nicky sidled up to her, a lopsided smile on his face.

'Fuck off. You're disgusting,' Kitty said.

Her mother glided over, a bunch of white lilies spilling from her hands.

'Darling, I thought I could take you and your friends out to celebrate. You were an utter triumph. You can really dance too.
I'm so proud of you, my beauty.' She registered Nicky. 'Hello,' she said. 'Would you like to come to dinner?' She touched
his arm, and he jumped back like he'd been burnt.

His face was red, and he stuttered.

'No, he's not invited,' Kitty said. 'My REAL friends are over there.' She felt the warm stab of revenge, and it was sweet.

Taking her mother by the hand she guided her through the crowd, leaving nothing but a snaky trail of Mitsouko and some wobbly-looking
fathers.

Kitty could hear her crying. She went downstairs to make some toast with straw berryjam. She decided to make her mother some
porridge, and on it poured the top of the milk, and honey, a thick cloud of a spoonful.

She made a tray, and took it up. She opened the door very carefully and slid in. Her mother was sprawled out like a baby horse,
in her long white nightdress with pansies embroidered at the bosom, hands covering her eyes.

Kitty knelt on the floor, because she knew any movement on the bed could cause a ricochet of pain to scissor Kitty through
her head. She took her hand.

'Is that my big girl?' Marina said.

'Yes. I wanted to see if you were all right,' Kitty whispered.

'Yes, no, yes, no. No, I don't think I am all right. I've done something very awful.'

'What?' Kitty said, her voice louder, watchful.

'If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone; it has to be a secret.'

'I promise,' Kitty said.

'I'm a horrible person; I don't know how any of you can love me . . . look what I've done to myself.' Her mother pulled up
her nightdress and pointed to her legs. 'Look!' she said.

The skin looked obscenely naked because of the needle marks and bruises that spanned from the top of her thighs to her knees
like a broken map. Kitty shrank back.