Sequel: Upwards

Frontwards

Grand-maman.

Wednesday, 18th January, 2006.

You’d better believe I didn’t change out of my pyjamas at all today. The guys were practising in the basement (a week I’ve been in this house and I only just find out there is a basement. I told you they never tell me anything) and Alice and I slobbed out on the sofa and watched Maury. At lunch she made me a burger. I think I’m falling in love with this woman.

Friday, 19th January, 2006.

As the band was practising this afternoon, I finally gathered the balls to phone my mother. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it or anything despite the fact that it was a big deal. But I hadn’t even told Frank about the whole situation yet so I figured I’d be best doing it when everybody else was occupied.

The phone rang three times before she answered. “Bonjour?”

“Bonjour, maman! C’est moi!”

“Mon dieu! Daisy?”

“Oui! Comment-tu vas?”

“Daisy, you can speak English, you know.”

I sighed in relief. “Thank god. I’d exhausted all my French there.”

There was an awkward pause. There were often awkward pauses when my mother and I conversed. Not that it had happened a lot within the past 6 years. In fact it had been 2 whole years since our last phone call.

“So, what brings you to call?” she asked tentatively. On the rare occasions we do speak, it is best to tread lightly. There are many hard feelings between us, simmering below the surface. So most of our conversations are brief and awkward. We’re both very aware that the smallest of things can cause another argument. And I like to think I’m mature enough to handle it these days but the truth is I’m not. I’m still very angry with my mother and she’s still very angry with me. We’re both too stubborn to let it go. Ironically, we’re actually very similar. Which is most of the problem, really.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” I said. “And I’m not quite sure how to tell you but basically you’re going to be a grand-maman.”

I waited for a backlash. I waited for ‘OH MY GOD DAISY YOU’RE SO FUCKING IRRESPONSIBLE HOW COULD YOU YOU’VE RUINED YOUR LIFE FOREVER.’ But then I realised that I’m not 18 anymore.

Instead what came was silence. A very long silence. For a moment I wondered if she’d hung up on me or had an aneurism or something. But then, in an alarmingly calm voice, she said, “Are you telling me that you’re pregnant, Daisy?”

“Yes, mother. Eleven weeks,” I told her, my hand instinctively reaching for my belly. “Bun toasting nicely in the oven.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said quietly, and it sounded like she might have been about to cry. “That’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

I let her continue to think it was intentional because although I may not agree with all of my mother’s decisions, she’s still my mum and I didn’t want her to be too disappointed in me. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t care.

“Thanks, mum,” I smiled, although she couldn’t see it. “We’re really excited about it.”

She made a little cooing noise. “You should have told me you had a boyfriend, love,” she said and it made me feel incredibly guilty about not having spoken to my mother in forever. But then I realised that she hadn’t called to ask how I was doing either. So it was pretty even.

“I know, I should have,” I said neutrally.

“Well, tell me about him then,” she pried.

“Well, his name is Frank,” I said. “He’s American. He’s in a band and they’re doing really well. They just signed their third album deal, actually.” You see, I’m not even lying. Every word I’ve spoken has been truth. Just a condensed truth. An edited truth.

“Well congratulations,” she said. “I’m really very happy for you, Daisy. Do keep me updated, won’t you?”

“Will do,” I said, sensing that the conversation was essentially over. “Anyway I’d better go. Bye, mum.”

“Goodbye, love.”

And that was that. And we both knew I wouldn’t keep her updated because we both knew she didn’t really care. She was happy enough just to know that I was alive and happy. In fact I bet she never even considered me these days, with her new family. And that’s fair enough, whatever.

Bitch.

Saturday, 20th January, 2006.

For the first time since Tuesday, Frank emerged from the basement in normal daylight hours. Until now, the guys had been writing and practising downstairs from 9am to 10pm every single day. So this morning, when they all came into the kitchen as I was eating my sandwich, it’s fair to say I was surprised to see them.

“Are you okay?” I asked them. “Has there been a fire? Where’s Ray? Oh god, has he died? Where are we going to find a coffin big enough to cater for all that hair?”

“Calm down, Fatty, I’m still here” Ray called from the hallway.

I rolled my eyes. “So glad that nickname is catching,” I muttered.

Gerard chuckled and I glared at him as he took the seat opposite me. Frank fell into the chair beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. I offered him some of my sandwich and he took a bite. It was like hand-feeding a baby deer.

“So how’s it actually going?” I asked.

“It’s exhausting,” Mikey mumbled, taking the last seat around the kitchen table. Bob and Ray had both disappeared.

Gerard and Frank nodded in agreement. “We decided to take the weekend off,” Frank said. “To recuperate.”

I tried to contain my happiness. Honestly I did. But I couldn’t help but smile because this meant I could have Frank back again for a couple of days. I absent-mindedly stroked the top of his head as he nibbled at the remainder of my sandwich.

“I’m sleepy,” he announced. “I might go for a nap.”

I nodded. “Me too. Let’s go nap.”

Gerard and Mikey shared a look of disgust and I flagged them as we stood up. “See you later, losers,” I said affectionately before we left the kitchen.

Since I’d been largely alone for the best part of the week, I was feeling pretty needy. And truth be told I had missed seeing Frank all the time. We still slept in the same bed but nothing ever happened. We just had a quick cuddle and then we were both asleep. We didn’t even get to talk much because we were so tired.

“I’ve missed you,” I admitted as I climbed into bed. Yes I was still in my pyjamas from this morning. So sue me. What’s the point of getting dressed if you’re not leaving the house?

Frank smiled as he undid his belt and slipped out of his jeans. “I’ve missed you too, babe,” he said. I saw him contemplate taking his shirt off and thankfully he decided to proceed. Yummy.

“I’ve missed your tattoos,” I grinned as he slid in beside me. I leant up on one elbow and admired the illustrations across his chest and arms. With one finger I gently traced over the scorpion on his neck. “This one’s my favourite,” I told him.

He laughed. “How come?”

I shrugged and planted a light kiss on the scorpion. “I don’t know. Because it’s you. It’s one of the first things anybody notices about you.”

He turned to face me. “And what was the first thing you noticed about me?”

I cast my mind back, all the way back to November. That evening on the train. A lifetime ago now. “Your smile,” I said thoughtfully. “I think it was your smile.” He smiled again now. “Yeah, that’s the one,” I laughed. “That was probably the first thing.”

He put his arms around me and I settled back down onto the pillow. Our faces were almost touching.
“What about me?” I asked. “What did you first notice about me?”

Frank let out a small chuckle as he reminisced. Which didn’t really bode too well, I thought. “You had the most adorable look on your face,” he said fondly. “You looked so lost and confused like you just couldn’t understand what was going on.”

“I couldn’t understand,” I laughed. “I was all ‘who the fuck is this joker in my seat with the beautiful smile?’” And we both laughed because we both knew I was being serious.

“The second thing I noticed was your rack, though,” Frank added, and I headbutted him lightly for being a pig but overall he took it quite well.