Ashleigh and Remy Brett 1972 Aged 10 #4
He gave a single nod.
‘You can tell me what’s wrong,’ she whispered, ‘I’m your best friend.’
This made him smile and he met her gaze. ‘I didn’t like you not being on the bus. I got a bit . . .’ He ran out of words, but his fingers twitched, his face crumpled, and she understood. He often got a bit . . .
‘That’s okay, Tony, I’m here now. Ashleigh too.’
‘I guess I’m feeling a bit sad because I won’t have anyone to hang out with at lunchtime, because you and Ashleigh are going to do your test.’
Tony wasn’t like the other boys in their class.
He wasn’t rambunctious or sporty or loud or irritating.
He was the opposite of all that, he was lovely.
He read as much as she did, wore a jumper knitted by his mum instead of one of the boring, itchy school ones, and his older brother, Gregory, cut his hair.
He smelled of mothballs and lavender and always offered to share everything he had with her and Ashleigh; his sweets, his lunch, his good advice.
He didn’t have a dad. Well, he used to have a dad, but he had died by getting squished by a car when Tony was in his mum’s tummy and his dad had stepped off the kerb without looking.
He was also funny, the funniest, and could do the best impressions of everyone they knew, including Miss Delaney, the second-year teacher, who took them for gym and seemed, most of the time, to be in a bit of a tizz.
She noticed the shiny tears that sat at the bottom of his eyes gathering on his lashes but not falling down his cheeks, and it made her feel a little sad too. He was different to a lot of the other boys in this regard also, as he didn’t mind crying.
‘It’s only one lunchtime, Tony. It will all be back to normal tomorrow.’
He nodded, but his bottom lip still looked a little wobbly.
‘But if you both get into St. Jude’s and I have to go to Milton Road on my own . . .’ He let this hang, and it was the first time she reconsidered leaving her friend. She didn’t like the thought at all.
‘We won’t worry about it until we have to.’ Remy gave the advice her mother offered with regularity.
‘I remember when you both got chickenpox and were off for a week,’ Tony whispered. ‘I made out to have it too because I didn’t want to be here without you. My mum knew I was faking, but she let me stay at home anyway, as long as I did the work Mrs Harman sent.’
‘I remember that.’ It had made her like Tony’s mum even more. ‘While we’re gone, you can go to the library and help Nancy with the returns, or you could see if Mr Vaughan might let you litter pick?’
‘I’ll go to the library.’ He voiced the plan but sounded less than enamoured at the prospect.
‘Nancy will look after you.’ This she knew to be true.
Nancy was a student who was at college and wanted to be a teacher.
She was a grown-up, obviously, but had badges on her jumper that suggested she wasn’t a full grown-up, and everyone called her Nancy, and not Miss . . . whatever Nancy’s last name was.
Remy was excited about her trip, and was looking forward to the exam, but still she envied Tony the day ahead, knowing she would give anything to spend the lunchtime in the library with him and Nancy. It was the best place to be on any day.
Ashleigh
Ashleigh shut the door and sat in the stall of the bathroom.
Her heart beat very quickly and she felt a little sick.
It happened like this sometimes when the world felt very big, and she felt very small and entirely uncertain of her place in it.
What she was certain of was that she did not feel able to take the trip to St. Jude’s.
I can’t . . .
I can’t do it . . .
I can’t take the exam . . .
I just can’t . . .
Her top lip was wet, and she ran her finger over it to see if her nose was running, but it was sweat. All sounds were a little echoey in her ears. Her legs felt as if they were made of both jelly and lead.
I can’t do it . . .
‘Ashleigh?’ The sound of Remy’s voice made her instantly feel a little better, the familiarity of it, the concern in it and the proximity of her twin.
‘Are you okay?’ her sister asked softly, quietly, as she knocked on the door.
Ashleigh let her in, and Remy locked the door behind her, her expression one of concern.
‘No,’ she began, ‘I’m not . . . not okay.’ Her tears came then. Springing from her eyes like leaks.
‘Don’t cry!’ Remy held her hand. ‘What shall I do, shall I go and get a teacher?’
She shook her head. ‘No! No, please don’t. They’ll only tell Mum, or they’ll try and explain why I need to go and take the exam, and I don’t want to do it, Rem, I just don’t!’
‘But . . .’ Her sister swallowed, and looked all around them, as if trying to figure out what to say, what to do!
‘I . . . I can’t . . . I just . . . just can’t!’
‘Course you can, it’s only an exam!’
‘It’s not though, is it? It’s an exam that says where we’ll go to big school, it’s the scholarship, and I know how badly Mum and Dad want us to get into St. Jude’s. Milton Road is a rubbish school. Everyone knows it!’
Her chest heaved, and her breath came in short bursts.
‘You don’t have to do it, you don’t have to do anything!’ Remy tried to placate her, placing her hand on her arm. ‘You’re shaking!’
‘I think I might be sick.’
‘You sure you don’t want me to get someone to call Mum?’ Remy exhaled, her tone now edged with panic that echoed her sister’s.
‘No! Please don’t! Please! I’ve got to do it, haven’t I? And the last thing I want is Mum coming here to give me one of her talks about how great everything is going to be and asking me to name the capital cities of Europe. I need to try and figure it out.’
‘It will be okay, Ash.’
Ashleigh wasn’t sure she believed her. ‘I’ve worked really hard – I want to go to St. Jude’s. I do! I want to go there more than anything! I just . . .’ Tears sheeted her face, leaving two snotty streaks that snaked their way towards her mouth. ‘I just can’t go and do it. I can’t!’
‘Oh, Ash!’ Remy’s face was contorted, as if it were hard for her to understand or to know how to fix it. Ashleigh understood; her sister seemed fairly ambivalent about the whole thing, supremely confident in her smarts and certain she would ace the exam. She aced every exam. They both did.
It was no coincidence that out of the fifty-six pupils in their school year, only four of them had been put forward to take the entrance exam.
‘The thought of not doing it makes me feel better.’ Ashleigh slumped down then on to the toilet, as if her bones, made soft with fear, could no longer support her.
Squatting down, Remy wrapped her mirror image in a loose hug. ‘It’ll be okay. Don’t cry.’
‘It won’t though, will it?’ Ashleigh looked up at her twin, tears flowing over cheeks mottled with distress. ‘It changes everything!’
‘I don’t know if it does.’ Her sister’s contorted expression suggested she was wrestling with this. ‘We’re only ten, we don’t know how things are going to turn out.’
‘Mummy said she blinked when she was ten, and the next minute she was twenty! And so does that mean you blink and then you’re forty and then sixty?’
Remy laughed. ‘Then eighty!’ She giggled because even in this dire moment it was too funny, and Ashleigh understood this too; it was impossible to imagine being an old, old lady of forty, let alone eighty.
‘What are you going to do? You can’t stay in the loo all day.’
‘I’m going to hide.’ It was as if the plan formed as the words left her mouth. ‘I’m . . . I’m going to hide in the mower shed.’
‘But . . .’ Again Remy looked at a loss as to what to say to make it all better.
‘Please, Remy, don’t tell them, don’t tell anyone.’
‘I don’t want you to get into trouble.’
‘I don’t care if I get into trouble,’ she lied, ‘and I’d rather get into trouble than have to do the exam.’
‘Shall I stay with you? Would you like me to hide with you? I will!’
‘No!’ Ashleigh shook her head, unsure of many things, and touched by her sister’s willingness to go along with her crazy plan, but adamant she didn’t want Remy to miss out on a place at St. Jude’s too.
‘Please go and do the exam and pass it, like we know you can, and then go to that great school and get a house with four spare bedrooms and mix with fancy people who buy concrete and don’t sell concrete. ’
‘I wouldn’t mind selling concrete.’ Her sister spoke softly, earnestly.
‘I’d mind you selling concrete.’
‘I can’t imagine not going to school with you.’ Remy’s voice cracked.
‘It will be okay, little dove.’ Ashleigh wrapped her in a brief, tight hug. ‘It’ll be okay. Let’s go to morning lessons and then, when the early bell goes and we’re let out, I’ll go and hide in the mower shed and come out when the minibus has gone, when it’s too late for me to get to St. Jude’s.’
‘You’ve still got time to change your mind and come along. You might feel better in a bit, and decide you can do it after all, and that would be great!’ It was the closest her sister had come to trying to sway her decision.
‘Yes, I might.’ Ashleigh smiled, knowing she would not change her mind, not at all, because unlike other tests, this felt different.
The thought of failing, of letting everyone down .
. . it was preferrable not to try, easier.
She was also aware, however, of the need to give Remy this little hook on which to hang her hope, something that would help them both get through the morning.
‘You go into class. I’m just going to wash my face and I’ll be straight in. ’
‘Okay, Ash.’ Remy took her time, stood slowly, and unlocked the cubicle door, as if unsure if leaving her sister alone was the right thing to do. ‘I love you, little dove,’ she whispered.
Ashleigh found a smile she hoped was convincing. ‘I love you too.’
Remy
Remy wasn’t very good at lying. Her dad said her face gave it away every time, and she knew this to be true, feeling the red flush of dishonesty mark her whenever she voiced an untruth.