Do You Remember the First Time?

all.
    ‘Going out?’ I said.
    ‘Yes, love.’
    ‘Where?’
    He looked at me, puzzled. ‘Just down the club. You know. As usual. Couple of jars with Mike and Peter.’
    I’d forgotten about them. His two best friends, from way, way back, when he was sales repping around the North East. His two best buds had covered for him on Saturday nights when he went off to see his bit. It was so ridiculouslyold-fashioned, it was just plain stupid. Him and his little gang of friends had conspired to make my mum so ill I sometimes wondered whether she’d be better off in hospital. And he could sit here, neatly tying his shoes and tell me that’s what he was going to do.
    ‘Mum,’ I said, as she came in from the kitchen to see me.
    ‘All right, love?’ she said. ‘How was work?’
    ‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said. ‘Listen, why don’t you go out with Dad tonight?’
    My dad stiffened.
    ‘It’d be nice if you had a night out. You might enjoy it.’
    My mother clutched the dishtowel close to her stomach. ‘Flora.’
    ‘Give you a bit of a change.’
    ‘Now I don’t know about …’ Dad started.
    ‘Oh, Flora.’ My mother came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Do you have a boyfriend? Is there someone you want to bring back here? Duncan, I know you’d like to put everything off till doomsday, but I think it’s time we all had the talk.’
    ‘No, no, that’s not it at all,’ I said in horror.
    ‘Do we have to do this now?’ said my dad. ‘I’m late. Er, for the lads.’
    My mother shot him a filthy look, then crouched down beside me. ‘Now, Flora, we know you’re old enough, legally now … and we know you’ve always been a good girl.’
    ‘Christ,’ said my dad. He got up heavily.
    ‘Duncan! For Christ’s sake, for once in your life take responsibility for your own child. Sit down. This is important.’
    ‘So. Have you met someone?’
    My insides twisted in six different types of agony. I wantedto cover my ears, then say: ‘No, but why not have this little chat with Dad?’
    ‘We just have to say,’ she glanced hard at my dad, who was staring at the floor, ‘now you’re sixteen, we don’t mind if you want to go on the pill. But we’d be much happier if – ahem – you wanted to use those, er, condom thingies.’
    I shut my eyes tight.
    ‘And you will understand, won’t you, if we say that you can’t stay under the same roof?’
    My mother was blushing heavily. We stood in silence, the only sound, some drivel coming from the television set.
    There was a very long pause while I tried to work out what to say and how to handle it without coming across like an overexperienced tart. Finally, I decided on the mature approach that would make them proud of me and raise my grounding, so I could go and get pissed at Tashy’s. I summoned up all the agony columns I’d ever read.
    ‘Mum. Dad. Thanks. Thanks for feeling free to have such an adult conversation with me. That makes me very proud. I just want to say that I’m not having sex – ’ I had a sudden flash of Ol, sitting by himself at home, and felt terribly sad – ‘nor am I likely to in the near future. If I do, you can rest assured I won’t be going on the pill, as I don’t want to be infertile by the time I’m thirty-four, particularly with the way fertility’s going in males.’ Christ, I hadn’t thought of that. What if I stayed here, then by the time I got to twenty-five, the entire male race did actually go extinct after all, as promised by Germaine Greer? ‘And I do know how to use a condom. Um, they teach you in school.’ Well, maybe they do now. ‘But it doesn’t matter anyway, because studies show that sixteen is actually emotionally very young to have sex, and many peoplewho do lose their virginity at an early stage regret it later, not waiting for someone important.’ That’d be me then.
    My parents stared at me.
    ‘Oh God,’ said my dad.
    ‘You have met someone, haven’t you?’ said Mum.
    ‘No!’
    ‘I can’t believe she’s thought it through,’ said my dad, shaking his head. ‘My own little girl.’
    ‘What! I’m just being really mature about this!’
    My mother gave me a cuddle. ‘Oh, darling. And it seems like yesterday you were just our innocent baby!’
    ‘I’m not doing anything!’
    ‘I have to go,’ said my dad.
    I stood up and looked him in the eye. ‘Don’t you do anything either, Dad!’ I pretended to make it sound jolly. And, I hate to say it, but as he scurried out the