Chapter 72: Chapter 72

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Thirty-Four Years Ago She lies on her bed, reading a book. Growing tall, she’s long in the leg and arm, heading for gangly.

Chintzy pink curtains drape around a window frame stacked with soft toys. Little plastic ponies in rainbow colours sit next to stacks of books and magazines with bright cartoon animals. Rabbits and teddy bears watch, beady-eyed, the girl where she lies, her copper hair clashing violently with the pink of the comforter.

There’s a tap at the door and almost immediately, it opens and Stephen steps in. “Hi there, Princess. I brought you some cocoa.”

She smiles, sitting up. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“How’s it going?” He sits beside her on the bed, then glances down at her book. “What are you reading?” Then he frowns, looking at the cover. ‘I Robot’…. Asimov…. Not really little-girl reading is it?”

“Stevie, I’m twelve. They’re good stories. They make you think, and my science teacher says….”

“I’ll find you something better.” He kisses her forehead “I’m going to the library tomorrow. I’ll see what I can find for you.” He tucks the paperback in his pocket. “Drink your cocoa. Time to turn your lights out.

Remember to brush your teeth.”

She sits up, sipping at her cocoa. After a while, setting the empty mug to one side, she gets up and goes to the bathroom.

She returns a few minutes later with a rim of wet hair at the top of her forehead and wearing pink pyjamas with Bambi and Thumper designs on the fabric. Climbing into bed, she watches the light under the bedroom door.

When the light goes out, she reaches under her pillow and pulls out a flashlight and a book: ‘Fifty Great Science Fiction Stories.’

Reading under her covers, she dreams of spaceships and explorers, galactic empires and adventure.

*****

Thirty-Two Years Ago “I don't like her hanging out with girls like that.” Stephen has a set to his chin and stands, arms folded, glaring at his brother.

David protests, “What's wrong with Rachel? She's a perfectly nice girl.”

“Are you kidding? Look at the way she's dressed. I'm surprised her parents let her out like that.”

“But all the girls wear the jeans cut like that these days. It’s just a fashion.”

“I'm not having my sister dressing like a slut.”

David looks pained. He rubs the back of his head. “Give her a break, Stephen. She’s got to spread her wings a bit….”

“Did I ask you? I’m eldest. Dad’s no good for anything these days, so that makes me the head of the family. And Shelley’s going to do as she's told.”

*****

Stephen stands over her. “You’re not going and that’s the end of it.”

Teenage rebellion is written into everything about her. She squares up to him, chin lifted to look her brother in the eye. “Everyone else is going. Why can’t I go?”

“Because I say so. You’re too young for that kind of party. Now go to your room. You have homework to do.”

He looms over her and she backs away little, but “I suppose you think I should only go to parties with blancmange rabbits or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and where they play Pass the Parcel or Pin the Tail on the Donkey….

As she steps backwards, he follows her, hand raised, “Shelley….” His voice is full of warning.

Tearful, she gulps. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not a kid anymore and you’re only my brother.”

“I am the head of this family now,” he spits, “and you’ll do as you’re told. Go to your room. If you argue any more, you’ll be grounded for the next week.”

Sullen-faced, she sags, surrenders and goes upstairs. Stephen watches her, only turning away when he sees her room door click closed behind her.

When she’s out of earshot, David says, “Stephen, I know you mean well, but you’ve got to give her a bit of freedom. She’s right. All the others in her class are going. If Mom was here….”

“Mom’s not here, so it’s up to me and you isn’t it.”

“She’s fourteen. She old enough to begin to make some of her own decisions.”

“Exactly, she’s fourteen and she could pass for seventeen. Have you seen some of the boys hanging around her?”

“And how’s she going to learn to deal with them if she’s never allowed out?”

Stephen glares. “She can go out when she’s older.”

“She could go out with her girlfriends,” suggests David. “We just insist they stay in a group. Catriona’s parents will be there.”

“They can’t watch everyone can they? I say she stays.”

*****

“You’re not going out dressed like that.”

Flushing, Shelley looks down at herself, “What’s wrong with it? It’s my school uniform.”

“They didn’t have skirts like that in the uniform when I was at school. Go put on something longer. At least down to your knees.”

“But it’s no different to any of the others. Everyone wears these.”

“I said, go change.”

“But it’s mine. I paid for it, with my Saturday money.”

“I don’t care. No sister of mine is going to be seen wearing that. You can take it back to the shop and change it for something more respectable. And what’s that on your face?”

She blinks, touching her cheek. “I just wanted to try….”

“Wash it off. You look like a cheap tart.”

“But all the other girls wear makeup.”

“You're not other girls. You’re my sister. Now go clean that muck off.”

In her bedroom, she sits at her rose- pink dressing table, cleaning away the touch of eye-shadow, the hint of lip-gloss she was wearing. From its place under the flounced drapes, the teddy bear Stephen bought her when she was six watches her beady-eyed. Tigger and Rabbit watch too as she wipes away blusher and tears with a tissue.

*****