Turning sixteen was an important landmark to me at the time.
I’d made a chart and I had been ticking off the days, even when there were
hundreds still to go. I thought that when I turned sixteen, I’d have more
control over my life. I could leave home. Though, none of that happened in a
way that I could have quite predicted. There was absolutely nothing sweet about
my sixteenth but it did signify changes. It was the age of consent. And sex and
boys were never too far away in my thoughts.
And I had to dismiss the vast majority of this to write
Black Eyed Boy. Emily, the main character, couldn’t care less about her
birthday. She has far too much to contend with for her sixteenth birthday to
mean very much at all. Though, suddenly, sex and a very specific boy are
beginning to creep into her thoughts too.
The day before her birthday is the worst day of her life as
her mother passes away. Sixteen means pain and a grief so deep and cutting that
she can barely breathe. I still cry when I read that scene and I am sure that I
am not alone. The timing of her mother’s death and Emily’s coming of age
collide. She can’t stand to be there; within the walls of the house where her
mum just died. She wants to be with Dylan. And once she’s with him, she doesn’t want
to let him go. Being held in Dylan’s arms is Emily’s safest place; the one
place that she doesn’t feel so terrifyingly alone.
Here is an excerpt from Black Eyed Boy:
I stepped out from the caravan and I just stopped dead in my
tracks. There were dozens of balloons on strings tied to the trees. Someone had
decorated the caravan with “Happy Birthday” signs, everyone was there toasting
marshmallows, and there were so many smiles for me that I worried that I might
burst with an overwhelming appreciation for every single one of them.
Nobody had made a fuss about me like this before. Baby Matthew’s
birthday had always knocked Mum for six, and she had never recovered in time
for mine. That hadn’t been a problem; I understood that the anguish she had
felt drained her, but it just made this so much more endearing. These people
who barely knew me had gone to all this trouble.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Siobhan smiled. “We weren’t sure that you
would want to celebrate, but sixteen is an important one and we thought we
should mark it. And, Nancy really loves birthdays, so you didn’t really have a
choice.” Siobhan grinned.
That made me laugh. Nancy couldn’t keep still, and her excitement
was more than evident.
“Can I give her my present now?” she asked, not waiting for an
answer as she flung herself forward. She proudly handed me a piece of paper. I
read her sweet childish writing which said, Happy
Birthday Emily. I love you. From Nancy. I kissed the top of her head. Her
fluffy ringlets tickled my nose.
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