Me Mam. Me Dad. Me

by Duffy, Malcolm;

  First it was faulty now it’s suffered a malfunction, a posh word for knackered. As if enough hadn’t happened this week, now this. I could borrow someone else’s phone and ring me mam, but what would I tell her? I’m stuck on a train? From the Lake District, she’d say, all surprised. When did they build that line?

  I punched the toilet door in frustration.

  ‘Oi,’ came a voice from inside. Knowing my luck a massive Scotsman would come out and punch me right back.

  I got up and walked about in me small space. No one else seemed that bothered we weren’t going anywhere, just buying food, talking, drinking, listening to music. I guess none of them had lied to their mams, none of them were coming back from where they shouldn’t be, none of them were about to get the rollocking of their lives.

  The train stayed stopped.

  Just when I thought I was going to spend the rest of me life next to a cow field, I felt the train budge. A cheer went up in the carriage. The train moved, then it got faster and faster, but still not as fast as me heart, which was now going mental.

  I could hardly bear to look at me watch. But had to. 12.02 p.m.

  Wazzocks.

  ‘Do you know how long till we get to Newcastle?’ I said to a bloke sitting on the floor with a can.

  ‘About an hour,’ he said, a beery smile on his face. Wish I had something to smile about. ‘Late for something?’ he went, slurping his beer.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘The match?’

  Didn’t even know if the Toon were playing at home today. How bad is that?

  ‘Don’t go to any matches.’

  ‘Don’t blame you.’

  I didn’t want to talk to the bloke. I’d had it with drunks, had it with everything. I was never going to get to school in time. I went through in me head what I’d tell me mam. I didn’t fancy the Lakes, so I went to Scotland. Where in Scotland? she’d ask. Edinburgh. And then she’d know. That’s where your dad lives, she’d say. That’s why you went there, isn’t it? I’d nod. Then she’d make me tell her why and things would be even worse in our house than they are now, expect I’d be the one that gets screamed at, and me mam would make sure I never saw me dad again, not even when I was eighteen.

  I started to pray to Amy’s God that our train would break down, that I’d never get home. But it’s funny, just when you want a bad thing to happen it never does. The train just seemed to get faster and faster and faster.

  The speaker bloke was off again.

  ‘Next stop: Newcastle. Next stop: Newcastle.’

  Okay, heard you first time Mr Scotsman.

  I stood up and looked out, saw houses, Geordie houses. I never thought I’d hate coming back to Tyneside, but I did now. I tried to spot St James’ Park. I thought if I saw that it might bring me good luck, but, no, too many buildings in the way.

  Looked at me watch again. 1.06 p.m. The coach would be there now, the kids all getting off, laughing, pushing, grabbing their bags. Amy would be there too, hugging her mam and dad, but me mam and FB wouldn’t be hugging anyone. They’d be wandering around looking for me, not finding me.

  ‘Danny, has anyone seen Danny?’ me mam would shout in her scared voice.

  ‘Danny?’ Mr Hetherington would say, confused. ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘What do you mean he’s not here?’

  ‘He didn’t come on the trip. He told me he was going to his gran’s.’

  Me mam’s face would go a weird colour, then she’d have to sit down, then she’d call me gran and find out I wasn’t there, then she’d call the police, then I’d turn up, then she’d be happy, for one second, then she’d go mental, for about a million seconds, then she’d get FB to batter me, then me mam would batter me. That’s what would happen.

  Felt like I wanted to puke.

  The train stopped. Picked up me bag and moved to the door.

  ‘See you, Geordie,’ said the bloke with the can.

  Said nothing. Just got off the train with me bag and trudged across the Central Station. I didn’t even bother running. What was the point? Too late for that. I checked me envelope. Still had over a hundred quid, more than enough to get the train back to Edinburgh. But just another stupid idea, from the king of stupid ideas.

  Went to the taxi rank.

  ‘Where to, kidda?’ said the taxi driver.

  Good to hear a Geordie voice again.

  Thought of getting him to take me straight to school, but changed me mind.

  They’d have gone by now. Told him me address in Whickham.

  I didn’t want to talk. But he did.

  ‘Where’ve yous been?’

  Sigh.

  ‘Scotland.’

  ‘With the Sweaties?’ Thought I got Geordie, but had no idea what he was on about. ‘Y’on your own?’ he went, his eyes watching me in his mirror.

  Nodded.

  ‘Long way to gan on your tod. Been seeing your folks?’

  Never thought I’d hear meself say it, but I did.

  ‘Aye, been seeing me dad.’

  ‘Canny time?’

  ‘Aye, canny.’

  Which for once was nearly the truth.

  The driver stopped talking after this. He must have known he wasn’t going to get much out of me.

  We crossed the Tyne and ten minutes later pulled into FB’s street.

  ‘Here you are, bonny lad.’

  Looked at FB’s drive. His car was gone. They must still be at the school, looking, waiting, wondering. Me mam would be on her phone to me, not getting through to me, trying to figure out what was going on. I thought about getting out, and waiting for them to come back, but that might make me mam even madder.

  ‘Can we gan somewhere else, please?’

  ‘Aye, long as it’s not Scotland.’

  Asked him to take me to me school.

  ‘It’s shut. It’s Saturday.’

  ‘Just take me, will you?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s your money, kidda.’

  I thought the journey from Edinburgh was the worst I’d ever been on. Wrong, this one was, ’cos this was taking me to me mam and him. I said another little prayer in me head. I prayed to the God of Miracles to save me.

  A few minutes later the driver turned the corner where the school was. I closed me eyes. I knew what I’d see when I opened them. One car, Range Rover, two people standing next to it, biting nails, looking up and down the street for the lad who never got off the bus.

  ‘Here you gan,’ said the driver. ‘Looks like you’ve got a welcome committee.’

  I snapped me eyes open. Couldn’t believe what they were telling me. On both sides of the road were cars, and next to the cars were loads of people. I rubbed them in case it was a dream, but it wasn’t, it was real life. No sign of the coaches, just tons of mams and dads.

  ‘This alreet for you?’ he went, slowing down.

  I didn’t want him to drop me right next to me mam and FB.

  ‘Na, keep gannin.’

  Just like in Edinburgh I slumped in the seat, with me eyes peeking over the top. Then I spotted them. I saw FB first, couldn’t miss him, not with that belly, then I saw me mam, on her phone.

  ‘Can you gan a bit further, mate?’

  I squidged right down so they wouldn’t see me as we went past. A few seconds later, I got up and looked back. FB was smaller now, me mam was the size of a fingernail. Safe enough.

  ‘You can stop here.’

  He did.

  ‘Cheers.’

  Paid the fare and gave him a tip. Seen me mam do that. It’s what you have to do unless you want them to swear at you. Grabbed me bag and got out.

  ‘Take care, kidda.’

  Too right I will.

  The taxi drove off, and I went up to a mam and dad, standing by a car that looked like it was held together by rust.

  ‘What’s gannin on?’

  ‘Divvent knaa,’ said the woman, sucking on a tab. She was surrounded by smoke, like she was on fire.

 
; ‘The bus must be knackered,’ said the dad. ‘Shoulda been here ages ago.’

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  It was like scoring the winning goal for Newcastle in the Champions League Final, only better. The first bit of good news I’d had for ages. The train had been late, but the coach was even later. Me mam and FB would think I was still stuck on it. I wasn’t in the clear yet though, I needed to look like I’d been on the trip. If they saw me walking down the street with me bag they’d wonder how I’d got back before the coach. I’m a fast runner, but not that fast.

  The coaches usually stop in the school playground, next to the main entrance. I needed to make it look like that’s where I was coming from. Decided to do a massive loop round the school grounds. Walked down the street and through the hole in the fence that Year Ten cut, across the football pitch at the back of the school, and round the side by the burned science lab. Then I found a spot by the metal dustbins where I could wait.

  Didn’t have to wait long. Twenty minutes later the coaches turned up. Just as I thought, they drove into the car park and stopped right in front of the school. A few seconds later they all started to pour off. Time to make me move. I grabbed me bag and walked along the side of the buses, where I couldn’t be seen from the road. Lads and lasses were dashing down the steps. I hurried forward to join the crowd. I’d only gone two steps when a hand touched me shoulder.

  ‘Danny?’

  Turned.

  It was Amy, looking all rosy from being outside all week.

  Me mouth was short of words. All I could think to say was, ‘Hi.’

  ‘What you doing here?’

  ‘I, um, just wanted to welcome you back.’

  ‘That’s so thoughtful of you, Danny. What’s the bag for?’ she said, looking down.

  Thought quick. Should have thought slow.

  ‘I’ve been shopping.’

  Amy gave me a strange look.

  ‘Shopping? You hate shopping.’

  ‘Just getting a few things for me mam.’

  ‘How’s your gran?’

  ‘Gran? Oh, a lot, lot better. Almost totally cured.’

  Amy inched her toes forward, like she was desperate for a hug. I wanted to grab her so much. But I couldn’t. Not in school.

  ‘So how were things with you-know-who?’ I asked.

  She looked across the playground at the lumbering figure of Lanky Dave, who had a kid in a headlock.

  ‘He’s been a total idiot. I’ll give you a full report, but not now.’ Amy quickly touched my hand. ‘Me mam and dad have been waiting ages. I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Aye, ta-ra, Amy.’

  ‘Love you,’ she mouthed.

  ‘Love you too.’

  Amy hurried away.

  I walked quickly towards the road, hoping no one else came to ask where I’d been or what on earth I was doing at school on a Saturday.

  Nobody did.

  Me mam spotted me first. She hurried across the road, wearing a big grin. She got close. I checked her face for marks, but couldn’t see anything. She’d probably put make-up on.

  ‘Oh, Danny.’ She gave me a hug. Not as big as Stevie’s, but still a good one. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she went.

  ‘Aye, me too.’

  The squeezing stopped, then FB waddled up, smiling, of course, and rubbed me hair with his fat hands.

  ‘Good trip, General?’

  Stop General-ising me.

  ‘Aye, not bad.’

  FB shoved a couple of quid in me coat pocket. God, I was minted.

  ‘What’s that, Danny?’ said me mam.

  ‘What’s what?’

  Mam reached into me shirt pocket and pulled out the Scottish five-pound note. She looked at it and then back at me.

  ‘Found it, in the street.’

  ‘A Scottish note, in the Lake District?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said FB. ‘You get a load of Jocks in the Lakes coming back from Blackpool. They’ve probably sent a search party from Glasgow to look for it.’

  Me mam put the note back in me pocket, but she wasn’t finished yet. ‘So how come you’re so late back?’

  ‘Bus broke.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call me? We’ve been waiting ages.’

  ‘Me phone was out of juice.’

  Probably the only truthful thing I’d told her all week.

  Me mam asked a few more questions on the way home, but not too many, and not too hard. I guess she’d been quizzing me every night. I had another closer look at her face, but I couldn’t see anything. I reckoned if he’d battered her on Tuesday, the marks might have gone by now. I sniffed the air. Couldn’t smell beer or TCP either. She probably had a massive bruise where he’d belted her on the back. But I’d never see that. Just glad me mam had survived the week.

  FB drove fast, but no one made him go radgy. He parked in front of his garage and we went in the house. I went upstairs and crashed on me bed. Took the ball out of me bag and hugged it tight, like a keeper at a corner. It made me feel good.

  The door opened and me mam came in and sat on the bed next to me. She looked at the ball.

  ‘Is that a new one?’

  ‘Aye, got it from a shop.’

  ‘You’ve got a ball.’

  ‘Fancied another one.’

  ‘Looks expensive.’

  ‘Wasn’t that much,’ I said, even though I hadn’t a clue.

  ‘Are you all right, Danny?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You didn’t sound fine on the phone. You sounded distant.’

  ‘I was distant.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’ She scrabbled her nails on the duvet. ‘We’re working things out.’

  ‘He hit you when you were on the phone. He made you cry.’

  ‘Look, Callum gets worked up when I’ve done something wrong.’

  ‘Hiccupping’s not wrong.’

  ‘He was trying to stop them.’

  I looked away. For the first time ever I felt ashamed of her. I thought she was the best mam on the planet. I thought she was clever. I thought she always did the right thing. But I was wrong. She just wanted me to agree with her. Yes, Mam, no, Mam, three bags full, Mam. But I wasn’t going to. Was never going to. Because I knew what she didn’t. I knew the facts. The facts she wouldn’t even look at.

  She got up and walked to the door.

  ‘You didn’t send us a postcard.’

  Greetings from Edinburgh. That would have made her choke on her cereal.

  ‘No, Mam, I didn’t.’

  Thirty-Five

  •

  I rang Amy that night to find out what the score was with Lanky Dave.

  Not good.

  ‘He tried to sit next to me every time we got on the coach, tried to kiss me, touched me when the teachers weren’t looking. Just a massive pain in the butt.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell the teachers?’

  ‘I can deal with it, Danny.’

  Nobody wants help any more.

  ‘Amy.’

  ‘I’m going to avoid him.’

  ‘He’s in our class.’

  ‘I’ll give him an ultimatum. If he does anything really bad I’ll go to Mrs Brighton.’

  ‘Why not ask your dad to do something?’

  ‘What? Threaten a fourteen-year-old kid?’

  ‘No, threaten the fourteen-year-old kid’s dad.’

  ‘That’s how wars start.’

  ‘Well, if you won’t do anything, I will.’

  ‘Please don’t do anything stupid, Danny.’

  ‘Me, do anything stupid? As if.’

  Didn’t think it was possible for Amy to annoy me, but she had. Just like everyone else she didn’t want to hear what I had to say. Like all me words were worthless.

  But at least I had something new to take me mind off things – Scotland. Thought about all the things I liked about it – me dad, crazy golf, fish and chips, skimming stones, cafés, the lions, the castle, kick-about. Thought of all the things I hated about it – r
ain, funny voices, go-karts, slow trains, steep hills, Scottish football, lumpy sofas. Eight–seven. Not a bad result.

  But of all the things in Scotland, the thing I thought about most was me dad. I’d be eighteen next time I saw him, and he’d be thirty-four. He’d probably have a big belly, and no hair, and hairy ears like the dads at school. I’d be different too – bigger, maybe have a job, and a tash, and a tattoo of Amy on me arm. But me mam wouldn’t be around. And FB would be in prison for murder.

  At school on Monday I heard loads more about the trip, so if me mam quizzed me, I’d have all the right answers.

  The stories, in the order I heard them:

  Stuart Martin and Colin Duffin had a fight over a missing packet of crisps. Stuart said that Colin had nicked them and Colin said he never. They had a punch-up in the toilet and Stuart swallowed a tooth. The teachers broke it up. But ten minutes later Stuart found the crisps at the bottom of his bag. Mr Tobin made him apologise.

  Barry told me about Jamie Cavendish falling in a lake. Jamie’s a massive show-off. There was a rock far out, and a bunch of lads bet him a fiver he couldn’t jump across to it. Jamie said he could. He took a huge run-up, like in the Olympics, and missed the rock by a mile. Barry reckoned they were still laughing an hour later.

  Tony Heskill was caught with his hand up Michelle Arthur’s sweatshirt. Michelle said that she had an itch that needed scratching. Mr Pensford said that he’d have accepted this explanation if the itch was on her back. They both got detention.

  Up one of the hills Kevin Nyland stopped to have a pee off a rock. The rock was wet, and Kevin slipped, mid-pee. He wet his pants, sprained his ankle and broke his wrist. Shame nobody had a phone to get it on film. If they had it would have got a billion hits.

  Jason Glenorchy and Heidi Rhodes sneaked out one night. Jason said they went all the way. Heidi said they never. So they probably did.

  Those were the main stories. Other things:

  No one got much sleep because of farting, snoring, shuffling, talking. It was freezing cold, the trips were mega-boring, and Mrs Peck, the geography teacher, talked about glaciers and stuff, but no one could remember what she said.

  Now it was time to talk to Lanky Dave. I saw him swaggering across the playground during break.

  ‘Oi, Dave,’ I shouted.