Is This It? Read online

  I love you with all my heart.

  Gramps xxx

  It was the first time since Gramps’ death that I’d been able to finish reading the letter. Usually, I would get to the part where he said he was proud of me, and I’d be so overwhelmed that I’d have to stop.

  I put the letter away, opened my laptop to the blank application form, and started typing. For the first time in a long time, my head was clear, and I knew what I had to say.

  5

  I rang Mam on the way to the interview, a decision I will regret until the day I die.

  ‘Are you prepared?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I didn’t think I’d need to prepare anything for a five-hour interview, so I went out clubbing last night.’

  ‘Christ alive, mun.’

  I smiled; she sounded just like Gramps.

  ‘Of course I’m prepared,’ I said. ‘I’ve been planning this for weeks.’

  ‘You’ve not been smoking today, have you?’

  ‘No, I told you, I’m trying to give up.’

  ‘What are you wearing?’

  ‘I guess you’d call it a smock dress.’

  ‘Your figure doesn’t suit a smock.’

  ‘What do you mean “figure”? I’m a size ten.’

  ‘Did you moisturise this morning? You get dry skin in spring.’

  ‘Yes, I moisturised.’

  ‘What about your hair?’

  ‘I blow-dried it last night.’

  ‘And the poem?’

  ‘I’m going to do an extract from The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me.’

  ‘Joio. Everyone loves Roald Dahl – and he’s Welsh. It’s important to show your roots.’

  ‘Anything else, Mam?’

  ‘Why are you using that tone with me, darling?’

  ‘Because I’ve got a potentially life-changing day ahead of me and you’re focusing on my hair.’

  ‘I asked you one question! Why do you have to jump down my throat all the time?’

  ‘Me jump down your throat? You jump down my throat.’

  ‘You’re under a lot of pressure so I won’t take that personally.’

  ‘I need to go, I’m almost at the gates.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, darling. Listen, they’re not expecting you to be a fully formed teacher today. So just go in there and show them your passion, your drive and your sparkling personality, and they will love you. When you are yourself, truly yourself, you shine.’

  ‘Thank you, Mam. Why couldn’t you lead with that?’

  ‘It’s good to keep you on your toes.’

  ‘I’ll ring you later.’

  ‘Pob lwc! Go forth and soar, darling.’

  I had chosen to interview for the split course back at Clerkenwell Primary, with Mr Reid. There was a place for a first-year trainee in his Reception class and I was going to prove to everyone that I was deserving of it. Yes, I would often break down when a four-year-old made fun of me, and at times I could be scatty and disorganised, but I had developed exceptional asset control when it came to crayon usage. Not to mention having a clean driving licence. I was born to do this.

  ‘You’re wasting everyone’s time,’ Dilys said. ‘You might as well go back home and eat boiled eggs for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I only ate boiled eggs last week because I was waiting for pay day.’

  ‘International summits take less time than it took you to decide what to wear this morning, and you still got it wrong.’

  I looked down at my dress and wondered whether Mam – and Dilys – were right.

  ‘I’m shutting you off now, Dilys,’ I said, stamping my foot on the pavement. ‘I can do this.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  When someone tells you that you can’t do something, you go out there and you do everything you can to prove them wrong. I held my head high and walked through the playground – past the snakes and ladders, hopscotch and noughts and crosses – towards the entrance of the school. Mary, the receptionist, was standing by the door, waving her arms high above her. She reminded me of my own primary school receptionist, although Mary’s skin wasn’t so leathery – probably because she didn’t spend every weekend sunbathing starkers on Oxwich Bay.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s been five weeks,’ Mary said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Raring to go. I’ve stocked up on snacks and I’ve got two litres of water to keep me hydrated.’

  ‘What sort of snacks?’

  ‘Mixed nuts, apple slices with peanut butter, carrot sticks—’

  ‘Very healthy, Ivy. I’m impressed.’

  ‘There’s also a family-size pack of Haribo in there if things start to get ropey.’

  She laughed. ‘They’re not going to get ropey.’

  ‘I know, but I feel safe knowing they’re there.’

  ‘Try not to think of it as a day-long interview, but a series of activities.’

  I visualised myself and Gramps on a beach, drawing together. Drawing and painting are the only activities I’ve ever done. I don’t think clubbing counts.

  ‘It’s a good thing you already know Mr Reid,’ she said. ‘It’ll be nice to have a familiar face in there.’

  I wanted to respond but all I could think about was my increasingly sweaty under-boob. I put my hand behind my back and lifted my bra to let some air in.

  ‘You’ve got to have a thick skin to be a teacher, you know,’ Mary said.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me, Mary. I’m like a Rhino. Thickest skin in all the land.’

  ‘I knew I liked you. Right then, let’s get you into that interview room.’

  She told me to walk down the corridor, past the assembly hall and into Room 103, where Mr Reid would be waiting for me.

  I peeped into the assembly hall on my way to the interview room; it was my favourite room in the school. Every child had contributed to a piece of art on the walls. There were so many colours and textures, and right in the middle was a massive turtle made from plastic bottles, with ‘TOGETHER, WE CAN SAVE THE PLANET’ written in huge letters above. I’ve always admired turtles; I like the way that they can retreat into their shell to get away from the world. What a glorious skill to have.

  I stood in the middle of the room and began to picture myself as a real teacher, addressing my class. I started to get heart palpitations as I heard someone call my name. I turned around and saw Mr Reid.

  I walked towards him and he put his hand out to shake mine.

  ‘Ivy,’ he said.

  He had greying stubble on his chin and dark circles under his eyes. He looked just like I felt. Luckily for me, however, Mia’s new friend Patricia – a Professional Spell Caster and Experienced Spiritual Healer who she’d met at an actor’s workshop – had made me a cleansing mask to bring good luck, prosperity and a dewy glow that you typically only find on pregnant people.

  ‘We’ll start with the interview first,’ Mr Reid said, ‘and then move on to the maths and English tests. After that we’ll have a break before your presentation to the class, OK?’

  ‘Excellent, I’m looking forward to it,’ I said, doing my utmost to look like a person who knew what they were doing.

  He led me into the interview room. There were four people sitting behind a long rectangular table at the back of the room, talking in hushed voices. As I entered the room, they turned towards me and smiled. I was expecting this number of panellists but seeing them there in front of me made my heart rate shoot up a notch. I looked to Mr Reid for assurance, but as usual he gave nothing away. As I approached the desk, I took a long deep breath through my nose, then exhaled all the air out through my mouth, just like Patricia had advised.

  ‘Great to meet you, Ivy,’ the one on the left said. I moved towards him, and, for reasons I’ll never understand, I leant into his face, and kissed him on the cheek. Then I moved towards his other cheek, and planted a kiss on him there, too.

  I didn’t know where to look or what to do. I had another three people to greet. I moved to the woman beside
him. She reached her hand out and I did the only thing I could do, and I went in for two kisses. I did the same to the third interviewer, and then the fourth. After I’d finished kissing everyone, I stood at the end of the desk and tried to smile. I felt my lips quiver and curl upwards, in a move that I can only imagine made me look like a complete sociopath. I’d fallen victim to this social tradition many times before, but never in an interview setting. I thought about the turtle and wished I had my own shell to retreat into.

  ‘Well, how very European,’ the woman said, after an awkward moment’s silence.

  ‘I’ve just come back from Spain,’ I blurted out.

  I went with Mam and Anna for two weeks back in December, so this wasn’t strictly true.

  ‘Where did you go?’ the woman asked, as she motioned for me to sit down.

  ‘We started off in Seville,’ I said, taking my seat in front of the desk. ‘I wanted to see the flamenco dancers and Gothic architecture. I thought it would inspire me.’

  ‘Inspire you?’

  ‘Yes – to paint. Sorry. I didn’t make that clear. I like to paint. I used to do it all the time, mainly for my grandfather. I’m trying to pick it back up again.’

  ‘Did you do much painting on your trip?’ they asked.

  ‘It’s a funny story, actually. I envisioned myself walking around with my apron and sun umbrella, but my mother likes us to do everything together, so I didn’t get much free time.’

  Nobody spoke. I didn’t know whether to finish the story, but I hadn’t given myself any other choice, so I carried on.

  ‘When we got to Cadiz, I took myself off to Playa de la Caleta, in the old town. Have you been?’

  One of them nodded. ‘We took our daughter there when she turned eighteen,’ they said.

  ‘It was so charming, sitting there on the water front, eating fried fish. I felt very Julia Roberts.’

  Nobody seemed to get the reference.

  ‘You know like in Eat, Pray, Love? It’s a film, based on a book. Anyway … I was hoping to paint, but after about an hour or so, my mother found me. She’d found out that this was where Halle Berry emerged from the sea in Die Another Day and insisted we re-enact it, film it, and send the video to my father.’

  One of the interviewers snorted.

  ‘She stripped down to her swimsuit and everything. The locals were perplexed … It was the highlight of the holiday.’

  They were all smiling now, even Mr Reid, and for the first time in weeks – and without the aid of a vodka soda – I felt myself relax, if only a little. They were normal people and I was a normal person, trying to achieve something with her life.

  I thought about what Mam had said about showing my creativity and confidence, and for the rest of the day that’s what I did. That’s all I could do: prepare, show up, be myself. If that wasn’t good enough then so be it, but at least I would’ve given it my best shot.

  6

  After pricing endless boxes of knitted animals for eight hours, I finished at the gift shop and walked to Anna’s. I’d asked for all the extra shifts at the museum, so I was practically living there at this point, and when I wasn’t, I was at home, eating budget food, checking my phone every minute to see if Mr Reid had called, or emailed, to let me know the outcome of the interview. But five days had passed, and I hadn’t heard a peep from him.

  I handed Anna the prune juice I’d picked up for her and sat down beside her on the sofa.

  ‘Thank God,’ she said, swigging from the bottle. ‘You wouldn’t believe how constipated I am.’

  Mark came out of the kitchen. ‘As you can see, romance is alive and well.’

  ‘Mark’s not seen my vagina for weeks,’ Anna said. ‘To be fair, I’ve not seen my vagina in weeks. I look like a bleached whale.’

  ‘You mean beached?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, why doesn’t my brain work any more.’

  She looked me up and down. ‘How come you look so good today?’

  ‘Mam sent me twenty quid, so I bought this dress in the ASOS sale. I saw Gemma Arterton wear something similar.’

  ‘You do have a Gemma Arterton vibe about you today.’

  ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

  She took her bra off under her T-shirt and flung it at me. ‘Ah, that’s better.’

  ‘You look like you’re in pain.’

  ‘That would be the gas, the bloating, and the constant ache around my pelvis.’

  ‘But everything’s fine, isn’t it? With the baby, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, darling, don’t worry. I just need work to ease up a bit.’

  ‘You need to take a step back, Anna. This is more important than work.’

  ‘You don’t know what law firms are like. There’s always some middle-aged posh white bloke eyeing up your job. I need to win this case.’

  Anna is a chronic overachiever. Pregnancy has forced her to slow down, but not without a good fight. She must do everything herself, and it must be perfect. You can imagine how fun it was growing up with her. She was like Veruca Salt, but without the heiress bit.

  ‘I long for the day when I can lie on the sofa in my pants and eat canned mackerel,’ she said.

  ‘Canned mackerel?’

  ‘The ones in sunflower oil, with shedloads of hot sauce.’ She licked her lips. ‘I can’t tell you how moreish it is.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

  ‘I’ve got to see the next three months out, then the baby will be here, and I’ll be relaxed.’

  ‘Yeah, having a newborn in the house does sound relaxing.’

  She lay down on the sofa and put her feet up on me. ‘How are you? Any news?’

  ‘No. It’s been over a month and he hasn’t messaged.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘The boy – Scott.’

  ‘I meant your interview, you tit.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. No news.’

  ‘Don’t look so panicked. It’s only been a few days.’

  She flicked through the channels until we saw Desperate Housewives of Atlanta.

  ‘Quick, put it on before Mark comes in,’ Anna said.

  I watched her get comfortable on the sofa and felt an overwhelming surge of love towards her. I knew how hard it had been for Mark and her to get to this point, and it didn’t matter how many times she told me not to worry, I always worried. I wanted to create a protective shield around her stomach and never let anyone other than the world’s finest obstetrician go within an inch of her.

  ‘Stop gawking at me,’ she said.

  ‘I was thinking about what to do with Mam and Dad this weekend.’

  ‘Shit, I almost forgot about that. Is it too late to cancel?’

  ‘Be nice. They’re not even staying here.’

  ‘Never again, Ivy. Never. Again.’

  The day after my surprise party, Mam went to John Lewis unsupervised and bought six cushions for Anna and Mark’s bedroom. She said she didn’t understand how anyone could sleep without at least one decorative cushion on their bed. She rearranged all the artwork in the living room and put up several framed photos of herself around the house. She then sacked Anna’s cleaner because she wasn’t doing a good enough job and conducted several rounds of interviews for the replacement before calling the original cleaner to admit she acted a bit hastily. Mark almost had a nervous breakdown and so it was agreed that, next time, Mam and Dad would stay in a hotel.

  ‘I’ll take them out for lunch tomorrow, just the three of us.’

  ‘Thank you, Ivy. I just need one moment’s peace. Mam’s been all over me like a rash.’

  ‘Makes a change to being all over me like a rash.’

  ‘Can your life go balls up again, please, so the attention can go back on you?’

  ‘It will at some point, don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t be sarcastic.’

  I wasn’t.

  The next day, I met Mam and Dad at a new tapas place in Highbury, not far from their hot
el.

  ‘How long do we have you for?’ Mam asked, as we browsed the menu.

  ‘We have ages. I’m not meeting Mia till much later.’

  ‘How long is “ages”?’

  I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re being overbearing. Stop it.’

  She picked up the drinks menu and winked at me. ‘I want to be sure we have enough time for a little afternoon sesh.’

  Mam made disgruntled noises like she often does in restaurants when one of the words on the menu isn’t in English.

  ‘Why don’t you get out your phone and use the translator app?’ I said. ‘The one I downloaded for you to use in Spain?’

  ‘Don’t you need 3G for that?’ she asked.

  ‘No, we had to use Wi-Fi when we were in Spain, but that’s only so the app wouldn’t drain your data.’

  ‘Drain my data? Speak English, mun?’

  ‘Why don’t you just order for us, eh, Ives?’ Dad said.

  The waiter came over and Mam argued with him over how many plates were acceptable for three people. Despite the endless tutorials we gave her on holiday, Mam can’t grasp the concept of tapas.

  ‘I had a long chat with Mia yesterday,’ she said, once the waiter had taken our order. ‘She’s teaching me how to use Instagram and I’m teaching her how to clean diamonds. I told her she should use an old, soft bristled toothbrush. No need to pay for one of those fancy cleaning cloths.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘You and I both know that Noah is dragging his feet. Jamie proposed to you in no time at all.’

  ‘And look how well that turned out.’

  ‘It’s been on her mind, that’s all.’

  ‘What has? Getting engaged?’

  ‘I’m an excellent reader between the lines.’

  ‘How long did it take you to propose?’ I asked Dad.

  ‘Your father took ages, mun,’ Mam said.

  ‘Margaret, that’s rubbish and you know it,’ he said. ‘I knew your mother from when we were teenagers. But she was three years below me and you just didn’t mix with people who weren’t in your class.’

  ‘Or school!’ Mam said. ‘Your father likes to forget that I went to the posh grammar school whilst he was stuck in the local comp.’