by Nia Lucas
Silence. Long silence.
Shay's voice is quiet, “What 'bout work? We gotta get to work every day wi' no motor?”, but his tone is not dismissive though, it's querying.
I think on my feet, “Ummm, well, maybe you could get work for a builder down my way? If Gill let you pay part of the rent by doing her jobs and stuff, you, er, you might not have too many bills, we could talk to her, see what she reckoned? It doesn’t have to be forever...”, I try to sound neutral but the embryonic idea is covering my heart like a warm blanket.
Lee’s tone is forceful, “I'm in Shortie”, making me gasp as he holds my gaze.
Shay’s on the bed, his head propped up on his hand, thoughtfully staring at the carpet, “If we runlike fuckin' pussies, them cunts win”, Shay's not looking at us as he speaks.
Lee tenses, his tone measured and restrained, “We ain't runnin' Shay, we're fuckin' movin' on. Better times. That's all Jock ever says he wants yeah, better times for us bruv. Maybe we just been lookin' for them times in the wrong place. You an' me, we can graft any place”, I've not heard Lee this assertive since that conversation by the phone box when I ran from the flat, before we became us
Lee carries on, “ 'Sides man, we'd get up here at weekends, if Shortie's workin' at the club? We'd still see Jock an’ that. We get to be together bruv, none of this weekend-only shit. What you reckon Shay? We doin' this?”, Lee's tone is pleading now.
Shay gets up off the bed and he walks towards me, his head cocked.
Without any words he pulls me close, resting his forehead on mine, his head nodding gently, “Ring the boss Little Red, ask her if she wants us in tha' flat”, and he smirks as I squeal.
The giddiness that follows is off the chart, it's the sort of euphoria that you can only really achieve in your teens. It's the sort of ridiculous, adolescent silliness that ends up with naked flesh, sloppy kisses, groans, tongues licking. It's the feeling of finding sheer joy in the belonging of and to each other, of good times ahead.
In a post-coital haze, I ring Gill who agrees immediately, her anxious concern for me when she hears about the fire making me teary. She tells me that the flat is theirs for £90 per week excluding bills. More excitement. More nakedness. Calmer, more measured, more together, we make plans. The lads will accept the offer by the Police Liaison lady to sort the B&B for another night. They ring Brian again, making arrangements to see him tomorrow to arrange their exit from his employ. A sad-sounding Brian offers to sell them a cheap, old BMW that he has languishing in the yard, the boys gratefully accepting the offer.
The phone conversation with their landlord goes amazingly well, stupidly well actually. Having been cajoled into making the call by the lads who refuse to do it themselves, I use all of the language and terminology I’ve learnt at the estate agency to explain the situation. Their landlord expresses his sympathy and explains that the flat is long overdue for renovation so if the boys can move out by the weekend, he will release them immediately from the tenancy, allowing him to renovate the flat with insurance money and rent it out at a higher price in the future. The boys immediately agree and arrange to meet him at the flat tomorrow afternoon to sign the necessary paperwork.
I smile all the way home on the train, clutching my smoke-stinking holdall to my chest.
They chose me.
Tuesday 8th August 1995
None of us can really believe that this is happening. Even stood in the pub car-park, unloading the elderly, battered BMW that Brian sold them, it does not seem real. Gill walks over to greet us and after hugging the boys and laying down her rules, she takes one look at the pile of smoke-riddled clothes holdalls and kindly helps us get the whole lot washed and cleaned using the industrial machines in the Hotel laundry.
Shay hands over £360 in cash to Gill for their first month’s rent but she gives him £250 back, “No love, keep some of the money and take this little lady out tonight, treat her. You've had a scary week you lot. I'm glad you're going to be living here lads but don't do anything that makes me regret being glad, you hear me? Mess me around and I will make a fire seem like the least of your problems. Understand?”, Gill looks serious, she looks like she means it. She bloody does. The boys nod sagely.
We opt not to go out and instead, I go and get fish and chips and we eat it in front of the TV, a bit shell shocked by the dramatic shift in our world. Work plans are unexplored and the boys reluctantly acknowledge that they must 'sign on' tomorrow, lest they end up with no money to live on. In desperation to find familiarity, Shay starts to stroke my bare legs, kissing my neck and melting me. Lee, on my other side, kisses me softly and we fall gently and with practised ease into rhythms and movements which see us melt as one. Lee comes with an agonised groan, soft kisses laid on me as he pulls away.
To my surprise, Shay pulls me off and up, pressing me into the wall as he slides into me with a gasp, “Little Red, I fuckin' need you....so fuckin' good...together now, gonna be together...need you...”, and Shay's thrusts are frantic, too frantic, and I have to focus on just letting him get the comfort that he seems to need from my body even though it’s a bit too rough.
Having come, he pulls me against him too tightly but I don't protest. He crumples to the ground as I sit in his lap and whisper in his ear, “This is going to be amazing you being here. It's going to be OK, I love you so much Shay” and I kiss any part of him that I can reach as Lee’s anxious stare tracks us.
It's the first night that I go home, go to bed and then climb out of my brother's bedroom window, to sleep with them back at the flat, unable to be parted from them now that they are here in my world.
Chapter Eleven
Saturday 12th August 1995
Jock got home from Scotland yesterday and rang the pub, demanding to meet up with the three of us. In acute need of Jock’s reassuringly brusque support, we pile into the BMW and head down the M4. The boys are deadly quiet as we drive through the streets around Green Lanes. I genuinely don't know if it's fear or homesickness that makes them pensive.
At Jock's door, we don't even get a chance to knock before it's flung open, “I leave yous eejits for ten fucking minutes and yous burn down a house and a car, quit yer jobs and move a hundred miles away and the fucking quacks say I need tae be less stressed. You wee wallopers will be the fucking death o' me. Get in”, Jock is smiling as he berates them, pulling them into rough hugs as we troop past him towards his kitchen.
He’s wearing a Scottish football team top paired with battered grey corduroys and a thick beard. He looks like Santa on his summer break. Lee and Shay smirk at him, their whole postures relaxed by his presence. He makes the tea, rapid firing questions at the boys who aren't given a chance to respond before he fires out the next one.
“SIT!”he bellows pointing at the kitchen table, prompting comically rapid positioning of arses on seats.
We tell him everything, in chaotic, three-way retellings of the events of the last seven days. Jock is smirking at us as we dispute, embellish, disagree and laugh with each other’s versions, working as a team.
Jock's massive bellow of laughter silences us temporarily, “I've been trying tae get you wee shites tae consider moving away from this bloody city since yous were fifteen and this wee lassie does it o'er a weekend”, Jock is roaring with laughter.
He spots their baleful faces, “Lads, I’m sorry for the fright those fuckers gave yous all wi' tha’ fire but I cannae be sorry tha' it's led yous away from this place. Yer growing up lads and tha' means tha' things they dinnae stay the same. Take those dowie looks off yer faces, man up, go get yoursel’s jobs. You need tae realise that this is mebbe the best thing that could hae happened tae you both”, Jock's smile is wide and reassuring and I see both boys visibly relax.
I have something I need to tell them, “I er, I got a letter from the Court today, it got sent to the pub. The trial is starting on the 21st, did you know? I've got to be at the Court on the Tuesday and Wednesday to be a witness, I've got to tell my parents”, I gu
lp in genuine fear.
Jock shouts at me for the first time ever, I even get a fist bang on the table when I confess that my parents do not know about the trial, about the stabbings or anything about life here really. The boys give me the same smirk that they give each other when Jock shouts at one of them, making me feel warm and tingly with the inclusion in their team. He forces me to agree to tell my parents on Monday.
He turns on the lads, ordering them to find work and quickly, “Wi'out it, yous two are a fucking nightmare and just get intae bloody aggravation. Seamus, get this wee lassie tae help you wi' yer application forms”, Jock points at me and I see Shay squirm.
Jock ignores it, “Don't you get Leon tae help you, his handwriting looks like a fucking serial killer's'”, Jock snorts and Lee scowls.
At work later that night, the club crowd is happy and full of tourists. A surprise appearance by Luca makes me giddy and it is the best night I've had since I've worked there. The boys are in the crowd, I see them laughing and messing about with a couple of the lads from Brian's old crew. Luca stays after his set and has drinks with me after the club closes, chatting about Ibiza and selling it to me so beautifully that I feel a stab of regret that I couldn't go this year.
Luca, looking every inch the polished, uber-cool DJ, stares at me smiling, “Lorna, it is fascinating to me that you can work like this but you are young, Nath says? Your parents, they...they must have trust in you I think?”
I grimace and explain that given the lifestyle I’m leading in Nath’s employ, I’m lucky that my parents actually don't give a shit about me, wincing as my words sound hollow.
Grabbing his bag, he pats me kindly on the arm as he goes to head off, “Ibiza next year. Lorna, we will make it happen. I will see you here next month”, he presses a paternal kiss to my head and I blush
Parked up for the night in an abandoned building site near the arches, we are entirely up to no good in the back of the car, Lee panting in post-orgasmic sweatiness as Shay and I fiddle with each other, when I feel Shay's fingers exploring and then.... Ooooh. Shay has touched me there a few times with the pads of his finger and it's felt good. But right now, Shay has slipped a finger in and any concerns I have about him being there evaporate as he swears in astonishment.
Shay whispers, “Fuck Lor...I wanna...can I? I ain't never done tha' before an' I really wanna wi' you, please Little Red”, his tone is desperate and I feel him nudge there.
The panic I feel is immediate, “NO! Shay, er, no, I'm not ready for that”, I’m breathing fast.
Instead of disappointed, he sounds frantic as he says, “I'm gonna come, fuck Lor, thinkin' bout it I'm...fuck I'm gonna come”, and wide eyed, he fires spunk into my hair.
I start to giggle, graduating to full hysteria which takes a bemused and snorting Lee with me, collapsing in post-orgasmic daftness. We’re going to be OK.
Monday 14th August 1995
With my mates still away on their respective summer holidays, this first Monday morning in the pub flat sees me go with the boys to do a food shop in a big out-of-town supermarket, the first time that either of them has experienced this as all their previous grocery shopping has been done at Ahmed’s shop. It's bloody chaos. I try to get them to think about meals they want to eat and saving as much cash as possible but it's hopeless. Gill has given them a chest freezer and big fridge so for the first time in their lives, they could actually plan meals. However, Shay gets in a trolley and Lee pushes him around like a nutter, I get lifted up and hoofed into the freezer, screaming obscenities and threatening death while they fail to pick anything remotely meal-worthy. We spend £80 and don't have anything useful to show for it.
In a moment of inspiration, I have a chat with one of the pub regulars who I know is a builder. I explain that I’ve got two friends who’ve just moved down from London and that they're experienced labourers, with good references. He gives me the name and number of his mate, the owner of a small building firm who has just lost a couple of lads. One phone call, one hastily arranged meeting in the pub near to a building site in town and Lee and Shay have a bloody job. The excitement is quelled by the knowledge that my parents need to be told about the trial because the letter says clearly that I’ll need a parent or guardian to accompany me. We slope off to my house, ready to face the unknown.
As Dad walks through the door at 6pm, he jolts when he sees Lee, sat on his sofa holding my hand as Shay paces anxiously.
Dad frowns, “Er Lorna, can I have a word with you please love. In the kitchen. Now”, Dad's tone is steely.
I go to reply but Shay jumps in, “Mr. Davies, I know we ain't had the best start but we've come to talk to you, wi' Lor”
Dad turns away, ignoring Shay completely, “Lorna. Kitchen. Now”, Dad walks off and with a kiss to Shay's scowling face, I follow.
Dad spinning round as I enter the kitchen, his face puce with anger, “Who is that other lad in there and what the HELL is going on with you and that Shay now, eh? For God's sake Lorna, what if your mother sees them here?”
I sigh, “Dad, that's my friend Lee. We need to talk to you about something, before Mum comes home, please can we talk to you”, I'm pleading with him.
Dad shakes his head, “No, not Shay, YOU tell me. Now. Are you...oh fuck, you’re pregnant aren’t you Lorna?”, my Dad's horrified swearing jolts me.
I gasp, “NO!! Christ Dad, no I'm not bloody pregnant. Jesus...”, I fold my arms across my chest and roll my eyes.
Dad visibly sags with relief, giving me hope that what I have to tell him actually might not be as devastating as he clearly anticipates.
I swallow thickly, “Dad, er, I've been mates with the boys for a while and back in April, well, er, I was with them when they got hurt and now we all have to go to court and be witnesses for the trial for the people who hurt them”, I look at my feet.
Dad's quiet words are laden with unexpected concern, “How were they hurt Lorna?”
I close my eyes, “They were stabbed Dad, Shay nearly died”
There’s a whoosh of air being sucked from the room as Dad draws in breath to shout loudly, “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST LORNA!! Are you telling me....” but Dad's words are cut short by the lads flying through the door of the kitchen.
Lee growls menacingly, “Don't you touch her, I'll fuckin' end you if you lay a fuckin' finger on her”, his large frame pushing between me and Dad, his arms protectively wide. Shay stands next to me. My bodyguards.
Dad looks completely thrown, “What? I'd never...what the bloody hell is wrong with you lad? How dare you suggest....”, but Shay jumps in, cutting Dad off,
“I ain't watchin’ her get beat again”, Shay's face is a sneer, his Irish brogue thicker in his anger.
My Dad looks like a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. His gaze is flitting between the three of us, between the hands on my arms, the protective stance, the hostility.
I see him sag again as he looks at the floor, “I've never hit my daughter and I never would lad. I love Lorna”, his tone is defeated and I feel tears pricking my eyes.
Lee is still on alert, “Yeah well, I ain't takin' no chances”.
Shay looks at Dad and turns to me, stroking my face, “You 'kay Little Red?”, I nod and kiss his shoulder through his t-shirt.
Shay smells warm, comforting. I squeeze Lee's arm too, his jaw ticking.
Dad looks up at the ceiling, as if in prayer, “Where is this trial? What do you have to do?”. In this tense stand-off, we give my Dad the low-down on where, when, how and why. Dad looks like he's in actual physical pain at one point, wincing. I tell Dad that the boys now live at the pub.
As Dad goes to interject, Shay jumps in, “This trial, it ain't our fault, it ain't Lor's fault but we gotta do this”
Shay kisses my head and my Dad looks weary, “Lads, I appreciate you coming with Lorna but now I need to talk to my daughter and her Mum will be home soon”, Dad turns to open the back door to usher them out
Lee's low growl mak
es him turn, “Nah, nah I ain't leavin' Shortie here if it's gonna kick off wiv her. You go ahead and tell your woman what we told you but Lor's stayin' wiv us tonight”, Lee, confusing my Dad no end I expect, is the one who leads me by the hand out of the back door, Shay pressed close behind.
I can't look at my Dad as I walk out. I can't look at him because I don't want to see his hurt and disappointment.
I’m choosing them.
Tuesday 15th August 1995
My mum, upon hearing about the trial, apparently withdrew all permission for my weekends ‘working at the pub’, Dad wearily informs me that I must be home by 11pm every night from now on. I smile weakly and nod, no intention whatsoever of complying. The boys at work for their first day, I ring Rosa, hearing her exciting news from her new life in Swansea,
“I can’t understand a fucking word any of them say Jailbait. This lot by ‘ere”, she mocks in a truly awful Welsh accent, “they all talk weirder than you do”, she guffaws.
I ring Ellie who’s back from her exotic holiday and I meet her and Jenny in town and buy some stationary supplies for our respective Sixth Forms. Their company is easy and straightforward and for a moment, I feel a longing for the days when things in my life were so much more simple. I eat my tea, at a dinner table where Dan and I chat happily as my parents frown in suspicion and then I go out. I go to my boyfriends, at their flat that feels like my home and I hear about their first day at work. Shay has already developed nicknames for his colleagues which means he likes them.
I cook them a massive pasta tea which they eat with gusto and then we go to the cinema. We watch a crappy action film that Shay pisses about in throughout and then we come home. I go into my parents' house at 11pm, I say goodnight and I go up the stairs. I pack a backpack of my things and I climb back out of my brother's bedroom window as he tuts from under the duvet. I stay with my boyfriends, in the large floor bed that they have made from two double mattresses in the smallest bedroom. I repeat this for the week, my mother's threats to monitor me seemingly empty. Until Friday. Because I don't come home on Friday after work. I leave my parents a note that explains that I would love to stick to their rules but I'm working in London and that I'll be back on Sunday. I feel oddly unconcerned about their reaction.