Unlike a Virgin (36 page)

I scroll back up the page. Something is very not right. When Mum and I compiled
The Five Year Plan
after Dad’s death, there was no opening chapter intro on the computer. Our biggest problem with doing the book was the start. Chapter One never felt like it was the first chapter. It felt as though something should have gone before it, so we ended up writing an intro about Dad.

I close the book and get up, then I catch the bus to my mum’s house.

‘Oh Mildred, what am I doing?’ I say, dancing over her and letting myself in. ‘Mum? Mum!’ I call. ‘Mum!’

‘Grace, good grief, what are you doing here?’ She’s coming out of the kitchen, holding a bowl and a wooden spoon. The sight stops me in my tracks.

‘Are you making a cake?’

‘Yes.’

‘A cake?’

‘Why aren’t you at work?’

‘Mum, listen to this. I was reading my old diary. And there’s another chapter. Dad wrote a chapter – a foreword – to
The Five Year Plan.
It’s in the diary. Look,’ I turn to the relevant page. ‘“Dad was in a good mood. He’d finished the opening chapter intro thingy for his book.” He wrote a chapter but we never saw it. It wasn’t on the computer. The computer notes started with how to write the plan, so there must be a chapter somewhere that we missed. I haven’t been able to write my new
plan, and I need to know, Mum, because I’ve just quit my job. I need to find this chapter.’ When I stop speaking I’m panting.

‘You quit your what?! But I thought you were being offered a new job.’

‘How do you know?’

‘John told me.’

I raise my eyes and shake my head. I hate this friendship between Posh Boy’s dad and my mum.

‘Mum, where would it be? Where should I look?’

‘Grace!’ she shouts. The hand clutching the wooden spoon tenses and jolts. I jump. ‘The book’s done,’ she says, a touch more quietly. ‘Please, love, let’s leave it. I want to talk to you about something.’

‘But, I—’

‘Grace!’

‘Why are you shouting?’

‘Because you’re not letting me finish.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I want to talk to you about my friend John, the man from SJS Construction. We’re spending a lot of time together and we thought we should tell you that our feelings are develop—’

‘No, Mum. No, no, no! He’s not nice, and it’s not just the fact that he tried to buy your husband’s grave. I—’ I stop and swallow. ‘Mum, I hate to say this, but he’s a player. I know he spent the night with another woman.’

‘When? No, don’t be silly, Grace. Neither of us … we’ve spoken—’

‘I saw her, Mum. I saw her at his house. She was in curlers, opening honey. It was definitely his bird.’

‘When?’

‘This morning.’

‘What?’

I nod.

‘Why were you at his house?’

‘I stayed over with his son. Please don’t ask. I wish I hadn’t. When I was leaving there, I saw her.’

Mum doesn’t look at me for ages, she just stands there, stirring the cake and glaring into the bowl as the stirring gets more and more and fierce.

‘Mum, talk to me,’ I say quietly.

‘NO!’ she screams. Literally screams. It’s the most painful sound. ‘URGH!’ she hurls the bowl in my direction. It misses but showers me with chocolate dough mixture. ‘Why do you have to ruin everything, Grace?’ She’s retching the words. ‘EVERYTHING! You ruined my relationship with your father. You ruined—’

‘What? How?’

‘I was eighteen! I didn’t want a baby. I wanted to be with him!’

‘But—’

‘And then … and then,’ she’s crouching now and sobbing. ‘And then we argued about you. YOU! We were arguing about you the night before he died, and I never said goodbye in the morning. I never said goodbye.’

She’s on the floor now, curled up in a ball.

‘Why?’ I ask, taking a step away from her.

‘He told me he wanted to enter that
Britain Sings
competition with you, the one on the telly, and do that song you performed in Rome. And I didn’t want him to, because then
it would have been all about you two. I was jealous. I was jealous of the two of you!’

She sobs like an abandoned child, but I don’t go to her. Instead, I walk into Dad’s study and open the blinds. The dust from them makes me cough. I start in one corner of the office and I work methodically, searching and searching for the lost chapter. I go through everything until I find it, and when I come out Mum’s not there. I don’t call out. I just leave.

I’ve been in Wendy’s lookout position, spying, all night. Anton’s light is still on upstairs. It’s midnight now and I know he’s alone. I saw everyone leave the pub. I watched him say good night and lock the door. He looked weary, defeated almost. I know Freddie is staying with Wendy tonight – I think tonight’s the night for them. Tonight’s the night for me, too, though in a different way. A very different way. I pick up my dad’s journal and hug it to my chest, then I turn my light off and leave my maisonette.

I hurry across the road and press the buzzer. I wonder whether he’ll answer. He might think I’m a drunk person trying to cadge one last whisky.

‘Hello?’

‘Anton, it’s Grace.’

‘Grace.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I was wondering if you still need a singer for the
Britain Sings
competition tomorrow.’

‘Sorry?’

‘If you need someone to sing with you tomorrow, then I’ll sing with you, Anton. I’m sorry this is so last minute, but things have been happening and I just …’

I’m still talking into the intercom, but Anton is in the bar downstairs now. I can see him through the window. I wait while he unlocks the door.

‘Come in,’ he says.

‘Thank you.’

I wait while he locks the door behind us. I watch his arms and his back and I want to step into him. I want to step into his space forever. But of course I just hang back, hugging my dad’s book until he turns round.

‘Are you sure?’ he says eventually.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re sure, you’re sure.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Why now?’

‘I, er, I suppose I’ve just realised that I had it all wrong.’

‘I’m not following you, Grace.’

Of course he doesn’t follow me. I’m not making any sense. It’s quite understandable that he should look baffled.

‘I found this,’ I say, and I pass him the journal. ‘Read it. Please read it.’

Anton takes the book, turns on a freestanding lamp and sits on the sofa by the fireplace. I watch him read my father’s words.

*

First Chapter

This is a book about achieving your dreams by breaking those dreams down into doable chunks. It’s a book about carving out the life you daydream about. It’s about making your life amazing. But before we start developing our five year plan, and talking about the skills we’ll need to implement it, we must look at the most important thing of all. Choosing your dream. How do you choose your dream? I am lucky to do what I love. When I started my first five year plan, my aim at the end of it was to win the World Championships in Ballroom Dancing with my wife at my side. For five years, every day I knew what I was aiming for and I achieved it. I knew that in order for me to do that I would have to succeed in many qualifying rounds. I would need sponsorship. I would need to train with the best teachers and choreographers. I knew where I wanted to be. Not all of us know. Some of us do jobs we hate because we are too afraid to follow our real passions. We make the most of those lives, but what if we found the courage to pursue the thing that made us happiest, that we daydreamed about as children. That is what I want you to get from this book. Don’t write a five year plan to get ahead in your corporate job if what you really want is to own a tea shop on the Northumberland coast. Life is short, so follow your heart. If you follow your heart, you’re always going the right way.

Let me use my daughter, Gracie, as an example. Now Gracie is fifteen. Ever since she was three she has
known what she wanted to be. She wants to be a singer. And she is blessed with a talent that I know will blow you away. She sings from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to sleep. I even heard her once singing in her sleep. She wins singing competitions across the country and I have no doubt that she will achieve her dream. Why do I know this? Because she has no fear. None at all. She never has. When she was eight she started doing singing competitions. She was always smaller than the other children and she would stand on stage and look so tiny that I would want to run up there and hold her hand. And I would have done, too, but she didn’t need me, because she had no fear. And I pray that nothing ever makes her fearful. I pray that she continues to love and use her gift. And that is what I hope for you, too. I urge you to find your love, your gift, and never be afraid.

When Anton is finished he looks up.

‘I’ve been afraid to sing. I’ve been afraid of music since he died and that’s the last thing my dad would have wanted.’

‘But are you sure you’ll be OK?’

‘I probably won’t be the most emotionally stable contestant, but I promise I won’t scream or leave.’

‘What shall we sing?’

‘“Mr Bojangles”?’

‘I think I’ve learned it already from the YouTube video, I’ve watched it so many times.’

‘See, it all works out.’

‘Do you want to practise now?’

No, I just want to walk into your arms and stay there, really.

‘I think we’re both too exhausted. Tomorrow.’

‘I’ll pick you up at two thirty.’

‘OK.’

We move towards the door.

‘Oh,’ Anton says, suddenly remembering something, ‘don’t wear purple.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t wear purple.’

I spin round and stare at him.

‘Did you just say don’t wear purple?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ I ask very quietly.

‘They tell you that, the organisers of
Britain Sings.
The set is purple, I believe, so they suggest you don’t wear the same colour.’

‘Gracie Flowers,’ Wendy whispers. ‘What’s the hell’s going on? Lube’s here. He’s in a well weird mood. He said you turned down the job of a lifetime or something. Why didn’t you call me?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘It’s my last day as well. I thought we’d glue everything to Posh Boy’s desk and then get pissed. This is crap. It’s just me and Lube.’

‘Wendy, I need your help. I need you to dress me.’

‘Ooh. Is it fancy dress? Do you want my bee suit?’

‘No.’ I laugh. ‘Although that would be funny.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘I’m doing
Britain Sings
with Anton today.’

‘
What?
’

‘I’m doing
Britain Sings
with Anton.’

‘Today?’

‘Yes.’

‘Jeez!’

‘I know.’

‘You’re messing me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You don’t sing for years and then go and enter the biggest singing competition in the country.’

‘Yeah.’

‘This is awesome.’

‘I need your help.’

‘You don’t need my help. You need to borrow one of your mum’s old dancing dresses.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Oh, come on, Grace, your bum’s not that big. I’m sure you’ll be able to squeeze into one of them.’

‘No, I can’t ask her. We’re not speaking.’

‘Shit!’

‘What do I do?’

‘You have to go and talk to her.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Grace, you can. Go now. I’ll meet you there with make-up and stuff.’

‘But it’s your last day.’

‘Well, they can’t sack me.’

‘Wend, we had a stinking great row. You don’t understand. It was next level.’

‘We all have stinking great rows with the people we love, Grace. It’s how we deal with it afterwards that matters. Go and talk to her. She’d want to lend you a dress. I would if I had a daughter and she was about to do this, and so would you and so would she. Just get a bloody move on.’

‘OK. Ooh, Wend.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was supposed to be showing my favourite family Claire’s flat today. Can you call them and ask them to do the viewing without me? And call Bob and get him to go over and help Claire.’

‘Yep. Will do.’

‘And will you tell Lube I’m sorry.’

‘’Course.’

‘And Wendy.’