Disconnected Read online

  I was so staggered by your rudeness I didn’t react. Not then, at any rate. Instead I led Taz over to the drinks table.

  “Sorry about this,” I muttered. “I know they’re all awful. Why don’t we go into the garden?”

  Taz agreed, so I uncorked a bottle of red wine, took two glasses, and we went through the kitchen into the garden. It was better then.

  “It’s nice out here,” Taz said. He wandered over to the pond and looked at the fish. I poured some wine and handed him some. I was aware that there were people standing at the French windows, and some of them were looking at us. I wanted to get away. I took Taz for a tour, showing him your herb garden and the rockery, and we wandered down to the shed. Taz turned and looked back at the house.

  “You live in an effing mansion,” he said.

  “It sucks,” I told him. He looked at me oddly then. I realised to my amazement that he was quite impressed. That kind of upset me. I wanted him to hate you and the house as much as I did. Taz was mine, after all.

  We sat down on the bench at the back of the garden and I poured the wine and we sat there drinking it. We just chatted to begin with. Taz explained about his father’s problems at the warehouse, and how his mother was going to do extra hours at Asda as a result. I whinged about you and the fact there was all this pressure on me to work.

  “Why aren’t you working?” Taz asked me.

  I was already pretty pissed by that stage and I think that’s why his question made me angry. For a minute I thought even Taz was saying I ought to pull myself together. That I was just an over-privileged, spoilt kid. I wanted to try to explain to him that there was more than one way of feeling that you’d missed out. So I said there was more to life than essays. That I felt as if I was on an assembly line in a factory and before I knew it I’d be labelled in a box, just another commodity. That nothing I could do was going to be good enough. I could feel my anger now shifting to self-pity. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I told Taz I wanted to have a life of my own. That I hadn’t been given a chance to grow up.

  Then I thought that Taz was my chance. I didn’t say that to him. Instead I carefully put my wineglass on the grass, turned to him, and kissed him. I didn’t give a damn who saw. He kissed me back, but it wasn’t like it was up on the embankment. He felt tense, he was holding back. I blamed you, Mum – that’s not as crazy as it sounds. Taz wasn’t himself because everyone had been so mean to him. Especially you. Whereas before I had been letting go, letting the wine dissolve my anger, now it came back in a rush. I wanted to be alone with Taz and I couldn’t. And I’d brought Taz from my world into yours, and you’d shown me you despised him. Crazy thinking, maybe. But I hadn’t eaten much all day except for some chocolate in the morning and the wine was giving me a headache. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mixed the red wine with the sherry and white wine I’d had earlier.

  So Taz and I got up and walked some more around the garden. Then we saw you and Dad coming towards us with the Porters. It was all becoming a nightmare. Dad was wittering on about security and Neighbourhood Watch and the break-ins there’d been recently. Ted Porter nodded furiously. I mean, what subject could be more important than the good old middle classes keeping hold of their own.

  Drink does funny things to you. I was beginning to see that. It makes you happy, it can make you very tired, it also kids you that you sound brilliant when you don’t. You think you’re being clever when in fact you’re coming over like an idiot. But it also stops you caring what other people think. It lets you say what’s on your mind. So blame the drink, not me.

  “Taz and I are going out for a while,” I told you. I didn’t want to stay in your party for one moment longer.

  “No, honey,” you said, looking daggers at me. “Remember you said you were going to stay in and help me tidy?” You meant, you’re grounded, Catherine.

  “Let her go,” Ted Porter said, waggishly. “I daresay she has things to say to her young man.”

  What a creep! He made my skin crawl.

  Then Dad intervened. “Sorry, Ted. You’re a sport to stick up for her, but I’m afraid Catherine’s under house arrest. There’s a small matter of some essays and a couple of pieces of coursework.”

  Ted winked at me. “There are more important things than school. I’m going to stick up for Catherine here, Peter. I never got myself any qualifications, and that didn’t hold me back. It’s character – character and determination. Those are what count, in the final analysis. I didn’t get where I am today by sitting exams. Oh, no. Seize the day, Catherine. Carpe diem. And Tariq, what about you? What are your plans in life?”

  I squirmed for Taz. He shrugged, embarrassed.

  “I’m interested in art,” he said.

  “Art! Now there’s a subject! I don’t go in for all this modern stuff, you know. Give me a good old portrait or landscape. Constable. Turner. The Mona Lisa. There’s nothing wrong in being old-fashioned, Tariq. Get yourself grounded in the basics. Start from the bottom. Like I did. Don’t be afraid of getting your hands dirty.”

  Ted Porter was itching to talk about himself, I could tell. It amused me to prompt him.

  “You began as an errand boy, didn’t you?” I said.

  Ted Porter preened himself. “Errand boy. Then office junior. Then clerical work. Once they saw what a smart lad I was, it was onwards and upwards. Deputy manager, manager, director, on the board, a partner – Huitt and Porter Properties. I can’t pretend I’ve not been successful. But I’m grateful for it, oh yes! I’ve always done my bit for charity. Can’t forget those less fortunate than oneself. This will interest you, Tariq. I was in India a couple of years ago, a bit of a holiday. Now, there was poverty. Cripples on the street, children begging. I’m surprised their parents let them. But then, foreigners aren’t like us. I don’t mean you, Tariq. I can see you’re assimilated. And some of my best friends are of Asian origin. I respect them. They know a thing or two about hard work. Make sure you work hard, Tariq.”

  Something snapped then. I’d had enough.

  “Don’t you be so… so bloody patronising! You’re so up yourself! Just because you’re old, it doesn’t give you the right to talk down to us! I know you stand around at meetings wearing chains and medals and toasting the Queen and shaking hands with other fat old slobs, but you’re still not anything special. In fact you’re more childish than we are. It’s all games with you. You know nothing about real life. You’re so satisfied with your silly little world where everyone has to look up to you that you write off whole cultures. And I’m supposed to model myself on people like you? You’re ignorant, you’re racist… you’re disgusting!”

  And by that I meant all of you.

  “Catherine!” I remember the horror in your voice. But I didn’t feel as if I’d done anything wrong. The opposite, in fact; I felt as if I was a sword blade glinting in the sunlight, slashing through swathes of hypocrisy, fighting for the truth.

  “And it’s not just you. It’s everybody…” I made a sweeping gesture to the lounge where people were still eating and drinking. “They’re like rats in a cage. Only they don’t realise it. And they preach to us and never think to look at their own prejudices and faults. I think…” I was struggling now. I wanted to make an impact and couldn’t work out how. The booze was making me fuzzy. “I think – you’re all jealous. You want to be young again. Well, you’re not. I am, and I’m not wasting my time like you.” Waves of fury and nausea were coming over me. I could see the shocked look on everyone’s faces. Then Dad’s hard, murderous eyes and Ted Porter’s astonished, gaping mouth gradually lost clarity.

  “Catherine. Apologise,” you said.

  Next, a heaving in my chest and I didn’t have time to get back into the house. I could only get as far as the azalea bush, and I threw up there.

  To Lucy

  “And I threw up behind the azalea bush! Everyone totally freaked. Well, not Taz. He was dead sweet and put his arm round my waist, and handed me his handkerchief afterwards. The th
ing that I was most worried about was that it would put him off me. And we didn’t have time to talk because my parents packed me up to my room and told Taz to beat it. Well, not to ‘beat it’, exactly. They were polite to him, but it was clear what they were thinking.”

  You looked amazed. I found I was enjoying telling you the story. Also it made it seem more like an escapade, a mad thing I had done. I felt it gave me some kind of credibility. I deliberately didn’t tell you not to broadcast it; I wanted it to get around. We were sitting on the grass outside the tennis courts. It was break. You’ll remember. Our conversation was important to you, too.

  “So then what did your parents do?” you asked.

  “Don’t remind me! It was like, the biggest lecture I’d ever had in my life. They stood over me while I wrote the Porters an apology, and then started with, exactly how much did you have to drink? So it was pretty awful all holiday. And they tried to blame it all on Taz. Said I was obviously mixing with the wrong sort of people.”

  “Did they stop you from seeing Taz?” you asked, alarmed.

  “I’ve been ringing him. And now we’re back at school it’ll be easier. I’m no longer grounded.”

  “Poor you,” you said. You meant it. You couldn’t imagine anything worse than being separated from a boyfriend.

  That was why I’d chosen you to talk to. I think we all do that – have different friends for different aspects of our life. There are things I wouldn’t tell you about, and there are probably things you wouldn’t tell me about. But if it was anything to do with boys or fashion or the gossip on the latest boy band, or what’s hot in cheesy music, you’re my first port of call. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not being disrespectful. You’re one of the people I like most because you’re so affectionate and undemanding.

  When I’m with you, I find myself growing like you. You’re infectious, in the best sort of way. I become all girlie too. The difference between us is that you really are sweet and innocent. I only pretend to be. With me it’s a mask. One of my masks. Because even now I can’t say who I truly am, or more accurately, who I intend to be. But hey, let’s not get heavy!

  So I changed the subject and asked you about Brad, and as we talked I pulled daisies from the grass and made a chain, like we did when we were small. You were earnest, relieved and glad to answer my questions.

  “How long have you been going out now?”

  “Six weeks,” you said. “Six weeks and three days to be precise. I can’t believe it, really.”

  “What can’t you believe?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. That someone like that would want to go out with me. He is like, so sweet. He sends the cutest text messages. Look.” You got out your phone and showed me your message archive. You’d been storing his messages. I was glad to see he was as soppy about you as you were about him. It made me smile and cheered me up.

  “What’s that one about?” I asked. “Don’t worry. I can wait.”

  “Guess,” you said archly.

  “Does he want you to sleep with him?”

  “Oh, you guessed! Yeah, he does. It’s quite flattering, I think.”

  I laughed. “Very flattering. Now, for thirty-two thousand pounds, and remember – all your lifelines are gone – do you want to sleep with him?”

  “Well, I think I want to.”

  “Is that your final answer?” I enjoyed kidding you.

  “Stop it, Cath! Yeah, I will one day. Maybe soon, I don’t know.” You began to fiddle with the grass, pulling at individual blades. “But the thing is, I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Use a condom,” I said, knotting two daisy stalks.

  “I know that! But it’s more like, what if I’m no good at it?”

  “It’s not an exam,” I said to you, laughing. You laughed too and tore up clumps of grass and flung them at me. I ducked. What with having you to myself, and the sunshine, and the juniors in the tennis courts thwacking balls around, I was starting to feel happy again. It was easy to pretend the exams weren’t around the corner. Which they weren’t. There was still six – or five – weeks to go.

  The teachers had been laying off me. It was almost as if they had this policy not to stress me out. I went to lessons – well, I skipped Economics – and sometimes joined in. I was wondering whether just going to the lessons meant I could pass the exams. I hadn’t decided what to do about the exams. They loomed ahead like black rocks. But then, sitting on the grass with you, I forgot about them. Besides, something else was on my mind.

  “No, seriously, Cath,” you said. “I’d feel better if – if, like – I’d had some experience.”

  “Has he had experience?” I asked you.

  “Well, no. He’s a virgin too.”

  “So no problem.”

  You laughed in a strange way. I got the impression you didn’t really want to sleep with him at all, but thought perhaps you ought to. I would have told you not to do it, I reckon, if it wasn’t that it would make me the world’s biggest hypocrite. Because I knew I wanted to sleep with Taz.

  This is the bit you didn’t know about, and the bit you’ll find most interesting. So I’ll tell you. I had this idea that sleeping with Taz would change me, that some way I would end up different. I didn’t even mind if I was disappointed; I just had to find out. I didn’t see what the big deal was, anyway. OK, it was important not to get pregnant or AIDS, sure, but after that, it’s my body, mine to do with as I please. And I fancied Taz. I loved the colour of his skin. I loved the smell of his skin, like almonds. When we were close, I just felt as if I wanted to get closer. I thought sleeping with him would bring out something good in me, something loving. Most of the time I’d been going around hating everyone and everything, and I wanted to feel connected again. Unlike you, I wasn’t nervous about sex. I mean, it’s natural, isn’t it? It was more a matter of getting the opportunity. I knew how to get condoms – the young people’s drop-in in town doled out freebies. But how could Taz and I get to be alone?

  The other problem was that he hadn’t asked me to sleep with him. Or rather, I couldn’t honestly say that we were going out, that we were an item. He’d not asked me to be his girlfriend. It was all kind of assumed. We didn’t need to label what was happening. I was certain he cared for me, and equally certain he was as curious about sex as I was. But we hadn’t spoken about it.

  For you and Brad it was different. A lot of what you did, you did in the public eye. You boasted about him to us, the girls at school, and we quite liked it because everyone likes a happy romance. I’d got wind of the fact he boasted about you too, but in a slightly different way. I reckoned as soon as you slept with him it would be all round the common room. Well, it was. And you didn’t mind, you were proud in your way. You told me first, and I appreciated that. You told me in the toilets before school. You said it was nothing really, and over very quickly. But yes, you did feel different. More grown-up, you said. And closer to him. And you asked me if I’d slept with Taz.

  I was dreading that question. Then Fliss and Toni came in and broke up our chat. I was incredibly relieved. You just took it for granted we had slept together, and never asked when or how it happened.

  Now’s the time to tell you. I know you’ll understand.

  To Lucy (2)

  I began to see quite a lot of Taz. My parents weren’t a problem because I’d discovered how good I was at lying. The skill is in believing that what you’re saying is true, whatever it is. And who’s to say it’s not going to happen anyway? I mean, I could tell you a green elephant is coming towards you, and you couldn’t totally rule out the possibility that one might.

  I can just see your face now, Lucy. Your forehead wrinkled and eyebrows raised, looking at me as if I’d really lost the plot.

  Perhaps I have.

  I told my parents I was going out with a crowd of friends, and I knew they were uneasy. But they also recognised that since I was seventeen and doing nothing illegal, they could hardly stop me. Taz was hard up most of the time and so we
thought about going into clubs, but mostly we didn’t. Mostly we hung around town. His mates sit in the park, or Victoria Gardens. It’s true they’re out of it most of the time. That is, when they can get hold of anything, White Lightning, Special Brew, nail varnish, weed, whatever.

  When they do, they pass it round. Sharing like that makes you feel close to everyone, part of them. They’re good people, Lucy, and it makes me angry how society labels them as failures and outcasts just because they don’t conform. Like, Bex was in care but now she lives with her aunt. She was crap at school because she was dyslexic but now she does some waitressing. Only she has to take out all her piercings before she goes into the café in case it puts the punters off. Mac is kind of in between jobs because he wants to get his head together. Really he wants to help people, like the disabled or something, but he doesn’t know how to get into that. He gets dosh by hair braiding in the market sometimes. Steve is at college with Taz and doing computing but he doesn’t like it. We all talk, about anything. And this is what’s different about them – they don’t diss each other. You know how at school everyone’s bitching about everyone else, and the boys are as bad as the girls? How nothing you do is private? How there’s all that boasting and girls eyeing you to check out your clothes? There was none of that with Taz’s crowd. Maybe I didn’t know them that well, but I doubt it. One night a mate of Bex joined us and he was really losing it, screaming, having hallucinations. They were brilliant, talking to him, and then taking him to the hospital and staying with him all night. That’s the kind of people they were. When I was with them, I felt safe. I know you think I’m weird, and that you would never do drugs and that, but you drink, don’t you? And have coffee? And we know Melissa smokes. So everyone’s just as bad as each other, and the people who pass judgements are the worst of all. That’s what I think, anyway.