Funny Girl(92)

‘I’ve got nothing to say, Barbara. Sophie. Really. Nothing. Nothing interesting, no secrets. I’ve just got a long boring story about nothing.’

‘So what was the point of all that, then? What were you hoping for?’

‘Only something better. I didn’t get it, if that’s any consolation.’

‘It isn’t really.’

It was, though. She understood the need for something better. Sophie hadn’t hurt anyone when she’d come to London, but she would have done, if she’d had to. And she could argue that she had talent, and if she’d let it swell and fester, then it would have killed her. But she hadn’t known for sure it was real, and she hadn’t known for sure it would save her. Her mother’s escape route struck her as something that was a part of the old days. Gloria would never have dreamed of moving to London and finding out what she was capable of, how far she could go. Her way out was to latch on to a man and move with him to Bolton. It had never occurred to Sophie before, but the worst thing about being Miss Blackpool was the title. Taking your husband’s name when you became his wife was one thing. Taking your town’s name when you became its beauty queen was something else again.

‘You know I’m sorry, don’t you?’ Gloria said.

‘No. How would I know that? You’ve never told me. You never even tried to get in touch.’

‘Oh, of course I did. But your father wouldn’t have it, and I felt so guilty anyway … He said it was for the best if I kept away. He told me you hated me.’

Sophie didn’t say anything. It was true: she’d hated her. This hatred had been a child’s hate, untrustworthy, carefully nurtured by her father, and therefore immature, but it was hatred nevertheless. She thought again about what she’d confessed to Dennis the previous evening, that she’d long dreamed of her mother turning up so that she could ignore her. The dream could never have been realized if Gloria had been a better, more determined, more desperate mother. They would have had a handful of unhappy meetings, and nobody would have felt the benefit, and there would have been no rage, no fire, no move to London. She would have become Miss Blackpool, and her mother would have been on a deckchair, clapping and crying. She would have married someone with a car showroom. And why stop there? What if Gloria had stayed married to her father? Where would she be now? In Blackpool, for sure. In R. H. O. Hills, probably.

She owed her mother everything and nothing, all at the same time. For a couple of hours, she wanted to celebrate the everything, so she took her mother shopping. Finally, once they were no longer looking at each other, they began to talk. It was much easier to fill in gaps and ask questions while they were going through racks of coats and rejecting handbags. Jobs, Marie, cousins, London, Bolton, back and back and back through cosmetics counters until they reached school. They didn’t talk about the day Gloria left, though. Sophie couldn’t imagine that she’d ever want to talk about that.

‘I told your Dennis I wasn’t after anything,’ said Gloria as they were walking into Selfridges. ‘And it’ll be much more expensive here than at home.’

‘Who told you he was my Dennis?’ said Sophie.

‘Isn’t he?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m engaged to Clive.’

‘You’re engaged?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re going to get married?’

Why did everyone insist on treating her engagement and her future marriage as two separate, independent events? It was as if one was a kiss and the other a pregnancy: one could lead to the other, but only if a lot of other things happened in between. And yes, she sometimes thought that the chances of her and Clive becoming man and wife were slim, but when other people took the same view, she felt patronized.

‘Yes. We’re going to get married.’

‘Really?’

‘You didn’t see me with Clive. You didn’t meet him.’

‘No, but I saw you with Dennis … He looks after you.’

‘That’s his job.’

‘He’s supposed to run after long-lost mothers and get their address?’

‘That was him poking his nose into where he doesn’t belong.’

‘He’s soft on you, though, isn’t he?’

Sophie felt a sudden catch in her throat.

‘Well, he’s very nice.’

‘You didn’t know anything about me and Clive?’