Love Lessons Read online

  – and yet I was thick enough to h a n d it straight to him. Dad shuffled the envelopes, opening them with his eggy knife, chucking several bills straight into the bin.

  'We can't just ignore them, Bernard,' Mum said anxiously.

  'Yes we can,' said Dad.

  'But we're going to have to pay sometime.'

  'I don't know what with,' said Dad, flapping another sheet of paper at her. 'This is from the bank. "Overdraft . . . not acceptable . . .

  blah-di-blah." J u m p e d up little penpusher. I don't need him to point out my financial circumstances, thanks very much.'

  That letter went in the bin too. Mum twitched, peering over at it, ready to whisk it out the minute Dad left the room.

  He binned the next letter too, barely reading it.

  'What was t h a t about, dear?' Mum asked anxiously.

  'That interfering creep Miles from t h e education authority. He's still banging on about Prudence's GCSE coaching. Demanding details, tutors' names, timetables! God almighty!'

  'Well, that's OK, dear. We've got Prue started at Miss Roberts's. Then maybe we can manage 25

  some science tuition later on. But you'd better write and let him know. J u s t in case he might t u r n nasty.'

  'Let him try! Now, what's this?' said Dad. He slit open the white envelope, took out the sheet of paper and read the letter. He sat very still.

  'Prudence?' he said quietly.

  My heart started thudding under my red-and-white checks. 'Yes?'

  'This is a letter from Miss Roberts,' Dad said ominously.

  I swallowed. Grace nudged up close to me.

  'Oh dear,' said Mum. 'Doesn't she think Prue's been making any progress?'

  'Well. You could say that,' said Dad, spinning it out. His whole body was tensed, ready to spring.

  'Now don't go getting cross with her, Bernard.

  It's not her fault she finds maths a puzzle. I'm sure she's doing her best,' said Mum.

  'Yes, she's doing her best, all right,' said Dad, his voice rising. His pale face flushed purple.

  'Doing her best to make a monkey out of me!'

  He shouted it, spit spraying into the air. Then he wavered, wobbling sideways so t h a t he had to clutch the table.

  'Don't get so het up, please,' Mum begged. 'Are you having another funny turn?'

  'Yes, I am – and it's no blooming wonder!' Dad said, through clenched teeth. He leaned over the table at me. 'How dare you!' he yelled, thumping the old scratched pine so hard t h a t all the plates and knives and spoons rattled.

  26

  Grace reached out and held my h a n d under the table.

  'What has she done, Bernard?' Mum asked.

  'Has this Miss Roberts complained about her?

  Maybe she's simply too strict for our Prue.'

  'Miss Roberts hasn't complained, as such.

  She's simply a little perturbed. She hasn't seen hide nor hair of Prudence for the last three weeks.'

  'What?' said Mum. 'But – but why? Did you get lost, Prue? Why didn't you go?'

  'Well?' Dad shouted, leaning so far over the table his face was nearly touching mine.

  'I went once and I couldn't understand a thing.

  I just didn't see the point,' I muttered.

  'I can't believe I'm hearing this!' Dad bellowed.

  'Why didn't you come and tell me, after your one obviously disastrous visit?'

  'I didn't want to,' I said, right into his face.

  'You didn't want to. Even though you knew Mr Miles is all set to leap into action and slam your mother and me behind bars for not giving you a proper education?'

  'He won't put us in prison! Will he?' Mum said weakly.

  'Of course you won't go to prison, Mum.'

  'Oh, Miss Know-It-All! Only you know damn all, even though you think you're so smart. You need to get to grips with maths, even if you're just going to waste your time at a r t college.

  Remember that, missy. You thought you could swan off and do your own thing, tell bare-faced 27

  lies to your own father, waste everyone's time and money—'

  He stopped short, his mouth still working silently though he'd r u n out of words.

  'Bernard? Do calm down – you're getting yourself in such a state. You're making yourself ill!' said Mum, catching hold of his arm.

  He brushed her away as if she was some irritating insect. He focused on me. His face was still purple. Even his eyes were bloodshot with his rage. 'What about my money?' he screamed.

  'What have you done with my eighty pounds?'

  'Sixty. I paid the first time.'

  'Don't you dare quibble with me! Sixty, eighty, whatever. Hand it over immediately, do you hear me?'

  'I can't.'

  Dad struggled to draw breath. He looked as if his head was about to explode, shooting eyes, teeth, tongue all over the table. 'I said hand it over immediately!'

  'I can't, Dad. I've spent it,' I said.

  Dad reeled. 'You've spent eighty pounds of my money?' he gasped.

  'Sixty pounds, Dad. Yes. I'm sorry,' I said weakly.

  'Whatever did you spend it on, Prudence?' Mum whispered.

  I swallowed, unable to say.

  'She spent it on me. On chocolate. Lots and lots and lots of chocolate,' Grace gabbled desperately.

  28

  'I might have known. You greedy little fool!'

  said Dad in disgust. 'So you stuffed your great gut with my hard-earned money.'

  I was suddenly so angry I wasn't frightened of Dad any more.

  'Don't talk to Grace like t h a t , Dad. It's horrible, and it's so unfair. I didn't spend the money on chocolate. Grace is just saying t h a t to protect me. I spent it on other stuff.'

  'What stuff?' said Mum, who'd never spent sixty pounds in one go in her life.

  'I went to McDonald's, I bought magazines, I got a special box of watercolours from the art shop—'

  'That wouldn't use up eighty whole pounds!

  Give me what's left!'

  'Sixty, Dad, sixty! I spent all of it. I bought some underwear too.'

  'Underwear?' Dad gasped. 'What sort of an idiot do you take me for, Prudence? What did you really buy?'

  'Oh my lord, you're not on drugs, are you?'

  said Mum.

  I'd never had the chance to smoke so much as a Silk Cut, never swallowed anything more sinister t h a n an aspirin. The idea t h a t I'd somehow been hobnobbing with drug dealers was so ludicrous I couldn't help smiling.

  Dad's h a n d shot out. I felt such a whack on my cheek t h a t I nearly toppled sideways.

  'Take t h a t smirk off your face! Now tell me what you spent eighty pounds on, you little liar.'

  29

  Grace started crying, but I was too angry for tears.

  'It was sixty pounds, Dad – don't you ever listen? And I told you, I bought my watercolour p a i n t s , some food in McDonald's, some magazines . . . and some underwear.'

  'Show me!' said Dad.

  'Don't, Bernard! Of course she can't show you,'

  Mum said. She looked at me worriedly, putting her hand on my scarlet cheek. She rubbed at it, as if she could wipe the slap away.

  'I'll show him,' I said. 'I'll go and get it.'

  'No – don't, Prue!' Grace wept. 'She really did buy me chocolate, Dad, a great big bunny, I swear she did.'

  'Ssh, Grace. Dad won't believe you. He thinks we're both liars. Well, we'll show him.'

  I strode to t h e bedroom, pulled open my drawer, found my beautiful new bra and knickers, took hold of them in each hand, ran back and threw them down on the table in front of Dad.

  He recoiled as if they were hissing vipers. We all stared at the pink satin bra, the padded cups standing out proudly, edged with black lace. The wispy matching knickers curled in an S shape, barely wider t h a n a ribbon.

  Behind the table the family's damp underwear hung limply on the airer, grey-white, baggy, slackly elasticated, almost interchangeable.

  'Y