by Paris Lees
We got off at the market. Picture it. Me, Jo, Sticky Nikki, Dirty D an’ Lady Die, lookin’ like a pack of space bunnies descendin’ from the mothership – ’ucknall din’t know what had hit it. Lady Die were drawin’ the most attention. She sez, “Have they never seen a black person before?” coz people were starin’ at ’er, but truth told I’m not entirely sure everyone round here has. She were like, “I can’t be doin’ with it”, which she sez all the time. I’ve started sayin’ it too now coz ya end up talkin’ like people when ya hang about with ’em. I felt bad coz I know what it’s like round here, but it were alright coz we got to Gaz’s before anyone chased us away wi’ pitchforks or owt. I made ’em wait round the corner while I checked Gaz weren’t in. It helped that Nikki an’ Jo were there coz Jo has long hair an’ ya can’t tell she bats for the other team on the rare occasions she’s not runnin’ around screamin’ “I’m a dirty lesbian”, but he were out anyway. I put ma scruffy trainers on an’ we set off.
It worra beautiful day. Dead warm, but with a nice breeze. Newstead Abbey’s miles away – it takes over an hour to get there – but as we got close we come to this dead nice field with all flowers in it. So like a meadow, innit? An’ it’s just lovely. Proper English countryside kinda thing. Mammar Rita would say it’s “picturesque”, coz that’s how she always describes the Lake District. Nikki guz, “Let’s have a break an’ I’ll build us a dirty spliff”, so we flatten out a little patch an’ lay our jackets down. I’ve never heard anyone call a spliff dirty before. It reminds me of when I were little an’ Mammar Joe said she needed a “strong cup of tea” an’ I din’t understand how tea could be strong. Me an’ Lady Die are puttin’ on posh voices an’ “givin’ everyone joke”, as she puts it. She keeps callin’ me Lady Battenberg an’ goin’, “My dear Lady Battenberg, can I interest you in this exceedingly good cannabis cigarette?” So then I’m like, “My dear Lady Die, I would be very happy indeed to take you up on this most kind offer.”
It were strange coz when ya take drugs in a club, ya feel like yer doin’ summat wrong. But this were different. It just felt … pure? Like, OK, we might have bin off our ’eads, but Sticky Nikki sez weed’s natural anyway coz it’s a plant an’ hippies smoke it. She reckons that’s why they hug trees an’ that. I just remember lookin’ up at the sky an’ tryna work out shapes from the clouds, like they do in films. Obviously me an’ Lady Die just saw loads of cocks, so she guz, “It’s cloud cock-o land up there”, an’ we all just burst out laughin’. I went dead dizzy after that. The nice way. The grass hid us from the path an’ we all just leaned on each other’s laps, right there, in the field. An’ then, well, I don’t remember.
God knows how long we were asleep for. Maybe half an hour. Maybe ten minutes. I don’t know who dropped off first, but we all drifted off in the end. I woke up feelin’ so refreshed an’ happy. Can ya imagine if someone had come by an’ seen us? I mean, we weren’t doin’ owt wrong really, but we must have looked like a right bunch o’ freaks. I can’t believe I did summat like that. I don’t even feel safe walkin’ down the street in ’ucknall, but I actually felt relaxed enough to fall asleep in public. I mean, it were hardly Vicky Centre bus station. But even so.
They all loved the Abbey, especially the Japanese water gardens. I were dead proud coz it were ma idea, weren’t it? I only take people I really like there. The Abbey were torn down in Henry the Eighth’s time, so all that’s left’s the facade. It’s dead eerie. There’s a stately home next to it where Lord Byron used to live, an’ a lake with a tunnel runnin’ under it to a boathouse. But the best bit’s this waterfall ya can go behind. The grounds are surrounded by the most beautiful woods an’ countryside you’ve ever seen. I want ma ashes to be scattered here when I die. There’s a photo of me an’ Gaz here when I worra toddler, in the gardens. He must have bin about twenty-two – so not much older than Nikki, really. It’s the only photo of me an’ ’im I like. It were sunny that day too, an’ I remember feelin’ safe coz Gaz is big an’ strong. I remember everythin’ from when I were little. I can go quite far back, I can even remember Aunty Ray pushin’ me round in a pram once at Christmas an’ lookin’ up at the stars. An’ I remember how Gaz were wi’ me before he realized I am the way I am.
We walked back through an avenue of trees, an’ it reminded me of a book I’ve got by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle where they’re floatin’ down this river in the jungle an’ he sez the trees rise up to form a “majestic canopy”. The branches were swayin’ an’ the fields looked hazy in the evenin’ breeze. It were still hot when we got back, although it were dark by then. Everyone were dead hungry so I sez, “Why don’t we make some food?”, coz I bet Gaz’s gone round Paddy’s, but for once I don’t even care coz what can he say really? That they’ve gorra leave? We an’t done nowt wrong. An’ if I’m makin’ dinner, he can’t really complain, can he? So I made spaghetti bolognese coz a) I know how to, b) I knew it would feed all of us an’ c) it’s ma favourite. It were also the only thing we had ingredients for.
Well, everyone starts joinin’ in, don’t they? Helpin’ me chop onions an’ grate cheese an’ that. It felt like we were in Friends or summat. I tried to explain to Lady Die but she sez, “Yo’re not wired up right, yo’re not.” Gaz did come back in the end, but he were fine. He put ’is ’ead round an’ asked what we were up to. I sez, “We’re makin’ spaghetti bolognese, d’ya want some?” Everyone went quiet, coz I’ve told ’em about ’im, but it looks like I made it up now coz he were fine an’ just took ’is in the front room. I don’t think he knew they were gay, an’ even if he did it’s not illegal, is it? Actually – is it? No. Not nowadays. I don’t think so anyway. No, coz how could they have gay bars? An’ they’d have locked up Graham Norton by now. He din’t say ma name in front of ’em, thank God. It cun’ have gone any better really.
Who knew we’d end up doin’ all that? But it made me sad too, coz I wish Max’d bin there. An’ I wished every day could be like this. Maybe things not be so bad when I grow up. Maybe Gaz’ll be forced to treat me wi’ respect. Not that he treats anyone wi’ that much respect, but at least he can’t keep tellin’ me what to do when I’m an adult, can he? An’ ya don’t get beaten up all the time when yer a grown-up. When we were cookin’ it felt like … like everythin’ were … how can I put it? Alright? I’ve had that a couple o’ times. I remember bein’ on the bus into town wi’ me mam one time an’ lookin’ at rays of light castin’ shapes on ’er jeans. We were on the top deck an’ the sun were comin’ in through the tree tops on ’ucknall Road. I could smell VO5 in ’er hair. An’ I just felt like everythin’ were gonna be OK. An’ that’s how I felt makin’ spag bol. I’m worried, though, coz whenever I let myself feel like this, summat bad always happens.
Groovejet (If This Ain’t Love)
I’ve gorra boyfriend. I met ’im in AD2. We were stood outside havin’ a fag an’ I overheard ’is mate call ’im David so I sez, “Ooh that’s a king’s name, that is.” He looks like Sting, an’ he’s quite good-lookin’ for an older man so I’ve not done too bad, have I? I like ’im, but not like how I like Max. Lady Die don’t go out wi’ someone who looks famous though, so I’ve got one up on ’er, although she used to go out wi’ this lad called Gareth who I really fancy, but he don’t have a car like David. He’s got loadsa money too. He’s thirty-two. That’s old, innit?
The only catch is, he’s from Sheffield, an’ they sound like proper mongs – although yer not s’posed to say that now, are ya? To be honest, I’ve never heard owt nice about Sheffield. An’ I’ve seen for mysen now coz he took me to ’is house, an’ I can confirm it’s an absolute dump. Sheffield, that is. ’Is house is quite nice. They’ve gorra shoppin’ centre called Meadowhall, but everyone calls it Meadow-hell, apparently. Lady Die sez she’s bin shopliftin’ in there, so I sez, “Is there anywhere in the East Midlands that you an’t bin shopliftin’?” She got caught nickin’ from Poundland once.
David took me up to Manchester last weekend. He got us a hotel o
n Princess Street an’ took me to Poptastic. They have that in Nottingham too, but it’s better up there coz it’s bigger an’ it’s a different crowd. Everyone knows everyone down NG1. I wore ma red top. It’s from a Halloween costume I made wi’ Mammar Joe, but I’ve customized it an’ put it wi’ some black flares an’ a bit of fake fur that Asha lent me round the waist. I took ma Polaroid camera an’ David took pictures of me in ma underwear. He wun’t let me take any of ’im though coz he’s paranoid I’ll get ’im into trouble. He made me wait in the car while he checked in. I look dead sexy in the pics.
We drove. He’s gorra posh car an’ wears trendy clothes an’ always has nice aftershave on an’ that. He’s got good music too, he were playin’ Café del Mar an’ Ferry Corsten on the way up, an’ he’s lent me this tape wi’ progressive house on it. He’s like a proper man. Dead masculine an’ strong. He had some coke an’ kept puttin’ ’is hand between ma legs. He pulled ma pants down an’ played wi’ me while he were drivin’! I sez, “What if a lorry passes an’ sees?” But I liked the risk, actually.
I love bein’ driven down country lanes at night. I just absolutely love it. It giz me this dead nice feelin’, knowin’ there’s someone else in charge. That I’m safe. That I’m goin’ somewhere. That I’m free. I looked out at the valleys an’ all the little houses twinklin’ in the dark, an’ imagined the sorta people who lived there an’ what their lives might be like. An’ I just felt so happy.
To be honest, it’s the only thing Gaz does that I like. Literally the only thing. He takes me for drives at night sometimes, just to get us out the house. He knows I love it when he sez, “D’ya wanna go fer a drive?” coz I never say no. He takes me to the Showcase cinema. I prefer the drive to the film sometimes. If we get on a country lane or a quiet road wi’ no cameras, he’ll rev up just to scare me. He’s not bothered about the speed limit. He’s such an idiot. He loves windin’ me up. I love it too actually, but only coz I trust ’is drivin’. Ma dad’s a great driver. He’s dead sure of ’issen on the road, ya just feel so safe. I don’t know anyone who drives like ’im.
He spoils it sometimes though, like one time we were talkin’ about what film we wanted to watch an’ I wanted to see The Princess Diaries an’ he were like, “What d’ya wanna watch that for? That’s for bleedin’ poofters!” I just get dead upset when he sez stuff like that, an’ then he gets mad wi’ me for bein’ mardy, but I can’t help it. I just go quiet an’ then he’ll go on about me bein’ oversensitive, so it’s like a vicious circle an’ I don’t know how to make it stop. He sez I’m like a woman, that I can’t let go of stuff. But he’s right. I really feel things sometimes, an’ find it hard to get back to normal. Coz it’s just so unfair. No one else makes me feel like that. I’m always comfortable wi’ Mammar Joe an’ Aunty Ray. We might argue sometimes, but I know they love me an’ they know I love them. But when Gaz upsets me, I just keep rollin’ the words round in ma ’ead – like an obsession – an’ it just stays there, fresh in ma mind.
Sometimes I think about openin’ the door an’ just jumpin’ out. An’ if it’d hurt. They roll when ya see ’em doin’ it on the telly, an’ I’ve never understood that. Coz the ground in’t movin’, so why should it hurt ya any more to jump out of a movin’ car than one that’s stood still?
No one knows where ya are when ya drive at night. They might know what road yer on or where yer goin’, but when ma dad’s drivin’ me, only we know exactly where we are at that moment in time, an’ I find that quite comfortin’. He takes me up to Newstead Abbey sometimes, an’ ya go down all these long, dark roads. He stopped the car once, turned off all the lights an’ got out to scare me. I were terrified. But deep down, part of me liked it. There’s just summat exciting about the dark, in’t there? Especially when it rains. Coz when ya go down those country lanes an’ look behind ya, everythin’ turns black. It’s like nothin’s there.
Music Sounds Better With You
Smanfa’s bein’ funny wi’ me coz she don’t like me takin’ drugs. Feel like I’m fallin’ out with everyone at the moment. She met me with ’er cousin Nicola down Notts the other day an’ this Nicola were hungover so I sez, “Oh did ya have a good night?” An’ she were like, “Yeah, I were completely off ma ’ead”, so I were like, “Oh d’ya take drugs?” An’ they both just looked at me like I’d accused ’em of murderin’ someone. She were like, “No, Ah do not take drugs, thank you very much.” So I were like, “Well, that’s what off ya ’ead means”, but they sez no it’s not, it means yer drunk. But that’s how we describe it. An’ ma friends are a bit more educated than Nicola Langfield from fuckin’ Bulwell.
Nicola’s one thing, but why was Smanfa so offended? Coz that’s like sayin’ there’s summat wrong with it, an’ she knows I take drugs. She must look down ’er nose at me then. This is why I can’t stand people round ’ucknall, they’re so small-minded. Literally every single person I know takes drugs, but I’m not even allowed to ask Nicola the question. An’ then, to top it all off, afterwards Smanfa were upset wi’ me! Not only for askin’ Nicola if she takes ’em, but for “admittin’” that I do! It’s like, for God’s sake, it’s not illegal, is it? Well OK, that is, but ya know worra mean. An’ I can’t be doin’ with it. I can’t wait till I’m old enough to move out.
I’ve got mates who take drugs who’ve got great jobs an’ better lives than anyone round here could dream of, so maybe Smanfa should get off ’er friggin’ high horse, an’ get high instead. Speakin’ of jobs, Mam’s got ’ersen a fancy job in an opticians now. She has to wear glasses to work to make people trust ’er, but they’ve got no lenses in ’em, it’s just clear glass. She’s bought trousers an’ jackets. She’s dead happy, coz she can go shoppin’ all the time now. She used to clean toilets.
All Mam’s bothered about is havin’ nice things. Gaz sez she’s up ’er own arse. Aunty Ray sez she’s selfish. I’ve still not forgiven ’er. I’m talkin’ to ’er, but it’s not the same. She sez she were protectin’ me from Max, but how come she’s never protected me from Gaz? It’s alright for ’im to pick on me an’ make me feel like every single thing I do is wrong, but for Max to kiss me an’ be nice to me, suddenly it’s super-Mam to the rescue. Well she can fuck off! People are such hypocrites about sex. Gaz’d rather watch a man shoot someone than two men kissin’ on TV. Wonder what he’d rather see in real life. I honestly think he’d prefer to see me kill someone than be gay. Maybe he will one day.
Mam’s gorra boyfriend now too. Bobby. She works at the Station Hotel on Sundays – Smanfa’s dad lives in there, apparently – but not coz she needs the money. She just likes bein’ there an’ figures she may as well get paid for it. So it’s all Bobby this an’ Bobby that now. I think this one might actually be serious, though. He’s an IT technician. I were like, what? An’ he owns ’is house. He’s gorra daughter an’ it sounds like she’s dead spoiled. I think Mam’s hopin’ she will be too. It’s nice that she gets ’er happy endin’, I suppose. I, meanwhile, have had to dump David, coz he called Lady Die coloured. He come to pick me up from ’ers an’ were like, “You look lovely, coloured folks always look good in bright colours.” She just laughed, but I can’t go out wi’ someone that thick, canna? We all say stupid stuff, but come on. It’s like the N-word. Everyone knows ya just can’t say that if yer white, not even jokingly. I told this David that he shun’t say anythin’ in front of me that he wun’t say in front of Natasha an’ he starts goin’, “I’m not racist”, so we had this massive fall-out an’ I thought, Oh fuck off, I don’t even like ya anyway.
Natasha’s ma brother’s sister. She’s mixed race. I call ’er ma sister, but we’re not related by blood. She’s not even ma step-sister. Basically, Gaz had a baby with ’er mam, so we share a brother. I call ’er every night, I know the number off by heart – 0115 9528920. She’s dead pretty. She looks like Scary Spice. Sometimes we sing “Wannabe”. I’m Ginger. Mam an’ Denise see Natasha’s mam Michelle down Black Orchid sometimes. Denise sez she cun’ see ’e
r till she smiled. I laughed, but that’s bad, innit? Denise sez, “What d’ya eat when ya go round Michelle’s? Rice an’ peas?” I din’t understand that, but apparently that’s bad too coz Michelle dropped me off at Mam’s once an’ as they were stood there talkin’ I sez, “Michelle, Mam’s mate Denise sez ya always eat rice an’ peas, is that true?” Mam looked mortified.
They were the only black people in ’ucknall, although they’ve moved to Arnold now. I reckon Michelle wanted to get away from Gaz. I don’t blame ’er, to be honest. Ma uncle John’s wife is black too, but she’s quite light-skinned. Someone called ’er a Paki walkin’ down Annesley Road once. That’s what people are like round here.
Natasha’s the one who lent me ’er tights. School phoned Mam an’ told ’er. I sat wearin’ ’em, waitin’ for ’er to come home. I knew she’d be upset. I must’ve bin about seven or eight. She told Gaz. When she went to Turkey, he took me to see the doctor about it, an’ I told ’im. I’m a girl. I sez, “I’ve always known, it’s ma earliest memory.” I were on a bench – I must’ve bin about four – an’ I told a girl, an’ she shouted over to the lads on the swings, ‘Oi, have ya heard what he’s sayin’? He sez he’s a girl.” An’ they all went, “Ah, that’s naughty!” an’ started laughin’ at me.
