CHAPTER 2

July 2007

Jess cupped her chin in her hands, leant on the windowsill and stared out at the tidy suburban street where she’d lived for most of her existence. So thisis how it felt; the first day of the rest of her life. That’s how the cliché went. Well, it was time to make a start. She moved from the window to her dressing table and prepared to transform herself into someone else.

Earlier that day five of them had gathered at a remote corner of the Downs and puffed cigarettes. There was Jess, Zoe, Emilia, Lauren and Clara. They piled their school ties and hats onto a bundle of leaves and twigs, glanced around nervously. Only a lone jogger trotted beneath the trees two hundred yards away. Of the five of them Zoe was the bravest. She knelt and struck a match. With frightening speed, the twigs and tinder dry summer leaves ignited, and soon the symbols of Colston High School for Girls were ablaze

"All together," whispered Emilia.

They put their arms around each other and formed a circle. With the burning stack of hats and ties in the centre, they watched each other for timing.  When the flames began to die down they giggled and recited the alternative school motto in a whispered chant. "Concordia Res Parvae Crescunt, fuck! fuck! fuck! Concordia Res Parvae Crescunt, fuck! fuck! fuck!"

The girls were silent as they stared at the glowing ashes then they began to laugh. They photographed the embers of their secondary education on their phones.

"That was, like, awesome," said Lauren. "I can’t tell you how much I hated that school."

"Let’s put out the fire," said Jess.

They found sticks close by and spread the ashes. Clara brought handfuls of earth and dumped them on the smouldering pile.

They walked back across the Downs towards the city centre, glancing at their screens, texting messages and posting on Myspace and the new social networking site on the block, Facebook.

Clara said. "I can’t decide about a gap year."

"At least you know you want be a nurse. I’ve had three offers but, I don’t know," said Jess. "Three grand a year. Is it really worth it?"

"But you’re really clever," said Emilia. "You’d do really well at uni.”

“What about stage school?” Clara asked Jess. “I thought you wanted to act.”

“I’d have to get a grant,” said Jess. “Can you see my mum and dad paying for me?”

“Don’t you have to audition and stuff?” said Lauren. “That’s scary.”

Jess shrugged.

“You’ve got real talent,” said Emilia. “We all think so.”

Jess looked doubtful.

“And tonight,” whispered Lauren, “we might meet the perfect bloke.”

“There’s no such thing,” said Zoe. “Come on, girls what is male perfection?”

“They’re either knicker sniffers or dickheads,” said Emilia. She smiled at Jess and nudged her.

Jess laughed along with the others. Her image of the perfect man, she knew, came from her assiduous reading of cheap books, with covers showing hunky six packs and strong jaws. And the women looked as though they were seconds away from coming, but somehow remained in control. You too can have an orgasm like me, girl, they implied to the voracious reader from their book jacket eyes.

Jess wanted to be caught on the hop, see a face on a train and fall insanely in love.

She wanted to open a door on an ordinary day in an ordinary place and come face-to-face with him. The one. The one who knew her inside out instantly, leg measurements, bust size and how many pubic hairs she had. And she would know him, and could describe his body through his clothes.

“Wake up, Jess,” shouted Clara.

“Look at the smile on her face,” said Lauren with a hoarse laugh.

Jess shivered the dream to the back of her mind. “All right, all right,” she said. “A girl can dream can’t she?”

Unbidden, her mind swept her into a sudden vision. She was fronting a cool, but pulsating rock band, as a cross between Blondie and Amy Winehouse. This is what she wanted. She could taste it.

Fuck the doubts.

"Right," said Emilia, clutching her phone like an amulet, "what’re we doing tonight, girls? It’s celebration time."

"I’ll call you all, yeah," said Zoe. "I’ll pick somewhere. Are we up for it?"

Jess stared at her reflection and patted her tangled mass of dyed black hair.

Her phone jingle-jangled.  She picked it up, listened then smiled. "Hiya, Zoe."

"Hiya, Jess, are you ready for the night of your life?"

"You bet. I’m up for anything."

"It’s horror night at the G-Spot," cried Zoe.

Jess breathed on her nails. "The G-Spot. Wow! I’ve always wanted to go there."

She listened to more of Zoe’s over excited delivery as her friend hissed and giggled and hinted at who they might meet at the club.

"I’ve got to see mum and dad first,” Jess told her. “That’s going to be, like, ghastly when they see what I’m wearing."

"School’s out forever," sang Zoe in an out of tune contralto.

"Okay, meet you outside the Hippodrome. Cool, yeah, see you."

Jess placed her phone on her bed but it immediately rang again.

“Hi Clara,” Jess.

“It’s the G-Spot, yay,” Clara screamed down the phone. “What’re you wearing?”

“I’m going for the demonic Helena Bonham Carter look,” Jess told her. “All heavy mascara and bleached white powder. I’ve used blood red blusher and totally slashed black lipstick with dark vermillion.”

“Wicked,” said Clara.

Jess told Clara she’d found some of her mother’s hippie beaded necklaces. She held them in her hand, heavy and chunky, some with carved heads and scimitars, astrological sigils and others with glittering glassy spheres that reflected light from multifaceted surfaces.

“Yeah,” shouted Clara. “But what are you wearing? I can’t go dressed the same as you.”

Jess described her tight black leggings over which she’d slipped into a long, black goth-like dress with dark blue beading and, with her phone wedged between her cheek and her shoulder, poked out her tongue in concentration as she painted her nails with multi-coloured patterns and symbols.

Beautiful.

“Right,” said Clara, “Now I know what I’m up against. I was thinking…”

As she listened to Clara describing what she might or might not wear, Jess glanced at her dressing table and spotted the letters confirming her A-level results; three As and one B grade, clipped to the university offer letters. She picked them up and glanced at them, smiling when she recalled the delight on the faces of her parents when they’d seen them.

Those smiles were going to fade when she went downstairs. Sixth form had been endured mainly for their sakes, although Jess knew she had an aptitude for learning helped by a remarkable memory.

But that was the past.

 “Right. Got to go. See you later,” said Clara.

“Yeah, see you tonight,” Jess said, terminating the call.

She stood up and looked around at her middle class room, crammed with all the paraphernalia and fantasy possessions of a repressed eighteen year old, every inch of wall plastered with posters of indie bands and ripped teen torsos; dirty pants, bras, jeans and boots piled by an overflowing wardrobe, flickering computer screen, guitar propped up in a corner, and a dressing table awash with bottles, make-up, press cuttings, photographs, jewellery and magazines.

Once again Jess stared into her mirror, turned her head this way and that then stood up, checked her appearance for the last time, took a deep breath and went downstairs.

The ground floor was large and spacious with a comfortably furnished through lounge and kitchen. The rooms were well lived in and homely. A large square hall with parquet flooring led to the front door and another door that led into her father’s office.

The moment Jess stepped into the hall she knew something was wrong. Her mother Annie was stirring something on the stove and the aroma of a meaty stew wafted through the room, but she was sniffling and rubbing her eyes. Her dad Paul had been filling in his lottery ticket at the kitchen table and the papers were scattered around.

"What time are you going out?" called Jess’s mother without turning. Her voice sounded strained.

Shit, thought Jess, they’ve had a row.

"Soon," said Jess standing with her hand on the banister. She smiled at her father. "It’s a dream, Dad, the lottery," said Jess. "It’s about fifteen million to one."

Paul glanced at his daughter, looked down again and then jerked his head back up.

"My God, Jess, what have you done?"

Annie turned around and clamped her hand to her mouth. Jess couldn’t decide if she was laughing or crying.

“Have you been crying, Mum?”

"You’re not thinking of going out in public like that," she gasped finally.

"It’s cool, Mum" said Jess. "School’s over. I want to express myself now I’m free."

"You’ll get arrested," said Paul.

"Express yourself? You look like one of those slasher horror movie posters," said Annie. "Go back upstairs and change into something sensible."

"I’m going clubbing with Zoe and the girls, Mum. They won’t let me into the G-Spot if I look sensible. It’s a horror movie theme night."

"The G-Spot," growled her father. "There’s a place with a name like that? No, no, You’re not going to such a place."

"I’ll be fine, Dad. I’m over eighteen."

"You’re still living under this roof," her father growled.

"You hear such horror stories," said her mother.

"God, listen to you," Jess snapped in frustration. "You don’t control me anymore."

Her father rose to his feet. "We’re not trying to control you, we’re trying to protect you."

"Well, I don’t need your bloody protection," shouted Jess as she walked towards the front door.

"Darling, no, please don’t disgrace us." Her mother took a step forward.

"That’s all you care about, isn’t it?" said Jess angrily. "What people think. My lovely daughter is a disgrace to us. The sacrifices we’ve made. Well, it’s my time now. School’s out forever. And, Dad, I wouldn’t bother trying to win money for university fees. I won’t be going to university. I’m going to be an actress or a singer or I’ll go travelling. I don’t know how yet, but it’s what I want to do."

Jess grabbed her shawl from the peg on the hallstand, opened the front door and turned back.

Her father erupted from his chair, knocking it over. He strode to the front door and rammed his arm and full weight against it, slamming it shut.

"Go upstairs and change. You look like a freak."

"A what?" Jess staggered back in surprise.

"Paul, this is not the time," Annie said.

"Jess, do as I ask," her father shouted and stared at the ceiling. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow."

"Mum," Jess appealed to her mother with tears in her eyes.

"Just go, Jess and clean yourself up," her father shouted.

Jess turned on her heel and clumped up the stairs, hearing only the pounding in her ears and a silence below in the hall that crackled with tension.

“Because you’ve had a row doesn’t mean you can ruin my life,” she yelled back at them.

She went into her room, slammed the door and sat on the bed. Her father had never, ever spoken to her like that before. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door and her mother came in.

 "Jess, your father is sorry for what he said,” Annie said and sat on Jess’s bed.

"What’s the matter with him, calling me that? He’s never, ever…"

“He didn’t mean it.”

“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?

“Your father has too.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

"Well…”

“You’re not getting divorced, are you?”

“Of course not.”

"What then?"

"Your father’s had some bad news."

"Like what?" Jess unclenched her teeth.

Annie sat down next to her and held her hand. "It’s not an excuse, but, Aunt Alice died today. Dad’s taken it pretty badly. We were going to tell you tonight but..."

"Aunt Alice, no," Jess cried. "I loved Aunt Alice."

Jess could see her mother trying to summon up the courage to say something else. "Jess," said Annie finally. "We all loved Alice, and your dad was very close to her. They were twins, after all. Try to understand how he feels right now. He’ll calm down later on. No, it’s not only that."

"What then?"

"I came into your room today to do a bit of tidying up. Yes, I know, I know, it’s your special place but it needed a bit of a clean and there’s all your dirty washing everywhere. In the end I left it. Jess, I found something."

Jess stared straight ahead.

"What do you call it, a joint?" said her mother.

"God."   

“I’ve got rid of it.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     “I can’t see what the fuss is about. Look, I can see why dad got mad,

but I really want to go out tonight. I’m sorry about Aunt Alice. You know how close we were, don’t you?"

"Of course I do. We’re seeing the solicitor about her will so that’s not going to be pleasant. I think you ought to do as your father asks.

Annie got up from the bed and went to the door.

"Mum," Jess pleaded.

When her mother left the room, Jess stared at the walls for a long time. She had to go out tonight, whatever happened. Dad would get over it. But the news of Aunt Alice’s death had made the prospect of a rave at a nightclub seem irreverent and almost sacrilegious. She wiped away a tear when she thought about the last time she’d seen her aunt. They’d had a kind of conspiratorial understanding, like they both shared a special secret about the world. Her aunt understood her like nobody else on Earth.

Aunt Alice had held Jess’s hand while they sat around the small, iron table on the patio overlooking her neat, postage stamp garden.

“Listen to me, Jess,” she’d said. “Enjoy yourself to the full while you can because you never know what life has in store for you.”

“Have you enjoyed your life?” Jess recalled asking.

Her aunt hadn’t replied at first but Jess caught a flicker of some emotion, or memory, slipping over her face like a shadowy veil.

“Yes, dear, I believe I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had regrets. This is why I say you must grab life by the short and curlies. Regrets are bad, especially when you’re old, so don’t give them house room.”

Would Aunt Alice be appalled if Jess went out to a club tonight having heard the news? No, Jess decided. She could hear her aunt’s voice chuckling in her ear urging her to live while she had the chance.

Shit, how did she manage to leave a joint in her room? It must have fallen out of her jacket pocket. It wasn’t as if she was a regular user. She’d only had a couple and they’d made her act stupid and gave her a headache. But, her parents were going to think it was an indication that she was going off the rails.

Sod it, she wasn’t going to stay in her room like a naughty schoolchild the entire evening.

She went to the door and opened it a few inches. She could hear her parents arguing in low voices from the living room. Jess knew that sooner her later her dad would come up to her room to apologise, but would not change his mind.

If she was going it had to be now. Her dad had locked and bolted the front door but Jess had her own key. She left her room and closed the door behind her. Then she tiptoed down the stairs, placing her feet on the edges to avoid the tell-tale creak.

She reached the hall and padded to the front door, listening to the sound of her parents’ frustrated voices rising and falling.

She slid open the chain lock and held the chain in her hand while she unlocked the door with her key. She opened the door and slipped outside, releasing the chain and putting the key in the lock from the outside.

Jess closed the door quietly behind her, wrapped herself in her shawl against the early evening chill and trotted down the drive and out of the front gate. She marched along an avenue of similar four and five bedroomed houses most with televisions flickering behind lace curtains.

God, it was so boring here.

Jess pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.

Were mum and dad right and she should go to university, then follow her heart later? Why was life so complicated?

She didn’t want to be ordinary. In her deepest soul she knew that ordinary was not good enough. Sometimes, when she thought about the future, she thought of her parents. They played Scrabble on Saturday afternoons and laughed at the same jokes. They were so alike. They finished each other’s sentences. Maybe that’s what marriage did to you after years of agreeing and avoiding treading on toes or venturing into no-go areas. They hadn’t always been like this. Jess had seen photographs of her mum as a groupie following some long-haired band or other and wearing long skirts down to her ankles and flowers in her hair. She told Jess once that they were the best days of her life. Does that mean you’ve put up with the rest for the sake of an uneventful life, Mum?

Dad was more studious. He made lists. He knew what they were doing two years ahead. He loved to remind them.

Jess waited by the bus stop on Grainger Road and thought about it seriously. She knew the time of dreaming and hoping was coming to an end, and the time for action was upon her. It was one thing to tell her parents she wasn’t going to read English or History or something else at university, and another to turn her dreams into reality.

Through the gathering evening, the glowing lights of the single-decker bus emerged around the corner of Bradford Lane as it made its way to the stop. Jess got on and paid the driver.

She was going to be late home tonight.

Next Chapter: INHERITANCE