Free The Facts of Life and Death by Belinda Bauer Page B

world, but Alison said it was more fun if they kept it a secret, and was careful not to let on at school or anywhere else. She’d barely even let him
see
her, let alone have sex again – that’s how much fun she thought their secret would be – but they couldn’t keep it a secret for ever.
    Ruby had seen to that.
    At first John couldn’t believe his bad luck. Getting Ali pregnant on their very first time! But, as it turned out, a baby on the way was like a proof of purchase for a girl he would otherwise never have been able to afford.
    Alison’s father had hit the roof. Gone
through
the roof. He’d actually cried. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so insulting. And the more pissed off Malcolm Jewell got, the more obstinate he’d become. Mr Jewell had demanded an abortion – what he called ‘Taking care of it so we can all get back to normal’ – but Alison had refused point blank. Even John had been surprised by how vehement she’d been about wanting to marry him – and moved by how much she loved him.
    For the first time in his life, he’d felt he had the upper hand. Alison was
his
now. She was having
his
baby and
he
would call the shots – and if that meant a register office and a suit from Oxfam, then so be it. Her father could rage and her hoity-toity mother could cry and moan all she liked, but John had taken pleasure in telling them both that he was not one for charity.
    ‘It’s not about
charity
,’ Rosemary Jewell had said in her squeaky, sneaky, pop-eyed way. ‘It’s about
tradition.’
    John Trick snorted and snapped open another can. Tradition, bollocks; it was about
possession.
    Nine-tenths of the law.
    They’d married in Barnstaple register office, with Alison in a plain blue dress and her mother sobbing throughout. He hadn’t even told
his
mother. She’d made her own choice years before, and it wasn’t him.
    When he’d kissed the bride, she’d cried and whispered into his mouth, ‘Thank you.’
    It seemed a long, long time ago, and lately, even nine-tenths didn’t feel like enough.
    In the slow drizzle of the beach, John stared into the shimmering gold of his cider and thought about possession. Possessions were difficult things. Other people liked them too, and would take them from you if they could.
    Alison’s parents would like to take her from him, for starters. They
still
thought she was too good for him. He tried only to see them at Christmas, but he could tell that was true in Malcolm’s stiff handshake and the way Rosemary touched his good cheek with hers – dry and distant despite the contact. They gave Ali money in secret – he knew that. Not just for her birthday and Christmas, but at other times too. She tried to hide it from him, but he had eyes. He’d found the receipt for the groceries they could not afford; noticed the new jeans Ruby was wearing before her old ones had even gone through at the knees. They were trying to buy Alison back, to control her with money, to loosen his hold. They must have thought they had a shot at it, ever since he’d lost his job.
    As if losing his job had made him less entitled to his own wife.
    And they tried to buy Ruby too, even though she was more
his
than anything had ever been. Last birthday they’d bought her a bicycle – pink, tassled, and the silliest gift you could buy for a child who lived squeezed between a hill and a cliff. Malcolm Jewell had spent hours puffing up and down the hill behind Ruby, holding on to the saddle, and with his face as red as his thinning hair. Ruby never rode the bicycle now, John was pleased to note, but buying it had been disrespectful to him.
    And the worst of it was, Alison
let
them disrespect him and then
lied
to him about it. He could always tell – the way she tucked her hair behind her ear.
    And now something strange was going on too. Something to do with the big glove, and those new shoes that were too high for either of them.
    Alison lied to him about money. Now – for the