by Paul Magrs
‘They really liked your early Christmas presents,’ he told her.
She smiled. Her choices had been inspired. An old film theme album for him, and another Ada Jones opus for her. Both dirt cheap from a charity shop, but both extremely well chosen and beautifully, carefully wrapped in paper and ribbons. Simon felt ashamed at envying Kelly her thoughtfulness.
‘I’m glad I came all this way to visit you,’ she said, as they reached the end of the lane.
What? Was that a tinge of sarcasm in her voice? With Kelly he found it hard to tell. He looked at her and her face leaped out all savage and sharp in the light.
‘I — I’m glad you came…’ he said. ‘All that way.’
‘You wouldn’t have come to my town, to see me,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t have made the effort, would you?’
‘I… Well, yes. I would—’
‘No, you wouldn’t. I’ve made it easy for you. I took the initiative. I’ve come all this way and charmed your guardians.’
Guardians? He never thought of them like that. Their legal roles. Like something out of a Victorian novel.
Kelly was glaring at him. ‘Why do you suppose I did that?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But you really cheered up their Wednesday.’
‘What?’ she gasped. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’
‘Um…’ he stammered. This was why he didn’t go out with girls. The conversations got this complicated. He was never sure what they wanted to hear, or what he was meant to be saying.
‘What about you?’ she said. ‘Have I cheered you up at all?’
‘I don’t need cheering up,’ he said. He gulped. What had made him say that?
‘Yes, you do.’
Think what you want,’ he said.
‘I think you’re depressed. You need bringing out of yourself.’
‘What, like a prawn? A shrimp? Some other miserable crustacean?’ Simon’s tongue was running ahead of him. They rounded the corner, into the town square. The clock in the centre was at 9.18. Kelly’s bus was just about due.
‘You’re shouting at me,’ she gasped.
‘No, I’m not. But you’re patronising me.’
‘I am not!’
‘Yes, you are. What are you saying? That you’re just the right person to help me “out of myself’? You’re just the right girl to help me get over my depression, eh? To winkle me away from my books? To get me over my grief’
This last phrase surprised even him. He stopped talking then and caught his breath back. Kelly was staring at him.
‘I’m going to miss my bus,’ she said. ‘I’d better say good night.’
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I shouted. It’s just…’
‘It’s just the Oldies, assuming that I’m going to be your girlfriend. And assuming I’m going to make everything turn out all right.’
He blinked. ‘Well. Yes. That is what they’re assuming.’
Kelly shrugged. ‘They’re old. They’ll assume what they want to and they’ll say what they want to. That’s what old people are like. But, you know what? I’m not assuming anything, sunshine.’
‘Yeah?’ He smiled at her. He relaxed a little. Just a little.
‘Loosen up a bit,’ she told him, leading the way across the road to her bus stop. ‘Don’t get so uptight. For God’s sake don’t start making assumptions about me either. I just want us to be mates. I like you, Simon. You’re OK.’
He felt like cheering. She was so sensible and straightforward. She was so clear about her feelings. Just then he felt like he would believe anything she said. He felt like he’d do anything she told him to.
‘Look! The fat lad’s got a girlfriend!’
‘Hahahahahaha! Loser!’
‘He’s got some tall, skinny bird!’
‘What does she think she looks like?’
‘He’s going out with a witch or something!’
At the phone box the kids were falling about laughing. Now they had something new to laugh about.
Simon’s heart sank in his chest.
‘Who the hell are they?’ Kelly hissed, glaring.
‘I just ignore them. They’re always like this.’
The kids at the phone box were shrieking now. One of them had obviously said something hysterical.
‘I’m not standing for this,’ Kelly said.
‘Your bus!’ Simon burst out. ‘Your bus is about to turn up. You’ll miss it.’
‘You’re right,’ she said.
‘Hey, fat lad! Is that your girlfriend? That witchy thing?’ The biggest of the lads was bellowing at them, louder than Simon had ever heard. The sight of him walking with Kelly had provoked more noise from the gang than even the tartan shopping bag on wheels.
‘Right,’ said Kelly suddenly and, before Simon knew what was happening, she was marching smartly over the road, right up to the ringleader.
‘Oooh! The witch is coming over!’
‘It’s Vampirella!’
‘Aaaggghhh! We’re so scared!’
Kelly didn’t say anything. She judged it not worth her while to engage in witty banter with these kids. Her bus was pulling into the town square. It was 9.22 and she didn’t have the time to waste on them.
‘What do you want, Vampiros Lesbos?’
‘How come you’re hanging out with dorky boy?’
Simon started hurrying over as Kelly squared up to the biggest, loudest lad in the group. His face was arrogant and red, with a jutting, stubbled chin.
Kelly didn’t say a word.
She punched him in the face.
Quick as a flash she struck out and clobbered him in the jaw. A smart, expert jab that her lorry-driving, rough diamond dad had taught her, many years ago. The loudest, hardest, biggest lad dropped to the ground without a single murmur.
‘Bloody hell!’
‘She’s killed him!’
‘She’s knocked him out!’
Amen, Simon thought, as he stood frozen on the sparkling Tarmac of the road. Kelly turned on the heel of her Doc Martens and came striding back towards him. She didn’t look at all smug. She just looked satisfied. She reached Simon and kissed him lightly and quickly on the cheek.
‘Look, my bus is waiting. I’ll see you on Saturday with your gran at the Exchange. And thank the Oldies again for my lovely tea.’
Then she was off, skating across the pavement and onto the lit-up bus.
Rather dazedly Simon waved as, seconds later, the double-decker went shunting and snorting past him, Kelly its only occupant, waving back.
Now he was alone in the town square, with the kids at the phone box clustered around their fallen leader.
‘Do something!’
‘Phone for an ambulance!’ one yelled.
‘We can’t! The phone’s knacked!’
Simon turned to hurry away. He didn’t want them coming after him. He kept on walking and didn’t look back, as the kids at the phone box panicked and gibbered.
They had forgotten all about him. For once he didn’t have their insults ringing in his ears.
Simon went home ringing instead with triumph and admiration. He could hardly wait to get back and tell his gran and grandad what Kelly had gone and done.
He was so keen to get back quickly that he missed his footing and slipped hard on the fresh, compacted ice. That hurt quite a lot and he found himself sitting there, on the empty road at the top of their street, flat on his bum, yelling out sharply in pain, and then starting to laugh out loud at everything that had happened that night.
Nine
For a few days Grandad was happy.
‘I can overlook all her warpaint and her funny black clothes,’ he told Simon. ‘I think she’s a proper sensible girl. She’ll see you right.’ There was a spring in his step as he set out for the Legion at opening time.
‘It’s as if he’s the one who’s started courting…’ Winnie said caustically, as she and Simon watched him go. ‘He’ll be bragging to all his old cron
ies about how we’ve got a Gothic in the family.’
Simon tutted. But he was pleased. They had accepted Kelly. The evening had been a great success. Now his life wouldn’t seem as limited and closed in as it had before. He had found a friend who was the same age as he was and that gave him some kind of purchase on the world of today.
Grandad didn’t even complain when Winnie and Simon came home with a bagful of books from the Exchange that Saturday. He raised an eyebrow and said, ‘You two have been pretty busy. It sounds like an interesting place, this Exchange. Kelly made it sound quite exciting. Much better than just some old shop full of dusty books. Do you think I’d find anything there that I’d like, Winnie? Maybe I should come down one Saturday, eh? What do you think?’
Winnie was frowning and Simon felt odd too, at even the suggestion that Grandad might join them on their Saturday afternoons out. It seemed inconceivable somehow. His grandad was laughing at their expressions then and started asking after Kelly. He looked gratified that she had been asking after him. He glowed and said, ‘No, I think it’s a very sensible idea, this Book Exchange lark. Giving books back to the shop, once you’ve done with them. I approve of it completely. We were getting too many of the things in this little bungalow. We needed to give some away, didn’t we? When Kelly explained how the Exchange worked, I thought — that’s just what we need. We can hardly turn around in this place. We need to give some stuff back. Just to get a little breathing space.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Winnie, not sounding convinced. ‘Anyway, Kelly only helps out there. The Exchange really belongs to a man called Terrance.’
‘The Man with Two Plastic Arms,’ put in Simon, and immediately felt silly, because they both turned to look at him.
‘Why do you call him that?’ asked his grandad.
‘Um… because it’s true. He’s got two false arms.’
‘How did he lose his arms?’ Grandad wanted to know. He had a ghoulish fascination with ailments, mutilations and missing body parts. Simon knew this very well from the war stories and submarine stories his grandad had treated him to, over the years.
‘Actually, I don’t know,’ said Simon.
‘It’s not the kind of thing you can just ask, is it?’ Winnie said primly.
‘Kelly will know,’ said Grandad. ‘Ask her. She’ll know the story. She’ll have asked him straight out, I bet. There’s something very straightforward and honest in her nature, you see. She’ll have asked him and found out, because she is interested in her fellow man. She’s not held back by fake politeness. She’s more like myself in that way, you sec. Perhaps that’s why the two of us got on so well…’
‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Winnie started laughing. ‘Honest? Straightforward? You can’t even he straight in your bed at night. Don’t make me laugh!’
Ray started to blush. ‘Well, I’m not like you two. You two are more interested in your old books than you are in real people. That’s a scandal. It’s a wonder you ever talk to any other people at all…’
‘Oh, shush,’ Winnie said, and Simon could see she was growing exasperated with the old man. He was a little tipsy from drinking at the Legion. Today it had turned him playful, which made Winnie defensive, and this could easily escalate into a full-scale row.
‘I’ll make us a cup of tea,’ Simon said.
‘She’s just what you need,’ his grandad Ray piped up. ‘That Kelly. She’s got both feet in the real world. She says precisely what she means. You know where you are with her. I can’t abide a dishonest woman. And… she’s brave, too. She stood up to them kids who were catcalling you. That takes proper nerve. We could all do with nerves like that. Just to live your life, you need a lot of nerve.’
Winnie tossed her head. ‘You’ve got a nerve,’ she told him fondly.
The following Tuesday Simon dressed for school, as usual, and packed his sandwiches for his lunch hour and put all his textbooks and exercise books in his sports bag with his PH kit, ready for school. He said ‘bye to his gran and grandad and set out at eight forty-five, as if everything was normal and like any other Tuesday.
He joined the drift of other kids in school blazers down the hill towards the playing fields and the low, blocky buildings of the comprehensive. He dragged his feet and felt himself growing more surly and withdrawn, putting on his protective school persona like a costume. Finally, he found himself filling up with dread, just as he would on any other Tuesday morning: a day with cross-country, calculus and Chaucer on the cards. In his attempt to seem like nothing-out-of-the-ordinary, he was managing to convince even himself.
When he reached the ominous school gates and the bottle-necking rabble he turned abruptly away from the crowd and darted off down a side street. He hastened along Whickham Way to a particular bus stop. He went quicker, more purposefully. He was self conscious like he was on CCTV and, all the while, his insides were thrumming with subterfuge. His extremities tingled and he was feeling subversive in every molecule and atom and cell.
He stood at the bus stop alone and he could hear the idiotic chatter and squealing of the kids, two streets away, in the schoolyard. Then the school bells were ringing for nine a.m. and the kerfuffle reached a climax. Then the sudden hush descended as die school day began. The terraced houses all about him seemed to sigh and there he was, tapping his foot at the bus stop.
For the first time in his life, Simon was bunking off.
The sensation was incredible. He felt clear-headed and alive and relieved and like he could suddenly go anywhere or do anything. Now he could see how dangerously addictive this was. Never before had he seriously considered truancy as an option. He was a good lad! He was trying to fit in! He was getting his head down and getting through life at his new school. Of course he had never truanted. He had never stepped out of line at all. He’d never even thought about it till Kelly’s text arrived in the middle of the previous evening.
I’ll meet you on the Express coach. The X50 heading north. We’ll go to the city. We can go shopping. We can go running around. Bunk off with me. Simon.
Of course he had to do what she said. There was never any doubt in his mind. This would be just another Tuesday, otherwise. Another dreadful one with narrow-eyed and hostile kids staring at him, and his getting tangled up in equations that had to be integrated or differentiated, and his plodding along behind everyone else through soupy black mud, breathing raggedly and heavily, tasting blood at the back of his throat.
No, here was a chance to make this Tuesday unique.
He’d been too soft before, too obedient. Now he had a friend. It was worth taking a risk to spend a day together. Something as mundane as waiting for a bus seemed thrilling now. There was a glamour to it. A point.
Here it was now. Bound for the north and the big city. Passing through the small town, trundling down the sharp decline to the stop on Whickham Way. And here was Kelly sitting at the back, with her hands and face pressed up to the glass, banging on it to get his attention. Today she was in full, devastatingly Gothic mode. She was like a lady vamp from a 1930s Universal movie, Simon thought. And he was proud to be getting on this coach, paying his fare and hurrying down the aisle to sit beside her on the back seat. She was his companion for the day. His shopping buddy; his accomplice; his partner in crime. She was wearing spikes around her throat and her wrists, and her hair was just about standing on end.
‘You did it!’ she laughed, as the bus pulled away. ‘You’re skiving off! You’re actually doing it!’
‘Of course,* he said. ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’
‘I thought you’d back out. I thought you’d be a good boy in the end.’
He scowled. Only because she was almost right. Over breakfast, stirring sugar into his porridge, watching his gran fold his green polyester football shirt, he’d come close to losing his nerve and backing out.
Now the bus was surging forward, swinging round the roundabout at the bottom edge of the town. It shot into freedom and country’ roads and yellow, fallow fields s
tretching miles all around. And here, suddenly, it met the larger roundabout and the motorway. All four lanes, north and south, were chock-a-block and sizzling. Within minutes they had left his town for dust.
‘It’s easy to forget how close we live to the motorway,’ he said. ‘All these people, going places. When you’re here, zooming along, you needn’t even know our town exists…’ He looked round at Kelly, who was busily backcombing her hair even more. ‘Do you bunk off much?’
‘Only when I have to,’ she said. ‘Enough to keep me sane. No one is any the wiser, though. Dad doesn’t care. So long as I keep up with my studies.’
‘Is he abroad now?’
She nodded. ‘He just wants me to get all my exams. But he wants me to have a life, as well. And that’s what we’re doing, aren’t we? We’re going to have a life.’
Simon grinned. Inside him though, he felt a bit squeamish and tight with worry. It wasn’t often that he went up to the city. Winnie found it too oppressive and harried, especially in these weeks running up to Christmas. The people there carried on daft, she said. People were pushy and they forgot all their manners. That took all the fun out of it for her. So she and Simon had spent most of their Saturdays in smaller towns.
Also, he knew, Winnie wasn’t keen on going back to that city on the coast. It was where she had grown up: where the docks and shipyards and back-to-back houses had been. She didn’t want to be going back too often. It was changing too much. It was all very different. They were improving it, really. But the city was no longer her own and that unnerved her. She would get flustered and lost in the place that held all her earliest memories.
But now Simon was going there with Kelly, instead. In some small, strange way, it felt almost as if he was betraying his gran. Travelling without her. Shopping and seeing the sights and the people without her. Spending a day out with someone else. Simon experienced a small pang of conscience. Yet that probably had as much to do with panic and the squashing of everyday dread as anything else.
The further north they went, the craggier and hillier the landscape became. The motorway cut through clefts of pale sandstone and drew’ nearer to the coast so that, every now and then, they would glimpse a silver gleaming sash of sea running alongside them. Simon wondered if it would be rude to read his book during their hour’s journey, and decided that Kelly wouldn’t mind. She was, meanwhile, staring abstractedly at the windswept coastline and the heavy, almost purple, Novemberish clouds.
