Lucky Break

by Rob Stevens

It took me twenty minutes to reach the pier. The sun was weak overhead but sweat was pouring off me as I dashed into the arcade. I dodged some kids and sidestepped an elderly couple as I weaved between the fruit machines, heading towards the far exit. Beyond the arcade I was on the wooden boardwalk of the pier itself. My lungs were scorched but I picked up my pace and sprinted.

  Reaching the barrier at the end of the pier I came to a halt. My chest was heaving and I slumped over the railing, breathless and utterly dejected.

  My bike was lying on the floor, one wheel spinning steadily in the stiff onshore wind. Next to it, lined up neatly side by side, were Arnold’s tattered Converse trainers.

  I thought about the conversation Arnold and I had sitting in this very spot after we’d won the jackpot on the fruit machine. He had opened up to me and trusted me with his darkest emotions. I knew how much he needed a good friend and I had let him down. I should never have doubted him and I feared he had reacted by doing something silly.

  I leaned over the barrier, desperately searching the choppy sea far below.

  ‘Arnold!’ I yelled, but my voice was beaten back by the wind.

  Again and again I called his name. If only I’d stood up for him from the start. When my dad had come into my bedroom I should have backed up Arnold without question.

  ‘Arnold!’ I screamed. In my heart I knew it was pointless. The sea was so vast he would have been swallowed up instantly. Every time I called his name I sounded more desperate. ‘Arnold!’

  It was no good. He was gone. I hung my head and listened to the wind whistling under the pier.

  ‘Were you calling me?’

  I spun round, startled.

  Arnold was leaning on the barrier next to me.

  ‘Arnold!’ I laughed, barely able to believe my eyes. ‘You’re alive! I thought you’d … you know.’

  Arnold shook his head. ‘What?’

  ‘I thought you’d … Never mind. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you …’

  ‘No sweat.’ Arnold shook his head. ‘I heard what you said to your parents. About me being your best friend and trusting me. It meant a lot. I know I’ve caused you some trouble this week and I wanted to pay you back for the broken window and Olivia’s phone. So I went to the bank – with my cash card this time. I didn’t have enough to cover everything but I took out all I have to give to you.’

  ‘Honestly, you don’t have to.’

  ‘I’m glad you said that.’ He laughed. ‘Because when I came out of the bank I spent it all on these snazzy trainers in the sports shop next door.’

  I looked down at Arnold’s feet. He was wearing a pair of brand new Nike trainers – black with bright green flashes.

  ‘When I heard you stand up for me I felt good – sort of worth something for the first time in ages. I don’t know why that made me want to get new trainers.’

  ‘I do.’ I smiled.

  ‘When Mum got sick I felt like it was my fault. I felt pretty alone but you changed that. You’ve looked after me and risked your life for me and stood up for me. I’m lucky to have a true friend like you.’

  Then Arnold stepped forward and did something I wasn’t expecting. He hugged me, pulling me towards his chest and pressing his cheek against mine.

  ‘Listen,’ I mumbled, ‘since we’re friends, I ought to tell you I’m not comfortable with physical contact.’

  I could feel Arnold’s cheek squeeze into a smile and he said, ‘Tough.’

  My marker pen squeaked as I crossed out the date on my England rugby calendar. I still couldn’t help counting the days, but now I was looking forward rather than back. One week to go.

  It was Saturday morning, the last training session before the schools’ rugby cup final and I was excited about playing. Mum had changed her mind about the dangers of my playing rugby. Or at least she had changed her mind about not allowing me to play rugby and other contact sports. I suspected she was still terrified something would happen to me but she was trying hard not to show it. I didn’t know whether Olivia’s words had struck a chord. Or it may have been our conversation at the rugby match that had made her reconsider. Either way she was doing her best to give me some freedom.

  Hearing the doorbell, I bounced down the stairs. I was expecting Ash and Tom to call for me on the way to training. I couldn’t wait to play the sport I loved again. The prospect of being involved in the cup final next week was unbelievable. It was like part of me I thought was gone for ever had been given a new lease of life.

  But when I opened the door I was surprised to see Mr Cheeseman standing on the doorstep. He was dressed in his usual tatty attire but there was something different about him. He seemed brighter, sprightly almost. And he’d combed his hair.

  ‘Mr Cheeseman?’ I said.

  ‘All right, sunshine.’ Mr Cheeseman winked.

  ‘Listen,’ I whispered, glancing over my shoulder. ‘Mum and Dad are in so I can’t …’

  ‘Smashing,’ he replied, stepping into the hallway. ‘I must thank your mum for that croque monsieur – it was an absolute blinder.’

  Mr Cheeseman was still confused about the meal Mum had prepared him when I’d brought him home all those months ago. Maybe the alcohol really had addled his memory but I thought it only fair to put him straight.

  ‘Boeuf bourguignon,’ I said gently.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘When I brought you home for tea, we had boeuf bourguignon.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he nodded. ‘Delicious it was, too.’

  ‘It’s just that you said croque monsieur?’

  ‘I know. That was equally delicious. As was the cassoulet, the coq au vin and …’

  ‘Mr Cheeseman,’ I said softly. ‘You’ve only been here for tea once.’

  He smiled at me and blinked. ‘I know that, you muppet. I’m not crazy.’

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ I said, but I was thinking the opposite.

  Mr Cheeseman continued. ‘Every now and then your mother comes to see me at the bus depot. She brings me food and sits with me for a chinwag. She brought me a cracking croque monsieur last night. She told me about the effect your friend Arnold had on the family. Sounds like he really cleared the air?’

  The image of Mum secretly taking care of Mr Cheeseman and Arnold helping our family made me smile.

  ‘She persuaded me to get some professional help. I wasn’t sure at first but then I thought about what you’d said to me. In the end I decided you were right. It’s never too late to get my life back so here I am.’

  I was still wondering what Mr Cheeseman was talking about when Dad came out of the kitchen.

  ‘Mr Cheeseman,’ he said, shaking the tramp’s hand. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Scared witless.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

  ‘Cheers.’ Mr Cheeseman held up a bony thumb.

  ‘Well, we’d better get going. The meeting starts at half-past.’

  Dad escorted Mr Cheeseman onto the doorstep.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  Dad turned and smiled. ‘We’re going to a support group for alcoholics. I have offered to sponsor Mr Cheeseman’s recovery.’

  ‘That’s amazing,’ I said, feeling pride swell in my chest. As Dad and Mr Cheeseman disappeared from view, Ash and Tom turned into our driveway.

  ‘Ready?’ Ash called.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ boomed Tom. ‘Leon was born ready.’

  ‘Give me one sec,’ I said.

  I grabbed my sports bag and went into the kitchen. Mum was drinking coffee at the breakfast bar.

  ‘I’m off,’ I said.

  ‘OK, sweetheart,’ she said, looking up from her magazine.

  ‘I just found out you’ve been taking care of Mr Cheeseman. Thank you.’

  ‘Well, I felt guilty for kicking him out. It was the least I could do to make sure he had a decent meal once in a while.’

  ‘I see where I get it from,’ I said. ‘Looki
ng after people.’

  Mum slipped an arm round my waist and squeezed me.

  ‘Ash and Tom are outside so I’m going to shoot.’

  ‘What time is Arnold coming over?’ Mum asked.

  ‘About one-ish,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back by then. We’re going to go out on our bikes, or something.’

  ‘Dad and I were talking last night. Maybe Arnold could come and stay with us again soon. Maybe for a bit longer this time.’

  ‘How long?’

  Mum shrugged. ‘We’ll see. There’s a spare room going to waste upstairs. It would be nice to see more of him – especially while his mum is getting better.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum!’

  Arnold had been to visit his mother a couple of times recently. He’d said she was feeling stronger and hoped she might be well enough to look after him again – some time.

  I gave my mum a hug and kiss. ‘See you later.’

  When I reached the door she said my name. I stopped and turned back. With her coffee cup cradled in two hands, my mum gave me a sort of apologetic smile and said, ‘Be careful.’

  I felt an immense sense of love that made me beam.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I will.’

  Stanley ‘Carrot’ has never fitted in. He’s got bright ginger hair, he’s not sporty like his adoptive family, and he’s definitely not cool. For years he’s waited to hear from his birth mother … and then, on his 13th birthday, a card arrives.

  Stan wants to show his mum what she’s been missing – but he’s got a feeling he’d be more of a disappointment than a wonderkid. What he needs is a stand-in Stan, someone who is handsome, sporty and God’s Gift to Mothers. Things are going to get seriously confusing.

  Just who is the real Stanley Carrot?

  ‘Touching and funny’

  Julia Eccleshare,

  Lovereading

  9781783442287