by G. R. Gemin
Gran took the photo and smiled. “This must be, what? Twenty, thirty years after I knew him. But he’s the same. A giant.”
I looked at the faded black and white picture. He did look like a giant – he was huge, with broad shoulders, and there were Cowgirl’s narrow eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear things aren’t exactly rosy for you these days,” said Gran.
Mr Thomas’s face switched back to angry. He glared at Cowgirl. “Why don’t you just tell everything to the local rag?”
“All I said was—”
“All you said was too much!”
She was embarrassed and I felt sorry for her. Gran laid the picture on the table. “I didn’t mean to cause offence, Mr Thomas.” She stood up, scraping back her chair. “We should go.”
“Right you are,” said Roger, getting up.
Gran put her hand on Cowgirl’s arm. “You’re from a proud line, Kate. Don’t forget it. I can’t thank you enough, and you’re always welcome to come for lunch at my home, with your mam’s permission, of course.”
Kerry smiled. “Well, Kate had nothing but good things to say about you. Thank you, Lilly, and you, Gemma.”
Mr Banerjee helped Gran on with her coat. She didn’t look at Mr Thomas until she had buttoned it up, then she said, “I wish you and this farm well, whatever you choose to do.”
I was still standing there as they walked out. “I’ll see you in school, Kate.” She glanced up from the picture. I smiled and she nodded.
I walked outside just as Roger’s car started up with a bang. Gran waved at me and I watched them drive away. The noise from his car faded as I wheeled my bike past the farmhouse. I expected to hear an argument, but I couldn’t hear a thing, as if no one was home. I started cycling and thought about Kate. I felt different about her, even though she was mostly rude to me.
I was going maximum speed downhill when I remembered Sian and screamed at the wind.
THIRTEEN
“So?” Sian was right in my face. “How come you were just standing by while Cowgirl picked on my brother?”
I wondered why she had it in for Kate. I wanted to be cool and calm, and not feel my legs trembling. Tracy, Karen and Jo were smirking at me over her shoulder, glad that someone else was in deep – I knew that feeling.
“My gran invited her round, all right?”
“No, it’s not all right,” she said. “You and Cowgirl mates now, or what?”
My heart thumped. I knew if I said “yes” Sian would single me out and I’d be the one on the bus by the window. I’d be the one on my own.
I felt bad saying, “No.”
I was first out at lunchtime and glad I’d brought my bike. I just wanted to get away. On the way to Gran’s I imagined winning the Tour de France – first woman ever. I went in the backyard, parked my bike and knocked on the back door.
Gran opened up. “Oh, Gemma.”
She looked surprised. I went in and noticed she had the table laid with two plates. “Expecting someone?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” she said, going back into the kitchen.
I guessed it must be grumpy Roger, but if Gran was getting company, ’specially with Ruby gone, why should I care? She came back from the kitchen with an extra plate.
“Sorry Gran,” I said, “but I needed to get away from school.”
“It’s OK. I invited Kate. Something I wanted to ask her.”
The doorbell went. “That’ll be her.”
“Kate?”
“Yes. Let her in, would you?”
I wondered if I’d missed something.
“All right?” said Kate as I opened the door.
“Hello, Kate,” said Gran behind me. “Come into the warm and sit yourself down.”
I’d gone to Gran’s to get away from school only to find she was expecting Kate without telling me.
“I’ll get off, Gran,” I said.
“Oh, nonsense. Sit yourself down.”
“Not hungry. I was just stopping by on my way home.”
I went out the back.
“Gemma?”
“Got to dash, Gran,” I shouted as I closed the door.
Standing in the backyard I could feel my eyes go watery. I went to get my bike and gasped.
It was gone.
I ran out into the lane. At the far end I could see a boy riding it away.
“Oi!” I screamed.
I ran full pelt, but no matter how much cycling you do it doesn’t automatically make you a good runner. I got about halfway down the alley before I had to stop, out of breath. He was well gone.
“Aw, what’s the matter, Gemma?”
It was Ryan with a group of boys.
“Who was it?” I asked. “Who took it?”
He smirked. “Took what?”
I grabbed him. “Who took it?”
“Get off!” he shouted. “When I tell Sian, you’re dead.”
“Who was it?”
He kicked me, and before I knew it, the other boys joined in. I was no match for them. One was pulling my jumper, and another was karate-chopping my arm to make me let go, and all the while I shook Ryan until he became a blur.
“Hey!”
Someone was pulling them off me.
I turned to see this boy – tall with olive skin and jet-black hair – gorgeous, he was. I’d never seen him before.
“Boys attacking a girl,” he said.
“What’s it to you?” Ryan said.
“Do your mothers know you do this?”
“Jog on.”
The gorgeous boy pulled something from his rucksack. I saw a flash of silver, like a sword. The boys stepped back. He laughed. “Scared of music?” he said, holding a flute.
“Weirdo,” said Ryan.
The gorgeous boy started to play and walked towards them. They backed away, as if his playing had magic powers. They shouted nasty things at him, but he just carried on playing. After they’d gone he turned to me. I must have looked a mess – hair hanging over my face and my jumper all out of shape.
“What was all that about?” he asked.
“Someone stole my bike and they saw who it was.”
I felt like crying but it was the last thing I wanted to do in front of him. He seemed so concerned for me.
“Your gran’s my grandfather’s neighbour, isn’t she?”
I nodded.
“We should call the police.”
It was nice that he said “we”, but I shook my head. “No point. It’s gone now.”
Just saying that opened the floodgates and I started to cry.
I turned and ran.
“Hey!”
My lovely bike was gone, and I’d cried in front of a gorgeous boy.
FOURTEEN
I’d never bunked off in my life, but I couldn’t face going back to school. So I went home and had a bath. I lay there feeling sorry for myself. I thought about Mr Banerjee’s grandson. He must have been the flute player I’d heard through the wall at Gran’s. I wondered what his name was. Amazing eyes, he had, and lovely teeth and hair. I felt ashamed, since I was never exactly friendly to his granddad. I decided I’d make more of an effort. Then I remembered my bike and sank under the water, making my groan turn into bubbles.
After the bath I made four slices of jam on toast and watched TV lying on the settee. It was lovely, though I felt a bit nervous knowing I should be in school. I fell asleep and woke when I heard the key in the lock. Mam walked in.
“What you doing here?”
“Felt sick, Mam. Went in this morning. Wasn’t feeling well so I went to Gran’s at lunchtime. Then someone nicked my bike.”
“Oh, Gemma. D’you lock it?”
“No, Mam. It was in Gran’s backyard.”
“Well, what d’you expect on the Mawr estate? Might as well put a note on it saying ‘free bike’. And don’t ask me for a new one cos it isn’t going to happen, not unless we win the lottery.”
I was stupid not to lock my bike and stupid to
expect any sympathy. Then Darren came in and said, “Sian’s after you – said you beat up her brother. You’re dead.”
“What’s this?” asked Mam.
“I didn’t beat up anyone. They set on me – four of them. They saw who took my bike, Mam. They saw!”
“And you expect them to tell you who it was, just like that, do you? It’s the Bryn Mawr. You’re not going to change it.”
“So I do nothing, do I?”
“Look, I know you liked that bike, Gemma, but you’ll just have to notch it up to experience.”
“No, Mam, I’m going to the police.”
“Oh, brilliant. The daughter of Robbie Matthews turns up and asks for her bike back. Know what the police’ll say? They’ll say what goes around comes around. I’m sorry, Gemma, but you might as well start saving for a new one.”
I was determined not to cry.
“Yeah,” said Darren. “And I’ll tell the hospital to expect you after Sian’s done with you.”
Mam turned on him before I had the chance. “And you can shut up. I want peace when I come home. D’you understand?”
Darren went all meek. “Yes, Mam.” Then he grinned at me, but I didn’t care. I had bigger things to worry about, like who nicked my bike and surviving the showdown with Sian.
FIFTEEN
I was packed into the aisle of the bus and scared stiff. When we got to Sian’s stop, there she was with Tracy and the rest. The adrenaline started pumping round my body. She was looking for me as soon as she got on. There’s something hard and cruel about Sian’s eyes, like she’s hunting – out for the kill.
“You and me gonna talk,” she called out when she saw me. There were too many kids in the aisle for her to get to me, so as the bus went along I looked out of the window. I imagined myself cycling in a road race at the Olympics, leading the pack with my legs going like pistons. Then I realised the bus had stopped, and the adrenaline started up again as everyone began to get off.
Sian came straight up to me. She looked like a dog baring its teeth.
“Why d’you hit Ryan?”
“I didn’t––”
There was a gasp when she slapped me. All the usual chattering stopped. My cheek stung, and I felt a tear run down from my eye. Kids were all around us, like they’d been told to make a neat circle.
“I didn’t hit him.” My voice was shaking.
“Standing in the alley minding his own business, he was,” she said. “Then you turn up and have a go.”
I braced myself for another slap when Kate pushed her way into the circle.
“Hello.”
“You keep out of this,” Sian said as she stabbed a finger towards her. “This your bodyguard?” she said to me.
I didn’t feel so scared with Kate stood there. “I didn’t hit your brother,” I said again. “My bike got nicked and he saw who took it.”
“He said he didn’t see nothing and you were asking him to grass.”
“If he didn’t see nothing he couldn’t grass then, could he?”
That was it. I could tell, just by the look in her eyes, that I was out of the gang. Part of me was relieved. She turned and walked off. Karen, Tracy and Jo sneered at me before following her. The circle of kids broke up, disappointed.
Kate and me made our way into school.
“Heard your bike got stolen,” she said. “Is that why you weren’t around in the afternoon?”
I nodded.
“Your gran was worried she’d upset you.”
“Nah,” I lied.
“She asked me to tell you to go round hers today, for lunch.”
“You going?” I asked.
“Unless it’s a problem?”
I shrugged.
I didn’t see Sian as we left at lunchtime, and we made straight for the terrace.
“Any news?” Gran asked as soon as she opened the door.
“About what?”
“Your bicycle, of course. Oh, why didn’t you lock it, Gemma?”
“Gran, don’t you start. It got nicked, all right? My fault. Not blaming anyone except me, stupid me!” I started crying. “I loved that bike…”
“Come ’ere.” Gran hugged me, which set me off all the more.
Up in Gran’s bathroom I washed my face. My eyes were puffy, and my cheek was still red from Sian’s slap. I listened at the wall but couldn’t hear anything from next door, so I guessed “gorgeous Banerjee” was at school – probably some posh one for boys and girls that play the flute or the piano.
On the landing I could hear Kate and Gran talking. I made my way down, feeling a bit embarrassed. I went in and saw a twenty-pound note by my plate.
“What’s this?”
“Towards your new bike,” said Gran. She raised her hand. “Not a word, Gemma. You loved that bike – it’s helped you get healthy. You’re too thin, mind you, but I’d rather have that than a granddaughter that has to be rolled down the road. Put it away and before you know it you’ll be back on your bike.” She chuckled. “‘On your bike!’ Witty of me.”
“Thanks, Gran.”
As we started eating I wanted to ask about Mr Banerjee’s grandson, as casually as I could.
“I heard a flute playing next door again.”
A total lie but I was desperate.
“Oh, that’s Mr Banerjee’s grandson,” said Gran. “Lovely young man. Studying the flute, he is, at that academy in Cardiff. Very concerned, he was, about you and your bike, Gemma.”
I nodded. “What’s his…” Keep cool, I thought. “What’s his name?”
“Karuna.”
“Karuna,” I repeated.
Gran and Kate were staring at me like they’d sussed I fancied him. I just knew my cheeks were glowing.
“Lovely food, Gran,” I said, to change the subject. She looked a bit surprised.
Kate and her got talking and I was just happy to listen.
“Mostyn’s putting pressure on Dad for the money he owes him, and he wants his field back, where the cows graze. Mostyn’s got loads of cows – he doesn’t need ours.”
“Oh, it all seems such a shame,” said Gran. “I remember when your granddad, Gareth, used to bring the cows down to graze on the Common. That was before they built the Bryn Mawr around it, of course.”
“He had Commoners’ Rights, Lilly,” said Kate.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Granddad was allowed to take the cows down to the Mawr Common to graze for free.”
“And the grass was cut back by the cows in return,” said Gran. “Animal mowers. I loved seeing them there. Things were so simple back then. I know that sounds like old fuddy-duddy talk, but they were. I can’t for the life of me see why there’s trouble all the time – violence and noise and cruelty. Polly Williams had a window smashed the other day for no reason. It’s just sheer nastiness. I just don’t know where it comes from.”
I suppose I’d never really thought about it before, but all you hear on the news is stabbings or killing and murder – like Gran said, nastiness everywhere.
Afterwards, Kate and me walked along the alley back to school. We didn’t talk much, though I didn’t feel uncomfortable this time.
“What did he look like – the boy that took your bike?”
“He was too far off. But even if I knew he’s not about to tell where it is.”
“Red, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “It’s a hybrid. I’d like a proper racer, but the roads round here would shake me to bits.”
“What was it called – the make, I mean?”
“Vortex. Why?”
Kate shrugged. “Keep an eye out for it.”
“Thanks.” Apart from Gran it was the first nice thing anyone had said to me in ages. As we neared the end of the alley I noticed a group of boys gathered around one of the back doors. “Here we go,” I mumbled.
“Nutter!” one of them shouted into a backyard.
“God, he stinks!” another boy said.
“Go’way!”
I heard someone shout back. It was where “mad Morris” lived.
Kate walked right up to them.
“Yeah, wha’?” a boy said. Then his eyes flashed wide. “Cowgirl?”
Kate nodded. “That’s right. Wanna lift to school?”
The boys backed away. “Freako!” they called.
Kate ignored them and knocked on the door.
“What you doing?” I asked her.
“Go’way!” I heard Morris shout.
“You all right?” Kate asked through the door.
Suddenly it jerked open and Morris stood there in his stained clothes, looking like a proper tramp. “Go’way!”
“Just checking you’re all right,” said Kate.
Morris slammed the door shut.
“That’s Morris,” I whispered. “He’s a proper mental case.”
Kate walked on. The door opened again and Morris was staring at me in his green cardy, stretched out like he was wearing an old dress. I caught a whiff of him before he slammed the door shut again.
“God, he does stink,” I said, catching up with Kate.
“Well, he must be mental then,” she said.
I knew she was being sarky. She made me feel guilty, ’specially after what Gran had said about the way things were on the estate. “He does no harm, I suppose.”
As we walked I noticed the rubbish on the ground. It was like I’d never seen it before – broken furniture left on the pavement, smashed TVs and graffiti everywhere. It was ugly.
I kept my head down that afternoon at school. Didn’t even look across at Sian, but just before last period we were going into the corridor and she came up to me.
“Had a word with Ryan about your bike. Said he didn’t see who took it and I believe him. But tell you what he did say – said your brother Darren was with ’em in the alley. And when you came out shouting for your bike, Ryan reckons your brother vanished. Odd, isn’t it? Maybe you should be looking closer to home before you go pointing fingers.” She grinned the nastiness grin. “We’re not done, Cowgirl Two, not by a long way.”
That night I went into Darren’s room. The fiver I held up in the air caught his attention and stopped him calling out. He paused the video game he was playing – the usual shooting, bombing and killing.
