1973 – aged 17
Lilly looked up, letting the sun glance on her face as she sat on the bench outside the Tate Gallery on Millbank.
‘How was your weekend?’ Glenda asked, as she pulled the lid from the shallow Tupperware box and sniffed the contents, before pulling out a decidedly limp white bread triangle from its confines, pasted together with Heinz Sandwich Spread. ‘Want one?’ She pushed the box towards Lilly.
‘No, thanks.’ Glenda’s food tastes were a little different to hers.
The glorious memory of that deep-fried skate wing, slathered with butter, still lingered on her tongue.
A culinary triumph for her dad. Or maybe in the light of her awakening with Wilkie, food just tasted better, in the way that colours seemed brighter, music more meaningful and the world a generally rosier place to be.
‘Yeah, weekend was great. What about yours?’
It was tricky; Glenda was undoubtedly her friend, her best friend, and yet Lilly wasn’t sure how she’d react to the fact that Lilly had spent the weekend frolicking beneath the covers with her older lover.
She smiled at the secret that filled her with joy and felt the golden glow of excitement, counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until she got to see him again and strip his clothes off.
Her dad had no plans to go away again any time soon, so she had agreed this weekend to go to Wilkie’s digs in Royal Avenue, where, against the strict rules of the Chelsea boarding house run by the magnificently named Mrs Helen Horn-Haverington, Wilkie planned to sneak her in under the cover of darkness!
It was illicit, daring, and all the more thrilling because of it.
Her face broke into a smile at the thought as her skin tingled at the memory of his touch.
‘Norm and I drove to Southend. Took the Cortina for a run.’
It made Lilly smile, the way she made the Cortina sound like a pet.
‘That sounds nice.’
‘Well, it would have been, but his mum decided to come, too, and she insisted on sitting in the front. Not much I could say about that, was there?’ Glenda bit into her sandwich, her demeanour decidedly downcast.
‘I suppose not.’
‘I was stuck in the back for what felt like hours, and his mother, Mrs Glaser, didn’t shut up, not for a second, going on and on about their neighbours, Norm’s school days, his wayward brother, Barry, the time he got lost on a trip to Canvey Island.
God, Lil, it was incessant. I imagined wrapping the seatbelt around her neck and strangling her. ’
‘Probably not the best way to endear yourself to the future in-laws.’
‘True, but I was still tempted. It was bloody awful.’
‘Sounds it.’ Lilly felt sorry for Glenda, who had had her weekend hijacked by Mrs Glaser, the chatterbox. It explained to her why Norman was so quiet; he’d probably spent his life trying to get a word in edgeways.
‘Norm kept looking at me in the rear-view mirror when he could take his eyes off the road, and it was nice, the way I knew what he was thinking, that he wished it was just the two of us.’
‘I can imagine. I mean, you could hardly stop off at Pymmes Park for a snog with his mother in the car!’
‘Honestly, Lil, I wish I’d never told you about that! We have a connection that runs deep. There’s more to us than snogging in the car!’ Glenda shoved the remainder of her sandwich into her mouth.
‘I didn’t say there wasn’t, but it’s important, isn’t it? Kissing and the like.’ It was the closest she could come to admitting her new and absolute carnal fascination with Wilkie.
‘I suppose so.’ Glenda stared straight ahead, as if only just considering it.
‘You want to rip his clothes off and go further though, don’t you? When the time is right, of course!’ Lilly laughed at the caveat.
‘I’ve not really thought about it.’ Glenda turned to face her.
‘You haven’t?’ It was hard to keep the shock from her voice.
‘Well, I know that, once we’re married, that will be part of it, but as my mum has always said, we need do no more than our duty and then, when the kids have arrived, it can all be done and dusted with.
Like tarmacking the drive or building a shed: do it right first time and it will last a lifetime. ’
‘I . . . I guess . . .’ Lilly stared at her friend and felt an inexplicable sadness that this was how Glenda thought about this most life-affirming of things.
Only in her infancy on this sexual journey, she already knew it was something she was keen to explore further, something she liked very much.
Was that not normal? Was there something wrong with her?
Was it odd to think about it as much as she did, to be so keen to feel Wilkie’s skin against hers?
Lilly was now clear on what Glenda’s mum thought about it all, but wished she could speak to her own mum about it, wished her mum wasn’t the abandoning kind, wished her dad had not had his heart broken by her, wished a lot of things . . .
‘My mum says it’s important to give men what they want, but that it all wears off eventually. The fuss dies down and then you can live a simple life, an easier life.’
‘Jeez!’ Lilly felt aghast at the prospect of all the fuss dying down and did not, if no sex was the result, want to live a simple, easier life like that!
‘Maybe that’s just how your mum feels. Maybe once you and Norm get underneath your candlewick bedspread, you might feel differently?’ Lilly spoke softly, kindly, trying to open her friend’s eyes without indicating that she might have actual experience or a view to the contrary.
‘Maybe.’ Glenda dug her fingers beneath the remaining sandwich, produced a McVitie’s Taxi and peeled off the wrapper. ‘Want a bite?’ Glenda was the consummate sharer.
‘No, thanks.’
‘I think we’re probably going to be like our mums though, don’t you? I mean, we learn from them, we’re half of them. So I think I’ll probably feel the same as she does.’
This thought made the breath catch in Lilly’s throat.
Was there something wrong with her own mum too?
Was it Jeannie’s dark and desperate sexual desire that had driven her out of the arms of Lilly’s dad and into the arms of Derek Manners?
Did Lilly herself have the same damaging, destructive streak marbling her veins, meaning she, too, had the capacity to break the heart of someone lovely, someone worthy, someone like Wilkie?
And all for what, a taste of the addictive elixir that was good sex?
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of her mum in bed with the cardigan-wearing TV repair man in their flat above the shop.
And then a thought that was worse: what if her dad shared the same desire, the same want for his wife, and now felt only the loss of it, of her?
No wonder he missed her with every breath he took, every minute of every day.
‘I want it to be lovely and passionate and for ever.’ She spoke the words softly, putting her thoughts out into the world and ridiculously hoping they might float across the city and land in Wilkie’s ear.
‘I’m more of a realist than you.’ Glenda snapped the lid back on the Tupperware box.
‘I think more practically about life. I want it to be steady, and Norman is steady; hard-working, doesn’t drink or gamble, he’s neat, clean and would never raise a hand to me.
’ Lilly opened her mouth as if to say that should be a given, but chose to stay quiet, not wanting to throw any more tension into the conversation.
‘He has also said that one day we will have a lovely little house with a garden and that I can fill it with nice things.’
‘And that’s enough for you, Glenda?’ She knew her friend was a talented ceramicist with a passion for cups and mugs.
The thought of her giving it all up to be a housewife, to stay at home and collect the kind of china she was more than capable of making herself, was a sobering one.
Lilly wanted marriage, kids, all of it, eventually.
But she also wanted to marry the kind of man who would encourage her work, inspire her to paint, and not hem her in or limit her.
Even though it was very early days, she felt that someone smart and open like Wilkie might be just what she was looking for.
It was a thought that caused her stomach to bunch with excitement!
This, too, she was not about to share with Glenda.
‘More than enough.’ Glenda held her gaze. ‘I also think the old phrase is true: no one is going to want to buy the cow if you give the milk for free.’
Her friend stared at her as if she was not quite as in the dark about Lilly and Wilkie’s fumblings as she suspected.
‘Well, what a terrible phrase that is!’ Lilly knew it was one that would make Bertie laugh in the retelling.
‘It’s true though, Lil. Women can’t afford to be so forward, not without being seen in the wrong light. You might not like it, but it’s very true. You sure you don’t want something to eat?’ Glenda held out her lunchbox.
With her friend’s words echoing in her thoughts, she had never had less of an appetite.
‘Positive, thanks.’
Lilly bent over laughing, resting her hands on her knees as she wheezed and tried to catch her breath. ‘I can’t do it! I can’t!’ She leaned on the railings outside a house as Wilkie held out his coat.
‘You can! Come on! It’s an excellent plan. You hide under here and I’ll carry you over my shoulder like a rolled-up carpet and lug you up the stairs.’
‘What if Mrs Horn-Haverington sees me? She’ll think you’ve committed murder! What with my skinny legs dangling down your back.’
‘You might be right.’ He rubbed his chin.
‘Okay, I’ve got it.’ He clapped his hands together as a thought occurred, a ludicrous idea, fuelled no doubt by the pints he’d consumed in the Prince of Wales pub, while she had sipped shandy.
‘What if you shimmy up the drainpipe, I’ll go ahead and open the window on the landing, and you clamber in? Are you afraid of heights?’