A Version of the Truth. B P Walter
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Ally glared at him. ‘Peter’s still not here.’
‘Well spotted,’ said Ernest, peering over James’s shoulder at the rain-soaked night outside. ‘Perhaps he took one look at the weather and decided we weren’t worth it. Or he’s crying in one of the stacks of the library, having a little private funeral for the remnants of his essay.’
I took in Ernest’s fluid movements, his laughter, his playful barbs aimed at his sister. Some girls would like that type of thing, I thought as I watched him. But turning my attention to James, I felt a deep swell inside me, like a force rebelling against any attempts to tame it, and knew I wasn’t one of those girls. The quiet, serious type was my thing – a ‘thing’ I’d never really known I had until I met him for the first time. My lack of experience with boys was probably plain to see for people like Ally and Ernest who, by all accounts, enjoyed their respective sex lives in an unfussy, matter-of-fact kind of way. And when the topic of conversation turned, as it was always going to do, to the subject of sex, I found myself wanting to crawl under a rock somewhere. Or a table.
‘The problem is, she’s just never had it done to her,’ Ernest said, describing a girl he had gone home with a few nights before. ‘When I told her the name of it, she made this shrieking noise, as if she was repulsed.’
‘It does sound like some kind of infection, doesn’t it?’ said Ally, grimacing. ‘Cunnilingus. Cunn-i-ling-gus.’
‘It does if you say it like that.’ James grinned. Like me, he’d barely spoken throughout the whole dinner, just silently consumed his burger and chips, though leaving the two halves of the bun neatly on the side of his plate, having eaten the contents with a knife and fork. Ally rounded on him.
‘Ahh, so you have an opinion on this, do you?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Practise it much?’
James didn’t answer, instead picking up one of the fries that had fallen off Ernest’s plate and starting to move it around his own, mopping up a minuscule amount of tomato sauce from the edges.
‘His silence speaks volumes,’ said Ernest and winked at me.
‘Oh yes, sorry, I forgot. My brother doesn’t have a vagina, so of course James would have no interest in going down on one. A cock, on the other hand …’
‘Here we go.’ Ernest rolled his eyes. ‘I knew the Mrs Dalloway talks wouldn’t last long. Come on, let’s hear it, sis.’ He turned to me. ‘In case you haven’t already noticed, my sister likes nothing better than to imply James and I are sodomising the night away together. Just jealousy, I’d say. Plain and simple. She can’t bear the thought that I converse with and laugh with and breathe the same air as another individual other than herself.’
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not, so I glanced at Ally, who had a look of triumph in her eye.
‘Sodomising the night away? Interesting turn of phrase, dearest brother. I don’t remember anyone saying anything about sodomy. Interesting that your mind should jump so quickly to penetrative sex. I was merely implying oral, but if you want to plunge straight in at the deep end, be my guest.’ She shot me a wicked smile, raising her eyebrows, enjoying the game. Her references to gay sex startled me somewhat. I wasn’t naïve – I knew some men did such things – but throughout my teens my parents had always implied men who had sex with men were disease-ridden AIDS sufferers who would soon perish as a result of their aberrant desires. This bothered me throughout the rest of our meal and, after Ally had got bored and all the fries had been eaten, the quick trudge in the drizzle back to our respective dorms. Ally seemed to be treating it all as a bit of a laugh, though I wasn’t entirely sure if her comments were manifestations of her own prejudices towards gay men, or if they were actually based on a glimmer of truth, and she just enjoyed torturing the two boys with this knowledge. Presumably the boys had slept together last night, if James had been in Ernest’s bed for most of the day. Perhaps their friendship wasn’t purely platonic. But Ally had also implied Ernest was a prolific ‘shagger’ of ladies, and that I was (or at least appeared to be, on the outside) just his type. I’d heard some people liked both genders, but to me this seemed even farther removed from my everyday life than homosexuals pure and simple. The idea of not being restricted by gender frightened me slightly, though I didn’t quite know why. It had a rather thrilling, anarchic quality to it, as if the constraints on gender that dominated the lives of the many didn’t apply to them. They were free.
Ally and I got back to our halls first and she waved goodbye to the two boys without properly looking at them. I was surprised at the abrupt ending to the evening. It was still only 7.15. Hardly a wild night out for a bunch of students. Maybe they were all going to congregate later on when I was safely back in my room. They might swap notes on how well they thought I’d done. I was cross I hadn’t had more time to really assert myself or make my presence seem worthwhile. Instead of an active participant, I’d become a passive spectator, watching Ally trade quips with her brother about his sexual preferences. My mind was dwelling on this in such detail that I didn’t realise, as we were walking towards our rooms, that Ally was in the full flow of conversation.
‘… I just thought it would be nice for you to see us all together. We’re not exactly a frightening bunch. I know Ern can be a bit, well, spikey occasionally, but that’s just his insecurities showing through. He collects them, don’t you know? Like some people collect stamps or rare novels, he collects insecurities. Intellect is the main one. It’s like he’s absolutely terrified one day everyone – teachers, professors, friends, the world – will discover he’s actually just ‘rather bright’ rather than ‘insanely brilliant’. There’s a big difference between the two, of course, and Ernest is traumatised by the knowledge that if anyone dug too deeply they’d probably place him in the former category.’
She unlocked her door and walked in still talking, presuming I would follow.
‘Anyway, I don’t know why he’s worried. He’ll get what he’s always wanted – a seat in the Commons. Daddy’s practically got it all sorted for him. He’ll have no trouble winning a place.’
I made a vague sound, somewhere between affirmation and ‘do go on’.
‘Yes, well, he’ll just need to get a first, of course. Daddy’s rather firm about that. And it’s not a question of how clever he is; it’s more about whether he actually does what he’s told. Studies the things he’s supposed to study, not the nonsense he’s more interested in.’
‘Surely he should focus on his interests?’ I said, unsure why I was standing up for him.
‘Hmm, you sound like my mother.’ Ally rolled her eyes and collapsed onto her bed, causing the springs in the mattress to twang noisily.
Being likened to someone so close, at least biologically, to Ally must, I decided, be a positive thing, so I smiled and peered around awkwardly at the untidy room.
‘Oh, please, Holly, sit down. You’re making me tense just standing there.’ She gave one of her bark-like laughs.
I started to think about what it would be like to lie down next to Ally in the same way Ernest and James did. Our bodies touching, the strands of our hair intermingling. The thought didn’t repulse me, but at the same time I felt there were other people I’d rather do that with. Wondering whether this might be the harbinger of a lesbian experimentation phase – a rather candid art teacher at my school had once implied all girls went through something of this nature at university – I opted to sit in a restrained fashion at the edge of Ally’s bed, careful not to let my body touch hers.
‘Let’s talk about sex, Holly.’
Ally’s words sent a jolt of concern through me. I didn’t believe in mind-reading, but it was amazing how sometimes people could hit the mark. I must have jumped, because she laid a hand on my arm and said, ‘Don’t flinch. Oh goodness, anyone would think I’d offered you heroin.’ She was smiling and looked relaxed, so I nodded.
‘Holly,