Prompt - The Colours Were A Little Garish

Sylvie waited still.

Even Jenna had gone now.

But Sylvie sat on the wall, a tissue crumpled in her hand, her thumb pushing at the ball of paper. Pushing it into her palm, over and over. The soft paper creaking under the pressure.

Some friend Jenna turned out to be.

Sylvie awoke to the sound of someone moving near her bed. She cracked her eyes open just enough to let a little light in. Her father was stealthily creeping around, treading very lightly. It was still dark and as she quietly pulled the covers back to get a better view, she felt the cold air on her nose.

Her father seemed to turn towards her – she snapped her eyes tight shut again.

She must have slept again within moments because she didn't remember him leaving and the next thing she knew her mother was cooing her name softly.

'Sy-lvie... Oh, Sy-lvie.' she drew back the curtains. 'It's time to get up... You know what today is!?'

'It's my bathday,' said Sylvie groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes then driving the annoying itch from her nose with her knuckles.

'It is! It's your birthday! Yes! And how old are you?'

'I'm six.'

'Six! Yes! That's right. Such a big girl. But Sylvie... Look!'

Sylvie followed her mother's pointing hand.

Hanging from the central light was... a thing... a beautiful... thing.... She could not think what to call it. It was a... thing... a hanging thing. And it was beautiful.

'Can you see?'

'Yes! Yeeess!!,' said Sylvie. 'It's ...it's...'

'It's a mobile,' said her mother.

'A what?'

'A mobile... that's what it's called.'

'It's a rainbow...' said Sylvie. 'It's a beautiful rainbow!'

'Yes,' said Mummy. 'Daddy made it!'

'Daddy?'

'Yes he made it and painted it, and...'

'When?'

'In the evenings after you'd gone to bed.'

'Where is Daddy?'

'He had to go to work, darling. But he'll be back later... He'll be back later.'

'Can we have cake?!'

'Yes. We'll have cake with Daddy, when he comes home. Come on now.'

'Can I just stay here and look for a while. I like to see it moving in the wind.

'All right for a few minutes, while I get the breakfast.'

Sylvie lay on her back on the floor - knees up, feet flat on the carpet - directly beneath the light.

She watched as each band of colour moved independently, all spinning around the same piece of fine thread. Each swinging freely at the slightest suggestion of a breeze.

Sylvie lay and blew as hard as she was able to wobble the pieces in the air. She blew again.  Wafted her hands. 

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.

Richard Of York Gained Battles In Vain. They'd learned it at school and even Mummy knew it. 'Yes,' said Mummy. 'I learned it at my school.'

Sylvie particularly liked the orange band as it curled between the red and the yellow. She imagined the ceiling was the wide blue sky and she was a bird flying high, high, high up into the sky – over the rainbow, up, up, up into the blue, blue sky.

Eleanor Brockless, Y10, pushed Sylvie, Y8, as she went past her on the way to the back seat.

'Get off,' muttered Sylvie.

'What?' snarled Eleanor Brockless. 'What did you say?'

Sylvie knew better than to repeat her comment.

'Just leave her alone,' said Jenna from the seat next to Sylvie. 'Just leave her a-fucking-lone!'

Eleanor Brockless pulled a long strand of chewing gum from between her teeth and then chewed it back into her mouth. Then she took the ball of gum right out and squashed It down onto Sylvie's head.

'Fuck sake!' shouted Jenna, immediately trying to pick the gum out of Sylvie's hair. 'Leave her alone!'

Sylvie said nothing; she just sat there waiting for this torment to end.

'Oi!' said Eleanor Brockless. 'Give me your bag, y'fat cunt.'

This was regular by now. Eleanor Brockless helping herself to whatever she took a fancy to. Sylvie knew better than to resist but she didn't offer it either. Eleanor Brockless grabbed it from her lap.. Rifled through it. Pulled out Sylvie's rainbow pencil case.

'Too good for you, y'cunt,' said Eleanor.

She unzipped the zip and emptied the contents over Sylvie's head. Pens and pencils, of course,
also flower-shaped rubbers, highlighters, felt tips, biros, a small plastic ruler, a pair of compasses, a pencil sharpener detached from its pot, the pot itself complete with many days' worth of pencil shavings. Everything was scattered on her head, in her lap, onto the floor.

Daddy didn't come home at four as usual. He didn't come home at five like Mummy said he would if he got the next bus.

At half past six, Sylvie blew out the candles on her cake and Mummy cut her a slice. She could hear Mummy talking on the telephone while she ate the cake, but she couldn't hear what Mummy was saying.

At the Freshers' Fair, Sylvie joined DramaSoc, the Debating Society and Rainbow Alliance. She knew she wasn't lesbian. Or at least she knew she was mainly straight. Dean had shown her that. And he'd come to Uni here too. She loved him. Not just the way his penis filled her, ground into her, pushed right up into her cervix, but his hands – his long fingers – she found them so alluring from the very first video he sent her. How he had caressed himself. She imagined him touching her with such gentleness. A musician. He learned how to play her. Draw sweet music from her.

No, she wasn't homosexual. Mostly. But she felt drawn to the colourful Rainbow logo and, of course, the idea of it. People coming together, gay, lesbian, bi and straight, supporting each other. Why wouldn't you? How could anyone judge anyone else for loving someone, whatever, whoever they were, male, female, trans, alt? Why? She couldn't understand it.

Jenna came and stayed the weekend of Pride. Jenna thought she might be lesbian. Jenna slept in Sylvie's bed with Sylvie. Dean stayed at Loz's.

When Dean came round next morning. Sylvie and Jenna were still in pyjamas. Sylvie's pyjamas. Jenna hadn't brought any nightwear. Jenna darted dark looks at Dean while she chatted with Sylvie.  She needed him to know, she didn't like him.

Dean was twitchy. He hadn't slept much. He sat at the table while the girls made coffee and heated croissants. Dean wasn't hungry. He wrangled his long fingers together as he watched them laughing. Joking. Touching each other.

'What the fuck's the matter with you?' said Sylvie when Jenna had gone to shower. 'You're so fucking gloomy.'

'Look...I....' Dean blushed.

'What?'

'I just need to know. Did you...'

'Did I what?'

'You two. Last night. Did you... y'know...'

'What? Did we what? Did we make love? God, Dean, for fuck sake...'

At seven, Mrs Derbyshire came.

Mummy went out then.

'Don't you worry, pet, she's just going to help Daddy.'

Sylvie didn't worry.

Mrs Derbyshire read 'The Tiger Who Came To Tea' and 'Hairy McLairy Of Donaldson's Dairy' and 'The Rainbow Rabbits' from the big book. Then she told Sylvie that Sylvie must go to sleep.

Mrs Derbyshire sat on the edge of the bed stroking Sylvie's hair.

Her fingers were fatter than Mummy's.

Sylvie pretended to be asleep so that Mrs Derbyshire would stop. Mrs Derbyshire went downstairs.

Sylvie got out of bed and lay on the floor underneath the rainbow mobile again. It was too dark to see much but she could imagine the pieces swinging, spinning. Round and round above her head. Round and round. In the dark.

They had decorated St Andrew's Church Hall in the most garish colours.

Sexy Red. Hot pinks. Burnt orange. Turquoise. Green.

Streamers hung from each corner crossing the room in undulating arcs below the ceiling. On the walls they had hung the great tie-dyed drapes that Sylvie had made for her degree show.

Vegan food from The Loving Spoonful would arrive from twelve. The ceremony was at eleven.

Sylvie looked at her watch.

Twelve thirty.

And now Jenna had gone too. Left her waiting outside Her Majesty's Office for the Registration of Births, Marriages and Deaths.

Where was he?

She had tried his phone forty times. Texted him fifteen.

Mum hadn't come anyway.

And all the Uni crowd had dispersed not knowing what to do. Loyalties to both Sylvie and Dean left them unable to act. They were aimless, stupid.

'If he... when he comes,' said Gryff, 'come and get us, yeah... we'll be in The Flag. Just come get us, yeah? But Sylv, babe, he will come. You'll see. He will. Send Jenna when he comes. We'll all be there... Just seems daft waiting around here. You know, now the next lot have gone in.'

Then Jenna's battery had died so she'd gone to find somewhere to plug it in.

'I'll go to The Flag too. I'll be able to plug it in there somewhere. Text me, y'know, if he...er shows....'

The tissue creaked again as Sylvie pushed her thumb deep into it.

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