Teach Me Dirty (40 page)

I heard Mark get Mum a stool. He got her a coffee, too. And neither of them said a word.

I found that place inside, and it was so sad in there I could hardly stand. I summoned it and spat it out and sobbed and heaved and slashed my way around that canvas until it was full. Until it was brimming. Until the paint was thick and angry and I was a shaking wreck.

I let out a pitiful squeal that didn’t sound like me, and I cursed the universe for giving me something so good, only to make it so bad.

And then I was done.

I hated that picture with all my heart, but it was the most beautiful, raw thing I’d ever painted.

I dropped my brush and placed my hand in the centre of it, as though my palm could stop the bleeding.

And then my legs went from under me.

***

Mark

Helen’s mum gasped and let out a weird sob, but I was already over there, and I’d taken more than I could fucking bear.

Helen’s canvas was a beautiful monstrosity, her handprint the final emblem of heartache over an otherwise truly horrifying expression of grief. And I felt it.

I felt it when her fingers trailed down the canvas and she crumpled to the floor.

I pulled her to her feet and into my arms, and she weighed nothing, just hollow bones and skin. It broke my fucking heart.

She flailed pathetically, shrieking through sobs that her mum was there, and she’d tell her dad and it would ruin everything, but I was done with her ridiculously sweet ideas of nobility. And I was done with Helen’s dad, too.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, and tipped her chin up and made her look at me and I said what I should have said weeks ago.

“Enough,” I said. “This is enough. It finishes here.”

“But…”

“No,” I said. “Absolutely enough, I mean it, Helen.” I fished the envelope from my pocket and slammed it on the table and it was the greatest relief of my life.

For once she didn’t even argue. She buried her face in my chest, and she was nothing but sobs and arms, and it felt so good, even though it was so sad. Just to feel her against me was the only thing that mattered. The only thing I cared about.

“I’m going to hand in that letter first thing tomorrow morning, and you’d better start thinking, Helen Palmer. You’d better start thinking about what we’re going to do with the rest of time.”

I hoped she was smiling, but I couldn’t tell, she was still a heaving mass of tears.

I felt them, too, and I didn’t want to. I choked my own back with a laugh, and pressed my mouth to her hair.

“You can stop it with this stubbornness as well, I mean it, Helen, this crap will drive me to an early grave. You’ve aged me ten years already. They’ll be thinking I’m your bloody granddad next time we go to Birmingham.”

And she did laugh then. She laughed and I’m pretty sure she snotted all over my shirt, and that was funny, too.

But I was serious, deadly serious.

“I’ll put the house on the market, and we’ll move. Wherever you want. You can pick. We’ll make a whole house full of memories, a brand new house, and it will be ours, with no ghosts, and no memories in cupboards, just ours. Do we have a deal?”

She nodded against my chest, and I breathed in relief. I exhaled every bit of air in my lungs, and it choked me. The relief fucking choked me.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I was trying to do the right thing, but it was wrong… it was the wrong thing… but I felt so bad…”

“It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “It’s over.”

“But I made you so sad…”

“No,” I said. “You make me so happy.”

I breathed her in until she calmed, until the heaving of her chest stopped and she was quiet. She clung onto me, as though we’d never be separated again, and in that moment I was glad Helen’s dad had found out about us. For all the pain and the anguish I was glad it had come to a head enough to set us free. It was the most perverse favour of all time, but he’d done it for us.

I lifted my face from Helen’s hair and her mum was staring, eyes wide and hand over her mouth. Her cheeks were tear-streaked, and she made a wretched sound as she met my eyes.

“It’s done,” I said to her, and my voice was kind and calm. “I’m resigning. I’ll leave town, it’s fine.”

Helen struggled in my grip, struggled to face her mum. “I’m going…” she said, and her resilience had turned tail, rushing straight back to roost. “I’m going wherever Mark goes and I don’t care what Dad has to say about it. I just don’t care.”

Her mum’s face crumpled into tears, and then she stepped forward and picked up my letter. She turned it in her hands, stared at it as though she’d never seen an envelope before.

“I’ve been carrying that around for weeks,” I said. “I’d have handed it in a long time ago if your daughter wasn’t so determined to be stubbornly noble.”

The faintest smile crept across her lips. “She gets that from her dad.” She put the letter back down and looked at Helen. “Go and wait for me in the car, love.”

Helen shook her head. “No.”

“Please, love. I’ll be right out, I just want to have a word with Mr Roberts.”

“Why?”

Her mother sighed, and I felt bad for her. I kissed Helen’s head. “Maybe you should let your mum have a minute,” I said. “It can’t hurt, Helen.”

She tipped her head from side to side. “No. It can’t. It’s already hurt enough.” She pulled herself from my arms, but it was a slow affair. She raised herself on her toes and kissed my mouth, and she was clammy and beautiful and perfect. She walked to the door slowly. “I’ll be in the car,” she said.

***

“This should never have happened!”
Helen’s mum said. And I agreed with her. I told her so.

“This isn’t right! She’s so young!”
I agreed with that, too.

And then she broke, and she sobbed. I waited until she’d regained her composure without saying a word.

“I hoped you’d be a pervert. That would have been easier…”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She laughed a sad laugh. “I wanted to believe what we were doing was right, but I couldn’t.” She put a hand to her chest. “Helen was so alive, I watched her come out of herself in front of my eyes. You took my little girl,” she cried, “and you made her such a happy young woman. I could see it. She was happier than I’ve ever seen her in her life.”

It choked me up. “I’m sorry.”

She wiped her eyes. “How can you be sorry for that?”

“It was inappropriate.”

“Yes, it was, but look at her now! Look at my little girl. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep, all she does is cry. And I have to say to myself, what’s worse? What’s really worse? Her being happy with someone she shouldn’t, or being devastated without them?”

The question was entirely rhetorical. Her eyes moved to Helen’s painting and filled again. “Helen’s always been an unusual child. She’s not like the others, never has been. She’s… complicated, and deep, and sensitive…”

“She’s a wonderful woman,” I said. “Helen’s a very gifted artist, and she’s a credit to you. She’s kind, and she’s smart…”

“You love her, don’t you?” She sighed. “You actually love her. This is real.” She picked up the envelope again. “Enough to toss everything in for.”

“Easily enough to toss everything in for,” I said.

She let the tears fall. “I was eighteen when I met Helen’s dad. He forgets this, of course. I had Helen at twenty. My dad thought George was too old for me, all of a five-year age gap.”

I smiled. “You’ve done a fantastic job with Helen, truly. She thinks the world of you both. If she didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Everything’s so regimented with George. He doesn’t understand. He thinks he’s doing right by her, but he’s never really understood her. I don’t either, but at least I know I don’t.”

“He’s got every right to be angry,” I said. “You both have. I respect that.”

She shook her head. “He’s so stubborn. He’s
too
stubborn.” She smiled. “Stupid old goat, he is, but it lasted, me and him. It really lasted.” She stared at me, and I felt myself burn up. “She’s made a right mess of you,” she laughed, and pointed to my shirt. I couldn’t help but smile at the double meaning. I looked down, and sure enough I was covered in paint and tears.

“Yes,” I laughed. “Yes, she has.”

“She really loves you, you know. We had so much trouble over the years with her little
crush
.” She sighed. “Thought she’d grow out of it. Only she didn’t. And now it’s real.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so, Mr Roberts. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I’ve seen it in her eyes these past few weeks when her heart’s been breaking. I saw it in her smile when she was happy.”

“I love your daughter, very much.”

“I hope you do,” she said. “Because I’m going to have one helluva job convincing George to let you stay. It’s not going to be easy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

She waggled my letter. “This,” she said. “You can take it back. You need to get my daughter through her exams.”

“You don’t need to do this.” I raised my hands. “You have every right to be angry. You have every right to want me out.”

“But I don’t,” she said. “And that’s the problem. I
should
but I don’t.” She took a step towards me, handing me back the letter. “The way I see it, Mr Roberts, there isn’t so much black and white in the world as there are colours. So many different colours. And sometimes things don’t fall into boxes, and what’s the point in forcing them?”

“I’m not sure, Mrs Palmer, I’ve always celebrated colour.”

“You’re as old as I am, you know.”

“I’m aware of that,” I said.

“She might grow out of this. She might move on one day, get bored. She is still young.”

“I’m aware of that, too,” I said.

“You won’t be able to see her all the time, George isn’t going to go for that, no matter what I say. And she needs to study, she needs to knuckle down and pass her exams.”

“I’m very aware of that,” I said. “Don’t worry, Mrs Palmer, I’ll do right by Helen, you can be sure of that.”

She smiled. “I hope so, Mr Roberts, because I’m sticking my neck right on the line for this, and my George isn’t going to take it easily.”

Her support moved me, I felt the lump in my throat. “There has never been anyone else, not like this,” I said. “I’m not in the habit of doing this. I just wanted you to know, this was purely a one-off, this was purely Helen.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said. “Despite what George would have you believe, I’m not such a bad judge of character, Mr Roberts.”

“It’s Mark,” I said. “You should call me Mark.”

She smiled, and shook my hand. “Angela,” she said.

***

Helen

I waited for ages. Forever. Flitting my eyes between the dashboard clock and the lights still shining from the main corridor. I stepped from the car and was about to head back inside when the lights turned out. Mum and Mark came into view, walking in the shadows, walking slowly, talking, and I couldn’t hear any anger, which had to be a good thing.

My heart felt jumpy and weak, but my legs carried me just fine. I slammed into Mark and he was ready for it, he was warm and steady and listened to me rattle off a load of questions before he took my hand in his and turned me to face Mum.

“We’ve covered a bit of ground,” Mum said. “I’m not saying this thing is right, but I can’t put my hand on my heart and say it’s wrong, either.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll do what I can. I’m going to try and make things right with your dad.”

I took a breath. “He won’t listen…”

Mum sighed. “He’s going to
have
to listen, Helen. I’m sick to death of the whole sorry lot of it these past few weeks. It’s never worth it, not all this, not tearing our family apart. Not seeing you like you have been. Nothing can be bad enough for all that, love.”

“But… he’ll be so angry…”

She pulled me from Mark and I didn’t fight it. She held me in her arms and I cried again, but this time they weren’t sad tears, they were the happy tears of relief. “You leave your dad to me, love.”

I squeezed her tight. “Thanks, Mum.” And there was nothing else to say. No other words that felt right.

She turned to Mark. “I think it’s best Helen goes home with you, just until the dust settles a little. It might be for a few days… I’ll see how he takes it.” She let go of me, took my hand in hers. “I’ll drop some of your things off tomorrow, just until this is all cleared up, alright?”

I nodded.

“No more secrets, hey?”

“No more secrets.”

She looked back to Mark. “You’ll take care of her?”

“Of course. It will be my pleasure.”

We walked slowly to her car, and Mum had instructions that made me smile.

“Please make sure she eats, she’s a sod for not eating her vegetables, but if you put them in a stew she doesn’t notice.”

“
Mum
!”

“She doesn’t drink enough, either. She needs to drink more water, or she’ll shrivel up one of these days. It’s not good for your organs, Helen. You can’t survive on orange juice. It’s full of sugar.”

“
Mum
!”

“She stays up too late, as well. Sometimes I have to drag her from her pit and stick her cereals in front of her, otherwise she’d be there all morning. Please make sure she gets to bed.”

I rolled my eyes. “God, Mum, seriously.” But I was laughing, and it felt so nice to laugh again.

“Duly noted,” Mark said.

“I’m not five, Mum.” I smiled, anyway, and she hugged me again.

“I’m allowed to treat you like a little girl, Helen, you
are
my little girl. Only you’re not so little these days. I think it’s about time we all realised that.”

“Love you, Mum.” I hugged her back, really tight.

“I love you, too, love, and so does your dad. That’s what all this is about really, deep down, he just wants what’s best for you. He’s got a funny way of showing it sometimes, I know, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“I know,” I said.

She got in the car, and she was all welled up again. We watched her leave, and she waved as she pulled out of the car park.

And then there was silence.

I didn’t even know where to begin, so I didn’t. I waited for Mark to speak and wished I hadn’t.

“Carrot and coriander soup, Helen. Have you tried it?”

I pulled a face. “I don’t like carrots. Carrots are disgusting.”

“We’ll see about that.” He smirked. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

***

Mark

I relayed to Helen the essence of what her mother had said to me, but I didn’t dwell on the details. I told her she was loved, and her parents were decent people trying to do the right thing, and that it would be for the best for everyone when this was all ironed out.

“But he hates you.”

“He has every right. I betrayed his confidence in the system. You’re his little girl.”

“Still,” she said. “He punched you in the face.”

I smiled. “Yes, he did, and he’s got quite a punch. I’m not overly keen to repeat the experience.”

“I’ve never seen him hit anyone before.”

“He had extenuating circumstances.”

She laughed, and it was music. “Sunday dinners will be interesting for a while... when you come to visit.”

“I think that’s a little way off.”

She shuffled down in the passenger seat and looked so small. “I can dream though, right?”

I sighed a happy sigh. “We both can. I’m counting on it.”

The house came alive again the moment she was over the threshold. She ditched her bag in the hall and kicked her shoes off as though she’d never been away. I ditched my jacket and burrowed in the freezer, pulling out the waffles that had been waiting for her for far too long. She appeared in the doorway and stared as I fired up the oven.

“I’m not hungry,” she said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No arguments. I promised your mother.”

She smiled. “No carrots, though. Deal?”

“Not today.”

Her expression turned serious. So serious. “I missed you,” she said.

I tipped beans into the saucepan, and then I looked at her. Properly looked at her. “I missed you, too.”

“Never again. No matter what. If you go anywhere, I’m coming.”

“Agreed.”

She took a breath. “And I’m staying. Next year, I mean. I’m not going to university. I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to go, not really.” She sighed. “I mean, Dad might still hound us out anyway, but if he doesn’t…
if
he doesn’t, then I’m staying, too.”

I shook my head. “You’re going to university, Helen. That was the deal.”

“The deal’s changed,” she said. “I’m serious, Mark, I don’t want to go.”

“And
I’m
serious. You’re going to university and finishing your education.” I stirred the beans. “There’s all the time in the world, Helen, and you can take some of it to finish up your study.”

But she was shaking her head. “I’m not going.”

“Helen. Stop.”

But she was walking forward, closing the distance. “Shh,” she said. “I know my own mind, and I’m done with talking.” Her fingers brushed my cheek. “Just for tonight, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“This conversation isn’t done,” I said.

“I know.” She shrugged off her blazer and tossed it aside. “But it’s done for now.” She kissed my mouth, the lightest touch, just a butterfly landing. “I need to wash my uniform, Mr Roberts… I’m all dirty…”

She pulled off her tie, and my stomach tightened, everything tightened.

“You need to eat your dinner, Helen.”

She smiled, and took the pan from the flame. “I like cold beans, cold waffles, too.”

Her fingers danced down her blouse, and I opened the washing machine. She tossed it inside and giggled, and she was still giggling when I kissed her. I lifted her onto the side, and pulled up her legs and kissed her ankles as I pulled her socks off. I hitched her enough to slide her skirt off, and pulled down her knickers as she unhooked her bra. The light above the cooker cast her in an orange glow, and the shadows were unforgiving. I swallowed as I saw her ribs, and she bit her lip.

“I’ll get better now,” she whispered. “It’s all better now.”

“Never again,” I said.

“I need you.” Her voice was just a dance of air, a simple, honest statement from the pit of her, and it moved me.

I held that girl so tight I feared I’d crush her little sparrow bones to dust, but she held me right back. She wrapped her legs around my waist and gave me her weight, and I carried her to the living room with her mouth on mine.

I dropped us onto crusty paint and sheets, and she pulled away enough that her eyes widened at the sight of the mess.

“I haven’t been here,” I whispered. “I haven’t been anywhere.”

I made to start up a fire, but her hand gripped my wrist. She pulled me back to her and shifted down onto cushions splattered blue and yellow. Her fingers worked at my shirt, adding more paint splattered fabric to the surroundings until we were skin on skin and it was divine.

She arched her back as I kissed my way down her front, and giggled as my hair tickled her, giggled until her breath dried up.

I cast off the rest of my clothes, and when I returned to her she had a grin on her face and a tube of cobalt blue in her fingers. She squeezed the paint onto the palette, a fresh splodge of colour. I didn’t say a word as she daubed her hand in it, didn’t even breathe as she pressed her palm to my heart.

Her fingers trailed down my chest, leaving jagged lines of blue, and I felt her fall all over again, only this time she didn’t crumple on my art room floor, because I caught her. I caught her heart right there on that sheet in my living room, and I loved her. I loved her back to life.

She took my face in my hands, and I smelled paint and felt it, too. And when I pushed inside her she took the deepest breath and didn’t exhale until my forehead was pressed to hers.

“This is everything,” she breathed. “I’m home. This is where I want to be… forever. Don’t ever make me leave…”

I shook my head, and took her hand and placed it back on her wet handprint. “
This
is home, Helen. It’s anywhere.
Everywhere
.”

And she understood, and she nodded, and her eyes turned glassy with tears.

I rolled us over, until she was on top, and I held her hands as she moved for me. She took her time, rocking so slowly that it was nothing but blissful torture, and I didn’t rush her.

She came slowly and deeply, in waves that made her shudder and gasp, and it was perfect.

It was the most perfect moment.

And then she did it again.

I think she’d have done it all night long, if we hadn’t smelt burning waffles.

***

Helen

The best night’s sleep I’d ever had. Out like a light, without a care in the world. Safe and warm and loved in a way that made me whole.

And then I was turfed out in the nicest possible way on Lizzie’s doorstep at eight in the morning.

She raised her eyebrows, but she smiled, and linked her arm in mine like old times as we walked the long route to school.

Somehow I knew we’d made it, both of us.

That
something
inside her had lightened, and there was only Lizzie. I stopped in the alleyway out of habit, but she shrugged and pulled me on.

“No cigarette?”

She shook her head. “Nah, think I’ll quit. I won’t be able to afford cigarettes at uni, anyway.”

I broached the subject I’d been hinting at for days. “Will you be ok? If I don’t come, too, I mean?”

She shrugged, but she smiled. “I guess I’ll survive, Hels Bells. Besties forever, right? Even if we’re not in the same place.”

I smiled in memory of my hand on Mark’s skin, and placed my hand on her heart over her blazer. “
This
is us,” I said. “No matter where we are. We’re always here.”

She welled up, and sniffed, and slapped my arm. “Made me cry, idiot.” She laughed. “You’re such a bloody sap these days, Helen Palmer.”

Mum dropped my suitcase off after dinner, and she even stayed for a coffee and a look around. She looked at all my pictures, and I showed her the sculpture on the mantel and she said it was wonderful. She wouldn’t say anything about Dad, though.