Invisible Tears

by Abigail Lawrence

  I was lost, totally lost and alone. I had massive feelings of isolation. I have no-one, and no-one cares if I live or die, I thought. London was a big place to hide in; I had no idea where I was, only somewhere in London? Or what I was doing there? So I went into the nearest record shop and looked at flyers for upcoming gigs. Luckily two days was all I had to wait until the next mod gig, “Pheeew.” As luck would have it the picture on the flyer caught my eye. A target with an arrow through told me it was for mods.

  I spent two days wandering around London, riding trains and sitting in bus stations watching the hustle and bustle of the capital as it swallowed people up in its gaping vastness. Greg had given me a tenner and that was all I had to see me through until the gig. I slept in a park on a bench, keeping one eye open and hearing every sound that was made. I drifted in and out of naps waking up to hear a girl’s voice.

  “Hiya, you don’t see many modettes around here. Have you recently moved here?”

  I was pleasantly surprised to see another modette standing in front of me holding onto a red Boxer dog. It was keen to go for its walk jumping all around in an attempt to get off the lead. She ignored its pleas after yanking it hard and telling it to, “Behave!”

  Girls into mod stuff were pretty rare. I looked her up and down judging her clothing and sense of style. She actually looked pretty good in her blue ski pants and matching sleeveless top. She had on some gorgeous shoes, winkle pickers but flats. They had a large buckle at the side; I hadn’t seen any like that before.

  We sat in the park for hours and just clicked somehow. I explained my story, for once in my life telling the truth, well some of it. I said that I had run away and I had nobody and nowhere to go. Luckily she offered me her couch, saying her parents were away on holiday and that there was just a neighbour looking out for her.

  I couldn’t believe my good fortune when we arrived after a short bus journey. Walking up a small side road we were in posh London, all detached houses with big bay windows. Her house had a porch that was almost the size of dad’s kitchen. Must be rolling in cash, I thought. I spent about an hour in the bath soaking the weekend in Scarborough out of my skin. If felt great to get the dirt, sweat and sand out of my hair along with the residue of sex. She showed me a selection of her clothes and offered me a change while mine got washed and dried. It just so happened we were similar in size. I actually felt human for a while.

  We sat and talked about my weekend away and how cool it was. She was gutted, telling me she wasn’t allowed to go on rallies, but as her parents were away she pleaded with me to take her to the gig that night. She even paid for me to get in. I allowed her to follow me around while I eyed up the talent in the club and looked for who would be dishing out the pills. She fed off of my confidence and seemed to like my superior attitude. As I approached a lad someone grabbed my arm. I turned around and couldn’t believe it. It was Gary from Scarborough. Visions of me lying on the beach half naked sprang to mind.

  He asked, “What happened to you? I was totally smashed and can’t remember much. But I do remember you.” He gave me a big double–wink.

  I bet you do! I thought. “Sure you do,” I said sarcastically.

  I was so stoned at the rally, I’m not sure what happened. Gary might well have used and abused me, but funnily enough, it didn’t stop me going home with him and his friends. I lost my new friend altogether; I didn’t even wonder where she had gone. I was out of my head on pills and vodka. The saying “I was anybody’s” couldn’t have been truer.

  I woke up the next day totally oblivious. The house was empty, apart from a note and £5. The note read, “You were great!” Oh shit! I thought. What did I do? I stood up and a warm feeling gushed down my legs. The left over’s from Gary’--and who knows--night of fun was running down my legs in a sticky mess. Actually, I felt pretty normal. To anyone else it would have been disgusting and dirty! To me it was déjà vu. It’s just what blokes do, I was still telling myself. I didn’t care. I was now all grown up, 14 years old and doing what I wanted in London, no grownups bossing me around and no money either. I had little choice. I could sell myself every night or go home. I came to the decision that although I needed funds, I wasn’t going to sell myself so. If I went home I could steal enough to get me away for good. That would allow me to live in my dream-world where I was in control.

  With the £5, I made my way to my aunt’s house on the other side of London. I have no idea how I found it. I hadn’t been there for years, but somehow I did. I was welcomed with open arms and told I could stay there if I wanted and for as long as I wanted. But I knew I had to go home and face the consequences. She phoned dad and arranged for me to be collected at the weekend.

  Alex was pretty envious, as I told him about the scooter rally in Scarborough and how I had been to gigs in Shepherds Bush. Riding around on scooters in London, smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, being free, yup, I can safely say he was jealous. Okay I left out the bit about sex to my brother, but it was in my mind. But then he was doing well in his exams and had just been on a school trip to Belgium. I would have chosen MY adventure over his any and every day of the week, but I had to pretend to be interested.

  I returned to school the next day to be greeted with a summons to the headmaster’s office. My appearance was not one of a girl conforming to society. I was wearing a short black miniskirt, pointed stiletto shoes and had my black bitch-lined eyes and hair done, back combed and sprayed into place with half a can of hairspray, not a strand out of place.

  “This will change,” he yelled at me crashing his fist on the desk. “You are useless. You will amount to nothing if you do not make an effort.”

  I calmly listened to him lecture me for awhile before agreeing that I would try and make an effort. “If you say so,” I whispered sarcastically under my breath when his back was turned, Tell me something I don’t know, I thought. I was to be put on report and my behaviour would be monitored. I didn’t think it would achieve much, but he had to be seen doing something, didn’t he?

  I wasn’t making friends at school. To be honest I wasn’t interested in any of them. Sheila was a bit of a hard nut; everyone avoided upsetting her. No one argued with her and if they did they would be sorry. She came from a well known and feared family, the whole lot of them were well known to the police too. If you messed with her then you messed with her family. Sheila was a well built girl, not very pretty but very popular. Everybody wanted to be her friend, the much safer option.

  I had just finished getting my report card signed. I had been to school for three full days on the trot, a small miracle. I was on my way for a cigarette when I felt a shove in the back. I didn’t even look, I just spun around fists at the ready and punched whatever or whoever was stood in front of me. It was Sheila!

  “Fight... fight... fight...” kids were shouting, as my hair was being pulled out, fists and feet flying. It was quite a cat fight. I gave as many good punches as Sheila did. It took four staff members to separate us. She didn’t hurt me. I remember thinking, Wow! Fighting doesn’t really hurt!

  “After school at the old sheds,” she spat at me as we were dragged apart. “You better be there.”

  “Count on it,” I said with a really pleased smile.

  I did enjoy a good fight. We spent the rest of the day being separated, and I spent the majority of time in with my year head. For a teacher she seemed to have a pretty good clue about where I was coming from. She seemed to understand me, which not many other people could say.

  “Don’t go and meet her,” she said as the bell went. There was a tone of pleading in her voice and I wondered why on earth she cared.

  “You know I have to,” I said without looking back. I walked out of the school gates and towards the old sheds. A group of kids were following me jeering, shouting and singing, “You’re gonna get your fuckin’ head kicked in!”

  Inside I was smiling, I thrived on the adrenaline rush. I was looking forward to this one. As I turned the corner there must
have been thirty kids waiting with Sheila. Not one of them was there supporting me. They daren’t because that would mean they were against Sheila.

  “You actually showed up,” she seemed shocked to see me.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I laughed.

  “You are the one and only person to ever stand up to me,” she said and she smiled. “It was a good fight too,” she laughed. “Fag?” She offered me a cigarette and we sat down on the ground and laughed about the whole thing. The crowd of school kids bitterly disappointed that there was no bloody girl-fight to entertain them, started to disperse. We were best mates after that day. I was the only person around who genuinely wasn’t scared of her. But I certainly wouldn’t recommend fighting wearing a miniskirt!

  We looked total opposites. She had her head shaved off apart from her fringe and bits at the sides and bottom of the neck. She hung around with skinheads, wearing tight jeans with braces and black 17 hole Doctor Martin boots. I was a mod and very classy looking compared to her. My opinion, I thought, probably not hers. We had to be careful not to be seen out together especially at night. Our friends would not have of been impressed and we would have been considered traitors. We managed to remain good friends for at least a year, until the day the Funfair came to town.

  The funfair was the highlight for a lot of the locals, mostly it was throwing darts at a board or hooking a duck in a pond. There weren’t many fast rides but plenty of opportunity to win a teddy if you picked the lucky ticket and plenty of opportunity to buy candyfloss or fudge.

  Punks and skinheads were everywhere. Most of them knew me via Sheila and left me alone. In fact I dabbled in various drugs with a few of them. I was surprised when, above the sound of screaming from kids on the rides, I was ordered to go into the woods to meet Sheila by a few of her friends. I knew I would be meeting her later, but not for a while yet. My guard was up as I felt very wary. I didn’t trust these guys, ever! As we neared a clearing I heard Sheila’s voice. She sounded upset, pleading to be left alone.

  I asked my escort, “What the hell is going on?”

  “She’s being punished,” he said with a smirk in his grin. He looked over to where Sheila was laying on the ground.

  “For what?” I enquired making my way over to her. “And get the fuck off her!” I screamed.

  Sheila was crying and gagging for breath. One of the male skinheads was kneeling on her with his knee up across her throat and the other on her chest, holding her down.

  “For hanging around a stinking fuckin’ mod.” He laughed and shoved me towards his friends that where waiting in the clearing. I was pushed around by three skinhead guys. They shoved me from one to another like a rag doll and for a moment I feared for my life. I needed to get away and fast. Poor Sheila was pleading for them to leave her alone, at which point another guy shot forward and hit her with a stick the size of a baseball bat.

  He shouted, “Shut the fuck up bitch!”

  The cracking sound of that limb making contact with Sheila’s head made me wince. I heard something break, but I didn’t know if it was her head or the stick. It distracted the other two long enough for me to make a break and run for it. I ran like a wild antelope as fast as my legs would carry me. I could hear footsteps running behind but no-one caught me, well not until I had reached the fair ground and was fighting for my breath. I somehow managed to scream for help gulping air. Several members of the public who I had never met came running to my aid.

  “Are you okay?” one man asked as others gathered.

  Hell no, I’m not okay! I’m about to have a heart attack. And Sheila.

  “In the woods. . .” I gasped, pointing. “They’re. . .killing. . . her.” I was still breathless, I had run so far. Once I managed to explain in more detail, a few guys went to find her.

  Before I knew what was happening, an Ambulance arrived and Police were asking questions. They brought Sheila out on a stretcher. Her head and face had been beaten, most probably with that stick or a Doctor Martin boot or two. She was in hospital for two weeks and didn’t go back to school for over two months. We both decided it might be safer not to be friends. So that’s how it was. We would say hi, nod and smile, maybe talk on the telephone, but it didn’t last long. We had a mutual respect for each other and left it at that.

  Chapter 12

  I met Dave when I was walking home one day from town. It was a long walk, an uphill slog all the way ending in a really steep bit to get to my house. It seemed to take ages and every step left my calves with a burning sensation. I was totally unfit and getting a cramp. Chatting with a friend leaning against the railway bridge at the top of the hill, I caught up with gossip and took a breather. I wasn’t far from home when this mod guy wandered up just to say, “Hi.” That was the thing with mods, they were friendly to their own local gangs but, of course, far too good for anyone else. Rival gangs most often fought tooth and nail, mods fighting mods. Really stupid, I thought, and all in the name of image or territory.

  I stood there thinking, How do I look? Is my hair okay? How are my eyes and my bitch lines? I was wearing pale blue ski-pants and a blue and white sleeveless top with swirly patterns. I had pointed flat shoes with a small buckle on the front. To be honest, I looked more than passable, but I had to go through the motions.

  “Are you new to the area?” I asked very curiously because talent like this didn’t normally slip through undetected.

  “Yeah, just been posted here. What’s the local mod scene like?”

  “Well, uh. . .” I was staring. “So who. . .uh, what do you. .?”

  “I’m in Juniors Leaders in the army. Stationed at the barracks just up the hill.”

  “No kidding?” It was all that came to mind.

  “Would you show me around?” he asked.

  Would I ever? Too right! I started to stutter but finally got it out without loosing my calm pretence, “Sure.”

  This guy was totally fit. He was cool and he spoke with a soft Yorkshire accent which I found very inviting. He was about six feet tall and pretty big built. He played rugby for the Juniors Leaders and had also played for the Yorkshire Juniors I later discovered. So he was a real hunk, well toned too.

  Dave was stationed near Folkestone and would be there for six months training. It didn’t take long before we started seeing each other on a regular basis. We would meet up at a café in town where all the mods hung out. They had a great jukebox full of oldies and they served wicked bacon butties.

  Dave had a scooter which we rode around posing and getting into trouble. I was still stealing and smoking. Dave was always very sensible and tried to talk sense into me, advising me against this or that. At times he got pretty boring to be honest. I tried it all, Purple Hearts, Acid, even glue sniffing and aerosols, anything for a buzz. It really didn’t matter. Dave never touched the stuff, and I never did it when he was around. He didn’t even drink, never mind do drugs. I didn’t feel like I needed drugs when I was with him.

  I was falling for Dave hook, line and sinker but, at the same time, I was scared. I figured sooner or later he would want sex. They all did at some point, and I wasn’t wrong, After about three weeks of seeing him we were walking up the lane towards the army camp when he pulled me around and started kissing me. He was so passionate! I had never been kissed like that before. I had never actually enjoyed kissing either. The thought of someone’s tongue down my throat disgusted me, but this? It was nice, very nice. I never had the power to say “No,” even if I wanted to.

  “Shhh, your gonna wake them up,” I giggled. I had been grounded yet again but it wouldn’t stop me from having a good time. If I couldn’t go out, then Dave would have to come and sneak in. I sent him around the back to find the ladder propped up against the garden shed. He brought it round to the front of the house and positioned it under my window, scraping the walls. I was giggling and waving at him. “Shhh, shhh!”

  The windows were wooden and heavy, but they slid upwards giving Dave enough room to climb in. In a fit
of giggles, we both dived on my bed and lay there talking for hours.

  We spoke about our pasts. Dave had had a happy childhood. He had brothers he looked up to and wanted to impress. His birth parents were still together. My story was a wee bit different. I was very insecure. I had begun to hate the world for what it had done to me, and I was well old enough to know what happened to me as a kid was so wrong. I could still feel the pain whenever I thought about it. Somehow though, it never seemed wrong to have sex. I had become very promiscuous. It wasn’t hard to get me into bed, in fact, who needed a bed? Sex was sex. I was quite skilled and I knew how to perform because I had been taught from childhood.

  I never ever enjoyed it though. I saw guys enjoying it and girlfriends talking about sex with sparkles in their eyes. They talked like they had been reading a Mill’s and Boon novel, all mushy stuff that made you want to put your finger down your throat and make yourself sick. What’s so good about sex? I thought. You lay there writhing around for a bit, moaning and pretending to enjoy it like the ladies in the videos. If he wasn’t pounding you, maybe you’d suck his prick and he would cum and shoot sticky stuff in your mouth or on your face, then it was over. Wham Bam, big deal!

  I started telling Dave about my past when I heard Maggie stirring. She was coming down the hallway, the floorboards creaking as she made her way to my room. Dave dived under the covers and I pretended to be asleep as Maggie popped her head in my room. Lucky for me she didn’t turn the light on. I don’t know why she didn’t as I’m sure I giggled. My stomach was fit to burst from holding in the laughter, the pains were so real. I really needed to laugh out loud, but if Maggie caught Dave in my room he would be banned. A lot of guys got banned from seeing me. Most of them were wimps and usually did as my Dad or Alex said. Dad and Maggie didn’t really like any of the guys I brought home. You would have thought the excitement of nearly getting caught would have been too much for Dave. But no, he hung in there. We had sex in my room that night as quietly as possible. Being scared to wake anyone, it was a bit of thrill if nothing else.