“What have the auditors said anyway?” he asked at length.
The answer came as Martin’s phone rang. Apparently, the auditors had gone home and would reconvene the next day, when the codes were ready.
Carl never heard Jeffrey Parker on the other end of the line, ranting
“… they’ve gone home because they can’t do any work without the access codes, and it’s all that bloody Carl Price’s fault. If they find any problems and it’s his fault, I’ll bloody swing for him.”
Chapter 7
Wednesday November 3rd @ school
Carly and Jacquie were walking to school on a rainy Wednesday morning, keeping away from the kerb, because they were being splashed by sadistic motorists. Carly gave one driver the finger and screamed abuse after her legs were soaked. One of the local old folk peered out of her front room window.
“What you screwing me for? Old witch. Look at my legs, I’m drenched.”
Jacquie laughed.
“Look, there’s Anna, I think she thought you were swearing at her.”
“Did you see her screwing me yesterday? I was, like ‘you wanna bring it on, I’ll scuff you’.”
Carly accompanied her description with a spot of her best pigeon.
“If she screws us today I’ll be like ‘come on then sista.’ I’d love to do her.”
Their attentions were diverted by two boys from year 9, who overtook them. They forgot their enemy.
“He is soooo buff,” Carly drooled.
“His mate is better. He is chung. If he ever asked me out I’d be like, ‘you can give me a shine any day’.”
Carly laughed as the boys ambled past without a backward glance. “Looks like we’re both out of luck. They don’t know what they’re missing. Two hot girls like us.”
As the girls walked into school the bell rang. Whereas 199 year 8 pupils went to register and their lessons, Carly went off to isolation.
* * *
Carly was dreading isolation – sitting alone in a classroom all day for the week. Even worse, she was being supervised by Miss Payne. As she approached the classroom she heard her teacher talking on the phone.
“Not my favourite student... I’ll have to keep the brat busy and minimise the chat...”
Carly swung through the door, doing the pigeon, and close to Miss Payne’s face.
“I heard that, Miss. You’re well out of order.”
“I’m sure you say a lot worse about me. So get over it, sit down, and let’s make the best of the next week together.”
Carly walked over to her chair and looked all around.
“What is this room, Miss? It feels like a prison.”
It was a bare white room, only big enough for a teacher’s desk on a raised stage, and a single desk and chair for the pupil. Carly was not thrilled at the thought of looking up at Payne-in-the arse for a whole week.
“You can thank George Bush and his buddies.”
Carly looked blank.
“Who, Miss?”
“Oh come on, Carly, surely you know who the last American President was?”
“Yeah, course I do. But, like, he doesn’t teach here.”
“No, Carly, he doesn’t. But the whole principle of isolation has come from the States. The idea is that you contemplate your anti-social behaviour in a quiet setting.”
Carly shrugged. She didn’t always understand what Mrs Payne was on about and she wasn’t going to ask.
“OK, Carly, socio-political debate over, we will start off with English. I want you to write an essay entitled ‘My favourite memory’ and it will be at least 3 sides of writing... Well what are you waiting for? Get going.”
Carly frowned.
“Sorry, Miss, how can I write an essay about memory?”
Miss Payne sighed. “It’s your favourite memory, like a family holiday you enjoyed for example.”
“I haven’t got a family and I don’t remember any fun holidays. I don’t think my Dad has ever taken me anywhere, apart from to my Nan’s in Bournemouth and last year we went Butlins. It rained every day.”
Miss Payne’s expression softened. “OK, I’ll give you a different title – talking of your Dad, what did he say about isolation? Did he give you a hard time?”
“He doesn’t know yet, Miss. He’s at work all day so if you phone his mobile he can’t answer it and nothing’s, like, come in the post yet.”
“OK, well if we get this week over, hopefully you’ll be able to tell him that you’re a reformed character and that he has nothing to worry about.”
Carly shrugged her shoulders. “Dunno if he cares that much anyway.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does. He’s your Dad. Dads care about their daughters.”
“Does your Dad care about you, Miss?”
“We aren’t talking about me, Carly, we’re talking about you.”
“Why, Miss? I’m like, I’m not talking about me. You’re talking about me. Maybe I want to talk about you.”
Carly was annoyed. She didn’t want to be Miss Payne’s friend. It was better when the fat bitch was shouting at her; being nice and nosey was soooo annoying.
“Oh look, Carly, write a different essay, one which ends with the words, ‘I could not believe my eyes’.”
Carly considered the offer for a moment.
“That would be easy, wouldn’t it, Miss? Would it be like, if I closed my eyes and had, like, a favourite memory I would know then that I could not believe my eyes?”
“Yes, Carly. I guess that is correct. Perceptive of you, if a little sad – sad in the true meaning of the word.”
Carly started to write. She saw her teacher out of the corner of her eye and the bitch smiled back at her. The room was so small, it was difficult not to catch her eye. Please don’t be nice to me, Carly thought to herself. She wiped her own eye and began writing ten to the dozen. Miss Payne left Carly alone and began marking homework.
Carly spent all morning writing the essay, but after lunch, instead of returning to isolation, she bunked off again. She couldn’t take any more of being alone with Miss Payne.
The teacher decided to report her – after all this was the second afternoon in a week. Intending to take it to a staff meeting, she picked up the essay and started to read.
‘I could hardly believe my eyes by Carly Price
Yesterday I woke up and looked outside. It was sunny and warm. It is never sunny and warm where I live.
I got up and went downstairs. My half sister Gemma called me. I went into her room and read her her favourite story. It is called “Not now George”. It is all about a boy who sees a monster but his Mum and Dad don’t believe him. They keep on not believing him and at the end the monster eats him. It is Gemma’s favourite story and it used to be mine. I still like it. Sometimes I feel that I am that boy.
Today I do not. Gemma and me play for a while and listen to music. I like Avril Lavigne, Eminem, Pink and Rhianna but she prefers people from the X factor like Leona Lewis. But she’s only six.
After a few minutes we go downstairs. Dad has gone to work and Mum is in the kitchen. She has some travel broches and tells us that we can look through them and decide where to go on holiday.
Mum takes me and Gemma to school. I meet my friend Jacqs and we have a laugh. At school I do really well. All the teatchers – even Miss Payne – are realy pleased with me and they give me a report to take home.
All the boys talk to me, Jacquie and Bethany and tell me how butiful I am. A man comes to the school and asks me if I would like to be a model. He tells me I could be the next Chantelle from Big Brother and I am really pleased.
Everything is good and I go home after school. Me, Mum and Gemma have tea and then Dad comes home. He tells us that he has been promoted and is going to be earning more money. Then him and Mum tell me and Gemma that they are getting back together and that it will be Dad and Mum sleeping in Dad’s bedroom together again. He won’t be on my case anym
ore and will be more like a proper Dad. My nightmairs will stop forever and I am really pleased.
On the table I see my school report saying how well I am doing, the form for us to book our holiday to the Caribean, the letter from Dad’s work telling him he had promotion and when I look up from the table I see Gemma, Mum and Dad and they are all smiling. I could hardly believe my eyes.’
Miss Payne put the essay in her folder and sat down in her supervisor’s chair. She read the essay once more and placed it in her folder before going to the staff room. Needless to say, the teacher never reported Carly Price for bunking off.
Chapter 8
Thursday November 4th
Nathan always felt apprehensive about going to the Ellams’ house to pick up his mate Mark. It wasn’t that the house was imposing, but his old man was. Mr Ellam was a Police Sergeant, and a big bastard as well. Well over six foot and built like a prop forward, Nathan wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. The Sergeant opened his front door and bellowed to his son. “Mark, your mates are here.” Mark ran down the stairs while his father continued the lecture.
“You had better not be going out and messing with fireworks, Mark. You know how dangerous they ...”
“Shut up, Dad. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do anything with fireworks. See you all later.”
‘All’ for Mark was his mum, dad and three brothers. Seeing Mark’s dad, Nathan wondered what it would have been like if his dad had stuck around. Would he have been like a mate, to take him to football and teach him how to ride a bike? Or, like Mark’s dad, someone who ruled his family like a hard man, and tried to keep them scared? Of his mates, only Mark and Michael lived with both their original parents, and had brothers, sisters and pets. Nathan wished that his poxy little house had more than him and his mum at home. An older brother would have been cool, although Mark’s older brothers were knobs, and Michael was always having a beef with his. Nathan thought Mark brave because, even with his dad being Five-O, that didn’t stop Mark taking the same risks as his mates.
As they walked off down the street, Nathan asked the all-important question.
“Mark, have you got them?”
Nathan was looking forward to a riotous night with his mates. Mark, despite the strictest home regime, had been assigned to buy the fireworks, which he had hidden in his clothes. Billy also had a few, and gave one to Nathan.
* * *
The six boys left Mark’s and ran to catch the 466 bus from South Croydon to Coulsdon. They weren’t the only ones on the top deck but the group of 14 year old posh boys weren’t a threat to our heroes. Undeterred by the audience, Mark threw a rocket out the window and although Nathan thought it was stupid and dangerous, he responded by throwing a moonie and told Billy to “stick a banger right up the crack.”
The boys got off the bus at The Red Lion in Coulsdon. It had once been Coulsdon’s prime pub. Now it was closed and empty. Scaffolding surrounded the building, adorned with boards advertising the builder, the estate agent and the developer. Nathan couldn’t understand why it was still sitting derelict after almost a year, with so many companies involved. Still, it appeared to be a safe destination for Billy to practice his throwing techniques.
Billy chucked a banger but it bounced off the ‘for sale’ hoarding and back towards them. Watching the banger rebound open mouthed, the lads resembled dumb, dumber, dumberer, dumberest and completely dumb. The only one seemingly not hypnotised by the banger’s return was Nathan, who shouted “Leg it.” The banger landed harmlessly ten feet away.
The noise was deafening and within seconds of celebrating their near miss, they heard the familiar sounds of a siren. The boys ran across the road and jumped onto an oncoming 60 bus. Thinking they were safe, they went, as usual, to the top deck. The bus was half full but nobody challenged the crew as they ran around the top deck, looking out of the windows. “Shit, it’s the Feds,” Michael exclaimed, and they all looked out to see a police van overtake the bus and stop. Within moments, three policemen, each one over six foot, entered the bus and climbed the stairs. There is no escape from the top of a double decker bus.
“You and you.” The first policeman pointed at Duayne and Billy. “You were seen throwing a firework...” Duayne shuffled uncomfortably in his seat looking guilty. Nathan felt sorry for Duayne. Always the least likely to do anything, but now being blamed. He couldn’t blame Mark for not owning up. Not with his Dad. Nathan reckoned it must have been a local BNP who had accused Duayne. Mark, the culprit, was short with spiky hair, slightly overweight and white, as opposed to Duayne, who was tall, thin and black.
The policeman continued “...and you were seen throwing a firework in the street on the site of the old Red Lion Pub.” Billy smiled at him. Nathan couldn’t tell whether this was defiance or nervousness, but, knowing Billy, decided that his mate must be shitting it. All front was Billy, no bottle.
Michael gave a spirited defence of Duayne.
“He didn’t throw the firework from the bus.”
“If he didn’t do it, you must know who did.”
“No, I know it wasn’t him, because he was with me.”
Nathan was both impressed and envious. The others rated Mike as the main man of their crowd. Always seemed to do the right thing. Nathan wished he’d have fronted out for Duayne.
“Well, one of you threw it – a firework was definitely thrown from the 466 and you lot were all seen getting off the bus.”
None of the boys responded. The policeman continued, eyeballing Billy.
“This moron was seen throwing a firework at himself. You got anything to say..?”
“I didn’t...”
“You didn’t do it? Well, which one of you jokers did then?”
Nathan considered being a hero, so everyone would look up to him. But he didn’t. Or couldn’t. Plod carried on.
“What you lads did was dangerous and stupid and could have taken someone’s eye out – or worse.”
The second policeman joined in the discussion. “You six, get off the bus now.”
Michael maintained his vain attempt to be the lone hard man. He screwed the lead policeman.
“Ah, come on, why? Why you blaming us? There’s other people on the bus.”
Nathan was still impressed but this was a losing battle. Like the other five, he kept quiet.
“Keep being gobby, son, and you’re nicked, ok?”
As the boys came off the bus, they were lined up to be searched. They were on the main road, 100 yards past the pub. A crowd gathered to watch. As the search began, Nathan looked up at the sky, wishing that he had not taken a firework from Billy earlier. Maybe they wouldn’t find it.
Mark was searched first. Nathan muttered “shit” as Mark’s fireworks were uncovered easily. They were still in his pockets. Mark hadn’t thought like a policeman’s son. Michael muttered to Nathan. “Mark’s gonna get killed for this when his Dad finds out.”
The policemen had also twigged.
“Looks like we have a copper’s son. You’re one of Sergeant Ellam’s boys, aren’t you?”
“What if I am? My dad’s probably your boss.”
Nathan and Michael laughed at Mark’s bravado. The officer ignored the comment and began searching Billy. Billy had secreted his firework down his trousers but following the brief intimate search the police arrested him also. Jamie, Duayne and Michael were searched next but none had any fireworks. As the end of the line, Nathan thought about running. Could he get away? From three feds? He decided to face the search. He might even be lucky. It was only a small rocket.
Nathan wanted to laugh at first because the search was ticklish. The urge died when he also found himself arrested once the police found the firework down the back of his hoodie.
The three boys with the fireworks were formally charged. Nathan saw that Mark’s face was white. He recalled Mark’s dad’s last words to his son, and for once was relieved he didn’t have a dad to go home to after this.
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The police took Billy, Mark and Nathan to the police station. Billy was charged with illegal possession and throwing the firework, whilst Nathan and Mark were merely charged with illegal possession. All the boys were photographed and held in a cell whilst their parents were called.
The cell stunk like piss and was too small for the three lads. The single bed in the corner was covered in brown and green stains that could have been shit and snot. The boys stayed away from the bed, sitting on the cell floor by the door. On his own, Nathan would have hated the experience, but the three boys were together. They spent an hour or so laughing and joking about the evening’s events. Nathan felt quite proud. Michael might have had sex, but he had never been arrested. Nathan even had an opportunity to use his hidden graffiti marker on a station corridor.
For Janice Richardson, receiving the phone call that her son had been arrested, was the end of another bad week for her.
Chapter 9
Friday November 5th
Marie drove back from work on Friday evening and, even though she enjoyed listening to Jeff on Absolute radio whilst she drove, she almost fell asleep twice. The second time she must have been swerving in the road because a loud hoot startled her. The Beamer was as comfortable as a living room chair and the long hours at work and the driving to Crouts was telling after three days. It was around eight on the Friday evening before she was able to pick her daughter Gemma up from her own mother’s house.
Marie had a good relationship with her mum, a widow for the past six years who enjoyed looking after her granddaughter, particularly as she had missed out so much with her elder granddaughter, Carly, after Marie’s marriage broke up.
Marie knew her mum did not like Gemma’s dad, Gary, and had often asked if she had rushed into a second marriage. Her Mum liked Carl and had been disappointed when that marriage had failed. Marie wondered if her mother was right. Carl had been prepared to stay home and look after his daughter. But that hadn’t been sufficient for Marie.
It Always Rains in November Page 5
