Beginnings

by L. T. Smith

  They went on for miles. I don’t know what had possessed me that morning, but I had difficulty tearing my eyes from the long expanse of flesh sticking out from the bottom of her sleeping shorts.

  Weird. I had never had the inclination to eye up another female’s legs. But they were really long … and I mean really long. Probably because mine are really short.

  Time with her seemed to fly by, and we chatted about college courses with ease, but at the back of my mind I really wanted to tell her why I hadn’t contacted her, why I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye.

  The problem was, I didn’t want to broach it … it was still painful for many reasons. Luckily enough, I didn’t have to.

  ‘Sorry to hear about your parents splitting up.’ My eyes shot up to her face, captured in the blueness of her eyes. Concern radiated from them … and once again I felt her protectiveness, her willingness to take care of me … just by her voice. ‘It was a bit of surprise when I came round to get you the next day …’ a small laugh escaped her, and she shook her head from side to side.

  ‘Did you speak to anyone?’ My voice sounded small, childlike.

  ‘Your dad, actually.’ She shifted in her chair, and I could sense the unease pouring from her. ‘He … erm … well let’s just say he wasn’t very forthcoming in giving too much away.’

  ‘What did he say?’ My voice was firmer now, and I could feel the hatred I had for my father welling up inside. Bastard. He had still found an opportunity to fuck up my life. No wonder she hadn’t tried to find me. I know, I know … she was only a child … but I had to blame someone … I had to try to rationalise what had happened.

  Blue eyes looked at me nervously. ‘It doesn’t mat …’

  ‘What did he say?’ The anger in my throat was choking me; I wanted to scream out for some reason. And this alone made me even more angry. After all these years, he could still get to me. Every time I thought of what he had done … not just to me, but to us all … especially my mum … I couldn’t seem to control my emotions.

  ‘Look … Lou. It’s in the past.’ As she said this, she leaned forward and placed her hand on my leg. The contact made me suck in my breath and I felt the fight leave just as quickly as it had arrived. ‘Don’t let him win.’ Her voice was so soft, so caring, so Ash. How could I fight that?

  My gaze drifted back down to her hand, which by now was making gentle circles on my thigh, and I could feel a sensation building inside my gut.

  It wasn’t a feeling one friend should have about another. Definitely not.

  I jerked back on the chair to escape her touch, embarrassed with this sensation. My eyes drifted to her hand … stopped … and … stared at the long tapering fingers moving serenely over my goosebumping flesh. I shook my head to break the gaze and then allowed my eyes to travel up to meet her face. Those blue orbs just escaped my bewildered look, as they slipped down to rest on the unconscious action of her hand.

  Surprise unmasked and raw coated her face, only fleetingly, granted, but still there for the briefest of moments. Without warning, she snatched it away, curling the fingers into a pose of protectiveness, like she had be burned.

  ‘Ash?’ The questioning tone I used on her name focused her attention back on my face. Her eyes seemed troubled, like whirlpools. Troubled … yes, that’s the word to describe her look. She seemed troubled for some reason. I don’t know why. ‘What is it?’

  It took less than a heartbeat to change her expression from perturbed to the face splitting grin she always had ready. A shrug of the shoulders, followed by a hard resounding slap on my leg was her next action. A familiar reaction between friends.

  I laughed, although she had a good slap on her, my reddening leg living proof. The laughter seemed to break the amounting tension in the room, and it seemed to fit with the situation. Then she joined in, her eyes still seemed a little distant at first, but gradually became softer as the laughter took hold.

  It was in this state of laughter that her previous words of comfort came crashing back into my mind.

  She was right … the past doesn’t matter, it can only guide us to a better future. A learning process we needed to acknowledge before we could move on.

  I decided to move on. And hopefully take Ash with me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WASN’T LONG after that I got my clothes back (which she had kindly washed and dried because of the splattering of vomit that coated them), got dressed and found I didn’t actually want to go home. It felt good being in her company once again.

  But, I had to go. I had promised Jo I would go shopping with her, under duress of course. I hated shopping with her … everything turned into a marathon. It was as if she was on a bet with God, and the bet was she could spot every bargain … try on anything that remotely fitted her … and piss me off in the process.

  Nevertheless, I had promised. Even now, I can’t contain the sigh that escapes when I think of shopping with my sister.

  Ash and I exchanged addresses and phone numbers, and I distinctly remember folding the little sheet of paper so neatly and tucking it in the back pocket of my jeans … it felt like an offering.

  As I was leaving, her mum appeared. She didn’t look a day older than I remembered – her hair was still jet black and long, just like Ash’s. They were similar in appearance except for the eyes … her mum’s were grey, whereas Ash’s were blue like her dad’s.

  ‘Well I never … its little Lou Turner, isn’t it?’

  ‘In the flesh, Mrs Richards.’

  ‘Well I never … how long has it been? Ten … eleven years?’ As she was saying it, she was walking over to me, peering into my face just to make sure. I should’ve known what was coming next, but the years had been kind to me. Mrs Richards had a habit of nearly crushing the life out of you when she was happy, and then, to add insult to injury, she would pinch your cheeks and wobble the flesh up and down until your mouth made a farting sound.

  Not a pretty sight … or noise for that matter.

  And it hurt like buggery … but nevertheless … it felt good to be remembered, and with such fondness too.

  ‘You’re not running off already are you? Stay for a cuppa.’ She still had my face in a vice like grip and my answer came out like a wet fart. ‘Soon then?’ I looked at her wide-eyed. How on earth had she understood my answer? ‘Come for tea one night, yes?’

  I nodded, and then sighed with relief as she let go of her death grip on my cheeks, the blood had fled in fright, and I must have looked a vision with my pasty fingerprinted face surrounded by a big red blob.

  ‘I’d love to.’ As I answered, I automatically turned to face Ash, who was grinning idiotically behind my back.

  ‘Tomorrow, then? Sunday tea?’

  ‘I … I … well …’

  ‘Mum … don’t pressure the poor girl. She’s probably got arrangements already, haven’t you?’

  ‘Well … no, not really.’

  ‘So you’ll come then?’

  There was no point arguing with her, so I just nodded, which gained me a huge smile from both of the Richards women. Women.

  Women.

  Ash was a woman.

  That little girl of seven and three quarters was nearly eighteen. A woman.

  Emotions flushed through me, happiness, sadness, maybe a little anger too. I had missed the ascent from childhood to adulthood, not just with Ash, but my own also. It is amazing how different your life becomes when one day it’s all turned upside down for no fault of your own.

  Ash’s eyes clouded with concern at my expression, and I staved off the question I knew was bound to come with a beaming smile. Keeping my voice light, I answered, ‘I’d love to.’

  Sorted.

  Stockport market was heaving with people. I can’t tell you how many times I lost Jo amongst the crowds. She was like a spitfire, racing around the stalls, holding up the most hideous clothes to me and mouthing ‘This will look great on you.’

  Yeah … when I’m dead. Then I wou
ldn’t be able to argue about the shit colour and the crap style. At least it was more fashionable than the creations my mum used to pick out. Jo and I could tell what she was going to pick up even before my mum spotted it. It had to be multicoloured, or just a biddy colour, and preferably with a kitten looking wide eyed on the front … ball of wool et al.

  It makes my stomach churn just to think of it.

  As I was saying, Jo was in her element picking up shite and measuring it against herself whilst I was looking my damndest to look alluring, propping myself up against the small wall at the side of the stall. I realise now I must have looked like a prostitute or just plain simple.

  The beauty of youth, eh?

  I was lost thought, mainly about Ash … obviously, and didn’t hear Jo’s question the first time round.

  ‘Oi … gormless … I’m talking to you!’ My eyes shot up to meet the daggers my sister was throwing me. ‘Returned from Never Never Land, have you?’ I shrugged. I thought I was so cool … you know what it’s like … never let your guard down in front of absolute strangers.

  ‘What?’ I went for bored, hoping she would take the hint, and take me home so I could lie on my bed and think whilst blasting the neighbours with music.

  ‘I asked if you had a good night last night.’ She looked me squarely in the eyes. It was funny, but I hadn’t even mentioned to her about bumping into Ash, I don’t know why. Maybe it was because I was embarrassed about how it all happened.

  ‘It was okay, I suppose.’ I looked somewhat sheepish at this point, and there’s one thing you can’t keep from my sister. That’s it … you can’t keep one thing from her … she could read me like a book.

  ‘What happened?’ The smile slipped from her face and I knew I was on the verge of being interrogated.

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘Really?’ She laid the top over the rack and slowly stepped away. Shit. I knew what was coming now.

  ‘Fancy a coffee?’ Here we go … her perfect interrogation technique was underway. She always thought I would crumble if she took me to a café and bought me a coffee.

  Funny thing was … I did.

  I didn’t expect laughter. What I did expect was a thorough telling off. Especially for smoking pot. She surprised me by laughing, loudly, and pointing her finger at me. When I told her about falling off the stage, then throwing up, she laughed even harder, spluttering words along the lines of me deserving everything I got.

  It was strange to watch the total change in her when I mentioned I had met Ash again; and that I had slept over at her house.

  She was silent. All the laughter and finger pointing ceased. I didn’t get it. One minute laughing: the next, stony silence.

  ‘Are you going to see her again?’ The question was so quiet, I had to strain to hear it.

  ‘Well … erm … her … erm…’ Why was I acting like a dick head? Why did it bother me that Jo didn’t like Ash?

  ‘Are you … or aren’t you?’ Clipped words.

  ‘Yes … erm … Ash’s mum invited me for tea tomorrow.’ I looked at her, my eyes wide, one eyebrow raised, and my mouth slightly open. I did look slightly simple, but I think I was waiting for her to say something.

  She didn’t. She just got up and paid the bill. It was only when she had nearly reached the door that she turned to me, flashed me a huge grin and said, ‘Come on lard arse. There’s bargains to get.’

  I shuffled under the table to collect the three carrier bags of hers she already had me carrying, and scuttled after her.

  I had a grin plastered on my face, but underneath I was confused, and a little intrigued. I couldn’t help but wonder again why Jo seemed to put a distance between my friendship with Ash and my relationship with her.

  Maybe one day I would get to the truth.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SUNDAY TEA IS always a good tea isn’t it. It’s the time where you have the opportunity to go all out and make something nice. Now, personally, I love my mum’s roast dinners, although my dad (yes … he’s my dad) is the chef. I think it’s what you get used to really.

  But Sunday tea is still a time where the family get together, and share stories. In my family, we always told stories of the past … the funny ones … especially stories about what we did as kids. I used to love those teas … erm … still do, in fact. It’s tradition. Eat sandwiches and cake, drink bucket loads of tea, and laugh at each other.

  Perfect.

  Now to miss Sunday tea at our house there had to be a good reason. Near death experience was okay, as long as you had a doctor’s certificate … But general pissing off to see your mates was a no no. It was family time – or as my sister Angie always says (and this is enough to fuck anyone off) ‘Quality Time’ sounding more and more like a Hallmark greeting card.

  I wanted to go to Ash’s for tea. Obviously. My parents wanted me there. Obviously. Therefore, there was no competition.

  I was going to Ash’s … come hail or high water … I was going to her house for tea.

  Stuff the consequences.

  Initially my mum just gave me the look. Instead of explaining, I did what all teenagers did best.

  I went ‘into one’. Having a paddy … as my mum always said. I ranted and raved about never having any freedom, and when were they going to realise I was an adult. Mum just shot me another look, daring me to continue.

  I’d had enough, and stomped up the stairs, making sure I banged every door on the way. Twice.

  After throwing myself on the bed, burying my head in the pillow, and screaming into aforementioned pillow about how unfair my life was, how everyone was out to get me, I did the next best thing teenagers do.

  I fell asleep.

  It seemed like I had been asleep for hours, although it was more like forty-five minutes, I awoke to a gentle shaking of my shoulder. My head was still buried in the pillow, and for a split second, I thought I had gone blind.

  Then unreasonable teenage angst traded places with fear of a life in the dark, as I remembered why I was in that position in the first place.

  Muffled warnings about being left alone to grow old and fester in my room, escaped from the confines of the pillow.

  ‘You can go … I’ve explained.’ Jo. But …Jo? Jo didn’t like Ash. Why would she explain for me? ‘Mum said you can go to Ash’s, but to make sure you are back before ten.’

  Ten! I didn’t care I had a curfew … that would leave me plenty of time to get to know my old friend again.

  I turned over, leaving the pillow slightly damp from where I had drooled. Jo was sat on the edge of the bed looking at me with some concern. All the love I felt for her raced to the surface, and I threw my arms about her. ‘You’re a star, Jo. An absolute star!’

  I could feel her smile on my shoulder as I hugged her senseless. Once again, my sister had gone out of her way to make me happy, knowing I was too awkward to do anything about the situation myself … knowing I was too much like a typical teenager to back down and talk about things reasonably.

  Then a doubt crept into my mind. Why would she do that so I could see someone she visibly didn’t like? Confusion masked my features until a thought poked itself into my brain.

  Because she loves you, dumb ass.

  Once again, I felt my face crack open into a grin.

  And I love her too. Wouldn’t you?

  Tea at Ash’s house was exactly like ours. There was a huge spread laid out, and even though my stomach was in knots, for some unknown reason, I still could eat half of what was there.

  All the family were present. Anthony, Stephen, Ash’s mum and dad. Stephen had brought his girlfriend for tea and she sat, quietly, in the corner of the front room watching every move he made.

  It seemed like yesterday when I had last been with this family. They all greeted me like an old friend, which of course I was, and made me feel like part of the family.

  Tracy, Stephen’s girlfriend, just sat there taking in the scene unfolding in front of her, her faced shouted suspicion
, but her lips just became thinner and thinner. I was introduced as the long lost family member and she stuck out her hand in gesture, but the sentiment never reached her eyes.

  Nobody else noticed but me. Ash was too busy running around finalising the spread; her parents were poking fun at her shouting ‘Faster Ash! Faster!’ and the lads were talking about football.

  It was just me and Tracy.

  Unfortunately.

  She looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, gripped my hand tighter and pulled me closer to her. A harsh whisper spat out of her mouth, ‘Keep your fucking hands off Stephen.’

  Uh? What the hell had brought that on?

  It was only half way through tea that the penny actually dropped – well fell, clinking and cluttering on top of the table in front of me. By all accounts they had all been ribbing Stephen before I came round about how he had had a crush on me when we were kids. He had been nearly nine then, and I couldn’t believe his girlfriend had reacted in such a way.

  What a gormless mare.

  I had to put up with glaring looks from her, the Child Catcher, when all I wanted to do was take her outside and slap her around for a bit. All because Stephen used to have a crush on me ten years ago.

  I mean – ten years!

  How sad is that?

  But my attention was taken as my eyes drifted on their own volition over to Ash time and time again. It was so good to be back with her and her family after all these years, and for some strange reason it didn’t seem like I had been away.

  It was the same chitchat; the same ribbing, joking and love bouncing back and forth to each member of the family.

  I felt reborn.

  And it felt good.

  Stories were thrown around of childhood experiences … times that made us all flush with embarrassment. Ash even told the story of how I’d got my foot caught in the flared bottoms of my jeans and I had somersaulted arse over tit and landed, ungraciously, in a heap in the middle of the playing field.

  God … I loved those jeans. Pale blue with embroidery of cornflowers growing up each leg.