So what you gonna do? Debbie asked. Her sun-lounger was completely tarred now with graffiti.
Dunno, I’m trying to get him to come to Magaluf, but he’s not into it, I replied, chucking the magazine on the bone-dry tiles. He’s a bit of a saddo.
That was the problem with Sugar Buns – he had an amazing body, but he never did anything amazing with it. He preferred to stay in all the time, up in the sunny mountains like a fluorescent recluse, and he was obviously a mammy’s boy. I felt it my aim to get him to live a little, get him hooked on a drug, make him a racehorse in bed, but we only had a week really and I wondered if I could be fussed.
I felt my shoulders flaring up again, so I re-hooked my bikini and had to sit under the umbrella, staring over the balcony. You could just about spot the famous cathedral in the distance, and I wondered if Sugar Buns was seeing it too.
So what you gonna do about him when you get home? Still gonna see him? Rachel asked, peeling some sunburn off her shin. I wished she didn’t put it so blunt, but me and Sugar Arse had been talking about it and I said, I dunno. He’s great and that, but still not sure if it’s worth all the effort. I mean we were talking about meeting in London now and then, if he really wants to make a go of it. But it’s just money isn’t it.
Rachel nodded, clenching all her hair together then tying it in a ponytail with these pink bands we had. She took a long swig of Evian, then passed the bottle to Deb while I played with my necklace, hoping it wasn’t making a white line round my neck. I squinted in the bright lights, then laid down on the sun-sofa again and sighed. Palma was gorgeous, all stretched out beneath us with boat-masts sticking up from the sea, and I liked watching kids cycle and roller-blade while the heavy traffic shot past. Coughing, Debbie had more warm Evian then handed it to me and said, Well just see what happens. At least he’s not Fairhurst anyway.
You what? I said. Since we got to Majorca the sun had sort of taken his place in my head. I felt my skin stick to the plastic bed, perching up on one elbow as I finished off the bottle.
Oh nothing, it’s just you must remember Rachel’s party.
Well naw, I went, feeling my belly. All it made me think of was White Lightning and achey bits and worry.
Well you know he’s on smack now, don’t you?
Eh? I said. I felt the cogs shift in my skull, and I tried to look out across the harbour but it was completely blinding.
Yeah, Brandon reckons so, Debbie went on, biting a fancy nail. I think he’s getting it from Pullman down Grangetown. Dunno what’s up with him. They just sit round people’s houses not talking and being boring – Brandy reckons it started when they were snorting brown to come off Es and that. Fairhurst done twelve in one night, fucking scruff. So you probably won’t be seeing much of him now anyway.
I felt my face redden and begin sizzling, and it was all such a shock I actually had to laugh. I tugged my knicker elastic then went, God, to think I wanted to get back with him at Rachel’s.
Really? Rach asked. You were better off with that Adam lad.
Excuse me? I raised a drippy eyebrow. I wasn’t expecting to hear that name in the middle of Majorca. I went, What’s he got to do with it?
Well, you know, he took care of you while you were poorly. Kept an eye on you so you were alright. He was dead nice to you, Rachel smiled, popping on her white sixties shades.
He loves you, Debbie added, and all of a sudden a flock of tropical birds swept across the sun or at least I imagined it.
Aww, was all I could say, sighing through the warm air. I watched the little boats bob and twinkle in the water, and the whole town shivered as I blinked in the scorch. Scratching my chipped strawberry nails, I rested my head against the sun-lounger and felt my heart thump for a bit. I smiled but I was feeling funny. My tummy rumbled – I wondered if Sydney loved me too inside me. I’d definitely love her. And get her a good daddy.
Author biography
Richard Milward was born in Middlesbrough in 1984. His debut novel, Apples, was published in 2007 and was described by Irvine Welsh as ‘one of the best books I’ve ever read about being young, working class and British.’ Ten Storey Love Song, his second novel, was published in 2009.
Copyright
First published in 2007
by Faber and Faber Limited
Bloomsbury House
74-77 Great Russell Street
London WC1B 3DA
This ebook edition first published in 2009
All rights reserved
© Richard Milward, 2007
The right of Richard Milward to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
ISBN 978—0—571—25081—3
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
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