Maggie pulled on the baby-blue Doc Martens her boyfriend, Kevin, had bought her for her fifteenth birthday. She’d had mixed emotions when she unwrapped the present a week before; she really, really wanted the boots, but they were expensive, and although Kevin was sweet and she was very fond of him, she already knew he wasn’t the one – she couldn’t see him as the first person she’d have sex with. What they had wasn’t special enough, at least not to her, and she’d decided she was going to break up with him. Knowing that, accepting the boots didn’t seem fair. She’d seen it on her mum’s face, too. When Maggie pulled the boots from the box, her mum had glanced at her, her forehead creased in a frown.
For a moment, Maggie had considered refusing, but that would have been even more awkward. She’d have had to explain why, and she wasn’t quite ready for that, wasn’t quite ready to break his heart, not on her birthday.
Besides, they really were amazing boots.
She stood up and looked in the hallway mirror. She pulled her hair – recently dyed jet black from her natural copper-tinged brown – into a ponytail, considered it, then let it fall loose around her neck. She could never make up her mind what was better. It was long and thick, and wearing it down showed it off. It meant more care though, or at least a more expensive haircut, and she didn’t feel like asking her parents for money. Though they both worked, things were tight – they didn’t talk about it in front of her and James, her little brother, but she picked up on comments they made about being careful buying groceries and saw how her dad only put in ten pounds’ worth of petrol at a time.
Anyway, that didn’t matter at the moment. She was going to see Anne, her nineteen-year-old cousin, to get some advice on what to do about Kevin. She grabbed her backpack and walked down the hall.
‘Maggie!’
It was her dad. She paused at the front door. He was probably going to tell her to tidy her room or ask if she’d done her homework. If she left immediately, all he would hear was the door closing. When she got home she could say she hadn’t heard him.
She gripped the handle. Behind her, the door to the living room opened.
‘Maggie.’ Her dad was standing there, a piece of paper in his hand. ‘Before you go, we need to talk.’
She rolled her eyes. She knew it was immature, and she hated it – she wasn’t a little girl any more, she had grown-up decisions to make about things like Kevin, and when it was right to have sex with someone, which was one of the things she was going to ask Anne about – but somehow her parents always brought out her childish side. She hated it, but she simply couldn’t help it.
Ironically, on the way home from Gran’s the other day, her mum had admitted, You know, Mags, I’m forty-one years old, but I still feel like a naughty teenager when I’m talking to your gran.
So maybe it would always be this way.
‘What is it, Dad? I’m late.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘You’re late? I’ve never known you to worry about that before, but I’m glad you’ve finally seen the value in punctuality. Let’s hope this new approach lasts until Monday morning when it’s time to leave for school.’
‘Very funny, Dad.’ It actually was quite funny. Her friends all thought her dad was hilarious, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘You do know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, don’t you?’
‘I’ve heard that,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry to cause you distress by violating your new-found sense of punctuality by making you even later, but we need to discuss this.’ He shook the piece of paper. ‘It’s the phone bill, in case you were wondering.’
The phone bill. Of all things, that was what he wanted to talk about?
‘Do we have to do it now, Dad? Can’t it wait? It’s only a phone bill.’
‘Only a phone bill for one hundred and’ – he peered at the total – ‘seventy-six pounds, and nineteen pence.’
‘So?’ Maggie said. ‘I didn’t make all the calls.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not all of them. But the majority.’
‘There’s no way I made the majority of calls,’ Maggie replied. ‘James is always on the phone.’
‘That’s probably how it appears to you. In the few gaps you leave each evening, he manages to squeeze in and grab a few minutes before you wrestle the phone back from him. But I think it’s fair to say you’re the primary phone user in this house.’
There was a long pause, which Maggie filled by shaking her head, the slowness of the shake indicating the depth of her disbelief.
‘That is so unfair,’ she said.
‘Really?’ Her dad smiled. It was a smile she hated, smug and pleased with himself. ‘One of the things you should know about phone bills is that they are itemized,’ he said. ‘Every call. Number and duration.’ He tapped the phone bill. ‘Take this number, called on the seventh of April at seven minutes past five for sixty-one minutes. And again that same evening, at eight twenty-two, this time for ninety-six minutes. It appears the following day, then the day after that, then there’s a break for a day, and then it appears again – every evening until the twenty-fourth of April.’ He read out the number. ‘Do you recognize it?’
‘You know I do,’ Maggie said. It was Chrissie, one of her best friends. Chrissie had moved to Nottingham – which made it a long-distance call from Stockton Heath – and was having trouble settling in. ‘Chrissie needs me, Dad.’
‘Then perhaps she should call you.’
‘Her parents won’t let her! They put a pin code on the phone.’
‘Look,’ her dad said, ‘I understand you want—’
‘Need,’ Maggie said.
‘Need to talk to your friends. But it costs a lot of money. And apart from anything else, what if someone needs to call us? The phone’s always engaged.’
‘It wouldn’t be if you bought me a mobile,’ Maggie said. ‘Then you wouldn’t have to worry about your precious phone being tied up.’
‘I’m not sure that would save any money,’ he replied. ‘Mobiles are more expensive than land lines. And we talked about it. You can get a phone when you’re sixteen.’
‘My friends all have mobile phones!’ she said. ‘It’s not fair!’
‘When you’re sixteen,’ her dad said. ‘Or when you can pay for it yourself.’
‘Fine,’ Maggie said. This was so annoying. ‘Whatever.’
‘Maggie,’ her dad said. ‘I know it’s important to you to talk to your friends, and I know this is your house too, but you have to be prepared to compromise. I think maybe one and a half hours a night should be the maximum you spend on the phone. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable.’
‘Sure. Can we talk about it later, Dad? I need to leave.’
‘You want a lift?’
Maggie considered it for a second, then shook her head. ‘I can walk. I’m only going to Anne’s.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Are you back for dinner?’
‘Yeah. See you then.’
‘See you too, Fruitcake. Love you.’
Fruitcake. He’d called her that since she was a little girl. She kind of hated it, but she also knew that one day there’d be a last time he called her Fruitcake.
And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that day just yet.