Naomi Alderman - The Lessons

‘Nicola’s the oldest sister, is that right?’ I asked.

‘Yup,’ said Franny, ‘oldest after Simon. She’s thirteen. Then there’s Eloise, who’s eight, and Leo, who’s four.’

‘Four!’ I said. It was faintly scandalous to imagine that anyone of my parents’ age could have a four-year-old child. The implication that they were still having sex was impossible to ignore.

‘I know ,’ said Franny. ‘Simon says he used to take Leo out in his pushchair and old women berated him for being a teenage dad.’

She rolled down the window, lit a cigarette and puffed on it briefly, five or six drags, before flicking it on to the road.

‘There it is,’ she said. ‘Park Farm, there, see the green sign? Turn in there.’

*

The Wedmores were variations on a theme of pink and cream. Next to Simon’s ruddy skin and straw-coloured hair, one could see how they all fitted together. Nicola, the evangelical thirteen-year-old, had bright blonde hair and cream-coloured skin, rising to pink in the apples of her cheeks. She wore a wooden cross on a leather thong. Eloise, eight years old and bookish, was all pale, even to her eyelashes, wearing a dark blue print dress that made her look paler still. She complained, as soon as we arrived, that she had a headache and knew it must be sunstroke, while the others laughed and rolled their eyes because Eloise was a known hypochondriac. Rebecca, their mother, was sunburned, rosy, short-cropped hair a thick dark yellow, dressed in rolled-up dungarees and leading Leo, all golden-headed and curious, by the hand. Only David, the father, was dark-haired, but his shoulders and his blunt nose were Simon’s too.

One could also see where Simon’s personality had grown. There was his father in his stolidity and good humour. When his mother made a little gesture, flattening her lips and cradling her jaw in her hand as she thought, I caught Jess’s eye and we smiled, because Simon had this precise gesture, exactly the same. And in the dynamics of the family too, in the shouting for attention at the table and Nicola saying, ‘Eloise, for the last time put that book down and pass the potatoes,’ and Eloise sticking her tongue out and pouting, and Rebecca frowning and chiding but smiling at the same time, and David calmly reaching behind and passing the potatoes, in all of these things Simon was clearly visible.

The family went to bed at 10 p.m. or so, and Rebecca said, ‘Don’t stay up too late. And remember to put everything in the dishwasher when you’ve finished.’

And these last words reminded me of the old rusty tap in the kitchen at Annulet House that had to be opened and closed with a pair of pliers. I thought that being wealthy was not the same thing as being grown up and it was startling to me that I had never thought so before.

We stayed up late, of course, as we always did. We opened another bottle of wine, and Nicola stayed downstairs to talk. She was coming into spots with a shiny face, a little awkward in the floral dress which accentuated her already-large bosom. She spoke earnestly about her church and the vicar, while Franny shot Jess a knowing glance. Nicola was interested in Franny, curious but wary.

She said, ‘So, Si, is Franny your girlfriend ? You never say properly.’

And Simon looked at Franny and Franny looked at Simon.

‘I wouldn’t say girlfriend ,’ said Franny.

‘Fiancée?’ said Simon.

Nicola’s eyes opened very wide.

‘Don’t tease the girl, Simon. We’re not so much boyfriend-and-girlfriend,’ Franny began, ‘we don’t so much go out as …’

‘You don’t so much go out as stay in,’ said Mark.

Nicola looked a little puzzled by this.

‘Modern life is so complicated,’ said Jess. ‘They’re very lovely friends is all.’

‘And do you have a boyfriend, Nicola?’ said Franny, looking at her over her glasses. ‘Or a girlfriend, don’t want to make assumptions.’

Nicola blushed. ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘I’m too young. Our vicar says that …’

Mark rolled his eyes at us.

‘She’s been like this all day, you know. Our vicar this, our vicar that. I want to meet this vicar if he’s got a thirteen-year-old-girl so interested in him.’

Nicola’s flush crept up her neck, pink and prickled.

‘It’s not like that,’ she said. ‘He tells us a lot of true things, that’s all, things that …’

Mark interrupted again. ‘Well, if he tells you you’re too young for a boyfriend at thirteen he’s not telling you anything true at all. Even I had a boyfriend at thirteen.’

Nicola blinked, tried to laugh as if to prove that this must be a joke, then stopped. I noticed that Jess met her eyes and smiled kindly.

‘I don’t understand …’ said Nicola, then stopped, looked at us and said, ‘Are you gay ?’

Mark said, ‘Not only gay, my darling, but positively ecstatic.’

‘Oh,’ she said. She looked crestfallen.

Mark had arrived at the house a few hours before us; he and Nicola had spent the afternoon chatting together in the orchard. I thought how impressive he would appear to a thirteen-year-old girl.

She frowned, then said, ‘Our vicar says there’s no such thing as gay, just misguided.’

Franny drew in her breath sharply.

‘Now come on, Nic …’ said Simon.

‘That’s what he says.’ She nodded. ‘He’s not so horrible as you think, Si. He says gay people deserve our sympathy and compassion, but their desires are sinful.’

‘Oh yes,’ muttered Franny, ‘I wonder what he makes of Jews.’

Nicola drew breath to speak, got as far as saying, ‘Well,’ when Simon said swiftly, ‘That’s enough, Nicola,’ and then, apologetically, to us, ‘She’s only repeating what she’s heard.’

‘Don’t talk about me like I’m five years old.’

‘Stop talking nonsense and I will,’ and to us, ‘I’m really sorry about this.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ said Mark, pouring himself another glass of wine. ‘It’s not nonsense. It’s faith, that’s all. I’m a religious man myself, you know, Nicola. More wine?’

Nicola accepted the glass of red wine and sipped it slowly.

‘Now,’ said Mark, ‘tell us what your vicar says about gay people and we can have a proper conversation about it.’

Franny said, ‘But if you start telling me what he says about Jews, I’m going to bed.’

Mark tutted. ‘I’m sure that, like me, he thinks Jews are perfectly splendid, doesn’t he, Nicola?’

Nicola said, ‘Well, he …’

‘Go on,’ Franny drawled.

Nicola fiddled with her napkin.

‘Maybe it really is time for bed now,’ said Jess.

‘Yes, I …’ began Simon.

‘He thinks Jews would be happier if they accepted Christ,’ said Nicola quickly. ‘And he says that gay people deserve our compassion, but they ought to try to not be gay because that’s what God wants.’

‘Ah, a progressive,’ said Franny. ‘At least he doesn’t want us all burned, Mark.’

‘Maybe he’s right,’ said Mark. ‘How do you know, my darling Fran, that you wouldn’t be happier if you accepted Christ?’

‘Since I have a hard enough time accepting the tenets of my own religion,’ said Franny, pointedly picking up a piece of Parma ham from the cheeseboard, showing it round the table before popping it into her mouth, ‘I hardly think taking on a new one is going to bring me joy.’

‘But Nicola’s vicar — he does sound like a brave man — might tell you about the Gospel, the Good News, my love. Your religion with all its prejudices against the flesh of the pig is no more. Only believe in Christ and your troubles will be at an end.’

‘And you?’ said Franny, more jovial now, ‘I suppose you’d be happiest as a celibate, would you?’