Life, Death and Gold Leather Trousers

by Fiona Foden

  “By the time I heard all that, it was too late to go ’cause they’d already booked their flights.”

  “Right. So … Skelling told you that stuff, did she?”

  He shuffles on the doorstep. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbles.

  “Who was it, Riley?” I’m not crying any more. I’m just mad, mad as hell.

  “Just someone, OK?”

  “And you don’t think that someone was jealous of all the time we’d been spending together?”

  He opens his mouth to speak. For a moment, he looks as if he realizes it’s a horrible, tangled mess, but that it’s too late to unravel it.

  “Hey, Riley!” come a shrill voice from upstairs. “I thought you were going to play that song for me? Who are you talking to down there?”

  There are footsteps, the clack-clack of heels on the wooden staircase. “Oh, hi, Clover!” Skelling exclaims. She’s wearing teeny white shorts and a bubblegum-pink lacy vest.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurt out.

  She flashes a syrupy smile. “Had to come back early. Dad was offered this amazing job he couldn’t turn down. He’s getting a company car and everything.”

  “Just a car?” I ask coldly. “Not a yacht or a helicopter?” Whoops, that popped right out of my mouth.

  She snorts, pony-like, through her nostrils. “Anyway, what were you were saying to Riley? That I’m jealous of you? Why would I be jealous when you’re the one who lives in a scabby house, whose dad’s gone off with some naked model and a mum who—”

  “Hey!” Riley cuts in. “No need to—”

  “Jealous of your holiday, maybe?” she crows. “I mean, we only went to dreary old France, while you … you went to a dead man’s house, didn’t you?” She throws back her head and guffaws.

  “Sophie, for God’s sake,” Riley snaps, whirling round to face her. “That’s … that’s a horrible thing to say…”

  She rolls her eyes and simpers. “Sorry.”

  “No,” he says, shooting her a furious look. “Don’t speak to Clover like that. You don’t know anything about her.” Riley’s cheeks are burning and even Skelling has the decency to turn a hot shade of pink.

  “Of course you’re not jealous of me,” I snap at her. “Why would you be? You’ve got everything.” I turn and storm away, shutting my ears as Riley shouts out my name, his voice fading to nothing as I run.

  You’re welcome to each other, I fume as I charge home. I hope you’ll be deliriously happy together. It’s not as if Riley’s ever been my boyfriend or my anything at all. Guitar practice, that’s all it was. Someone to try out new songs with, to see if they worked, because it’s awfully lonely playing all by yourself.

  So really, Riley could have been anybody.

  And he’s right – he never gets any better. His strings buzz and he drops his plectrum and gets frustrated and red in the face. Sometimes I wonder why he persists with lessons at Niall’s. Maybe his dad pushes him into it.

  Oh yeah, and there were those kisses. The tiny, blink-and-you’d-miss-it kiss, and the real one. Well, a girl can make mistakes. For a moment just then, I actually thought he was, you know, OK after all. Especially when he said he wanted to stay at Copper Beach instead of going to France. Now I know better. Even if he likes me, Skelling’s always going to be around, trying to ruin my life. I’m not having that any more. I’d rather spend my time washing all the panes in Dad’s greenhouse than hang out with him. I’d rather clean Cedric’s cage with my tongue.

  By the time I turn into our road, I’ve come up with some new rules for myself:

  Remember my promise to Jupe. Get better and better on guitar, find a band, rehearse until we’re completely brilliant and make Riley Hart completely, sickly jealous. Ha!

  And, er, that’s it. I can’t think of anything else. But it’s big enough to be going on with, don’t you think? And it’s working already because it’s taken my mind off Riley for … ooh, about seventeen seconds.

  Mum comes home from the Cutting Room with her crinkly, purplish Drunk-Babs mane transformed into a glossy chestnut bob. She looks gorgeous, like a model.

  “It looks great, Mum,” I enthuse, hoping to God that this was Bernice’s day off.

  “Think so?” she asks, grinning. “It’s a big change…”

  “Yeah, but it suits you.”

  “She was really persuasive,” Mum adds, twirling a strand of hair with a finger.

  “Who?” I ask shakily.

  “The hairdresser.” A sly smile flickers across her lips. “The one who did such a lovely job with your hair, remember?”

  It feels like flames are whooshing up my face. After Riley today, I’m not sure how much more stress I can take. “Mum, I—” I start, but she comes over and hugs me. Her hair feels soft and smells of coconut.

  “It’s OK,” she murmurs. “You already told me Bernice works there, and I’m glad you warned me. But you never told me she’d actually cut your hair, did you?” I shake my head. “Well,” Mum adds, “she let it slip, because she ended up cutting mine too.”

  “Er, was that OK?” I ask nervously.

  Mum smiles. “Sort of. We figured out who each other was, and of course it was awkward – but, you know, it was kind of funny too.”

  “Funny?” I repeat faintly.

  “Well, our paths were going to cross one day. And you can hardly start ranting at someone who’s cutting your hair, can you? God knows what they’d do with their scissors…”

  I manage a weak laugh, and all the knotted ropes in my stomach start to loosen.

  “Listen, Clover,” Mum adds, “your dad and me … well, things weren’t right for years. I don’t think we’d been happy for a long time.” She turns away and drops two tea bags into mugs.

  “And, um … are you happy now?” I ask.

  She looks over her shoulder and grins. “Yes, I really am. That week at Jupe’s helped me realize that. I felt … really close to Ed there.”

  I nod, not knowing what to say.

  “In fact,” she adds, “I was thinking of asking if he’d like to move in with us, if that would be all right with you…”

  “What, here?” I squeak. “In our house?”

  She nods, handing me a steaming mug. “I know it’s a bit quick, but he’s living in a tiny rented flat and his landlord’s told him that he’s thinking of selling the place. So you see, love, he might have nowhere else to go.” She fixes me with her slate grey eyes. “I hope you’re OK with this, sweetheart. If you’re not, I won’t mention it to him.”

  Am I OK? I haven’t the faintest idea what I am. All these things have happened – Jupe dying, Dad meeting Bernice, Mum falling in love with Ed, Riley deciding that I’m the most despicable thing on earth and that he’d rather believe the lies of a total airhead. How am I supposed to know what’s OK? “It’s up to you, Mum,” I say firmly.

  “Well, I don’t want it to happen if you’re going to be unhappy…”

  I take a deep breath. It feels disloyal to Dad, but then, he’s not coming back, is he? And was it really so bad, having Ed around at Jupe’s? “It’s OK,” I say.

  “Really?” Her eyes are shining as she throws her arms around me. “I’m really glad, Clover. And you know what? I’m so proud of you.”

  I smile and step back, looking at new-look Mum who’s just had her hair done by Dad’s girlfriend. And I guess I’m proud of her too.

  A week later, Ed’s sort of moved in already. His toothbrush has arrived at least, and some nights he stays over. It’s weird getting used to Ed being in my life so much, and Riley not being in it at all. It’s tempting to go round to his place and try to explain that I didn’t say that stuff, but what would be the point? A girl’s got to have pride. At least Niall’s guitar lessons stop during the summer holidays, so I won’t have to deal with Riley being all cold and
distant with me until the start of term. And by then, I’ll be over him, won’t I?

  Anyway, there’s other stuff going on that’s far more worrying than a stupid boy with a Skelling obsession. One scorching-hot day I come back from hanging out with Jess at the beach to find a man with a bushy grey moustache in our living room. He’s wearing biker’s leathers and is examining Jupe’s guitars, having phoned about the ad that Mum put in the paper. At first he didn’t believe they were Jupe’s. “I’m his sister,” I heard Mum explaining on the phone. “I’ve got photos, newspaper cuttings, where you can clearly see what he was playing. Yes, they’re all for sale…”

  A pause, where Mum rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh … yes, I know that doesn’t prove they’re the actual ones,” she went on, “but you’ll just have to trust me, OK? Otherwise, don’t bother coming.”

  He’s here now, peering suspiciously around our living room, as if we might have more of Jupe’s stuff lurking in corners. Of course, the rest of his belongings went to charity, or were left for the clearance men to take away, as Mum couldn’t face sifting through every single little thing. “OK if I try them all out?” he asks.

  “Of course,” Mum says brightly. “Take your time. Clover and Ed will answer any questions, won’t you, guys? I’ll leave you to it.” She hurries away to the kitchen.

  Ed nods, sipping from a bottle of sports drink, and I fidget in the corner of the room. I wish I wasn’t here. I’d rather be at Dinosaur Diner than here. The man picks up a pale blue guitar and whacks out a chord. “Needs tuning,” he complains, but that doesn’t put him off playing some more. He perches on the sofa arm, attempting a showy solo, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  I trap a laugh. Ed catches my eye and grins. The giggle forms deep in my belly, and I have to think about bad things – like Skelling yelling at me from Riley’s front door – to stop myself convulsing. “Nah,” the man says. “I’m looking for something with a deeper, rounder sound, y’know?” He glances around, and his eyes light upon the sunset guitar.

  No, I think desperately. You don’t want that one. It doesn’t have the deep, round sound you’re looking for.

  He scratches his scalp. “You say you’ve got a drum kit?”

  Lily, who’s been sulking upstairs, comes down and peeps into the living room. “It’s upstairs,” Ed says, “in the girls’ room. I’ll show you if you like.”

  Lily throws me a horrified look. “I wouldn’t bother looking at it, though,” Ed adds quickly. “Pile of rubbish, that is. Virtually falling to bits. Unplayable.”

  “I might just have a look,” the man says. He stands up, and his leather trousers creak ominously.

  “Nah, mate,” Ed insists, “I can tell you’re serious, yeah? Looking for quality gear? Honestly, you wouldn’t let a little kid loose on that kit. In fact, I don’t think anyone in Jupe’s band ever played it.”

  Shrugging, the man plods over to inspect the sunset guitar. Lily’s staring at me, aghast. “That’s twenty grand,” Ed says coolly.

  “What?” the man gasps. “Your ad didn’t say that!”

  “Yeah, but that one’s not part of the ad,” Ed says firmly. “It’s special, mate, and we’re not taking any offers.”

  I have to bite my lip to stop myself from grinning.

  “Aw, come on…” The man reaches out to pick it up.

  “I said no offers,” Ed says sharply, and the man jerks his hand away.

  He glowers at us, shaking his head. “Your ad was misleading, then.”

  “Take it or leave it,” Ed says with a shrug.

  Sighing, the man delves into a jacket pocket and pulls out a wad of banknotes. He flicks through them, mouthing the numbers. “There,” he says, handing the money to Ed and nodding towards the blue guitar. “I’ll take that one.”

  “Great,” Ed says, smiling.

  “It’s gonna need an overhaul,” the man huffs, giving my sunset guitar a lingering glance as he leaves.

  Whoops, see what I did? I said my sunset guitar.

  What happens the next day is even weirder. A bunch of people come around – one painfully shy man, who shuffles away with a cheap, battered black guitar, and a witchy woman with black-rimmed eyes who has the girliest voice imaginable. “I’m interested in this,” she says, plucking the sunset guitar’s strings.

  “Twenty grand,” Ed says firmly. As she’s busy with her new job at the travel agent’s, Mum has appointed Ed as the Responsible Adult (ha!) to oversee the proceedings. I suspect, though, that she doesn’t want to see Jupe’s stuff being taken away. I mean, it’s not like leaving his lumpy old beds and tatty wardrobes for the clearance men. Even Mum knows instruments are different.

  The third person insists on trying out the drums, and eventually Ed gives in and takes him up to our room. “Nice kit,” the man says. “I’m looking for something like this for my daughter.” Lily, who’s in an almighty black mood, has mooched off to play with Fuzz round at Betty’s.

  “Look, mate,” Ed says, “I’m really sorry, but I’m in an awkward position. You see, someone came round earlier and put a deposit on the drums, so I’m not really at liberty to sell.”

  “Did they?” I blurt out, and Ed wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Why didn’t you say?” the man asks, tapping the cymbal irritably.

  “Well, um, I thought I’d let you try ’em out in case this other sale falls through…”

  The man hisses between his teeth. “I’ve driven all the way from Exeter for this,” he snaps.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry.” Ed’s forehead ripples, the way sand goes when the tide’s gone out. He looks really sorry. “The other person was so keen,” he adds, “and I didn’t have your number to call you…”

  The man slams down the sticks and follows us downstairs. “Wasted journey,” he complains as we see him out.

  The fourth person asks if he can nip out for a smoke in our back garden. “To be honest,” I hear him tell Ed, “I can’t pay the prices you’re asking. I’m, well … I’m a fan, you see. Couldn’t resist coming round for a play.”

  Ed chuckles good-naturedly. I loiter at the open back door, ears pricked. “To be honest, mate, we’ve had a lot of those,” he adds.

  “Timewasters?” the man says.

  “Nah. People like me and you. Genuine fans.”

  “Tell you what, though,” the man says as I step out into our back garden, “that’s what I’m looking for. Perfect size for my plot.” He points at our rickety greenhouse with the smashed pots inside,

  “That’s funny,” Ed says, “but you know what? We’re selling it. Need the space. There’s something else I want to build here.”

  “What?” I demand, whirling round to face Ed. “What are you building?”

  Ed grins mischievously. “Little surprise.”

  “How much d’you want for it?” the man asks, grinding out his roll-up on our back step.

  “Fifty quid should sort it,” Ed says.

  “But you can’t sell it!” I cry. “It’s … it’s Dad’s!”

  Both men gawp at me. “Yeah, he can,” Lily retorts, stomping back from Betty’s garden. “It’s horrible and spidery in there.”

  “But what would Dad say?” I hiss, realizing that Dad doesn’t care about a scabby old greenhouse.

  I watch Ed strut back into the house, then come out with a tape measure. Together, he and the stranger start measuring the greenhouse while the man scribbles on a scrap of paper. What’s Ed planning to build in our garden anyway? A mini-gym? It’s bad enough that he’s dusted down Dad’s old cycling machine and puffs and pants on it regularly. He’d probably use Cedric’s wheel if he could squeeze himself into it.

  The man leaves, returns shortly afterwards with a truck, and dismantles our greenhouse with Ed’s help. There’s no discussion with Mum – nothing. It’s carted away bit by bit until all that’s left
are Dad’s smashed tomato plants on the ground.

  “That’s fantastic,” Mum gushes later. She’s flushed with excitement after another day of selling holidays to places she’s never been to.

  “So I can start on the gym?” Ed asks.

  So it is a gym, and we’re all going to have to put up with Ed grunting and groaning in there. “Soon as you like, sweetheart,” Mum says, grinning. And she kisses him on the lips.

  Over the next few days, Ed’s a whirl of activity. Despite the NO JOB TOO BIG OR TOO SMALL painted on his van, it’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything that looks like proper work. First, a huge pile of rubble is delivered to form the gym’s foundations. Then a friend of Ed’s comes over and together they lay a concrete floor. It’s Sunday evening when the phone rings. Mum says, “Yes, there’s one guitar left, and a bass and drum kit … half an hour? Yep, see you then.”

  I’m pretending to watch TV but it’s all random pictures. My whole body slumps, as if someone’s let all the air out of me. It’ll be different this time. Ed’s back at his own flat tonight, packing up the last of his things. He can’t put the customer off with mad prices, or lie that someone’s paid a deposit. It’s just me and Mum, watching a cheesy game show, and Lily drumming upstairs.

  The sunset guitar is propped on its stand next to the TV. Every time I imagined me and Riley in a band together, that was the guitar I’d be playing. Well, that won’t happen now, with anybody. Because right now, someone is heading towards our house to take either that, the drum kit, or the battered old bass guitar away. They’re the only things left.

  Right now, I’d give anything for Ed to be here.

  I’m lying in a warm, golden bath. It’s golden because I’ve sloshed in loads of Mum’s special moisturizing bubble bath, the stuff with real gold particles. If I lift out a hand, it’s all shimmery, as if I’d cut up Jupe’s leather trousers and made gloves out of them.

  Mum would go mad if she knew. I don’t care. She’ll be able to buy hundreds of bottles of gold gloop from the money she’s about to make.