‘Already done.’ Johnny gives me a warm smile and I laugh at that.
‘You’ve been watching too much Nigella Lawson!’
The mention of the television cook clearly makes my son realise he could be doing something less constructive and he pipes up, ‘Can I go and watch telly?’
‘Five minutes,’ I instruct. ‘Tea won’t be long. Go and wash your hands first.’
Charlie heads off to the bathroom.
‘Take Ringo with you.’ The dog’s not exactly in the way, but it always feels as if he’s under my feet.
‘Come on, Ringo!’ Charlie shouts and the dog’s up and scampering after him. The stupid thing’s an eternal puppy.
‘He’s a good kid,’ Johnny says, when my son’s out of earshot.
‘Yeah.’ And I’m determined to make sure that it stays that way. Charlie’s best friend Kyle Crossman isn’t exactly a shining example of good behaviour, but he’s done nothing quite bad enough to make me split them up yet. He’s not a good influence on my son though.
There are, however, too many kids like Kyle on this estate who are roaming wild like feral cats because no one’s watching them, getting into mischief because they’re bored out of their skulls. Doesn’t help that the last time someone tried to set up a youth facility, some of those same youths burned it to the ground. Sometimes you just can’t help people to help themselves.
‘It was nice to be able to walk home with him. I could do it every day, if you want. Save you the trouble.’
I shake my head. ‘You can’t do that, Johnny.’
‘What else do I have to do? I like spending time with him.’ He busies himself pouring a tin of tomatoes on the meat. ‘He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a son, Sally. I still want to be there for him. I can’t simply turn off my feelings for Charlie just because you and I aren’t together any more.’
‘I know. I know.’ I don’t want to tell Johnny that I also know that my son feels exactly the same way. The whole situation makes me feel like a complete cow. Sometimes I wonder if Johnny’s more bothered about losing Charlie than he is about me. ‘You can take him out any time that you like. Or come over. You know that.’
‘But it’s not the same, is it?’ Johnny notes.
‘It’s different,’ I agree. ‘But it doesn’t have to be difficult between us.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve no legal rights. It’s not like I’m Charlie’s dad. What about if you meet someone else? Where does that leave me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say, feeling the guilty flush return to my face. ‘Where am I going to meet anyone else?’
‘It’s bound to happen, Sally. You’re a beautiful woman.’ He abandons any pretence at stirring the Bolognese sauce and looks at me.
‘You’ll always be in my life, in Charlie’s life.’ I try to sound light-hearted. ‘You’re my best friend. What would I do without you?’
Johnny fixes me with his big brown eyes and says, ‘I hope that I’ll never find out.’
Chapter Eight
My living room stinks of peroxide. Debra is parting Dora the Explorer’s hair and is slapping on the mauve-coloured bleach with what I’d consider reckless abandon. If she gets a blob on my carpet, I’ll kill her – good friend or not.
‘Sit still, Dora,’ Debs instructs, yanking at her customer’s hair.
‘Sorry, love.’ Dora tries to stop fidgeting.
We call Dora ‘the Explorer’ because she has a tendency to wander about the estate in nothing but her nightie and beddies. Most of the time she’s fine and often dresses like a normal human being and behaves quite rationally, but occasionally she can get a bit confused when life becomes too much for her. If it’s all going a bit pear-shaped on Corrie, even that can set her off. We had to stop her from watching Desperate Housewives as that was sending her completely over the edge. She kept thinking that Bill Shankly House would morph into Wisteria Lane and she’d end up locked in someone’s cellar.
Dora lives three floors below me and, like Mrs Kapur, I sort of look out for her too. My neighbour with wanderlust should probably be in a home or on regular medication, but no one in authority’s interested enough in her to pursue the issue. Everyone on the estate knows her and we just all do the best we can to make sure that she doesn’t come to any harm on her expeditions. I frequently get phone calls to go and round her up from somewhere she shouldn’t be.
Debs lives on the fifth floor, same block. We’ve been friends since school. Debra Newton is a trained hairdresser and does a roaring trade on the estate – all cash in hand, of course, which helps to supplement her benefits. As befitting a hairdresser, she’s got fancy dark brown and blond striped hair. Debs spends a lot of her cash on fake tan and fake labels.
Once a week my flat is turned into a hairdressing salon. Super Sal’s Salon to the Stars. A chair is plonked in the middle of my lounge floor and the carpet (such as it is) is protected with last night’s Liverpool Echo. That hasn’t stopped a ring of suspiciously bleached-out spots from appearing on it, even though I constantly nag Debs about being messy.
I’ve never managed to work out why Debs doesn’t do the hairdressing in her own flat, but I’ve never tackled her about it either. Maybe she thinks her carpet is better than mine and won’t risk damaging it. I don’t really mind. I keep up a steady supply of coffee and, to be honest, I like the gossip. Plus my mate does my hair for free and, when money’s tight, Debs sometimes slips me a tenner to help out or she might treat me to a spray tan if I’m feeling low. She’s been a great mate to me over the years, more like a sister really.
The doorbell rings and, when I open it, Mrs Kapur is standing there. Debs is giving her a set today. ‘Come on in, Mrs K. Kettle’s on.’
‘You’re a doll, Sally Freeman.’ She shuffles into the lounge and eases herself into the sofa, rearranging her sari and taking off her headscarf to reveal her thinning grey locks. ‘All right, Dora?’
‘Will be when I get my hair done, love. I don’t want that Martin Kemp popping round while my roots are showing.’ Dora nearly laughs herself to death at that. ‘I love him in those DFS adverts. Lights up my night when I see him. He could bring me a settee any time he likes. And he wouldn’t need no interest free credit!’
‘You wouldn’t catch a man getting over my doorstep again,’ Debs says bitterly. ‘Sofa or no bloody sofa.’
It’s fair to say that Debs has been unlucky in love. She’s done adulterous, murderous, fickle and feckless, randy and reckless, brainless, penniless and the downright criminally insane. I’ve no idea where she’s actually managed to find such an appalling quality of bloke – but then there are a lot of weirdos out there. She thinks that I’m mad to have split with Johnny simply because he and I have different attitudes to life, and takes every possible opportunity to tell me. So much so, that I think Johnny might even have her on the payroll. Debs will think she’ll have found her soulmate the day her man doesn’t try to kill her, con her, or confess that his wife really doesn’t understand him.
Hovering by the kitchen door, I realise that I haven’t yet shared with her my news and think that this could be the time to come clean. ‘I’ve got a date lined up myself,’ I say in a rush. That brings a stunned hush to the room and my friends all look at me.
‘Good for you, girl!’ Dora exclaims.
Debs is arrested, mid-daub. She stares at me and hoists her fulsome bosom. ‘You kept that quiet.’
‘Only happened yesterday,’ I tell her apologetically. ‘My computer teacher has asked me out. He wants to take me for dinner tonight.’
‘Ooo!’ Dora says, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Dinner!’
‘Is he nice?’ Mrs Kapur asks. ‘You deserve a nice man.’
I come over all shy. ‘He seems lovely.’
‘She’s been on about him for weeks now,’ my friend informs them loudly.
‘I have not.’ Well, not much.
Debs frowns at me. ‘Have you said you’ll go?’
I
shrug. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought we were going out tonight? You said we’d go out for a couple of bevvies this week.’
‘I don’t remember saying that we’d go tonight.’
She dabs away furiously at Dora’s hair. The poor woman will have dents in her scalp.
I dread asking this question, but I can’t help myself. ‘I was hoping that you’d babysit Charlie for me.’
‘I can’t,’ Debs says, without looking at me. ‘If we’re not going out tonight, then I said I’d do my sister’s hair.’
‘Couldn’t you do it another night?’
‘I’ve promised,’ Debs says, unmoved. ‘Get Johnny to do it.’
‘How can I ask Johnny?’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘“Hey, Johnny, I’m just going out with another guy, will you watch Charlie for me?”’
‘So what?’ Debs tugs her comb through Dora’s hair. Dora ricochets in the chair.
My friend’s in a funny mood, which I think is not only down to my impromptu date, but also the fact that she isn’t similarly troubled with invites – and I’m glad that Dora’s not getting a haircut otherwise she might end up with a Britney Spears shaved-off job. Despite declaring my insanity at my newly established single status, I think she might have been secretly a teensy bit pleased that Johnny and I had split up as now she’s got her old drinking mate back. The only thing that stops Debs from dragging me out clubbing every night is my lack of cash – and Charlie. Debs has never had a boyfriend for more than ten minutes for the last few years and can’t see why anyone else would want to do otherwise. And whilst I might like clubbing every now and again, I certainly wouldn’t want to be doing it every night. I’ve changed. I’ve got responsibilities. I’ve got soap operas to keep up with.
‘The man’s got to move on,’ Debs says decisively. ‘You’ve dumped Johnny. From a great height. Live with it.’
‘He loves seeing Charlie.’ Reluctantly, I think back to my conversation with Johnny last night. ‘He’d sit with him like a shot, but I can’t use him like that.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Debs shrugs her indifference. ‘Looks like you’ll have to cancel your dinner date.’
‘You can’t do that, doll,’ Mrs Kapur chips in.
‘I’ll look after him,’ Dora volunteers.
Debs laughs out loud at that one and I shoot her a look. Just because she’s in a mood she shouldn’t take it out on Dora.
‘Don’t worry yourself.’ I pat Dora on the knee. Frankly though, Charlie’s more capable of being left on his own than Dora is. I wouldn’t rest for a minute if he was with her. What if she went on one of her walkabouts? What if she decided to divest herself of her nightie in our front room? Anything could happen and the Social Services are very funny about that kind of thing these days. ‘I’ll sort something out.’
Wonder how Spencer Knight would feel about having a ten-year-old chaperone on our first date? I haven’t really discussed my domestic set-up with him. Actually, I haven’t really discussed anything with him other than creating and saving computer files. ‘I’ll go and make the coffee.’
While I’m in the kitchen banging about with the cups and wondering what I’m going to do tonight, Mrs Kapur comes up behind me.
‘I’ll look after Charlie,’ she says.
‘I can’t let you do that, Mrs K. You go to bed at nine o’clock. I might be later than that.’ Much later, if I’m lucky.
‘I can stay awake for once. It won’t kill me. I can have a lay-in tomorrow to make up for it.’
‘Would you do that?’
Mrs Kapur leans on my work surface, the effort of standing up unaided making her breathe heavily. ‘You do enough for me, doll. It would be nice if I could help out for a change.’
‘Then you’re on,’ I say.‘ Charlie should go to bed at nine. He’ll be no trouble.’ I’ll threaten him with three years’ grounding before I go through the door – that usually works. ‘You can watch telly until I come home. I promise I won’t be too late.’
‘You have fun. Don’t mind me.’ She inclines her head towards the living room. ‘Don’t mind Debs either. She’s only jealous. I bet she puts my rollers in too tight just for spite.’
We have a giggle at that. To be honest though, I’m a bit pissed with Debs. I was hoping to borrow something to wear from her. Because she’s got such a thriving black-market business going, she can afford much nicer clothes than me on a much more regular basis. It’s more than once I’ve been dressed in her castoffs. What the hell am I going to do now? I can’t see Spencer taking me anywhere crummy and I wanted to look my best.
‘I hope whoever this man is that he’s as nice as that Johnny,’ Mrs Kapur says, as she shuffles back towards the living room and the torture that awaits her. ‘He’s such a love. I always hoped that you two would stay together.’
I sigh out loud as the old lady leaves the room. Johnny is a lovely bloke. Everyone thinks so. Am I the only person who can see that he has his flaws?
Chapter Nine
Kyle Crossman kicked his heels against the wall. Charlie did the same. They were round the back of Bill Shankly House, hanging out in the skanky old garden there. No one ever came in here any more because it was such a dump, so it was a good place to hang out.
‘Smoke?’
Charlie shrugged. Kyle handed him the cigarette even though Charlie had meant the shrug to say no. He coughed as he copied Kyle and tentatively inhaled. Kyle tutted at him, shaking his head in exasperation at Charlie’s inability to look cool. Charlie wasn’t really bothered about looking cool. He just knew that if his mum saw him now, she’d kill him stone dead with a look. Charlie turned away from the flats, just in case.
‘My mum’s going on a date tonight,’ he confided as he tried to work out how to hold the cigarette properly.
‘So what?’
‘Why do old people go on dates?’
Now it was Kyle’s turn to shrug.
‘What have they got to talk about?’ Charlie wanted to know. ‘They don’t do anything. My mum never goes anywhere.’
‘Perhaps that’s why she wants to go on a date.’
That’s what Charlie liked about Kyle. He had an answer for everything. It would have taken Charlie weeks to work that out for himself.
No one really liked Kyle, but Charlie thought he was great. Now that he was friends with Kyle Crossman, the bullies kept away from him. Well, pretty much. They weren’t as bad as they had been before, anyway.
The funny thing was that Kyle had been one of the worst in the class, always punching him when no one was looking, and now he was Charlie’s best friend. It was odd, that. But that’s how it was now. Wherever Kyle went, then Charlie went too. They were like Batman and Robin. Best friends, doing everything together, but with one being a bit more in charge than the other. Charlie didn’t mind Kyle being the boss though, because Kyle usually had good ideas.
Kyle had showed him the first magazine he’d seen with naked ladies in it. Kyle had shown him how to wee his own name against the wall – although Charlie took a bit longer than Kyle and sometimes he ran out before the end. Now he’d had his first cigarette.
At that moment, his friend nudged him in the ribs and took the ciggie back. ‘Don’t hog it,’ Kyle said. ‘We share everything now. We’re like brothers but with different mums and dads.’
Charlie nodded his solemn agreement.
‘I look out for you, and you look out for me.’
Charlie didn’t think that Kyle needed anyone to look out for him, but he didn’t say that.
‘You’ve had loads of dads, haven’t you?’ Charlie asked.
‘Yeah,’ Kyle said. He spent a moment thinking about it. ‘Three. Or it might have been four. What about you?’
‘Just Johnny.’
‘But he’s not your real dad.’
‘He’s like one though. I never knew my real dad.’
‘Me neither,’ Kyle said. ‘Mum said he was an arsehole.’
‘My mum never talks about my dad, but h
e probably was too.’ Whenever he tried to ask his mum about his dad she just shushed him up, so he hadn’t bothered for ages. Not since Johnny had been around really. Having Johnny was just as good as having a dad, he was sure. How could it be better? Johnny was sound.
‘I don’t like this stepdad,’ his friend mused. ‘He’s a knobhead. My others were better.’
Charlie thought he loved Johnny but he didn’t like to say it or Kyle might think he was soft.
‘Johnny’s nice.’ Charlie left it at that.
‘Nice?’
Charlie thought he should have used a cooler word, but he couldn’t think of one.
‘Your mum’s a bit fit too. For an old girl.’
‘Thanks.’
He didn’t understand why his mum didn’t like Kyle, but she didn’t and that was that. Nothing he could say would change her mind. And he didn’t think that Johnny was that keen either, but Johnny was nice and he still taught Kyle how to play football even though Kyle was even more rubbish at it than Charlie was.
Kyle nudged him again and passed over the cigarette. ‘Don’t suck it in too deeply this time,’ he instructed.
‘Okay.’ Charlie smiled at him through the smoke.
Whatever anyone else might think, Charlie thought it was great having a mate like Kyle.
Chapter Ten
It’s six o’clock and I’m panicking. Charlie’s had his tea and now he’s sitting on my bed while I sort through my wardrobe. It’s the tenth time I’ve done it today. ‘Be good for Mrs Kapur,’ I say over my shoulder. ‘I want you to be grown up.’
‘Yes, Mum.’ Charlie picks aimlessly at the duvet. This room, like the rest of my flat, needs doing up. The duvet is about a hundred years old – seriously, it’s a museum piece. It started off as a bright floral print, now it’s been washed so much it’s all pastel shades. The wallpaper is curling up at the bottom and hanging down at the top. Black speckles of mould do nothing to add to the pattern.
‘Take yourself off to bed at nine o’clock and no later.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
All You Need is Love Page 4