It was three weeks short of her fifteenth birthday, when she had already missed two periods and was regularly sick after breakfast, that Adela, who had hovered on the landing listening at the loo door, asked her if she was bulimic.
‘Darling, I know that there is a lot of peer pressure to be slim nowadays, but you are lovely just the way you are.’
Sennen scowled and pushed past her mother to get to the sanctuary of her room. As she went to shut the door behind her, Adela put her hand out stopped her. ‘Sennen, I’m worried for you. Don’t shut me out. Would you like to see the doctor?’
Sennen flounced to her bed and fell face first into the pillow. ‘No,’ she mumbled.
‘Darling, talk to me.’ Adela sat on the bed and stroked Sennen’s hair. She was feeling out of her depth. She tried again. ‘You can tell me anything.’
She waited patiently for an answer, then shook her daughter’s shoulder. ‘Tell me. Please. Is it school? I know you didn’t like it at first, but it’s okay now, isn’t it?’
She felt Sennen breathe deeply, then expel the air loudly. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she mumbled.
‘What?’ asked Adela gently. ‘I couldn’t hear you.’
‘I’m pregnant.’
If asked, Sennen wouldn’t have been able to say what she thought would happen next, but what she hadn’t expected was the calm acceptance of her parents and their incredible support.
The doctor confirmed the pregnancy and then offered her solutions. A termination, an adoption, or keep the child. When he said this, in the clinical serenity of his consulting room, Adela and Bill were sitting either side of her. They said nothing, allowing Sennen to make her decision. Eventually she murmured, ‘I want the baby.’
Adela beamed and clasped Sennen’s hand. ‘Good,’ she said.
The doctor watched her over the frames of his half-moon glasses and asked the question her parents hadn’t felt able to ask. ‘And the father? Will he have any part in the baby’s life?’
Sennen shook her head.
‘May I ask who the father is?’
Again, Sennen shook her head.
‘I see. Does he know that he has a child on the way?’
Bill gripped Sennen’s hand tightly.
‘No,’ she said.
The doctor looked down at her notes on his desk and thought for a moment. ‘You are very young. Your life will never be the same again.’
‘She has us,’ said Adela firmly.
The doctor frowned. ‘That is true, but Sennen is a minor and the boy who did this to her was breaking the law.’ He looked at Sennen and in a serious voice asked, ‘Tell me, were you forced into having sex? Or did you know what you were doing? And did you do it willingly?’
Sennen closed her eyes and thought of that night and how Ali had made her feel. She nodded.
‘You weren’t forced into doing something you didn’t want to do?’
She shook her head.
‘Are you still seeing the boy?’
She shook her head again.
‘Because if you are, I shall prescribe you some contraception. You do know what that is, don’t you.’
‘Of course she does,’ Bill said. ‘She won’t be needing it.’
‘Well, then.’ The doctor sat straight and clasped his hands. ‘I will write to your school and explain your circumstances. There is no need for you to give up your studies – indeed, your child will need a mother who is well-educated. Look after yourself: no smoking or drinking, be kind to your parents and I’ll see you in four weeks.’
Henry Alan William Tallon was born at the end of September, 1991, with both his grandparents in attendance.
It was decided that Sennen would stay at her school in Truro to finish her exams and come home at weekends to be with Henry. In the meantime, Adela and Bill would care for him.
Back at school she was ostracised. Girls whispered about her as she walked the corridors or queued for lunch. Even her small coterie of daredevil friends shrank from her. No one asked her, and she told no one about Ali.
Thinking back, she realised that this was the time when she had begun to feel something that made her more than different. Of course she was different; which other of her friends had a baby? But a new and dangerous pit of teenage melancholy opened up in front of her. Who was she? She was neither child or parent. Her own parents had taken control with ease and efficiency. Henry was more theirs than hers. All her waking thoughts and sleeping dreams were filled with the desperate anxiety of trying to find Ali. If only she could contact him, he would come and sort all this mess out. He loved her. He had told her so, hadn’t he? She longed to confide in Adela. To tell her about Ali. To have her help her find him. But she didn’t know where to begin. And she had an uncomfortable suspicion that they would turn against him. They would accuse him of … well, she wasn’t quite sure. He had not taken advantage of her. That was a fact. She had wanted him. But why hadn’t he tried to contact her?
As soon as she knew about the baby she had asked for the address of his London agent from the Pavilions Theatre and written to him, asking if he could phone her as she had some news. After a few weeks she received a letter from his agent’s secretary, thanking her for ‘her interest’ and enclosing an unsigned cheesy postcard photo of him.
When Henry was born, she wrote again, and this time received a leaflet with the dates of the Ali A’Mayze On The Road tour. She scoured the schedule and her heart sang when she saw that, for one Sunday night in November only, he was coming to the Pavilions.
She planned how she would tell him about Henry. He would be so happy. He would hold her and promise to take care of her. He would be so sorry that he hadn’t been there for her, but now, everything would be all right.
She took fresh interest in Henry and whispered her secret to him when she bathed him or took him for walks on the harbour.
Adela and Bill noticed how much happier she was. ‘She’s doing so well, isn’t she?’ said Adela, watching from the kitchen window as Sennen showed Henry the late butterflies on the buddleia.
Bill slipped his arm around Adela’s shoulder. ‘She is. And so are you.’
Sennen counted the days to seeing Ali again. She’d asked at the theatre if they needed any backstage help for the show. They didn’t, but she could work front of house as an usherette.
At last the day arrived. The dress code was black trousers or skirt with a white blouse. She had a stretchy mini skirt that was a little too tight over her baby tum and borrowed a white shirt from her mother. She bought some sheer black tights and wore her old knee-high black leather boots. By the time she’d wound her hair into a bun and put on a little eye make-up and lip gloss, she looked very presentable.
‘My word, you do look smart,’ said Bill when she came into the sitting room. ‘I’m very proud of you. Not many girls with a baby and exams would want to go out and earn a little money. Very proud indeed.’
‘Thanks, Dad. Would you give me a lift down?’
‘Yep. Let me just find my keys.’ He wandered off into the hall.
Her mother came in from the kitchen with Henry on her hip. ‘Let’s have look at you.’
Henry blinked and burped.
Adela patted his padded bottom. ‘Very high praise for your mummy indeed, Henry. Now say goodnight to her and say “See you later, Mummy”.’
Sennen kissed them both, told them she loved them, and with a happy, hammering heart, left the house.
Standing at the back of the stalls as the house lights dimmed, leaving just a single spotlight on the crimson velvet curtains, Sennen’s breathing was shallow and ragged with anticipation.
Prerecorded rock music blasted through the auditorium and a deep, slow voice announced ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, you are about to witness incredible things. Things that will shock you, and fill you with awe. Tonight is a night you will speak of in hushed tones as your children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren beg you to tell them the story. The story of the night you witnessed real magic.’ The audience gasped and giggled as the single spotlight snapped out and they were left in a silent blackness . ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for one night only I give you: Mr Ali A’Mayze.’ The voice dragged out the last syllables as a deafening peal of church bells rang through the audience. From the roof above them a spotlight revealed a coffin, lowering itself towards the stage.
Sennen had her heart in her mouth. Any moment now she’d see him.
The coffin stopped about a metre from the stage floor and floated free of any wires that she could see. A female undertaker walked slowly from the wings to the spotlit box. She drew a glinting silver sword from a scabbard beneath her cloak and proceeded to wave it all over the box to prove it was merely hanging there in space. A curdled scream came from the back of the stalls and made Sennen jump out of her skin. She and the entire audience turned to see what it was and, in that split second, the coffin crashed to the ground and from it leapt a powerful scarlet motorbike with Ali sitting astride it, revving the engine.
Sennen couldn’t breathe. The audience began to cheer and applaud. Ali spun the back wheel until smoke poured from it. The crowd were in the palm of his hand. His eyes, outlined in black, stared at them until they felt he was looking into their souls. Sennen shivered with anticipation. He smiled, baring his teeth and in a white flash both he and the machine were gone.
Another gasp.
A man in an overcoat and cloth cap got out of his seat and ran down to the stage shouting, ‘Where is he? Where is he?’
The audience didn’t know who he was.
The man ran to the spot where the bike had been. He stopped, bent down and examined it. His back to the audience. Then slowly he took off his cap and then his coat and spun round with his arms wide open. ‘You didn’t think I’d leave you without a show, did you?’
It was him. Ali.
Sennen clutched her hands to her chest and yelled his name and was drowned out by eight hundred people doing the same.
She stood in a dream as she watched the show. This was the father of her baby. Her future. She couldn’t wait to see him and tell him about William.
The show finished. She stood at the back of the stalls until the place had emptied, then made her way backstage and headed for the star dressing room. Her hands were shaking as she knocked on the door.
‘Who is it?’ asked a male voice. Not Ali’s.
‘Sennen.’
The door opened a crack and a small round man looked her up and down. ‘Mr A’Mayze is not having visitors.’
‘Who is it, Keith?’ Ali’s disembodied voice asked.
Keith curled his lip and said to Sennen, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Sennen. I worked with Ali in the pantomime. Last Christmas.’
Keith relayed the message. Ali answered.
‘Yeah? Okay, let her in.’
Keith opened the door wide and there he was. Naked but for his jeans, his long curls damp with sweat, his eyes looking her up and down. ‘Yes?’
‘Hi. You were great tonight. Truly. I can’t believe you are actually here.’
He narrowed his eyes and looked at her more closely. ‘I know you …’
‘Yes,’ she smiled.
‘Sally? Susie?’
She laughed at his old joke. ‘Sennen.’
‘Of course.’ He stood up. ‘I’m fine now, Keith. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.’
Keith was put out and his bottom lip jutted sullenly. ‘I haven’t sorted your laundry yet.’
‘Out. Now. Sennen’s an old friend of mine.’ Ali looked at Sennen and gave her the kind of smile that made her whole body flush.
Keith was not happy and took his time, gathering up his coat and felt beret. ‘Don’t be late,’ he said as he left the room.
‘Want a drink, gorgeous?’ Ali asked as soon as he’d left. ‘I’ve got some wine in the fridge. Sit down.’
She sat on the same daybed where he had made love to her almost a year ago. He watched as her mini skirt slid up her thighs. ‘I like your boots.’
‘Thanks. How are you?’
‘Right now I couldn’t be better.’ He poured the wine and, handing her a glass, sat down next to her. ‘How are you? Busy year?’
She giggled. ‘You could say that.’
He was looking at the buttons of her shirt. ‘You really do have lovely breasts.’
She melted. ‘I have missed you so much, Ali.’
He put his wine down and kissed her, pushing her down on the bed.
‘I love you, Ali,’ she said.
‘I love you, babe.’ His face was hot as he opened her shirt and squeezed her breasts from her bra. ‘And I really love these.’
It was a bit more comfortable than the first time and he took a little longer than before. He lay next to her panting. ‘Pass my glass, would you?’
As she sat up her tummy rounded in her skirt which was pushed up to her hips. He took the glass. ‘You’ve put a bit of weight on, haven’t you? I remember you being a bit skinnier. Mind you, I don’t mind a bit of curvy flesh.’
‘Don’t you?’ She took a sip of her wine and lay back, looking into his eyes.
‘Not on a young girl. It’s like puppy fat. Don’t want it on an old bird, though.’
She was so happy. ‘Did you get my letters?’
‘Where did you write?’
‘Your agent.’
‘No. They answer them.’
‘I thought so. Otherwise I’d have heard from you, wouldn’t I?’
‘Maybe. I’ve been touring all year. It’s hard for things to find me.’
She put her hand to his cheek. ‘I understand.’
‘I love a girl who understands.’ He smiled down at her.
‘I love you, Ali,’ she whispered as he began kissing her again.
‘I love you, baby.’
Keith, listening at the door, knew exactly the right moment to knock and get Ali out of there.
‘Sorry to disturb, but there’s an important call for you at the hotel, Ali. You must come now.’
‘Oh, right.’ Ali stood up and zipped his jeans. ‘Babe, I’ve got to split. It’ll be to arrange a meeting about my European tour – going to happen over the next two years. Scandinavia, Holland, Belgium, Italy, Portugal, then the final gig in Spain, lovely Spain in September ‘93. You must come when I’m there.’
Sennen was bewildered at this sudden departure. ‘Which hotel are you in tonight? I could come over in the morning. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.’
‘Great. It’s the, erm …’
‘Starfish,’ said Keith handing Ali his T-shirt and coat.
‘See you, babe. Bye.’ He went over and kissed her. ‘Thanks for everything.’