Seventeen

 

November 1987

 

Laurel pulled a pack of Polo mints from her pocket and offered it to Kim. ‘Want one?’

‘Ooh thanks, I’m starving.’ Kim took one between her fingers and inspected it before popping it in her mouth.

‘Yeah, I’ll bet,’ Laurel replied, taking one out for herself. ‘You haven’t eaten anything all day.’

Kim shrugged. ‘I just didn’t fancy anything, that’s all.’

The seat of the bus vibrated beneath them as it drove on. From the moment Laurel had picked her up at Victoria Coach Station yesterday, she’d hardly seen Kim eat anything. Nico had taken them out for dinner last night and while they’d devoured a plate of steak and chips each, Kim had only nibbled on a bread roll, claiming that she’d stuffed herself full on the coach. She’d skipped breakfast altogether this morning and turned down a sandwich for lunch.

A man came up onto the upper deck of the bus with a parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper, sweating in a stripy plastic bag. He sat a few rows down from them and Laurel soon caught the scent of chips soaking in vinegar.

‘What do you want for dinner?’ she asked, her mouth watering. ‘We could get some fish and chips if you want? We’ve got a really good chippie around the corner.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind.’

‘Or we could cook something. There’s loads of stuff in the freezer.’

Kim shrugged. ‘Whatever you like. You don’t need to make a fuss for me, and I’m not that hungry anyway.’

‘You just said you were starving.’

‘Not literally.’ Kim rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Anyway, the Polo got rid of that.’

A Polo mint got rid of starving hunger? Laurel frowned and looked outside the window. Dribbles of condensation ran down over the glass and the sky was already a dark, inky blue as the bus trundled across Vauxhall Bridge. The road below them was slick with rain and people hurried around like ants under umbrellas.

She took a quick glance at Kim. Her gorgeous, vibrant red hair looked dull and brittle, her skin was dry and flaky and she’d lost weight. A lot of weight. It was the first thing Laurel had noticed when Kim had stepped off the coach. Kim’s cheekbones were sharp and her fingers were bony. But Laurel had had no idea how severe it really was until last night. She’d walked past the living room where Kim would sleep for the weekend and had caught a glimpse of her through the crack in the door. It had been impossible not to notice Kim’s hipbones jutting out and straining against her skin and she’d had barely any waist to speak of. Her hourglass figure had gone, melted away as if it had never been there at all. Laurel hadn’t said anything about it despite instinctively knowing she should, and now she couldn’t get the image of Kim’s concave stomach and clearly visible ribs out of her head.

Kim caught her staring. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’

Should she say something? She wanted to, but it seemed wrong. They were on a bus, surrounded by other people. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass Kim, or to ruin the rest of her weekend. And it had been so long since they’d seen each other. Laurel swallowed the words back down and put a smile on her face that felt so plastic, it might as well have been made from the bags sitting at their feet.

‘Nothing. I’ve just missed you, that’s all.’

‘Me too. It’s all so different now, especially with uni and everything.’

‘At least Tom’s there, too.’

‘True.’ Kim smiled.

Maybe it was fate that they’d both applied to Cardiff and got in because at least Kim wasn’t alone. By all accounts, they were madly in love. Laurel was happy for her, but she had to wonder if Tom had noticed the massive change in Kim’s appearance. He must have. It was hard to miss, especially when compared to the version of her who’d turned up to his house party back in the summer rocking stilettos and a tiny dress. And, if he had noticed, she wondered if he’d brought it up at all.

‘You know, I’d thought about transferring to somewhere down here,’ Kim said, picking at a nail that looked so brittle it could snap with the slightest pressure.

‘Really? You never told me.’

‘It was only an idea and, to be honest, I’m glad I didn’t.’ Kim shook her head. ‘It’s so expensive and I’d feel like the ugly duckling all the time. I mean, did you see those women earlier?’

‘Which women?’

‘The ones in Chelsea.’

‘What about them?’ Laurel asked, remembering the women they’d seen with their long, fur lined winter coats and designer handbags trotting down the street.

‘They looked like models. Almost everyone here does.’

‘Don’t be daft, of course they don’t,’ Laurel scoffed. ‘You’ve seen our neighbours. Do they look like models to you?’

‘You know what I mean. It’s just not somewhere I could ever live. It’s nice for a visit, though. And I got everything on my list so that’s a bonus.’ Kim smiled happily. ‘It’s been a nice weekend.’

Laurel smiled but it felt hollow. They’d laughed and joked, catching up on each other’s lives. After a brief tour of Brixton that morning, they’d headed out to start striking things from Kim’s Christmas shopping list, starting with window shopping in Chelsea and ending up on Oxford Street. They’d spent ages in House of Fraser, spritzing themselves with perfume, clipping on earrings and trying on make-up. Kim had bought Yardley soap for her mum, a tie for her dad and a chain for Tom. And she was right, it had been a nice weekend. If only it hadn’t been framed with concern about Kim’s weight and concerns about money.

Laurel hadn’t bought a thing all day, and it wasn’t because she couldn’t afford to, because she could. Nico’s business was booming, with cars selling quicker than people could drive them away. She’d taken photographs for his ads just like he’d wanted, and he’d paid her for them too. Cash was rolling in and he’d given her a wad of it to spend today, but she’d kept it firmly in her purse.

‘You’re driving up on Christmas Eve, right?’ Kim asked, and Laurel nodded.

In just two weeks, she would be back at her parents’ for the first time since leaving. She’d imagined visiting more often but, between her course and Nico’s business, there just never seemed to be enough time. He’d been up a couple of times to help finish things off with the restaurant but she’d stayed behind. If she were honest, the idea of going back made her stomach swirl. She missed her family badly, and knew she was missed in return. But even though George had told her they were proud of her, she knew she’d broken their hearts by skipping university.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Kim said.

‘Dry turkey, stinky sprouts and EastEnders,’ Laurel grinned.

‘We can hang out with Tom, too,’ Kim added. ‘It’d be nice to be together, all four of us. We haven’t done that yet.’

Before she’d moved to London, time with Nico had always been wedged between his stints helping out at the restaurant. He’d never had time to do much else, but Christmas would be different. Not only would they spend time with her friends, they’d also bring the two families together, gathering around the table for Christmas dinner. And she hoped to have quality time with Nico, too. Considering they lived under the same roof, they seemed to spend more time apart than together lately. He was so busy working, driving all over the country to source cars and having business meetings all the time. She was busy with her course and homework, and often fell asleep before he came home.

Brixton Road was heaving with traffic and when they finally got off the bus, the two girls huddled under an umbrella with the shopping bags. Laurel linked her arm though Kim’s. Would it be silly to admit to the things she was worried about? She had nobody else to really talk to about it. It felt like the words were clogging her throat and if she didn’t let them out soon, she’d uncontrollably vomit them up. But she didn’t want to seem like she was complaining either. After all, she was living with Nico in London, studying photography. On the surface, it looked like she’d got everything she’d ever wanted.

Laurel sighed to herself as they dodged the other people wielding umbrellas like shields. What would be the point? Kim wouldn’t understand. She didn’t live with Tom. She’d probably never had to stand in the launderette feeling sick to her stomach because his shirts smelled of another woman’s perfume. She’d probably never wondered if his mood swings were because of her, if she’d done something wrong.

Laurel thought about the cash in her purse. She was absolutely certain that Kim wouldn’t understand why she was worried about the flow of money either. As quickly as it came in, it seemed to go straight back out again and the honest reason she hadn’t spent any of it was because she was scared to. She was forever pulling betting slips from Nico’s jeans and was terrified that the thousand pounds he’d given her would be all they had left if things carried on as they were.

It was probably best not to say anything. Relationship anxiety was surely just part of life, especially with a live-wire like Nico. And anyway, Kim would be going back home tomorrow. She didn’t want to cloud their time together with her paranoia, so she tuned back into what Kim was saying as they walked back to the flat.

 

*

 

Almost four months after seeing it grow smaller and smaller in the wing mirror of Nico’s car, Laurel looked up at her parents’ house. Fairy lights blinked in the windows and even through the heavy-duty net curtains, the outline of yet more lights on the Christmas tree was clearly visible. She looked behind her at the Papoulis’ house. After a quick hello, she’d left Nico there and for the first time since setting off from London earlier that afternoon, she could finally breathe. She didn’t know what was going on with him but something had changed. Ever since Kim’s visit a fortnight ago, he’d become less and less playful and more and more sulky. 

At first, she’d wondered whether it was something she’d done. Maybe she ignored him while Kim was there, or had done something else to make him regret asking her to move in with him. He was being so dismissive and cold; she couldn’t help but think it was down to her. Then, she’d wondered if there was a problem with work. He seemed so agitated, constantly bouncing his knee when sitting on the sofa, or gnawing the end of a pen. He barely ate, barely slept, and snapped over every single little thing. The drive up today had been unbearable.

Nico had talked and talked so much that his words had felt like bullets hurtling into her head. He’d talked about everything: his work, her course, their sex life, his sex life before they’d met, why Hassan had annoyed him the other day. He’d given a running commentary on the traffic, the meaning behind the lyrics to “The Fairy Tale of New York” by The Pogues, the weather, his thoughts on the origins of AIDS and his predictions for how Christmas would go. And he’d said all of it without pausing to let her get a word in. It was as if he’d waited especially for the moment she’d be sat inches away from him, stuck in traffic and forced to listen with nothing to distract her. And when they did hit a clear stretch of road, he’d driven like a maniac, going well over the speed limit and getting too close to the cars in front, intimidating them until he could pass. She might as well have not been there at all and in fact, she’d wished she weren’t. She loved him but she’d never wanted anyone to shut up and leave her alone so badly before. How did that work? And what did it mean?

Laurel took a deep breath. It didn’t mean anything. It was probably just a side effect of the adrenaline rushing through her veins from the drive combined with tiredness. They’d spend the evening apart tonight. It was better that way. He could be with his family, she could be with hers, and everything would look better in the morning.

She slid her key into the lock like she had so many times before and stepped inside. The hallway smelled of an enticing blend of apples and nutmeg, a clear sign that her mum was making her legendary mince pies. The warmth of the house was like a big hug and Laurel smiled as she dropped her bags onto the carpeted floor.

‘Anyone home?’ she called, shrugging off her coat.

The living room door opened, and she turned to see George.

‘Finally! You took your sweet time.’ He grinned before pulling her in for a fierce hug

Laurel squeezed him back. She’d missed him so much that it was hard to remember ever having a moment’s frustration with him.

‘Wow, you look great,’ she said after they pulled away. ‘Your hair’s so long.’

‘I know. It’s The Lost Boys look.’ He flicked it out of his eyes before looking at her with his trademark-raised eyebrow. ‘Yours on the other hand…’

He held a lock of it between his thumb and forefinger, and Laurel shrugged him off.

‘I haven’t had time to do anything with it.’

The peroxide had grown out, leaving behind huge brown roots. Compared to the gorgeous bob she’d left for London with, it was almost unrecognisable.

‘We’ll have to sort it out tonight. You can’t possibly have hair like that for Christmas,’ George said, as if bad hair was the ultimate festive crime.

Laurel laughed. ‘Deal.’

She followed him into the living room where their dad was sitting in the armchair reading The Radio Times as he did every Christmas Eve.

‘There she is,’ Robert said, holding the corner of his glasses. He looked up at her with a smile she hadn’t seen in years. ‘We’ve been wondering where you got to.’

‘The traffic was crazy,’ she explained as he got up and gave her a strong hug.

This was why she loved Christmas. Her dad was normally too busy for anything other than work, but this time of year was always different. He pulled away, ruffled her hair and sat back down, reopening his magazine. His state of relaxation usually lasted until at least Boxing Day, so they’d have time to talk later. George lay on the big sofa, stretching himself out along the length of it, listening to Lenny Henry talking to them from the television set. Laurel took in the almost bazaar-like feel the house underwent for a few weeks each year.

As always, red, gold and green was the festive colour scheme and the Christmas tree stood by the window, weighed down with lights, baubles, plastic beads and tinsel so thick she could barely see the white plastic branches underneath. Brightly coloured foil garlands hung from all four corners of the ceiling, drooping back to the centre where they were stuck to the light surround. It was bright and colourful and it made her smile. She hadn’t really realised until now just how much she’d missed this house too, as well as the family in it.

Laurel opened the door connecting the living room to the kitchen and was greeted by the usual pre-Christmas chaos. The good plates and glasses from the attic were stacked by the sink waiting to be washed, the surfaces were littered with baking paraphernalia, the windows were steamed with condensation and John Lennon sang about war being over. Her mum sang along and, despite it being played at every available opportunity over every Christmas Laurel remembered, Alice always missed out half the words and got the other half wrong.

‘Hi, Mum,’ Laurel said, interrupting her singing.

‘Hello, love.’ Alice turned and smiled back. Without breaking her stirring for a second, she beckoned Laurel over with her free hand for a hug.

Considering the frosty goodbye Laurel had taken with her to London, her homecoming had been a nice surprise so far. She let herself relax into her mum’s one-handed hug and looked down into the pan. She could almost taste the mince pies already - the filling sweet and tangy under a layer of perfect pastry and doused in vanilla custard. She’d joked with Kim about dry turkey and stinky sprouts, but Christmas dinner was her absolute favourite.

‘How are you? Everything alright?’ Alice asked.

Laurel turned to lean against the sink and stuck the plug in before turning on the hot tap. ‘Yep, everything’s good.’

‘How’s your course going?’

‘Great,’ she nodded enthusiastically, squirting a jet of washing up liquid into the water. ‘My lecturer’s really good, and it’s fun. I’ve learned loads already.’

‘I still think you should’ve gone to Bristol.’

Laurel held down a sigh as the water foamed. Her mum had used every opportunity to tell her this whenever they spoke on the phone. She should have known that Alice wouldn’t turn down the chance to do it in person, but she’d only been back five minutes.

‘Bristol was never what I wanted, it was what you wanted. Photography is what I want to do, I always have.’ She turned off the tap, determined not to let Christmas be ruined already. ‘This course is amazing, Mum. It’s a great school, I have a great lecturer and you know what? I’m good at it. Really good.’ She shook her head a fraction. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t become the first in the family to go to university. I’m sorry I let you down, but this is my life and this is what I want to do with it.’

She heard the spoon being stirred in the pot behind her, but Alice stayed silent. John Lennon had given way to Wham!, and Laurel’s heart beat loudly in her chest. She hadn’t shouted, but her voice had been firm. She’d never spoken to her mum like that. She’d never dared to. But for the first time ever, she’d managed to say what she really felt and what was long overdue.

Laurel took a plate from the top of the stack and put it under the soapy bubbles without turning around. She was proud of herself for defending her position so well, but she daren’t look at her mum’s face.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll do it later.’

Laurel shrugged. ‘It’s fine.’

She turned a little to look at her mum. She couldn’t say it now after that outburst, but she’d never realised just how much her mum had actually done before - running the house with a full-time job and two kids under her feet. Laurel felt like she was constantly cleaning, cooking, laundering and studying, and it was only her and Nico.

‘For the record, I’m not surprised at all.’ Alice’s wrist circled non-stop, deftly stirring the mincemeat in the pan. ‘I know you’re good at it.’

She did? Laurel slid the plate into the wire rack on the draining board. Her mum had never said anything encouraging about her photography before. Not once, not ever.

‘I’m not blind.’ Alice took the pan off the hob. ‘I just wanted you to have the best chance in life - both of you. And apparently you’re both doing well enough so…’ She wiped her hands on a tea towel. ‘I still don’t agree with your decision. I think you made it far too quickly, but you’re an adult now and you’re making it work. I’m proud of you.’

Laurel blushed and looked down into the sink. For once, they were talking to each other as adults, and she liked it.

‘Thanks, Mum.’

They exchanged a smile before Alice pushed her hair back. ‘Just remember that this is still your home. You can always come back if you ever need or want to.’

Laurel nodded, clutching onto the comment and storing it in an easily accessible mental drawer that until recently, she’d never imagined she might need.

Alice opened the fridge and took out a cling film covered bowl. ‘I saw Kim the other day. She looks awfully thin.’

‘I’m going to see her on Boxing Day.’ Laurel sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do, Mum. I’m worried about her. I think she might be really sick.’

‘Have you spoken to her about it?’

Laurel shook her head. ‘Not really.’

‘I can speak to her mum, if you like?’ Alice offered, but Laurel shook her head.

‘No, I think it’s better if I try to talk to her first. I just don’t know how. She’s so sensitive about her weight, I don’t want her to think I’m criticising her.’

Alice took a lump of cold pastry from the bowl and put it down on the chopping board.

‘That’s what friends are for, Lorie. If your best friend won’t tell you when something’s wrong, who will?’

Laurel knew she was right. It was her duty to say something but that didn’t make it any easier, or help to put the right words in her head. She said nothing else about it as she washed the stack of plates and glasses before drying and placing them upturned on the table, ready for tomorrow while her mum finished the mince pies. Along with Christmas pudding, all Alice had to be responsible for this year was the turkey. Since Nico’s dad was a chef, he’d be bringing the rest tomorrow and the two families would feast together. 

Laurel smiled to herself in anticipation. When she woke up tomorrow, the annual Christmas traditions would kick off in full swing. Presents would be opened with mugs of steaming hot tea and the television playing in the background. After that, George and their dad would disappear while she and Alice pushed the sofas back to roll around on the carpet doing exercises under Felicity Kendal’s expert instruction on her Shape Up and Dance LP. Her mum always joked that it pre-burned the calories for the day. It was a ritual that would mark the start of feasting, from bacon sandwiches and French toast for breakfast, to their turkey centred dinner and beyond. And of course, there’d be the EastEnders special, as well as Top of the Pops. She couldn’t wait.

If there was one thing she was worried about, it was whether Nico would fit into it all. For her, Christmas was always about fun and family, even if they got on each other’s nerves sometimes. But Nico had only complained so far, about the expense, the stress, the inability to work. She got the feeling that he would rather be in London where he could work himself into the ground and was blaming her for dragging him back to their parents. As if everything that was wrong in the world was all her fault.

Laurel hung the damp tea towel to dry and tried to shrug the feeling off. Being back with their families was a good thing. She already felt better after only an hour and was certain that Nico would too. Being back where it had all started between them would be a good thing. It would bring them closer together again, she was sure of it.