by E. R. Murray
My legs tingle and turn weak. I wiggle my toes inside my shoes to make them feel a part of me again.
“It’s not that. It’s just convincing Hatty…”
“Must be nice to only have baking to worry about. I’d happily swap places.”
She knows damn well Mam’s in recovery and I’ve a lot more to think about than just baking. I open my mouth to say something, but decide better of it. Despite Maddy’s bravado, there’s a hint of sadness on her face as she stares off into space.
I think back to the times we’d be playing and her brother would come running up to warn her their dad was on his way home so she’d better get there quick. Sometimes she’d invite us to play with her in her garden, and although her mam was nice enough, there was no way we were going near her psycho dad. She always looked so hurt as she hurried off, looking back now and again to where me and Sarah played. I always pretended not to notice.
“You should tell your sister to get lost,” says Maddy after a spell. “That’s what I used to tell my brother, before, you know…”
Her voice trails off and I wrack my brains, trying to figure out whether it’s her brother’s birthday or the anniversary of his death. He was killed in an accident in our first year of secondary school, heading home from rugby try-outs. A motorbike lost control and ran into him. That’s when Maddy’s mam had a nervous breakdown. She’s the same age as my mam but looks ancient, and she’s always off her face on pills these days. When she’s not, she’s scared of her own shadow.
“But what I want to know is…” continues Maddy, stabbing my chest with her finger. I don’t let her see that it hurts. “Are you going to stick up for yourself or what?”
“I do. But it doesn’t work. She’s in charge. And it’s not like I can bake without ingredients.”
Mad Dog snorts, slaps her leg and shakes her head.
“So, does Sarah help you bake?” she asks, lighting another ciggie.
I turn my head from the smoke.
“Nah. I’ve only tried it once. On my own.”
“You make it sound like shagging or sniffing glue.”
I can’t help laughing. She’s right.
“Here, you and Sarah, you’re not lezzers are ya?”
Wishing I could tell Mad Dog where to go – like, who cares about that stuff anyway – I shake my head.
“No. Just mates.”
“I’ve got loads of mates, me,” says Maddy. “Can’t stand hanging out with just one person. It gets on my tits.”
“I couldn’t get sick of Sarah.”
“Even though sh-she’s a l-loser?”
I feel like a rodent cornered by a hyena, but for some reason I can’t stop my mouth.
“What have you got against Sarah these days, anyway? You’d still like her if you gave her a chance.”
Snorting, Mad Dog raises her hand up to my face, fingers splayed.
“No way! I only have cool friends. Now shove off. No offence, but you’re starting to get on my tits too.”
I don’t need telling twice. I jump to my feet.
“It was nice chatting with you—”
“Wish I could say the same,” says Maddy.
“Right,” I say, quickly turning the corner.
As soon as I’m out of earshot, I leg it all the way home. Tucked safely up in bed, the conversation with Mad Dog plays over and over in my head. I reread the next few recipes and I wrestle my brain for options, but can’t find any. Then it comes to me: Mrs Snelling, the school’s head cook. She’s dead nice and would probably be delighted to know a student was interested in cooking. I decide to tackle her the next day.
Chapter Nine
Some of Us Would Like to Eat Today
As soon as I see Sarah twitching in the dinner queue, I know Mad Dog’s nearby. Checking behind me, I spot Maddy on her own, two people down in the line. I smile at Maddy, but she ignores me, and her eyes lock onto Sarah’s profile. Taking a step back, I nudge Sarah into my own space in the queue.
“Here, you’re in a hurry. Go first.”
Sarah’s features relax a little and she smiles appreciatively, but I daren’t look in Maddy’s direction. She’ll see it as me taking Sarah’s side again. As we move along the counter selecting our food – burger, chips and beans for me; beef, roast potatoes and carrots for Sarah – I feel my heart beat faster and my palms grow sticky. The counter where the head cook serves is getting close. Mrs Snelling – a short, fat, ginger-haired woman who always laughs too loudly – is my only hope if I’m ever going to continue baking. There’s a lot at stake here. I have to handle it right.
When we reach the dessert counter, I act like I can’t decide – even though I always choose sticky toffee pudding. Sarah’s not convinced.
“It’s this morning’s double Science,” I say. “It’s got my head in a muddle. Grab us some seats and I’ll be right over.”
Sarah sneaks a glance in Maddy’s direction. She’s busy chatting with the dinner lady so Sarah scuttles off. Meanwhile, I flash Mrs Snelling the biggest smile imaginable.
“How are you today, Mrs Snelling?”
Mrs Snelling guffaws and throws up her hands.
“Well, I never been asked that before – not in here anyways.” She turns to the lady in charge of vegetables. “Have you ever heard the likes?” She laughs like a madwoman and slaps a hand on the counter. “I’m very well, thank you. How are you today, missy?”
I can feel the other kids watching.
“Liv… my name’s Liv. I’m good too – except…” I leave the sentence hanging, like I’ve got something really important but difficult to say.
“Except what, dear?”
Mrs Snelling’s round, ruddy face is full of concern. It’s all going to plan – except for the other kids staring.
“I’ve a Home Economics project and I’m short on ingredients.”
Mrs Snelling leans back and sets off laughing again. A hush travels along the dinner queue like a Mexican wave. I spot Jack towards the end of the line, fiddling with his cutlery. He flashes me a big smile, and then mimes flicking open a lighter, followed by an explosion. Maddy sees him and giggles, but shoots me an angry look.
“A few more people your age could do with taking an interest in cooking,” says Mrs Snelling, and even though I want to shut her up so I can hurry on, I can’t. I need her help. Mortified, I listen. “People say it’s lack of education and high unemployment what causes problems, but…” She throws a judgmental glance along the queue that I hope Jack won’t see. “The real issue is that people are losing basic skills. They’re not being shown at home, so they don’t take any interest.”
Trying to keep smiling, I nod. I’m attracting too much attention. Down the line, they’re getting fidgety and several kids step back to see what’s causing the delay. Fights start breaking out about who belongs where in the queue.
“What’s the hold-up, Liv?” shouts Mad Dog. “Some of us would like to eat today, y’know.”
I keep my eyes averted. I don’t want to seem like I’m offering a challenge.
“What ingredients are you missing, dear?” asked Mrs Snelling.
“I’ll have to check the recipe – there’re just a few things,” I lie.
My face is hot with blushes. Thankfully, Mrs Snelling holds up a podgy hand, ripe with oven burns. I make a mental note to use oven gloves.
“Well, I’d never leave a fellow chef in the lurch! Come back when you’re ready – about half three’s usually a good time, before I head home – and we’ll see what we can do. And here – have an extra-big portion of sticky toffee pudding to keep you going in the meantime.”
“Thanks,” I say, preparing to leg it.
“Can I have an extra-big portion too?” asks Maddy.
“Friend of yours?” asks Mrs Snelling. I feel Maddy’s eyes burning into me, and nod. “Then of course you can, dear,” says the cook, laughing once more.
I take the opportunity to make my escape. As I flop into the plastic chair opposite Sarah, I se
e her cheeks colour slightly.
“I see you and Maddy are best friends again,” she says as greeting.
“I bumped into her last night,” I say, realizing Sarah is wearing her jumper, even though it’s a warm day. “How’s your arm?”
“Fine. Forget it.”
“I tried to have a word with her… She denied it of course.”
“You did what? She’ll kill me.”
“Don’t worry. I was subtle. But I knew you were telling the truth this time, not her.”
A strange look crosses Sarah’s face. She puts down her fork.
“Wait – you thought I was lying?” she asks, like the idea had never occurred to her.
“Not lying exactly but… exaggerating maybe?”
“That’s nice, Liv. Real nice. Speaking of lies… What’s all this about doing Home Economics?”
“Supersonic ears!”
I tuck into my burger, using it as an excuse not to talk. Although Sarah’s my best friend, she doesn’t have to know everything – especially when it’s something I can’t even explain to myself.
“Fine. But when you get that look on your face, you usually end up in trouble.”
Waving my burger in the air dismissively, I stuff my mouth with chips. There’s no way this plan can go wrong. It’s just a few cakes and biscuits. A way to remember Mam and get back into Hatty’s good books. What harm can it do?
Chapter Ten
Shame Hangs Over Me Like a Cloud
On Friday at three o’clock, I hand over the list of ingredients to Mrs Snelling, having spent ages copying them from the recipe book. The kitchen machinery hums as she reads the list slowly, nodding as she goes. I cross and uncross my legs on the high stool, my back as straight as I can muster under the embarrassing circumstances. Mrs Snelling gets so far down the list, then stops and frowns.
“There’s quite a bit here – don’t you have any of it?” she asks.
Mortified, I shake my head.
“Well, I have most of it,” she says. “But sugared violet petals? We don’t have any of those here. Too expensive.”
“Don’t worry about them – I’ll do without,” I say.
“Improvisation. The sign of a great cook.”
As she winks, I give her a big grin, thinking what a dead nice mam she must be. Her kids are lucky.
Mrs Snelling disappears off into a huge cupboard in the back, and I spin on my chair, taking in the kitchen’s shiny surfaces and industrial appliances. It would be impossible to set this place on fire! When Mrs Snelling returns, she has a small carrier bag of ingredients for me, which she hands over with a smile. I stuff it inside my rucksack, and get ready to leave.
“I’m glad I could help,” she says. “But have you thought about how you’ll get stuff in future?”
I had been hoping to ask her, but I guess that’s not an option.
“Mam will be able to help me next time. Things were a bit tight this week,” I lie.
Out of nowhere, anger bubbles up inside me and I clench my fists and jaw to hide it. I’m angry at Mam, at Hatty; I’m furious with my dad, who wouldn’t even recognize me in the street. I shouldn’t have to be begging for oats and honey. We’re not living in the dark ages. A pitying look creeps over Mrs Snelling’s face, and the room suddenly feels too noisy and too hot. Thank goodness it’s the weekend, so I don’t have to face her tomorrow. I jump to my feet and edge my way to the door as Mrs Snelling starts chatting about edible flowers and how they shouldn’t be so pricey. I wait as long as I can, but not until she’s finished, before calling out “Thanks for these,” and rushing off.
* * *
I don’t return to class – there’s no point with just a few minutes to go till the bell rings. Instead, I go outside and gulp the fresh air, resting against the wall so the cold bricks penetrate my clothes and cool my skin. I should be delighted – I’ve got what I wanted – but a sense of shame hangs over me. I close my eyes, let the gentle sunlight warm my eyelids for a moment. The bell screams out and footsteps pass by as other pupils start streaming out of the building, chattering excitedly about their weekend. I try to concentrate on my breathing, let their voices merge and wash over me. I’m dreading the weekend. We have to go see Mam on Sunday.
The chatter passes me by and I’m just starting to relax, with spots of green appearing behind my eyelids, when a voice rings out – too loud and too close.
“What on earth are you doing? You get weirder every day, Liv.”
It’s Maddy. I open my eyes and leap away from the wall. She’s with her cronies. Emma, a tall thin girl with cat-like green eyes and a frizzy black Afro; Zadie, an African girl who was picked on for years in our primary school but is now almost six feet tall, the perfect height for exacting revenge on the world; and Lorna, one of the school’s top athletes, who is built like a shot putter but blessed with gorgeous brown curls. They’re all there, watching.
“You wanna hang out with us?” asks Maddy.
I should go meet Sarah and walk home. Getting mixed up with this crowd is never a good idea. But it’s ages since Maddy asked me to hang out with a group, so I can’t help being tempted.
“Where are you going?”
“To the cemmy. Getting some cider. It’ll be a laugh.”
“I don’t know…” I say.
Then Jack and Chris turn up.
“You hanging out?” asks Jack.
“Nah. She’s being boring,” says Zadie.
I swallow, and look out towards our usual meeting spot to see if Sarah’s waiting. Of course she’s there. I see her leaning on the fence, checking her watch. A few more minutes and she’ll leave. Maddy follows my gaze, and a small smile plays on her lips as she hooks her arm into mine.
“You leave Liv alone,” she says, and Zadie’s face drops. “We’ve been friends since primary school.”
She starts walking us away from Sarah, towards the direction of the cemetery, and I cross my fingers, hoping Sarah won’t notice. It can’t harm hanging out with Maddy; if I get back in with her, maybe I can convince her and her friends to leave Sarah alone.
I check behind me and see Sarah fidgeting. She checks her watch one last time and is just about to give up on me when Maddy calls out, “Have a nice weekend, Sarah.”
Spinning on her heels, Sarah’s eyes meet mine and my heart sinks into my stomach. I try to give her a smile but she’s already turned her back and is heading towards home, her head held high but her steps slow and measured.
“Can’t we ask Sarah too?” I say.
“No way! That stutter m-makes me s-s-sick,” says Maddy, and everyone laughs. Even me, though I don’t know why.
* * *
I can’t text Sarah or Hatty because my battery is dead. I should probably go home, but when Jack offers me some cider, I take it. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s not like I have any better plans. Every time Jack looks over from the group of lads he’s sitting with – Chris, and some guy called Macca who hasn’t even acknowledged me – I take another slug.
It turns out Maddy and the girls aren’t as bad as Sarah makes out; they’re actually quite nice when you spend time with them. They do their best to include me at first, but after a while, they fall into their usual conversations and in-jokes; when Maddy, Zadie and Emma start talking about some new perfume I’ll never be able to afford, I leave them to it and find myself a quiet spot, equidistant from the lads and the lasses. The last thing I expect is for Jack to notice and follow me.
“So, what’s your mam like?” asks Jack.
He’s a little bit wasted by now, and his voice slurs.
“Dunno,” I say.
He laughs, globs of spit escaping his mouth. It doesn’t even make me feel sick. It could be the cider, or it could be the fact that he’s gorgeous and I’ve got him all to myself.
“I used to sound like you. Don’t be embarrassed – my dad was a raging alky. Used to beat up my mam and stuff. It was a nightmare.”
He shakes his head. The cider ha
s made me brave – I wouldn’t dare sit and chat with him like this usually – and I wonder if this is the feeling Mam looks for when she drinks.
“I used to dread him coming home,” continues Jack. “Now, I wish he would.”
“Your dad’s not around?”
“No. Remember when I was getting into trouble all the time and being a complete idiot?” I nod. That’s when he started hanging around with Maddy. That’s when he suddenly got taller and his voice got deeper, and I really noticed him. “Mum booted him out. He kicked the booze, but there are some things you can’t make up for.”
“I had no idea. Sorry…”
I feel like reaching out, stroking Jack’s hand or face, but of course I don’t. This isn’t some romcom, this is real life. He’d probably push me away, disgusted.
“It’s OK. Mum didn’t deserve the beatings, and I couldn’t do anything to help her at the time, so it’s only right I should support her now. Your dad’s not around either, right?”
“Right,” I say, spotting Maddy on her way over, and hoping that’ll end the conversation.
“You might not talk much, but you’re a dead good listener, Liv. Thanks,” says Jack.
His words hang in the air. I shrug and take another swig, accidentally inhaling it so I start choking on the cider just as Maddy arrives.
“What are we talking about?” asks Maddy, narrowing her eyes at me.
She sits next to Jack, making sure her leg touches against his. He doesn’t move away.
“Absentee fathers and pissheads,” says Jack, and falls about with laughter.
Maddy looks at him for a second, then starts falling about with laughter too. I have no choice but to join in.
“We can all relate to that,” says Maddy, and she takes Jack’s drink from him and has a big gulp, staring at me as she does so. “I thought we might be talking about how come Liv’s suddenly drinking. Wouldn’t take a drop off me the other night.”
I feel my insides tremble and my stomach lurches. The cemetery turns wobbly, like the gravestones are ready to topple. I take a deep breath, but that just makes me feel even more sick.
Jack laughs. “I guess I’m better company.”
