Bridging the Gap

BRIDGING THE GAP

My days always start the same way. I leave the house in plenty of time to go through my pre school rituals. This morning it’s raining. Damn. I hate having to hang about in weather like this but needs must. After turning the corner I slip into a quiet alleyway. I turn over the waistband of my skirt four times so the hem just reaches mid thigh. Slipping off the black sensible lace ups I hate, I reach into my bag and bring out the trainers I secretly saved up for with my pocket money. Once they are on my feet, I slip off my school tie, undo my shirt collar and unravel the plaits in my hair. Now I look like the rest of the girls. Shaking loose my long black mane I continue my journey to school.

         “Morning Pippa,” my best friend Leanne greets me at the school gates. “Like my new nail varnish?” She flashes her immaculate crimson nails in my direction. Nail varnish. I should be so lucky. They’d never let me wear that.

         “No, Philippa,” is always the answer when I ask for make up or cosmetics. “You’re pretty enough as you are and besides you’re much too young.” But I’m thirteen for God’s sake. Then they drone on about lipstick and war paint being for women of the night, whatever they are. It’s just not fair; all my friends wear it. Why can’t they realise I’m almost grown up now?

         It wasn’t so bad when I was a kid; I never really noticed how different they were to other parents or how different they’d made me. Not having any friends at school didn’t bother me either; I was quite content to play solitary games in the only home I’d ever known. But things have changed now. Don’t get me wrong; I know they love me and I love them but now I realise they’ve wrapped me up in cotton wool all my life like a porcelain doll. Mollycoddled me like a pet poodle and now I want to slip the collar and make a run for it. I was about eleven when it dawned on me.

         I got a break when we moved to a new area and I started at the local Comp. I have to be devious and I feel a bit guilty about that but so far I’ve been accepted as one of the gang and I’m doing my best to keep it that way. I’m sure they’d all make fun of me if they knew about my home situation so I’m determined they’ll never find out.

         We tumble into our registration group laughing and joking. Most times I don’t understand what they snigger about but I know it’s something to do with sex. That’s not a word that exists in my house so I have to pretend I understand their jokes. As long as I laugh loudly enough no one questions me so it’s okay.

         “Good morning Mrs Wright, good morning everyone,” we chant as our form teacher embarks on the register.

         “Before you go to assembly I have something to tell you. The Friday we break up for Christmas we’re holding an Eighties night to raise money for the school. I want you to come along with your parents and join in. It will give you a chance to criticise their music and laugh at their antics on the dance floor for a change. Make sure you take a letter home tonight and ask your parents to fill in the order form for tickets. I expect you all to support the occasion.”

         Oh my God; my worst nightmare.

         “Sounds like a laugh,” Leanne says as we jostle towards the hall. “Be nice for our parents to meet. I bet they’d get along just as well as we do. See you later.”

         The thing is I don’t have any parents. I don’t remember anything about the road accident that claimed their lives and unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I don’t remember them either. So, I’ve never missed them; home is my grand parent’s house and it’s all I can relate to. But now, I really miss the idea of them; a youngish couple who I could take along to the dance, who would allow me some teenage freedom and understanding. My grandparents do their best I know, but they’re just so, well, so old. I mean, they must be well over fifty and that’s just ancient. Their record collection is pure vinyl, they think a text message is something from the Bible and the World Wide Web has something to do with the conservation of spiders. I’ve had to learn about computers at our local Cyber cafe, catch up on pop music in record stores and phone my friends on an antiquated mobile I purchased on e-bay. I manage to keep up with my friends but it’s hard work and I know my teenage experiences are lacking by comparison. It would just be so embarrassing if they found out I live with a couple of dinosaurs.

         I’ve avoided taking friends home; I’ve adopted my own ingenious methods of coping with peer pressure but this one is really going to be a bummer. How could I take my grandparents to an Eighties night? I doubt they can even remember how to jive let alone dance along to Duran Duran, and they’re certainly in no condition to attempt it. If only I had some aunts and uncles I could borrow for the night but sadly, I’m an only child and so were my parents.

         Walking home from school that evening, pondering the problem, the rain comes on even heavier and I dive into a phone booth to restore my school girl image instead of using the usual alleyway. Skirt lengthened, sensible shoes replaced and plaits restored I look in the tiny mirror to check my reflection and notice a pink card pinned to the notice board.

         ‘Tanya and Ross. Swinging couple seek flexible girl for fun nights.'

         Have my prayers been answered? Maybe Tanya and Ross have been heaven sent to act as my parents for the dance. Well, I can be fun and I know for a fact I’m flexible. My P.E. teacher says I have a spine like a rubber band. I dial the number and make an appointment to meet them. Tanya sounds really nice.

         Their address is on my route home, so I put on my best little girl lost expression and nervously press their doorbell, then smile sweetly at the pretty blonde who opens the door.

         “Hi, I’m Pippa. I rang about your advert.”

         Tanya looks me up and down with an expression I've never come across before.

         “Ross,” she shouts. ”You better come down.”

         They’re a nice couple and as I sit with a hot cup of tea and a custard cream I tell them my story. It turns out Ross went to school with my dad and remembers my grandparents.

         “So you see, when I saw your advert I thought maybe I could hire you to be my parents for the night. How much do you charge? I’ve a bit of money saved up.” I conclude. They look really trendy and young; I bet they really do swing on the dance floor.

         Tanya and Ross look at each other and I can tell they’re dying to laugh but as usual I can’t see the joke.

         “Tell you what,” Tanya smiles. “You’re not quite what we had in mind but we’ve got kids of our own and we know how tough it can be. How about we take you home and have a chat with your grandparents. We’ll tell them we heard of your circumstances and knowing what a reliable girl you are we’d like you to baby-sit for us sometimes when we go out.”

         So now, I baby-sit for Tanya and Ross quite a lot. Their kids are great and the extra money helps too. My grandparents really took to them; especially as Ross was a friend of the son they miss so much. They’ve sort of adopted them and things have worked out really well for us all. Tanya has convinced my grandma that I need to be allowed to grow up and fit in with my friends so now she takes me shopping every Saturday for clothes and make up. I can see my grandma flinching every time she looks at my crimson talons and four inch heels but she’ll not say anything. The other day I overheard her telling Tanya that I’d been much happier since they came along and that she was sorry she’d forgotten what it was like to be young.

         “But, you’re not old,” Tanya said to my gran. “You just need to bring your image up to date.”

         On the day of the dance Tanya took my gran for an overhaul at the beauticians and then they went shopping for new outfits. I hardly recognise her now as she sways on the dance floor. Granddad’s not doing too badly either despite his arthritis. Mind you, they’re not a patch on Tanya and Ross; they really are the best swingers in the room.

         I feel so proud and happy. My friends think my grandparents are cool; some of them never see theirs or haven’t even got any. I never looked at it that way before. So, no more secrets, no more rituals and no more pretending.

         My grandparents bought me a computer and a new mobile phone for Christmas. Tanya and Ross gave me a stereo system for my bedroom. I go round on Boxing Day to thank them.

         “You’re welcome love,” they say, hugging me as if I'm their own.“How are your grandparents?”

         “Oh, they’re great. They reckon they’re the oldest swingers in town thanks to you two.”

         They look at each other just as they did that first time we met. I can see they’re ready to burst out laughing but I still don’t understand why. Maybe I’m not as grown up as I thought and have a lot to learn yet. But one thing I have learnt is that my friends like me just as I am, with or without parents.


Runner up in Chips and Chewing Gum Competition organised by www.writeexposure.com July 2004